#look even if he somehow survive this he is just gonna hate himself

[luvergirl777]

Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

Summary | Dean can't stand new people, especially people intruding on his life and telling him what to do. You drive him insane, Sam having to separate the two of you before fists and teeth start flying. You finally get under his skin for the last time with your dumb stunts, pushing him over the edge.

Index | Dean and reader fight constantly, Sam is the babysitter, Dean hates you because you are him, you're also incredibly hot, not that he'd admit it, perhaps maybe just a bit he admits it. Unprotected sex, wrap it up folks. Soft dom Dean, a bit of sub Dean. He's whipped and will listen to a pretty girl. Two idiots in love.

Dean is never fond of new people, it takes him a very long time to warm up to newcomers. When the two brothers find you battered and bruised, barely still alive after fending a demon off on your own, he’s a bit impressed. Upon further investigation, Sam watching over you, Dean realizes you had managed to damn it back to hell all on your own. Even more impressed, Dean is confused as to how you managed to survive. “You said it was aggressive?” Dean double checks, wondering if you somehow got lucky and encountered the impossible, un-aggressive demon. Sure, that would explain how you managed to survive on your own. 

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? You think I beat myself up after killing the damn thing?” 

“Well you didn’t technically kill it but-” 

“Oh shut up, pretty boy.” You grit, rolling your eyes as you hold onto Sam’s arm to stand up. Sam, ever so caring, nearly lifts your weight with no effort. He’s supporting all of your weight easily as you try and hobble along to safety. 

“Easy now sassy, you’re about one hit away from dying.”

“You gonna hit me?” The face you give him is unreadable, and Sam is preparing himself to jump in between the two of you if needed. You’ve stopped walking, completely turned around as you face Dean behind you. Dean, never one to back down, takes a step closer to you. 

“Guys, c’mon.” Sam intervenes, pushing his brother by the chest to create some distance between the two of you arguing. “You two sound like a couple of 5 year olds.”

Both you and Dean roll your eyes, and you’re hobbling your way out the door to get to some sort of hospital to get a check up. The pain is actually ridiculous, and if you weren’t so battered, you probably would've fought with Dean more. “Here, let us give you a ride,” Sam offers, quickly chasing you in fear you would topple after leaving his side. 

“She is NOT bleeding all over baby,” Dean protests as Sam walks you out of the door, taking you to the car. Dean closes the door behind him after glancing inside once more, still in disbelief of what the hell is happening. They burst open your door expecting to damn something to hell, and instead found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor. And now you and Dean are arguing as you hobble your way to the back of Baby. 

“You call this car baby?” You roll your eyes, “You gotta take care of her better if you’re gonna call her a fucking pet name. This thing has 2 years of fuckin’ dirt on it. Baby my ass.” Dean almost stops in place, arms raising slightly in defense, jaw dropped as he looks at Sam. Usually you're more pleasant, however, you're battered and bruised and in pain.

After absolutely giving it to Dean, you’re opening the back door and limply climbing in. You’re collapsing against the seat before Dean can jab at you. Dean wants to dish it out once again, and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t deal with the two of you, he really can’t. Closing the door behind you, Sam’s turning around to talk sense into his stubborn older brother. “She damned a demon on her own, she could help us.” 

“Her, help us?” Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’d rather be kicked in the balls.” 

“I’m about to if you don’t shut the hell up,” Sam shoves him around the car, “It could be good, finding someone to put you in your place every now and then.” 

That's how you met, and it’s been years already. Despite being together almost 24/7, you and Dean are still constantly at each other’s throats. If you’re not lashing out at Dean, he’s dishing some snarky shit out to you. Sam stays as uninvolved as he can, always letting you two at it before it’s clear intervention is needed. 

--- 

“You really don’t have to sit there and watch me like some hawk,” Dean’s annoyed as you perch yourself on a stool, watching as he works on Baby. It’s about a million degrees and Dean has refused to drink anything but alcohol and coffee for the past 24 hours, and not to mention it’s the middle of the day with the sun beating down overhead. “I don’t need a babysitter. “

“Sammy’s worried about you, said you’re going to have a heat stroke or pass out. Figure I’d come out here and pester you into coming back inside.” You shrug, completely unbothered as you don’t move from the stool. Your tone is nonchalant, only getting on his nerves more. Baby is technically sound and purring like a kitten on the road, Dean’s just been itching to tinker and a distraction from you waltzing around the bunker. “God know’s Sammy’s not gonna do it-” 

“Stop calling him that?” 

“Calling who what?” 

“Sammy.” Dean mumbles, already turning around from you to focus back on the engine. You’re already getting on his nerves, and if he looks at you any longer you’ll succeed in pestering him back into the house. “Go back inside and tell my nerdy little brother I’m fine out here. By myself.” 

“Sam’s not gonna take that for an answer.” You’re still calm and collected, leaning forward on the stool as you get a closer look at what Dean’s doing. You watch his hands work, nimble and quick as he easily gets into every corner he wants. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your thoughts, and you’re trying awfully hard not to laugh loudly. Dean can almost hear the joke writing itself in your head, and feel the smile growing on your face. “You know you’re really good with your fingers-” 

“Okay! You win!” And he’s storming back into the bunker to get water from an expectant Sam in the kitchen, already in a glass with ice. “Don’t.” He speaks to him, raising a finger to Sam. He can already hear the thoughts in his head, too. 

---

“Oh really, that’s your smart ass plan?” You mumble, listening to Dean attempt to explain the plan of waltzing into a bank and trying to sweet talk a bank teller to the vault. It would never in a million years happen, regardless of how annoying charming Dean could be. No one is that stupid, not even a bank secretary who doesn’t know who Dean is. 

“Well, if you have anything better, please enlighten me.” He’s slamming the folder down on the table in front of you, crossing his arms. 

“Anything is likely better-” When you stand up from your seat, and Dean steps toward you, Sam is quick to intervene before you two start dishing it out. 

“OKAY!” Sam basically yells to get your guy’s attention. You two calm down, you sitting down, Dean stepping away from you, and Sam finally taking a breath. 

---

Or the one time you drove Baby, absolutely full throttling her around turns as if you were a professional driver. In your defense, you didn’t crash and actually handled it quite well. Poor Sam is laying down in the back of the car, injured and praying you get to the hospital soon. But Dean was about to have a heart attack in the passenger seat of his car. He’s pressed against the door with the force you’re jerking the car around, gripping anything he can reach. 

“Never again, never again.” Dean almost prays underneath his breath, but he’s not and never will be a religious man.

---

Or the one time you were the bait for some creepy old man, needing to steal a weapon he had on display in his house. You were in the middle of his bed, about to fake vomit as he ran his hands along your waist. “Listen, I heard something you had. Something very impressive, an ancient weapon of sorts.” You purr, rolling your eyes as he goes along with it. 

“Of course I do, it’s in my office. I can show you after we’re done here.” He mumbles, and you’re swinging and clocking him against his temple, toppling him over. He lands with a thud on the hardwood floor, knocked out cold. At the commotion, Dean is bursting through the door. 

“HEY!” Dean screams, puffed up and ready for action. 

“He’s knocked out, dick for brains.” You mumble, climbing off of the bed and adjusting your dress which had ridden almost all the way up to your waist. He swears he catches a peek of the pink panties you’re wearing, but for his benefit, he’s trying to convince himself he saw nothing at all. News flash, not and never was going to work. Dean watches with wide eyes, his gaze following and trailing along your bare skin down to your thighs as you cover yourself back up. “Thanks for caring, pretty boy.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, walking over to the man that is unconscious against the hardwood floor. He’s mumbling something underneath his breath, landing one more blow onto the old bastard, before finally catching back up with you in the office. 

—-

You and Dean are on a hunt the first time he lays hands on you. You both had been separated, running and hiding in respective locations of the mouldy, broken down house. Dean’s frantic and stressed after hearing you yelp on the other side of the house, rushing over to find you and seeing no one. He's running around the house at this point, stopping for two seconds in the middle of the hallway to try and find his thoughts. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, grip hard enough to leave bruises underneath his jacket. He's whipping around before he can even think another thought, hand balled up into a tight fist as he spins. It’s too late to pull his punch when he realizes, eyes wide as he makes contact with your confused expression. He can pull it about 90%, softening the impending blow to your cheek bone. He's yelping for you when his fist makes contact with your skin, already groaning at himself. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Sorry! You scared me.” Dean’s explaining immediately, arms catching you before you even have the chance to stumble backwards from the blow. He cradles you before you can air out your grievances, one hand coming to hold your cheek in betrayal. “I thought they had you, god I thought they had you.” He mumbles as he holds you, reassuring both you and himself that you’re okay, or trying to at least. 

“Dean, god.” You groan, peering up to look at him. “Let's finish this job, please, without any more collateral damage.” You mumble, shuffling around to find your knife. “Fuckers took my blade.” 

“It's okay, I'll get them.” Dean mumbles, quickly pressing his lips to your hairline before letting you go. You stay behind Dean, this time a considerable distance, as he finishes the job and gets the both of you out of there safely. Dean has reason now, speeding out of there like hell after killing anything in his path. 

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parks the car and doesn’t move an inch. You already know why, and you already know the speech he’s about to dish out. “Listen-“ 

“It’s not your fault.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head. You already have a bruise forming on your cheek despite Dean doing his best to pull his punch. The guilt eats him every time you look at each other and he has to divert his eyes. 

“Alrighty,” Dean presses his lips together as he thinks of another solution. “Give me one,” Dean nods, waving his hands to get you to come closer. You scoff at him, shaking your head as you fight off the laugh that bubbles. You’ve seen him and Sam go at each other like this, getting even in a way only brothers can. He taps his cheek, looking to the side. “Give me two, actually. One to make it even, one for putting my hands on a woman.” He waves you closer, dead serious. 

“Dean-“ 

“Lay 'em on me, one at a time, back to back, hard as you want, doesn’t matter, come on.” He’s still looking away from you, refusing to take no for an answer and he waits for the blows to land. He didn’t mean to, you know it, and you know he’s going to feel bad for a while. You scoff and shuffle, Dean tenses as he waits for the blow. You kiss his cheek, grabbing his face and turning it, before kissing his other cheek. 

“There, two blows, back to back.” You smile, “Now let’s go inside so I can get ice for my cheek.” 

Dean’s blushing like an idiot before scurrying after you, “I'll get the ice, you go lay down!” 

---

You had been sick for well over a week while the boys were on a job, sitting by yourself in a house and working as the information specialist for the time being. When they would call, you’d give them all the information you had been collecting within the past couple of hours. Always hours, never days, because you’d get too worried about them. Dean, not admitting it, also calls every couple of hours to make sure you’re still kicking. You sound like hell, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that you are not taking care of yourself while they’re away. 

Sam’s out on a home visit, and Dean is fidgeting with his phone in his hands. Pressing buttons, deleting the numbers, and the cycle repeats itself. Finally putting his big girl panties on, he dials your contact and calls. “Dean? Is everything okay?” Your voice is worried, the call slightly random from the semi-schedule you guys have grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, hey, yeah we’re good. Sam’s just out making some runs, you know.” He sounds awkward and like a loser, he already knows it. He can pretty much hear Sam’s voice mocking him. “Just wanted to call, see how you’re holding up. Taking that medicine I got? Eating everyday?” He’s interrogating you, for your well being of course. 

“The medicine you got me is like ketamine…or something.” You laugh. 

“What?! It is not-” 

“It so is! Some random pills you got from who knows where, from who knows, and you’re telling me to take them?” You’re scolding him softly, but he can still hear the humour in your voice. 

“Whatever, when we get back I’m gonna smother you back to good health.” You roll your eyes at this, Dean knows that without even being in the room with you. “Pills and all.” 

“Dean, whatever. Just don’t die and get back here soon.” You laugh softly on the other side of the phone. Dean can hear the tone of your voice, almost pleading with him. In your defense, the two of them had been gone for over a week on the job including travel time to get there. 

--- 

Dean will never admit it but after that he gets softer around you, starts looking out for you more than he lets on. He’s a softie, even if he won’t show it. The first time Dean almost dies since you’ve joined the team, it’s the first close call the three of you have had to someone actually dying. Sure, the three of you have been hurt and wounded, but nothing quite like when Dean’s guts were outside of his body for far too long to actually be okay. 

He’s been in surgery for hours at this point, Sam had left a while ago to try and put some distance in between him and his brother possibly dying in front of him. You’re left in the cold waiting room by yourself, elbows on your knees as you wait. Your face has been rubbed more times than you can count, one more and your face will come off. You curse Sam for leaving you alone, but part of you does understand as well. 

You rocket out of your seat at the beginning of “D-” whipping around to face the nurse before she can even finish his name. You’re frantic, sure, but you can’t help it. “Dean? Is it for Dean?” Your voice comes out more of a mumble, the poor nurse nodding her head softly. She leads a shaky you to his room, heart in your feet. The nurse stops at the front, stepping to the side to allow you to walk in on your own. It takes all willpower in your body to not immediately crumble to the floor at the sight. Dean’s eyes are open, squinted almost completely shut, as his head rolls over to the side to look at you. 

His eyes widen the slightest bit at the sight of you and not Sam and the tears immediately begin flowing down your face. You try hard not to audibly sob, but it’s taking a lot of effort. “H-hey, Dean.” You sound pathetic as you shuffle over to the side of his bed, almost scared that your presence alone will send him back into a near death state. As soon as you make it to the side of the bed, his arm reaches over and brushes against your leg. “You fucking dick!” You’re hysterical as he makes contact. “You can’t scare me like that! Ever! Don’t ever do that again!” Absolutely ridiculous as you crumble down onto the bed, your arms wrapping around his head. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He’s quick to comfort you, arms weakly wrapping around your waist. He grunts with the effort it takes in his current state. You’re almost climbing into the bed with him at this point, not wanting to let go of him. He’s trying not to cry with your state of general mess, seeing you so upset is getting him emotional. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Dean. God, I was so scared. Sorry. Sam is just out to get some air. You know how he deals with this, I’m sure they’ve called him.” You’re prying your arms away from his form, sitting down on the bed next to him. Maybe it’s the hysterics, but you’re running your fingers through his hair and gently holding his face in the other hand. Leaning forward, you place the shakiest kiss on his forehead. “You’re never allowed to go by yourself ever again.” Sam walks in on the two of you like this, you obsessively petting his head while holding his face in the other palm. Your entire face is wet at this point, tears soaking your features. 

Sam lets you sit for a moment longer, the wet patch on your shirt indication that this is needed. Eventually, he has to butt in otherwise Dean will think his brother hates him. When he finally clears his throat, you almost scatter away from Dean.  

---

Eventually, you become a part of the little family they have. It takes a long time for Dean to come around, and Sam takes less time. When Sam lets you call him Sammy for the first time without correcting you as he does everyone else, Dean knows you're in for the long haul. Technically it’s the first and only time you’ve called him Sammy in front of him, the circumstances and situation making you talk before thinking. 

Sam and Dean had been fighting the entire job, at each other’s throats for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Usually it’s banter and general sibling bickering, but this time it’s different. The tipping point comes when Dean mumbles something under his breath in the hotel room after a long day, Sam immediately reacting as he jolts up. Before you can even comprehend what the argument is about, fists are flying and the two are grappling each other. You’re watching with wide eyes, never quite seeing the two get this distant from each other. Sam is Dean’s baby brother, he’d do anything for him. 

“Guys, what, stop!” You mumble, trying to intervene as Sam has gotten Dean pinned by the throat underneath him. You know they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to each other, but you still feel your stomach flip at the position. “Guys, please!” Your eyes are watery and you’re trying with all of your force to pull Sam off of him. Sam, easily outweighing you, doesn’t budge an inch and is just more annoyed at you pulling him. 

“If you want to leave, leave. We don’t need you.” Dean spits, pushing at Sam’s arm that remains at his neck. Sam clenches his jaw, clicking his tongue. 

“I won’t come back this time.” Sam spits, deadly serious. You’ve never heard Sam this serious in the entire time you’ve known him, not on a hunt, not on an investigation, nothing. Dean’s about to say something before you’re slapping a hand over his mouth. You’re crying at this point, pathetically holding Sam’s arm as you rest your face against his shoulder. You can’t move him. 

“Sammy, please.” You cry, a horrid sob leaving your throat as you plead with him. Even Dean looks sideways at you, shocking him as well. At the plea, Sam steps back, releasing the pressure he’s holding Dean to. “Sammy, stop. You can’t leave us, we need you, please.” You cry softly, letting go of Dean’s face to hold Sam’s arm instead. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Sam mumbles softly, shrugging you off his arm in favour of pulling you into his embrace. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam mumbles, trying to console you. You nod into his chest, reaching over to hold Dean’s face rather than slapping your hand over it. Dean leans into it, pushing his cheek into your palm. For the first time, it’s you being the negotiator between the two brothers rather than Sam being in between you and Dean. And for the first time, it was actually scary. 

---

With Sam, Dean doesn’t keep tally on who saves who’s ass. He’s family, it’s expected. And with you, he doesn't either. (He totally does, he just won’t admit it. However, you’re two up on him, and it kills him every time he thinks about it.) He swears to himself he’ll make it even eventually. 

---

Dean’s final straw is you washing Baby, wearing an all too small bikini as you wash the grime off of her. You had been giving him shit for it for awhile now, always quoting his dad on how he should’ve been taking better care of the car. It kills him, always being lectured about his precious baby that has been HIS car for years now. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, the front door of the house you’re staying in swinging open. He’s walking out just enough to watch closer, arms crossed as he stands on the sidewalk to the front door. You’re in the driveway, squatted down, washing the rims when he interrupts you. 

“Washing your dirty ass car.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I have to ride around in the thing, it might as well look nice.” You shrug, continuing to wash. Your back is facing him when you talk, and Dean is watching almost your every move. His eyes trail down your back, over the curve of your ass, before landing on your thighs. They flex underneath your weight, a sight for sore eyes as he watches you. 

“No, smart ass, why are you doing it? Shouldn’t I be the one to wash my own car?” Dean mumbles, moving closer to you. You don’t budge, still crouched down next to his car. When he walks closer, it’s immediately a bad idea, and it’s too late before he realizes. 

“Well, you haven’t in let's say, the better part of 2 years so,” For the first time since he’s talked to you, you break your focus to look at him. Much closer to you, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Still squatted down, in that tiny ass bikini you’re wearing. It covers enough of you to be legal, but god damn it, he’s reeling. 

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!” 

“Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Dean grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“What I know I’m doing is washing your car. You’re the one that came out here for whatever reason. To fight with me? Who fuckin’ knows.” You turn your attention back to the car, “You can help me, instead of sitting there and bitching. Shirt off though, that’s a requirement.” You laugh out the last part, reaching to the side and throwing soap at him. It makes his white shirt see through, showing his skin through the cloth. 

“This is ridiculous,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to play along. For a moment,  you’re sure he’s just going to walk back into the house. You smile softly when he’s pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere back towards the front door. You giggle, now playing a game with him. You smile as he reaches into the bucket, taking another sponge and beginning to wash the back rim. 

In the time you’ve known him, Dean is easy to rile up. Some good banter, a few batted eyelashes, maybe even look up at him, and he’s a goner. You’ve seen him get more numbers at bars than you can count on both hands and feet, never leaving a town without one. It’s a part of why you’ve never made  a move, because you know him. And you know his type, and you know what he likes to do. Just a little bit of fun, a little playing here and there. Regardless, it’s fun. 

You giggle, moving from the rim you’re washing to the hood. You’re leaning over the hood, bending at the hips to reach the top. Dean stands up from the back, determined to watch you wash the hood. He scoffs softly, walking around to you. “You’re doing this wrong,” He mumbles. 

“You haven't washed this in years and you’re lecturing me?”

“Just, shut the hell up for a second.” He mumbles, reaching around you to move your arm. He moves the sponge in circular motions, leaning over you. His hips barely make contact with yours, only the side of his hip brushing against your ass. If he moves over a single step, he’d be completely behind your bent over form. Suddenly, it’s all too much, he’s too close, and you’re so incredibly warm. “What, you’re finally listening to me for once?” Dean chuckles at your silence. 

You’re quiet, face beginning to flush. “Not listening, smart ass. I’m just learning the right technique, according to you.” You’re pressing your ass against the hip that’s next to you, trying for the life of you to get him to move. His hand flys down to grab at your waist, holding you still. You’re still in this ridiculously small bikini, and his hand is now on your bare skin. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Dean mumbles, his head falling forward slightly. His forehead hits your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling himself up. Putting some space in between you, his hand still remains on your waist. For a moment, a realization hits him at how small your waist is, especially compared to his hands on your skin. 

“If i’m not, who else would be?” You giggle, leaning further forward to reach the very top of the hood. From his teaching, you wash small circles. “You know, everyone’s out of the house until later tonight, right? Some dinner, poker match. I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.” 

“What’re you saying, hm?” Dean mumbles, once again leaning over you. This time, he’s slightly more behind your hips, giving you more leverage to press back against him. 

You smile, feeling his chest hit your back as he leans forward, head beginning to nestle in the crook of your neck as he talks, lips brushing against your ear. As his weight falls further onto you, you allow your arms to fold as he presses against your back. You rest on your forearms, the change in position pressing harder into his hips. 

“Was this your plan the entire time, hm?” Dean grits, one hand moving to adjust your jaw, pushing your head to the side to make you look at him. “Wear this slutty excuse of a bikini, walk out here and wash my prized possession, get me to join? Hm?” 

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” You giggle. “Maybe just since you walked out here.” You shrug, whining when he adjusts his hand, allowing his hand to move from your jaw to your neck. 

“This is unfair,” Dean mumbles, softly biting into your shoulder. “My favorite girl, out here washing my favorite car, and you expect me not to take the bait?” 

He allows his hand to move, instead of holding your waist, he holds your abdomen, pushing you back against him. You can feel him pressed against your skin, able to slot his hard cock in between your folds when you move a certain way. The fabric leaves little to the imagination, and he can feel the heat in between your legs. 

“You gonna be mean, and take me right here? Or be nice and take me to the bedroom hm?” You tease him, moaning softly when he grinds against you. 

“You know me, I like it all. So both.” He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. His fingertips dip underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing down to exactly where you need him. “You’re fucking soaked,” Dean mumbles, “You were thinking about this for awhile, huh? Pretending to just be washing my car, what a load of shit.” Dean mumbles, groaning softly as his fingers slip through your folds. He rubs gentle circles into your clit, slowly building pressure. 

“You, I, just maybe.” You whimper, immediately weak in the limbs as he toys with you. The circles speed up, drawing out the softest whines and whimpers. He chases the noises as if it’s his own high, humming along softly when you let out a particularly loud whimper. 

“How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” Dean asks, snaking one arm behind you as he gently slips a finger into your pussy, slow and careful in his movements. You whine even louder, tightening around his fingers as he slips in another, fucking into you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He’s adamant, chasing your high before thinking of himself. “Answer me,” 

“Not long, since you’re all over every single girl you can get your hands on.” You mumble, riling him up. He fucks more roughly into you, grinding harshly against your g-spot. “Just need some relief, and you’re the only one here.” You’re lying through your teeth. 

“You know all that shit is just me messin’ around, and you’re a bad liar, you know that?” Dean mumbles, beginning to kiss along any skin he can reach. “This wet? And you expect me to believe this is for anyone, hm? I bet if Sammy came out here, you would’ve immediately covered up, huh, hide all of this.” His hands reach up to pull at your bikini top, exposing your tits to his touch. He roughly gropes and feels your skin, twisting and pulling at your nipples, punishing you for riling him up. 

“Okay, maybe not Sammy.” You shrug, “I could find a cutie at the bar, though, I’m sure.” His hand moves forward to wrap around your throat once again, squeezing just enough to make your mind fuzzy and to stop talking like a smart ass. 

“But you wouldn’t, if you wanted to, you would’ve already done it.” He shrugs, you can feel the movement against your shoulders. You’re close, squeezing down around him. You don’t even have to tell him, he’s already teasing and pulling your strings before you can speak. “See, who else can rile you up like this, hm?” 

“Can you make me cum, or are you all talk Dean?” You grit, almost unable to speak with him all over you like this. Every sense of you is filled with him, he’s all you can think of. 

“Yeah, sure,” He laughs softly when you clench hard around him, teetering close. “You don’t have to tell me you’re close, I can feel it. If you keep being smart with me, I can stop. It won’t take much, you know, rip this pretty little orgasm away from you in a second.”

His fingers slow, no longer giving you the stimulation you need to actually cum. “Please, please, I’m sorry. Please make me cum.” You plead with him. 

“There she is,” He laughs, speeding up once again to allow you to fall off the edge. When you come undone, it’s violent. Your legs shake, you tighten around him, and you thank god for baby underneath you to hold your weight up. Dean forces you to ride out the high, slowing down only barely to not push you into over-stimulation. 

“Fuck me.” You mumble, roughly pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter how, you need it. “Now, Dean, unless you can’t get it up in your old age-”

He slips one of his fingers into your mouth, roughly pulling on your cheek. “A please would be nice, huh Pretty girl?” Dean mumbles, and you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. It’s fast and hasty, and you already know he’s pissed off with you constantly nagging him. “Just demand demand demand, whine whine whine.” Dean grits, roughly pulling your bottoms to the side, “Is that all you do, huh?” He’s pushing into you before you can react, pulling a loud moan from you as he holds your mouth open. 

“Fuck, fuck, thank you,” You whimper, squeezing around him tightly. He bottoms out, grinding against your hips as he savours the feeling of being completely inside you. His hips are rough, battering into you with little remorse. Fucking the smart ass out of you, that’s what he’s gonna do or die trying. From the mewls and whimpers slipping past your lips without your control, he feels he’s doing a pretty good job. 

“That’s more like it, there’s my girl.” Dean groans, cock throbbing at hearing you finally shut up for the first time, literally, since he’s met you. For once in his life, you aren’t spitting some sarcastic ass shit at him, and he’s not spitting it back at you. “Feels good hm, does my girl feel good?” Dean’s deep voice sends goosebumps across your skin, the vibrations running through you like a live wire as you work yourself up further. 

“Your girl, hm? That’s new.” You mumble, moaning softly when his grip moves to press down on your tongue, stopping you from talking. Drool pools around his finger, and he groans when you wrap your lips around it, tongue moving slightly underneath his touch to run along the pad. 

“Is that a problem?” 

You can’t respond, and he knows it. You clench tightly around him, a vice grip in response, and he almost genuinely laughs at how needy you are for him. His hips react immediately to you, thrusting rougher into you, chasing the pleasure the both of you are feeling. Moving his grip from your waist, he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, trying to get you over the edge. It doesn’t take much to get you to fall over the edge, legs shaking underneath both of your weight. 

“Good girl, easy, easy, ride it out. Don’t hurt yourself now,” Dean patronizes you gently, continuing to chase his own high. 

“Cum, cum Dean, please.” You mumble around his fingers, tightening around even further. You’re so tight and just absolutely soaked that he’s spilling into you soon after, chanting your name gently in your ear as he comes undone. “Fuck, fuck,” You mumble, finally beginning to relax as he slows down his movements. 

“C’mon pretty girl, I gotta give you the second half of my promise.” Dean laughs softly, “Or not, if you can’t take it.” 

“If I can’t take it? Are you kidding me?” You smile, carefully pushing yourself up on your hands, glancing back at him. “Let’s go, your bed so I don’t have to wash my sheets later.” At this, Dean rolls his eyes, of course. Still, the second you turn around to face him, he’s hoisting you up onto his waist, pushing at your legs to get you to wrap around his torso. He carries you easily, walking through the empty house and straight to his room. Your back hits the bed, Dean toppling with you soon after. 

“Gonna make soft mushy love to me, huh Dean?” You joke with him, your legs still wrapped around his torso, arms holding his head in your palms. 

“After bending you over Baby, yeah. Best of both worlds or whatever they say.” Dean smiles, his characteristic smirk etched on his face. His head dips down slightly, softly kissing against your jaw, moving down to your neck, before sucking light marks into your chest. Far enough down not to be interrogated by Sammy later, but enough to leave a reminder of him. His head continues to trail down, hands pulling at your bikini bottoms while he bites at your thighs, once again leaving his mark on your otherwise perfect, unbroken skin. 

“Never would’ve thought I’d have you here like this, hm?” He’s rolling his eyes at you, moaning softly when your hands come to pull at his hair. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, tightening the slightest bit around his head when he draws closer, finally making contact with you. “Fuck Dean, you gonna be nice, Dean, please?” 

“To you, of course.” 

Dean is skilled, to say the least. He knows what he’s doing, where he needs to work, what strings he needs to pull, how to get you there. Dean isn’t quiet about his skills either, you’ve heard sly remarks about the girls at bars, road side pubs, and everything in between. He’s living up to his legend, your thighs clamping around his head within minutes. You don’t let him get any smart ass remarks in, pulling him closer when you know he’s about to make fun of you. You control him so easily, muscular legs holding him in place. He’s not going to tell you, you’d never let him live it down, but he’s absolutely shaking at the thought of the hold you have over him. 

“Gonna cum for you Dean, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, thighs flexing to grind against his face. He moans into you, caught off guard by your movement. You do it again, whimpering when you realize he likes this, he’s into this. “Cumming, fuck, cumming.” 

His hands move to run along your thighs, trying to calm the shaking underneath his touch. “Good girl, so good for me.” Dean praises. Before he can react, you’re ripping him up. You're holding anywhere you can, forcing Dean to hover over you, legs once again around his waist. 

“You gonna let me kiss you, or is that crossing a line?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please.” Dean mumbles, sighing deeply when you immediately connect your lips. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible. Dean wants to melt into you, fuse with you. He’s riling himself up, he knows that, but he swears your lips on him are heaven sent, curing his soul from whatever horrors it has been forced through. Like a breath of fresh air, like he’s alive again. He’d never tell you that, he can only imagine your reaction and the shit you would give him. 

You’re kissing him as if your life depends on it, hands tangling in his hair. Dean could kiss you for hours and not complain, he could do this all day if you’d let him. He’s unsure of how long you’ve been kissing him like this, so needy and whiny underneath him, but he doesn’t care. When he pulls away to catch his breath, your lips are slightly swollen, slick with saliva. Your face has flushed a bright red from the kiss, making you look cute despite being in such a lewd state. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean mumbles, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. 

You blush softly, but you try to hide it as just flushed cheeks. “Don’t get too sweet on me now.” You smile, tightening around his waist with your legs. 

“Right, right.” Dean smiles, fighting off a laugh when you reach to unbuckle his belt. He’s kicking the jeans off in record speed, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him move that fast. He’s back with you just as fast. “Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, shaking as his cock slides in between  your folds, easily sliding with your slick. It’s so intimate that he’s unused to it, and there’s the smallest fear in his chest that he won’t last having you like this. “Fuck, pretty girl.” 

You whine as he pushes in, so slow that it makes you squirm underneath him. Bottoming out, he allows his head to fall forward, landing in the crook of your neck. “Dean,” 

“Just, fuck, give me a second.” 

“It’s okay,” You mumble, understanding his situation. While you’re understanding, you’re not forgiving as you clench around him like a vise. Your hands reach around, holding his back as you pull him close. You kiss along his skin, waiting until he calms down. 

Dean groans, unbelievable, it’s unbelievable how he’s stuck like this. “I can’t believe this shit,” Dean mumbles, drawing away from you to hook your legs over his elbows, folding you in half when he leans forward again. Finally having some sort of advantage, he’s able to target exactly where he needs to hit. “I feel like a fuckin teenager again.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” You laugh, relishing in the moans that slip past his lips. Finally getting his wits about him, he’s able to finally move, grinding against you. Dean’s not going to last, he knows that, as he begins gently rubbing light circles into your clit. He’s gotta get some sort of leverage, something. Bending further forward, you’re covered entirely by his weight. When your lips gently connect with his, Dean thinks he could conquer the world. Kissing him so gently, so sweetly, has him absolutely reeling. 

“I love you,” Dean blurts, before he can even think to stop it. You don’t think he means it, not in any other way than being horny and worked up. “God, I fucking love you,” He mumbles again, shrugging your legs off of his arms in favour of caging you underneath him, head in between either of his arms as he kisses you. His hips don’t slow for a second, kissing you and chasing his high as if his life depends on it. He’s hitting your g-spot and grinding against your clit at the same time, kissing you as if he would die otherwise, and pressing all of his weight onto you. 

You can’t answer or speak, can’t tell him off for saying that shit mid-fuck. Maybe it’s the position that has him acting up, or it’s the softest he’s fucked in awhile and he doesn’t know how to behave. You’re pulling him closer by his back, kissing him back just as feverishly. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, please, need to feel you wrapped around me.” Dean moans, trailing a hand down in between your bodies. He’s on a mission, truly, needing to get you there before he can allow himself to. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

“Dean,” You whine, “Sensitive, ‘m sensitive.” You complain, overstimulated and worked up. 

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, just one more. Come for me one more time, please. I need it, hm?” Dean pleads with you, “Doing so well for me, taking my cock so well.” Him talking you through it is almost all you need to tip over the edge, the smallest bit of stimulation you need. Throwing your head back, you can’t even look at him when you come undone. Dean kisses along your exposed neck, not leaving any marks for your own sake. 

“Please, please, Dean. Come, no more.” You whine, tightening around him from over-stimulation. You need him to cum, and have a break. You don’t have to tell him twice, hell, you don’t even have to tell him once. He’s been on edge since he brought you into his fucking room. His head is buried in your shoulder, and you whimper when he bites down into the skin. 

You’re so sore and over-stimulated, mumbling as his hips finally slow in their movement. “Y/n,” Dean is mumbling along with you, “Easy pretty girl, you’re okay,” He attempts to soothe you. “Listen, what I said.”

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.” 

“I meant it, I mean it still.” Dean explains, carefully sliding out, careful to not accidentally stimulate you any further. You’re still caged underneath him, his arms around your head. 

“You don’t have to tell me that, it’s okay, really. Heat of the moment, or whatever.”

“Please, listen. I mean it.” He’s speaking so softly it’s genuinely been awhile since you’ve heard this tone, and it’s never been with you. With Sammy, likely. “I know you don’t believe me, and I wish I saved it for a more romantic moment, I do. But I do mean it.” 

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

“I haven’t been with anyone in forever, you know that. Getting a number is different, that’s just me trying to get information Y/N.” Dean speaks, pulling himself further off of you, giving you space. He’s reaching for his bag, trying to find something to cover you with. He finds a t-shirt, carefully putting it over your head. It goes down to your thighs, covering you. He’s snatching his boxers next, he’s gotta have some decency for this conversation. “I love you, Y/n. You don’t have to say it back, but you deserve to know the truth at least.” 

He’s fully prepared to be shut down, given your reaction thus far. You lean forward, and he thinks you’re about to climb away from him, move out of his bed. Your lips softly connect with his, the gentlest kiss. He’s smiling like an idiot into the kiss, almost unable to kiss you from the extent of his smile. “We can’t tell Sammy, he’ll think you’ve lost it.” Dean almost giggles at this, yes, giggles. What has gotten into him? What the actual hell is happening right now? Still, he nods along with you in agreement. 

“We can’t tell Sammy, or you don’t want to tell Sammy?” 

You’re rolling your eyes. “We don’t have to tell Sammy, he’ll know.” It’s the truth, he’ll figure it out before you or Dean even have a chance to tell him. Dean nods again, the faintest of smiles beginning to spread across his face again. It grows tenfold when you’re leaning forward, cupping his face in your palms, and once again kissing him. He’s shaking when you lean forward, forcing his back to hit the bed, your legs soon straddling his hips. You’re fully seated on his lap, legs underneath his body to give you more leverage to plant yourself against him. 

Your hands wrap around his head, pulling him into you. “Dean, say you love me again.” You mumble, diving back in to kiss him. He can barely mumble the words out, speaking with your lips on his the entire time. Not knowing it was possible, you’re kissing him harder. 

“Riling yourself up, pretty girl?” Dean chuckles softly, hands holding your waist snugly. His grip tightens when you grind against him, drawing out a strangled moan. Dean’s head falls back, face scrunching up. He can’t watch you grind against him in his t-shirt, he really can't. You’re so warm it makes him shake, completely bare as you grind against his boxers. You’re soaking through the cloth, he can feel it. He curses his old age in the back of his head, regretting he can’t recover as easily as he used to. You’re not too much younger than him, but it’s still making him frustrated as you’re ready for round 3. 

“Dean,” Your voice comes out as a whine, your body slumping forward as you curl into his warmth. Your hips continue to grind against his, lips running along his skin. You’re fighting off the urge to leave marks on his skin, losing yourself in the feeling of being close to him. 

“C’mon pretty girl, show me what you’re made of.” Dean’s already regretting his words. He knows you’re quite literally going to make him eat them. Your feet remain underneath his body, flexing as you seat yourself more heavily against him. Your hands move all over his body, finally stopping in his hair as you connect your lips with his. Deans losing his mind. He feels his thighs shake when you lift your weight up and reach down, pushing his boxers down past his hips. He assists you momentarily as he lifts both of your weight off the bed for easier removal. “Gonna make me regret my taunting?” 

“You know it.” You almost giggle, and it only solidifies his belief that he will, in fact, eat his words. You’re soaking wet as you make contact with him, easily sliding through your folds as you slowly and carefully rock your hips. Without warning, in one swift roll of your hips, he’s sheathed inside of you all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck, fuck, goddamn it.” Dean’s head is thrown back against the pillow, muscles straining in his neck with the force he’s exerting. Your hips grind and roll against his, drawing the prettiest moans from yourself. Dean knew this was gonna happen, and yet he’s shocked that it is. “Should’ve, fuck, picked my words better.” 

Dean shuffles against the bed, sitting up so his back rests against the headboard. He easily pulls you along with him, hands securely holding you by the hips. He’s closer this way it feels like, can smell the sex and heat rolling off of your body. Your arms wrap around his head loosely, leaning down to connect your foreheads together. “Wanna cum like this Dean.” Your breath is basically a pant, grinding rougher as you chase whatever high you have left. 

“Do what you want, please, use me.” Dean’s losing it as he leans forward and marks your skin, too fucked out to even think about what he’s actually doing. You’re going to scold him for this later, something he’s almost sure of, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. You’re coming undone embarrassingly soon, clenched tightly around him as your thighs shake gently. Your hips never stop moving, riding out your high long past the comfortable point. “My girl, my good girl,” Dean is cooing, almost babbling when he watches you use him. 

He’s so overstimulated and so worked up it hurts, but he’ll grit his teeth and bare it if it means he gets to have you like this. You’re arguably more overstimulated than he is, legs shaking and small mewls or moans unconsciously slipping past your lips. He’s moving before you can react, your back hitting the bed. His hips pick up immediately where yours left off, pace barely faltering. You’re soaking wet, the sounds sending a shiver up his spine. “You’re so good to me, holy fuck, this is what I've been missing out on for years. Are you kidding me, fuck.” Dean groans, neck burying into your shoulder. 

“I just, fuck, haven’t been touched in awhile. Easily excitable,” You joke, legs moving to wrap around his torso. With the amount of effort it takes to whine that sentence out, he knows you’re lying. He huffs slightly in annoyance, a small smirk on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation the two of you are in. 

“You’re so full of shit,” It’s gruff and harsh, his brows scrunching together with the effort he’s exerting. His abs have never been clenched harder in his life, torso rock solid from the over-stimulation and effort. “Even if you could quiet down and stop whining, you’d still give yourself away.” He teases you, and you know he’s right. “Wanna try it, hm pretty girl? Shhhh,” It’s gentle and soothing rather than rough, despite his situation. He gently shushes and coos to you, eventually getting your whining and moaning to mere pants. Like he said, you still give yourself away with the slick noises each time his hips roll into yours. “Do you fuckin hear yourself? Listen pretty girl, just listen.” 

You’re beyond fucked out, listening as Dean explains to you. Your lips are caught tightly in between your teeth, fighting hard to keep as quiet as you possibly can. Your head is thrown back against the bed, straining as your legs lock around his torso harder than before. “Dean,”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know. You give yourself away, hm?” He mocks, hands coming to run along your thighs, squeezing the muscle underneath. “One more for me, just give me one more and I’ll clean you up all nice and gentle.” 

“I can’t-”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s soft, but just enough to be patronizing. 

“Please, let’s cum. Last one.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly around him. It’s hard to push in, so overworked and sensitive. Dean’s voice alone works you up more than you ever realized, and having him so close, talking in your ear like this. It’s bad news. Dean’s hips are stuttering as you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, working himself up now. The noises you’re making would be embarrassing if it wasn’t Dean, who’s so beyond into it. Maybe it’s the both of your instincts being heightened from years of fighting fuck knows what, but the front door opening has the both of you immediately stilling. 

Dean has never seen your eyes widen this much, almost comical as you look at him. There’s a wicked smile on his face as he shuffles his arms around, ever so gently placing his hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.” Dean’s whispering in your ear, hips slowing just enough to grind into you, clit grinding against his skin. You’re fighting hard to keep quiet, opting to bite down on Dean’s hand instead. He’s hissing softly, repositioning so you bite into the side of his hand. 

“C’mon, give me some slack. Cum for me, please. I need to cum pretty girl, you’re gonna make me cum for you.” Dean swears your eyes are going to roll back and out of your skull and he’s going to be permanently like this with how you’re wrapped around him. Dean’s about to beg, he can feel the words on his tongue. Plead with you, even. His silent prayers are granted when your head throws itself back, your arms moving to wrap around his biceps. With the force you’re holding him, he thinks you’ll leave bruises. He’s following you soon after, hips faltering as he comes undone inside of you. Your legs lock around him and suddenly you’re a bodybuilder with the amount of strength you have. 

Your legs are securely locked, not allowing him to rock anymore, needing no more stimulation. Like you thought, you would be embarrassed with how wet you are if it wasn’t Dean who was the one making you sound like this. “The others are back, I have to go.” You whisper, immediately faltering when your weight settles on your legs. Your bottoms are put on with the help of Dean, who keeps you upright. Too fucked out, your legs are almost unusable as you wobble your way towards the door with bikini top in hand. You have to get going before everyone comes into the back of the house, that you know. 

“You can’t even walk straight.” Dean’s right behind you, trying to keep you up on your feet. He’s trying very hard not to laugh at your condition, but you can hear it in his voice. 

“We can’t scar Sam like this.” You’re trying hard not to giggle, slowly peeling open the door. Dean catches you before you can sprint away from him, yanking you back into his embrace. He's grinning down at you, lips softly pressing against yours. You're distracted, beginning to get lost in the kiss. Reminding you, Dean begins to peel the door open slightly. Once it’s open enough, you’re making a sprint for your room. You hear footsteps soon after you make it to your room, ear pressed against the door to listen. 

“Dean, do I wanna know why I just saw Y/N sprint across the hall in your tee shirt?” 

“No, no you do not.” 

The next case you work, Sam doesn’t mention a single thing. In fact, Sam doesn’t mention anything, ever, even the next morning when you’re awkwardly making coffee in the kitchen while he sits at the kitchen counter. Perhaps you should have asked how he felt about this before you went and created your master plan of you and Baby the other day. You’re sucking in your bottom lip as you’re thinking about how you’re going to bring this up, Dean out for the next half hour or so as he grabs food. 

“Sammy?” You mumble softly, placing a mug of black coffee on the table for him. He won’t drink it with cream or sugar anymore, neither does Dean. 

“Hm?” He asks absentmindedly, thumbing through the newspaper as he reads. He’s not listening to you, you know that. When he reads, he’s entirely immersed in the information he’s processing. He fumbled around for the coffee mug, and you slid it closer to where he’s smacking the table so he can actually find the handle. 

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” You ask softly, waiting for him to process what you asked after he finishes whatever sentence he’s currently on. You don’t have to specify, you already know he knows what you’re referring to. Finally, he breaks his focus from the paper to look at you since you’ve walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. (You don’t know it, but he looked at you to make sure you grabbed his mug as well.) 

He laughs, and for a second you’re disheartened. “Are you serious?” 

“I-what?” You don't know whether to be confused or offended. You were going to genuinely hear him out, but this is not the tone you were expecting. 

“You and Dean have been at each other’s throats since you met. I’m surprised you guys didn’t jump on each other sooner.” He laughs, sipping his coffee and shaking his head softly. He laughs at you more, “You think I would care about that? Oh my god, I’ve never seen Dean run out of the house faster this morning to get you food, wide eyed and bushy tail. I think he thought he was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” 

“Fuck, should I go lay back down?” You genuinely wonder, making Sam laugh even harder. 

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re telling me this is the first time? I honestly thought you guys have been hate fucking since we met.” 

“Sammy, pleaseeeee.” You whine, tossing your head back. Sipping your coffee, you want to whine and pout. 

“No offense, but I don't care what the two of you guys get up to. As long as you’re happy and don’t die on a hunt because you’re distracted, it’s not a problem.” 

“Right, right. It won't interfere with hunting, I promise.” You nod your head to him, “But seriously, should I go get back into bed?” 

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he refocuses on the newspaper he’s reading. You don’t, because Dean’s walking into the door soon after your conversation with Dean. Making eye contact, his face falls completely and Sam was definitely correct with his guess of breakfast in bed. Regardless, Dean pretends he just got food and had no other motive. “Breakfast has arrived,” He announces, placing the bags on the table. “What, no coffee for me?!” 

“Oh come on, give me a break. You were nowhere in sight this morning.” You defend yourself, “Not even a BRB note, how was I supposed to know when you were coming back?” 

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

“Sammy was sitting in here in the kitchen when I woke up-”

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

“It totally isn’t! Just because he uses it more often than I do-”

“OKAY!” Sam interrupts, and he’s smiling like an idiot when you turn to look at him. Nothing has changed between you or Dean, and this just proves that. Sure, you’re eyeing him up like a starved woman, and Dean is trying hard to ignore you in your little pajamas, but nothing has changed between the two of you. “You guys gonna eat or fuck against the kitchen counter?” 

Both you and Dean groan in annoyance, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags. After breakfast, you guys go over the main points of the new case you’re working on. The drive makes you want to bash your face into Baby’s window over and over, and you can already feel the tiredness in your bones. You guys start the drive not long after, packing up everything and getting a jump start to the job. 7 hours in and Sam switches with Dean to drive, now in the passenger seat. 

You kick the seat when he leans it back and pins your legs to the backseat, “Don’t make me come back there!” He threatens, to which you stick your tongue out at him. Another seven hours in and you’re switching with Sam, who sleeps in the backseat. 

You and Dean talk in the front. “So, Sammy doesn’t care then?” Dean whispers, and you shake your head no. You’re whispering in an attempt to not disturb Sam, even though you think Sam could sleep through an earthquake. Giving him some type of courtesy, you try to keep the noise down to a minimum. 

“Sammy said he thought we had been, quote, hate fucking since we first met, end quote.” You giggle, glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. Dean is trying awfully hard not to howl laugh right now, and god is it hard. You giggle softly, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, in that case.” Dean shrugs, reaching over the front bench and grabbing the inside of your thigh as you drive. 

“Winchester.” You warn, genuinely warn, as your voice remains low and calm. 

“What? You said he doesn’t care.” Dean mumbles, chuckling softly. Glancing back into the back seat, Sam is passed out. He wouldn’t do that in front of Sammy, but he can push your buttons. Dean slides his hand closer to your hip, slipping down onto your inner thigh further. You give him no reaction, knowing the second you do it’ll only fuel the fire. Dean bites at his lips, trying extremely hard not to laugh at your resolute attitude. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, making your hips jolt back into the bench. 

You’re grabbing his hand, ripping it backwards and twisting his arm. “Fuck, I love it when you’re rough with me.” Dean groans softly, a smile still playing on his features. “Okay, okay sweetheart, I hear you loud and clear.” He smiles, pulling his arm free and kissing your knuckles. 

You finally get to the motel after what feels like 2000 years, you driving the last leg of the trip. Sam shuffles into the motel without saying a word to either of you and Dean, still half asleep as he pushes into the room. He’s  falling into the bed and back asleep in no time, and you and Dean share a look. Dean has a soft chuckle, and you giggle when he slides his hand across your thigh, pulling you by your hips across the bench of Baby. 

“No, no, no pretty boy. You made me drive the shitty shift.” You mumble, shuffling so you’re pressed against him. He’s easily manipulated, allowing his body to fall back against the passenger side door. Your legs easily swing over his hips, settling down on his lap with ease. You hate driving at night, and he knows that. “And you’ve been teasing me for the past 20 miles. I’m gonna do what I want, and if you ask nice enough by the end of this, i’ll let you cum, hm?” 

Dean whimpers from underneath you, eyebrows knitting together as you speak to him however you like. When you slam your lips down onto his, he groans into it. You’re frustrated, and annoyed, and slightly angry but not exactly at him. You need an outlet, and Dean is a willing one. Your hips press heavily down into his, using your legs underneath him as leverage to seat yourself against him. Your hands are everywhere and anywhere, running all along his skin underneath his clothes. There’s a whimper that escapes him when you rip off your shirt, not allowing him the pleasure of doing so. 

“This isn’t fair-” You grip his face in between your hands, holding his chin. With the slight pressure, his lips pucker out slightly. You gently peck his lips like this, releasing some of the grip you have on his face. Dean’s hands land on your waist, gently brushing and rubbing along any exposed skin you’ll allow him. 

“Be good, Dean.” You mumble, “You’ll be good for me, hm?” You ask softly, picking your hips up enough to yank your shorts and underwear off in one swift movement. “Let me ride your fingers, baby, get me ready to take you.” You command, voice leaving zero room for disagreement. 

“Yes, yes,” He mumbles absentmindedly, hands shuffling to slip further down your hips. You hiss softly as he makes contact with your clit, well practiced and well trained at this point. He gently rubs along your clit, drawing soft, tight circles into the bud. There’s a small gasp as he slides a digit in, expertly curling and moving in the way he knows you like. You pant softly when your hips grind against him on their own, searching for any touch or stimulation he’ll allow you to have. You chase it like you need it to live, to breathe. And Dean chases the little whimpers and whines as if he’ll die without them. Another digit makes you slump down against him slightly, seeking his warmth and closeness, hips still moving against him. 

“My pretty boy Dean.” You whimper, mumbling partially against his lips as you talk. One of your hands rest behind his head, the other one running your fingers through his hair. Dean reels at the soft compliment, head pushing into your hand as he seeks for your touch. You’re using him like a goddamn toy, and he can’t help but twitch at the thought. He’d let you do anything, anything you ask if it’s from your pretty little mouth. You kiss him hungrily, breaking contact more often than he wants as you moan and pant against him. He seeks your kiss, neck craning up. 

Your hands sloppily fumble with his jean buttons, wanting them off right this second, losing your patience. You push them just below his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers. “Easy, pretty girl, you gotta let me make you cum first.” Dean mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your neck that is burning up. 

“Need you,”

“Need you to feel good, baby.” Dean mumbles, working more feverishly into you to push you past the edge. There’s a boost in his pride when you fall apart against him, arms locking around his head gently as you cum. 

“Dean, wanna fuck you. You gonna let me do that?” You mumble, carefully taking him in your hand. Dean hisses when he slips in between your folds, head thrown against baby for some sort of stability as he tries to compose himself. Cumming when she wants me too, he reminds himself. Your hands are gentle but firm, and dean’s more than aware you’re not giving up your current position on top of him. 

“Gonna let you do anything,” dean mumbles, picking his head up slightly as he watches you line his cock up. He fights to keep his head up, watching as you devour inch by inch of his length. You’re grinning wide when you catch him. 

“Gonna watch me take you? Gonna watch me fuck you, hm?” you pant softly against his lips, snapping your hips down against his. You grind and rub against his his pelvic bone, fully seated against him, tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. Dean’s head falls back against the door, unable to watch. He can’t watch this without cumming earlier than your word. He groans when you hear the tsk sound as you kiss your teeth, whimpering when you pick his head up. 

“I’m trying to listen to you, don’t wanna cum early sweetheart.” Dean mumbles, biting hard onto his bottom lip. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you take him, a shiver running up his spine as he tries not to think about anything for too long. You’re so tight, and wet, and just absolutely pulsing around him. He’s sure there’s a pile underneath him from how wet you are around him, his abs clenched harder than he thought possible as he fights off his orgasm. “God damn it, baby. You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he groans, reaching down and rubbing tight circles into your clit. The sharp gasp sends goosebumps up his arms, listening to your soft noises. 

“This is cheating Dean,” You moan, continuing to fuck yourself down onto him. 

“C'mon baby, lemme have it pretty girl,” Dean whimpers, doing his best to snap his hips up against you. Your weight jolts against him, allowing him more room to snap his hips up. He grins, as he finally has some advantage as he fucks into you. When you come undone, it’s shaky and messy, hips slamming down against Dean's to get the movement to stop. His hips continue to rut into you, milking the orgasm for as long as you’ll let him. 

“Being so good Dean,” You coo into his ear, your face burying itself into his neck. Dean's quite literally fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. He could cry, eyes watering as he screws his eyes shut. 

“C'mon baby, cut me some slack,” He groans, sitting up abruptly to lean into your body. You squeal slightly at how quickly he jostles you around, your legs wrapping around his torso as he moves. 

“I like seeing you so pent up, ‘s cute,” You mumble, holding his head in your palms as you kiss him. Reaching around, you softly pull at his hair, scratching his head where you’re pulling. Your hips grind against him, doing more for you than him. Dean's hands grip your waist and thighs, moving you against him. 

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean groans, leaning forward to bite into your shoulder. 

You smile, holding him gently by his neck as you lean back, taking him with you. He’s groaning into your skin, head falling into your shoulder. “C'mon, want you to feel good,” You mumble, catching his lips gently when his head picks up to glance at you. 

“I do feel good. Feel good if you’re feeling good,” Dean grunts, hissing softly when you push his hips before pulling him back in with your heels. He almost wants to let you make him cum like this, but the shake in your thighs assured him you wouldn’t be able to. “My girl,” Dean moans softly, snapping his hips into you. Your soft mewls spur him on, groaning softly when your hands pull at his hair. Dean's losing it, moaning into the crook of your neck as he buries his face into your skin. 

His weight is pressed entirely against you, elbows digging into the seat on either side of you. You're whimpering in his ear, and he’s been holding off for what feels like years at this point. You pick his head up, pressing your lips to his. The both of you are moaning and panting so hard it’s difficult to kiss, riling yourselves up. “Feels good, Dean, do I make you feel good?” You pant against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist. Your hands are all over him, touching any inch of skin you can, feeling every muscle flexing with the effort of his ministrations. “Talk to me Winchester, my pretty boy.” You moan, one particular thrust sending goosebumps across your skin. 

“I- fuck- can't.” Dean almost grunts, lips never leaving yours as he talks. “ ‘s too good, this pussy, fuck, made for me.” He groans, lips leaving yours to kiss along your cheek and jaw. Your hands settle on his biceps, trying hard to ground yourself here with him. “Never wanna leave it, never wanna leave you.” He groans, pulling you closer by the back of your neck to properly kiss you. “Fuck, please let me cum.”

You hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you, a giant smile creeping over your face at how good he is. “Cum, Dean. Cum inside me, please, need it.” You mumble, grip tightening to hold yourself against him as he roughly fucks into you, chasing the high he’s been craving. You squeal and jerk under him as he bites into your shoulder, roughly laving over it with his tongue to relieve the pain. You squeeze tighter around him from it, making his hips falter in their place. You’re over-sensitive, beginning to squirm. “Cum, Dean, please, can’t take it.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly more. 

“Fuck, taking it so good. Just a bit more, be patient for me sweetheart.” Dean groans against your ear, thrusts becoming more erratic as he finally lets himself go. Your legs are practically numb as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming inside you. You complain softly as he lazily fucks his cum into you, enjoying the absolute mess you’re making underneath him. 

“Please-” You hiccup, pulling his hair softly. Dean slows, stilling as he kisses you properly for the first time in forever, no longer panting and moaning against you. You relish in it, not rushing as you kiss him back. 

“I think I’ll make you drive the shit shift more often.” He’s smiling, carefully getting you cleaned up. He’s proud of how fucked out you are, pride oozing from his demenor. You have the same pride, knowing the second he touches that motel bed he’ll be out for the night. 

You peck him quickly, not wanting to rile him up again. “Sure, but next time you wont cum.” You giggle, taking off before he has the wit to catch you and pin you to baby again. Running into the motel room where Sam is knocked out, you're in the shower before Dean can catch up to you. You hear a snarky remark from the other side of the door, making you giggle.

[hoshifighting]

i love your college fling writings sm aaaa (*≧∀≦*)!! begging on hands and knees for college fling jun 🙏 esp if he’s a bit more on the dom side

college fling!jun

WARNINGS: smut, bio!genius jun, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), cock riding, a little dom!jun, non-established relationship.

it’s a thursday afternoon, the sort of day where the mood smells like cheap cafeteria food and half-assed desperation, ‘cause exams are coming and no one knows shit. you’re slouched over your bio notes in the library, chewing the end of your pen like it owes you some kind of lamp genie, and then boom—in struts college fling!jun.

college fling!jun, who hates the college lockers so much he straight-up just carries all his books around like some kind of over-prepared, slightly chaotic mule. deadass, his backpack looks ready to burst, and you’re already side-eyeing it, wondering how many goddamn textbooks one man could possibly need.

“you okay there?” he plops down across from you, hair slightly messy, and there’s this little grin playing at his lips. why’s he gotta look so cute when you’re on the brink of a mental breakdown?

“nah, i’m actually about to file for emotional bankruptcy,” you mutter, flipping through your notes like the answers are gonna manifest themselves through sheer panic. “you done with the bio assignment?”

college fling!jun, shy-but-funny, lowkey-genius college fling!jun, tilts his head and smirks. “you need help?”

you blink. “you know bio?”

“do i know bio?” he scoffs, dragging your notebook closer like you personally insulted him. “sit back, y/n.”

next thing you know, he’s rattling off answers about cell division and DNA replication like he’s reading straight outta the textbook, except better, ‘cause he’s throwing in jokes about mitochondria being the “bad bitch” of the cell world. who even is this man?

college fling!jun, who spent half the semester cracking dumb jokes about your prof’s comb-over, suddenly explaining concepts better than the professor himself? unreal.

“wait, wait,” you interrupt, pointing at a diagram. “so, like, the nucleus is just… chilling in the middle, bossing everyone around?”

he grins, leaning in closer, and damn, his perfume smells too good for a guy who looks like he only owns three hoodies. “exactly. it’s like me at a group project—doesn’t do much, but still gets credit.”

“i hate you,” you snort, but you’re laughing anyway, and somehow your brain is actually clicking with the material.

college fling!jun, who makes studying feel like less of a slow, painful death.

later, as you’re packing up, he scratches the back of his neck, looking all shy again, and it’s such a whiplash from confident bio-genius jun that you almost laugh. “uh, so… you wanna grab coffee or something? you know, as a reward for surviving bio?”

you raise an eyebrow. “this isn’t you trying to weasel into my project group again, is it?”

“what? no,” he says, but he’s grinning, and you already know he’s lying.

college fling!jun, who probably would try to scam his way into your group, but makes it so damn endearing you’d let him anyway.

it’s late—like, stupid late. the kinda late where your brain feels like it’s melting into a puddle of useless mush. you and jun are on the floor of your dorm, the carpet rough under your knees, surrounded by markers, cut-out letters, and one very sad excuse for a poster board. everyone else dipped like two hours ago, muttering something about “early classes” and “not wanting to lose brain cells”—like, rude much? but jun stayed.

college fling!jun, who’s now sitting cross-legged with his sleeves pushed up, forearms all veiny as he’s meticulously lining up the title letters.

“you’re actually kinda good at this,” you say, crawling closer on your knees, one hand pushing your hair back as it flops into your face. you’re half-joking, but also… not? like, his focus is insane.

he glances up, smirking. “you doubted me?”

“uh, yeah?” you deadpan, sitting back on your heels. “you’re the guy who brought a backpack full of biology books to a history lecture. forgive me for not immediately trusting your poster skills.”

he snorts, shaking his head as he smooths down a corner of the title. “at least I came prepared.”

“prepared for what? a different class?”

“y/n,” he says, tone mock-serious as he leans back on his hands, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

that shuts you up for a second. the compliment—casual, like he didn’t just drop it in the middle of a roast session—has you blinking. you recover quick, though, because if college fling!jun is good at anything, it’s teasing, and you’re not about to let him have the upper hand.

“yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him off as you grab a marker and doodle a little star in the corner of the poster. “you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen you make a move yet. scared?”

his eyes flick to yours, and there’s this little glint in them that makes your stomach flip. “scared? of you?”

“yes, actually.”

he laughs, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s considering something, weighing it. you’re close—closer than you realized, kneeling in front of him while he’s still sitting, one hand resting casually on his thigh.

“come here,” he says.

you tilt your head. “why?”

he leans forward, just a little, until you’re close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. “because I said so.”

there’s a challenge in his tone, and you’re not one to back down. so, you shuffle closer, knees brushing against his as you sit back on your heels again. “happy now?”

he hums, eyes flicking over your face like he’s trying to memorize every detail. “getting there.”

“jun,” you start joking, half-something-else-entirely, but before you can finish, his hand slides up to cup your jaw, fingers warm against your skin as he leans in and kisses you.

he’s waiting for you to push him away. but you don’t. instead, you kiss him back, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you.

and then… well, the guy’s got skills. his lips move against yours with this easy credit, and when his tongue flicks out to trace the seam of your mouth, you can’t help the little noise that escapes you. he takes that as encouragement, deepening the kiss until you’re dizzy, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you try to keep up.

college fling!jun, who’s apparently really, really good with his mouth.

you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his as you both try to steady yourselves. “okay,” you say, voice a little breathless, “so you’re not scared.”

he laughs, low and soft, his hand still cradling your jaw. “nope. but you might be.”

before you can ask what he means, he’s kissing you again, harder this time, and then his hands are on your hips, pulling you into his lap like it’s nothing easier than that. you go willingly, settling against him as your hands find their way into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.

you’re both a little frantic now, hands wandering as the kiss turns messy, desperate. his fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, skimming over your skin and leaving a trail of heat in their wake. you shiver, pressing closer, and he takes the opportunity to mouth at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“jun,” you moan, and it’s enough to make him pause, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“umm... so do you…”

you nod before he can even finish the question, your hands tugging at his shirt in answer. he grins, and then he’s helping you pull it off, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.

college fling!jun, who’s skinny but stupidly cut, all lean muscle and sharp lines that you can’t help but trace with your fingers as he kisses you again.

“your turn,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. you lift your arms, letting him pull it off.

“you’re so…” he starts, but then he shakes his head, like words aren’t enough. instead, he leans in, kissing you again as his hands explore, mapping out your chest, by pinching your nipples

things blur after that—when he finally settles between your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, you think you might actually lose your marbles.

college fling!jun, who’s apparently a goddamn expert when it comes to going down on you. his tongue swinging your clit to the sides just to suck it all right after. your fingers are tangled in his hair, and you even feel pity about his scalp. he doesn’t stop until you’re cumming inside his mouth—you last minutes by the way—, your back arching off the floor as you cry out, your other hand holding a highlighter that you've found on the floor and decided that would be your stress ball.

and then he’s kissing his way back up your body, touching your hand to release the poor highlighter before it explodes in your hand. as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “still think I’m scared?” he teases and you don’t even have the energy to come up with a clever reply.

college fling!jun, who’s cocky as hell but more than backs it up.

you pull him down for another kiss, your hands fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants as you shift your hips, sinking down onto his lap. the stretch is dizzying. u hear your blood flow through your ears with the immediate sink, making your head spin as he grips your hips,.

college fling!jun who twitches every time you circle your clit as you ride him. the little gasps he lets out are addictive, this stuttered rhythm of groans and whines that have you clenching around him just to see how he’ll react.

“uhm—hands to yourself.” he chokes out, his head tilting back, exposing the long line of his neck, his adam apple bobbing up and down. you take advantage, leaning forward to press kisses there, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat against your lips. his hands tighten on your waist, his thighs flexing under you as he buck his hips up into you as a warning.

“j-jun,” you stammer, breath hitching as you shift, grinding down, making wet shots reach his ears, his head snaps up, eyes dark and glassy as they lock onto yours.

“you like that?” he rasps, his chest heaving as he fights to keep himself together. “‘cause i… i love watching you like this, pretty.”

college fling!jun, who moans loud enough to embarrass himself but is too lost in the feeling of you to care. his grip on you tightens as you find a rhythm. his noises grow louder, needier, every time you roll your hips, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer, he always punishing you a little for teasing him, a pinch on your clit, a bite on your neck, a slap on your ass.

“y/n,” he groans, his voice shaking, and you’re right there with him, your own climax building as you reach down between your bodies, your fingers brushing against your clit again. the added sensation has you gasping, and he twitches inside you, his hands pulling you down hard against him as he lets out a broken moan.

“you’re so… gorgeous, fuck!” he mutters, his words slurred, and that’s all it takes for you to cum, your body fluttering as you cry out his name. the sound of it seems to tip him over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he follows, his body shaking beneath you as he spills inside you.

college fling!jun who collapses back onto the carpet, dragging you down with him, his arms wrapping around your ass, letting his hands lazily squeeze the meat there.

it’s like nothing happened when you two go to the college hallways to finish the project. when actually, everything happened all at once. jun’s sitting at the edge of your desk, eating one of your granola bars like he didn’t have you trembling in his lap just hours ago. you’re pretending to focus on your laptop, but your mind’s stuck on how his hair’s still a little messy and his shirt’s on inside out—your fault, obviously.

“what’s with the face?” he asks, mouth half-full, grinning like he knows exactly what’s with the face.

“you didn’t even ask before raiding my snacks,” you say, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere near flustered.

“c’mon, you owe me,” he teases, leaning closer. “all that… effort? you’re lucky i’m still standing.”

you glare at him, but your face burns. “junhui, shut up.”

college fling!jun, who bites his lip to stop himself from laughing but ends up chuckling anyway, stupidly cute as he swings his legs. you’re about to throw a pen at him when he leans over and kisses your temple.

and that’s how it is now. he’s still jun—still the guy who hoards biology notes and carries all his books like the lockers are his mortal enemy—but there’s this… nerves now, this implicit thing hanging between you. like, when he’s explaining something in class, leaning over your desk, his voice low in your ear, and you’re trying not to think about how those same lips were on your pussy just a few nights ago. or when he slides into the seat next to you during study group, his knee brushing yours, and you glance at him, only to catch him already looking at you with that knowing smirk.

college fling!jun, who’s casual as hell in public but pulls you into empty classrooms when no one’s around, his hands already under your shirt as he kisses you like he’s been dying to all day.

it’s worse at night, though. he texts you at random hours, shit like, “you awake?” and “missed you today” with a dick pic coming right after, hard and dripping for you—like always. like he’s not gonna be in your bed an hour later, his hands sliding over your skin as he whispers your name.

“we’re so bad at this,” you tell him one night, lying tangled in his sheets, his arm thrown over your waist as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder.

“bad at what?” he murmurs sleepy.

“keeping it casual,” you say, glancing back at him. “you’re always here, jun.”

he shrugs, pulling you closer. “maybe i like being here.”

college fling!jun, who’s starting to feel like more than a fling, but neither of you’s ready to say it out loud just yet. instead, you let it keep happening—the late-night visits, the stolen kisses between classes, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

and maybe you’re not ready to say it, but you’re definitely feeling it. especially when he shows up at your door with takeout and that stupid grin, saying, “figured you’d be hungry,” like he hasn’t already fed you twice today.

college fling!jun, who’s not so casual after all.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 8:45 PM 🔞

Tags/Warnings: Adult, smut-heavy, making out, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though, Jungkook struggling hard, misunderstanding, angst with happy end, emotional smut, oral (fem. Receiving), protected sex bc this is me writing this and I teach you kids the true life lessons

Lenght: long.

AU-Masterlist

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He still can't believe your first time got interrupted by something as ridiculous as his manager calling him.

It's like a reminder that his career will always somehow wiggle itself between him and whatever happiness he tries to find outside of it- nothing ever truly personal for him, everything always meant to be well thought through so it fits into his public persona.

But he refuses to give you up, even knowing all of that.

Apologizing for it just feels.. odd now, like bringing up something awkward you did ten years ago that everyone forgot about anyway before you decided to rekindle the memory in their heads. But the problem here, right now, with you, is that he knows he should bring it up. Somehow. Because he's struggling hard to keep himself in check, even having had to embarrassingly rub one out in the shower this morning after you'd made yourself tea in his kitchen wearing nothing but a shirt and panties.

It's a problem.

He's hesitating to initiate anything now mainly because what if it happens again? He can't just put his phone on silent and ignore what could potentially always be very important calls from people who only want what's best for him in the long run- real life doesn't work like those movies where the protagonist throws it all away for his girl. He wants to, he truly does- but at the end of the day, he's also scared, because if he falls, he'll potentially take you down with him, and God knows how deep he'll fall with where he stands right now.

A drop from a height this high would shatter you inevitably, and he's sure he'd crack like delicate porcelain just as much by having to watch you suffer the consequences of his actions. You don't deserve that.

"..-ungkookie?" You try again, and he snaps out of his thought, looking at you.

"Hm?" He responds, looking at you next to him.

"I asked if you want me to cook for us tonight. Is that alright?" You wonder, and he nods, eagerly so, because of course he'd love to have you do something so domestic with him. He's always dreamed of being able to experience these things after all, despite his curse of being a public figure who's not supposed to appear unavailable. "Alright-!" You hum. "Gonna have to put pants on now though, gotta go get some groceries.." you whine under your breath as you stretch on the couch naked feet pushing against his thighs and oh, how your back arches-

No, bad brain. Not right now.

"I'll give you my card, hold on." He tries to save himself, getting up to fetch his wallet as you begin to laugh.

"Jungkook baby, I can cover some groceries, don't bother!" You argue softly, getting up as well before walking over to him. "You'll just have to survive some minutes without me, that's all." You tell him, hugging his middle as you put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Also, people would think I'm a gold digger for using a black card looking like.. well, me." You joke, as he can't help but reach out to affectionately brush some hair out your face, hands holding your cheeks.

"M'sorry." He mumbles, and you part a bit from him, serious at his tone of voice used.

"Hm? For what?" You wonder, and he sighs. Why did he bring it up now? This is going to be so awkward, he already dreads it. But now that he's put the noose around his neck, he might as well stand on the chair too.

"Yesterday. Or.. day before? Technically it was, wasn't it.." he rants, before sighing. "I hate that we.. had moment, you know, and then.. nothing. Ruined." He complains softly, and you can't help but look at him affectionately. He's such a soft soul sometimes, worries about so much that doesn't even need to be worried about.

"Jungkook, it's fine." You answer.

"Not fine-" he shakes his head. "Not fine, I- ugh, I want you, you know? Want to, but now, it's awkward and I don't know how to initiate it because every time I plan to I keep thinking of that moment he called and-" he groans in frustration, head thrown back before he looks down at you. "I'm sorry." He apologizes yet again, and you laugh.

"I forgot to pack socks for this trip, that's why I'm always barefoot in your apartment here." You say, and he blinks once, twice, before he looks at you, confused but amused the same.

"What?" He questions, tilting his head for a split second and you shrug.

"Now I've made an awkward moment for myself too. We're even." You explain, and he laughs.

"Thats not how that works-" he wants to argue but he inevitably leans down to kiss you- a peck quickly deepened by you, because God knows you want him just as much. But the struggle of initiating isn't solely his alone, because you don't know how to either. All is still new with your relationship, you don't even live together at this point in time, only a week more and you'll be back home trying to figure out how to move most of your stuff to his country so you can be closer. This was all a test, after all- to see if it's worth it. If you'll be okay.

And you know now, you'll be just fine with him at your side.

"Hm I need to get going now though-" you say, trying to escape him now- but he won't let you, hands firm on the small of your back as he keeps you against him, lips chasing yours making you giggle as you lean back as far as you can. "Jungkook!" You laugh, but he just playfully bites at your neck.

"No, I'm hungry." He mumbles against your skin, and you look at him, pushing against his chest.

"Yeah that's why I have to go? Get everything to cook?" You remind him, but he shakes his head, gaze making it clear that he doesn't care for that.

"Not.. that." He tells you. "Hungry for you." He says, raising his brows and you laugh at how ridiculous he's being. How can he be both so cute but also attractive at the same time? It's truly unfair.

"You're so cute." You tease, catching him off guard to escape his grasp and run into the bedroom to get some proper pants at least. But he's faster, palm slapping flat against the wood of his door before the momentum of his move slams it into the wall with a loud noise, making both of you jump for a second before he stalks towards you.

And once the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed, you know you lost.

It's like his patience had finally snapped, his hands eagerly helping you out of his shirt, happily running his palms over your skin, warm and soft as you move around a bit to get comfortable. He sighs when his phone vibrates somewhere close- probably having fallen out of his pocket on the couch earlier, and you laugh, visibly uncaring of his misery. "Go get it." You tell him when it sounds again, and he groans out loudly as if he's in pain, angrily stomping back into the living room, where you can hear him answer the call with an annoyed tone to his voice. It surprises you when he walks back into the bedroom however, pointing to the shirt you're attempting to put back on, before he motions for you to put it back on the floor where he'd thrown it down earlier.

Just what is he thinking right now?

"Yeah, that's fine." He talks into the phone, his free hand untying the strings of your sweatpants, before he pulls on the hem, tapping your hips as if to silently ask you to lift them so he can get you out of those pants. "Not right now, but tomorrow is fine." He continues to talk to whomever is speaking to him over the phone, while simultaneously running his hand from the side of your knee, up to the hem of your underwear, the last item of clothing covering you at the moment. It's oddly exciting to see him so serious, yet clearly more focused on you than anything else.

You've never felt so adored before.

His fingers slip underneath the side of your panties, teasing you, so close yet way too far from where you'd like his hands to be most right now. And he's clearly aware of it too; if the hooded eyes and the small smirk on his lips was anything to go by. "No, right now.. I'm pretty busy. Sorry." He speaks again into the phone, thumb running over the dip between your inner thigh and your by now more than aching heat. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip for a second, before the whole thing visibly seems to edge him just as much- then tent in his pants evident.

"Alright, yeah, just- text the schedule to me and I'll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay?" He offers into the phone, moving to stand up and search for something in the drawer of his bedside table- colorful foil package pretty obviously hinting at what he means when he's said he's currently busy. "Alright, hmhm, yup- bye." He rushes out, ending the call before he throws his phone somewhere onto the shirt you'd been wearing, his eyes rolling in an annoyed manner before he takes off his own shirt, joining you on the bed.

"Did you really hang up on him like that?" You wonder, giggling when he has to sit back to slip out of his loose grey sweats as well, jumping on one foot for a bit as his other gets stuck in the fabric for a second.

"I'm not sorry." He shakes his head, crawling closer to you on the mattress to get a hold of both sides of your panties. "I've got my hot girlfriend all pretty and ready, no one can ever blame me for being needy." He shrugs, shaking his hair out of his face before he tries to pull your underwear off. "Hey come on now!" He whines almost, a stark contrast to the tattooed, muscled appearance of him currently already flushed and fully erect, straining against the cotton of his own underwear.

"Needy." You tease, and suddenly, as if you'd pushed a button, as he suddenly pulls on the fabric with more determination, successfully getting rid of the item of clothing with a gaze that screams fake innocence. Jungkook isn't new to sex, and neither are you- but it's the first time doing it with each other, which naturally places a bit of pressure onto you.

Or maybe it usually should be like that- because somehow, it all comes naturally.

When his hand finds your heat, you're already melting underneath his gaze, no words spoken as he leans further over you, catching your lips again. Only that this time, he truly seems hungry; no longer offering you fleeting pecks but desperate kisses that try and convey just how much he wants you right now. He knows that he could never truly make it clear to you though- because he himself doesn't even know if that's possible.

He's never wanted anyone so bad.

And while usually not too fond of it, his need to prove himself as the perfect lover- emotionally and physically- makes him detach himself from you for a second, before he adjusts his position, leaning down to have you lay your legs over his shoulders, hands holding your thighs apart as he lays his mouth onto your heat.

It's an entirely new experience for you, and he knows.

But luckily, if your Impatient whining was anything to go by, you're definitely enjoying yourself as he flattens his tongue over your sensitive nerves, eyes focused on you while he has to use a little strength to keep your legs apart, especially when you grow close to your first orgasm. He's eager to see it, moving away to gain a better view before one of his hands finishes the job, gaze on you as you arch your back and come undone from his actions.

And its now that he really can't take it any longer.

"Fuck I need you." He curses under his breath, finally getting rid of the last item of clothing he still had on until now, no need to give his length any form of help to get ready for you. He can't help but groan a little under his breath at how sensitive he feels, rushing the act of wrapping the condom over as to not rile himself up too much.

After all, he wants to be inside you for his own orgasm, no matter what.

"Hm I'll go slow, ok?" He asks, and you nod, hands reaching out for him, making him chuckle. "You're cute." He comments, earning a roll of your eyes in return. He lets it go for now- giving you a pass this time, but only because be truly feels needy now.

He'd love to tease you a little, make you all whiny and desperate for him, but right now, he just wants you as close as he physically can get.

Though in his haste to get onto his own road towards pleasure, he never forgets you- pride swelling as he watches you hold onto him, wanting him just as much as he wants you. He's a little sweaty already, and the sheetsbare tangled badly at this point from all your squirming, arousal already staining some parts of them but right now he really can't bring himself to care.

He uses one of his hands to aid him in finding your entrance, positioning himself to carefully push himself inside, and at this point, he just feels as if he truly became one with you. It's the last key experience in a way he's had to have with you, and now that he's in exactly that moment, things start to feel real.

"I love you." He almost whispers into your neck while he starts to move. "I'm.. so grateful you're here." He tells you, hips moving at a steady pace. "I want you to.. stay forever." He almost asks, in a way, and while you can't give him an answer to that right now, you probably will later.

After you're back with the normal thinking human beings, because right now, with his pace and strength gaining as he chases his high, your head is definitely unable to form thoughts.

In a way, he loves the sight of you like this. It's awfully sinful, a sight only he wants to ever be able to see, no one else.

He can't control his own noises at this point, uncaring of his groans of pleasure as he chases after his peak, noticing you growing antsy as well, visibly eager to cum as well. And he will make sure you'll get your attention as well- he'd never let you down, ever.

And with his hand reaching in between you both to find where he needs to be, you're gone and out; head thrown back into the pillows while he pushes himself in deep, condom filling with his seed while he slows down into almost no movement at all.

Catching his breath, he leans down to you to kiss you once more, ticking of his clock on the bedside table coming back into the background noise, as well as the cars outside from the opened window, and your breathing underneath him. His senses return one by one as he pulls himself out, moving to get rid of the condom and start the shower.

"Come on." He asks, tapping your thigh, but you just whine all grumpy at him. "Noo get up, get up- the bed's all messy and we're too.!" He laughs, all energized from his own afterglow, while you seem to be the exact opposite, having to be physically pulled into a sitting position by your wrists. Jungkook himself can't help but simply laugh, before he takes matters into his own hands, lifting you up over his shoulder-

And of course, landing a loud smack onto your butt for good measure.

[castiwls]

Better man .ᐟ

Paring; patrick x reader

Prompt; 'i hold onto this pride because these days its all I have'

Requested; no

Notes; requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

You hated the way your heart seemed to pick up when you’d opened the door. The way you could feel your chest tighten slightly as you stood in shock for a moment.

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do this. For your own pride you’d promised that if Patrick zweig ever came knocking you would slam the door and not look back.

And you’d been so close to doing it. So close to saving your own pride but he’d been quicker.

He shot you that same boyish smile which used to make you melt, the same smile he’d used when he’d told you that nothing had happened.

The same smile he’d lied to your face with.

He’d stood there with that smile and his best impression of a kicked puppy as he’d pleaded. “Just for tonight. I haven’t got enough for the motel.”

You knew you should have shut the door. He survived just fine without you normally so there was no reason to take him in - yet a small part of you couldn’t do that.

You couldn’t leave him in his car all night, it was cruel.

Maybe Patrick deserved it - a part of you thought he did - but one look at his face and you were folding.

Patrick had happily made himself at home as you’d watched from the kitchen. His eyes stayed locked on you from where he sat, his fingers drumming against his leg subconsciously.

“Whatcha makin’?” You jumped slightly at the sudden closeness of his voice. You hadn’t even heard him cross the space from the couch to the fridge where you stood.

Patrick grinned slightly his fingers brushing your waist as he leaned over your shoulder to look at the contents of your fridge.

“We could get take out?” He mused like this was normal. Like it was normal to be discussing dinner options with your ex-husband on a Tuesday night.

“Can you pay for takeout?”

“I can pay you back.”

A sigh left your lips as you closed the fridge. “C’mon that pizza place you like is open.” He pressed as you turned to face him. “Just gimme a week okay? A week and I’ll pay you back.” He leaned down slightly, his nose almost touching yours as he spoke.

His voice was quiet, the same tone he used whenever he wanted something. A tone you’d come to realise he used when he knew he was in the wrong.

He’d used the exact same one in Atlanta when he’d reappeared at 6am. “Nothing happened. Just went for a walk.” He’d said as he continued to pepper kiss across your neck.

You’d barely been able to get a word out before he’d managed to pull you under him and quickly make you forget anything besides white-hot pleasure.

You’d should have ran then and there but you didn’t. You didn’t because you loved him and a small part of you thought that maybe he loved you to.

He’d come back to you still. Hadn’t he?

“Five days.” You said after a moment, swallowing down the pit growing in your stomach as old memories flashed through your mind. “You have five days Patrick.”

He huffed moving back but nodded. “Alright. I can do that.”

“Great.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

Patrick Zweig was the worst person alive.

He was the worst person alive and yet you still found yourself shifting towards him subconsciously.

By the time you’d both finished the food his arm had somehow found home on your shoulder and your head had somehow ended up on his chest.

His thumb rubbed absent circles into your shoulder as you both watched the movie.

Well, you watched the movie. Patrick seemed pretty engrossed in watching your expression as you watched the screen. Your lips were drawn into a slight pout as your fingers absently fiddled with the sleeves of your (his) hoodie.

“You're not gonna make me sleep on the couch hm?” His lips ghosted over your ear as he spoke. You shifted slightly so you could face him.

A small sigh escaped you as you took in the pleading look on his face.

You knew you should push him away. You should be firm that he was staying on the couch.

He’d broken your heart and trust in the worst way possible yet seemed to be able to weasel his way back into your life no matter what you did.

The worst part…you still loved him. You loved the way he still held you like he used to, the way he wanted to sleep in your bed.

He’d continued to come back to you even after you’d pushed those papers in front of him.

He did almost everything right but you knew deep deep down that he knew he was in the wrong for that night.

Somewhere in there was a better man and you sometimes got a taste of that.

Patrick smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek.

He had you hook line and sinker yet…

“I am.”

His face fell ever so slightly and for a moment you saw the same person who had stood in your kitchen and declared that he had done nothing wrong. The same man who had looked you in the eyes and told you that you could never be her.

You may have been a weak person when it came to Patrick but you still had just enough pride to enjoy the look on his face as you stood from his hold and grabbed a duvet and pillow from the cupboard.

“Goodnight Patrick.”

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Ford and stan portal adventures

This is too vague for me to draw, BUT I can yap about it at length. Let's say this is an AU were, after their canonical fight, and activation of the portal, the diverge is that they BOTH get snatched inside. So we have a slowburn scenario were the 28yo twins end up in the multiverse together, having to rely on each other to survive in these bizarro worlds despite hating each other guts, but gradually mending their relationship. Best part of this scenario would be the sexual tension, at the beginning, when they keep have shouting matches but you can tell in good part it's to mask the frustration, because they missed each other and secretly want to make out. They would settle for more punching, turned wrestling match on the floor, turned wrestling with less clothes on. OH and you know what else would be fun, if this was a fanfic written by someone with crazy skills?? If, by the time they finally start to fuck regularly, the weird ass world they end up boning in is somehow integrated into the act. Idk idk, head empty, I can't come up with an example. But my imaginary Chad Writer would come up with something genius.

Now though. Funny coinky-dence that I'm answering to your message now, because just today I've seen a somewhat related fan art that really got my gears going:

So, dude58915 on twitter came up with this version, were 28yo Mullet Stan gets into the portal instead of Ford, but, once there, meets a much older Ford, from yet another dimension. NOW THAT'S what I want to see!! DAMN.

Imagine Stan seeing this masked dude- a suspicious bloke for sure- but still a HUMAN. He'd run after him, telling the mysterious man they should stick together, be a team! He's the only human he's ever seen in DAYS, since he ended up in this creepy shithole! And old!Ford just jerks his arm free from Stan's desperate grip, telling the younger man, coldly, that he's gonna have to make it on his own, before turning around to follow the coordinates on his multi-navigator, leaving Stan alone. Because Ford hates him. Ford hates Stan, even this one, even this Stan that evidently ended up in the portal, punished for his own stupid mistakes, for once. This Stan will die, and he deserves it, and Ford doesn't care. Expect that when he hears Stan scream, as he's getting attacked by some monster, Ford turns around and runs to save him.

And from that moment on, this Ford takes Stan under his wing, taking him to the next dimension with him. Ford's plan is to train this Stan decently enough- all the while keeping his own identity concealed- until the young man is able to fend for himself, and Ford will abandon him for real, this time.

Except that...this Stan doesn't know who Ford is, so he doesn't express any resentment or hate towards him. On the contrary: despite the old men being so cold and sometimes rude to him, resulting in /some/ shouting matches, Stan is grateful, and clearly fascinated by the cloaked man and his knowledge and fighting skills. Stan is like a clingy puppy...and Ford loves it. He would never EVER admit it to himself, but he does. He didn't feel this pleased, this important, in forever. And maybe, he's never seen Stann look at him with this level of adoration before, not even when they were kids. I'm gonna cut it short to the crass part: Stan has daddy issues, and gets incredibly attached to Ford, wants to please him. The "masked man" would inevitably get the hardest boner, feeling so needed, so special, the Sun itself that Stan gravitates around. They'd fuck. HELL, they'd end up making tender love, sometimes. And Ford would need to be extra careful, because he enjoys this docile, obedient Stan sucking his cock (figuratively and physically), and it would be a real shame if Stan was to find out it's just another version of his hated brother, he's ended up worshipping and taking inside him every night. Ford guesses the young man would be quite mad about the truth.

And with this ominous cliffhanger, I'll stop yapping, it's dinner time.

[vinestaffery]

I'm praying that uh.. I don't know if this is gonna be answered or not but anyways!! (I couldn't hit the button to mNe this ankn for a bit)

Medkit X GN!reader Head canons before the accident?

Also I pray that this is easy to understand.🔷

hihi!!! thank you for requesting!! i absolutely understood this [and i am in love with medkit] so, i hope these are good enough!!! <3 have a nice day :3 I also somewhat based this off of the vibe of Bay City, Plastic Love, etc songs!!

PRE-MEDKIT HEADCANONS

Warnings: brief mentions of bullying Other: I made this where Pre-Medkit and GN!Reader aren't in a relationship, but hopelessly inlove with eachother. They just struggle at confessing because I love this type of trope! I also based this off of my own Blackrock Headcanon where at the start of Highschool, you must pass various tests before being placed in departments that fit you suitable in society. There is also mentions of Grav and Warp <3.

When you were brand new to the school that Medkit was at, you were hopelessly crushing on him, even though you barely interacted. You both had unique features unlike the other scientists within the department, but you were studying a completely different medium then him.

Your actual first two friends was Grav and Warp, who were close friends to Medkit. The three of yous, excluding Medkit sadly, were always bickering. But, your mind would always drift to that strange boy with glasses and bright green horns! Sometimes, Grav and Warp would catch you daydreamin' or staring at him from afar, which would influence in slight teasing. They couldn't help it, you were so inlove with him like those iconic high-school lovers trope!

That was until Grav and Warp somehow, ironically, got you intentionally partners of research with him. Quickly to blame them, you and Medkit actually got along quite well! With how you both examined small details and examined the fine details in each artifact given. He was surprised on how much of a similar level of learning you both had, but it ended up with you getting targetted for his arroudous bullying.

Medkit was known around the school, especially for how he acts and how different he is. Especially his horns, and how they are drastically different to many other Blackrockian's. They were unique, stylized with curves and fascinating features that seemed to bring out of Medkit more. It was something you fell inlove with about him, but you'd never admit it truthfully to his face.

For Medkit, it was your eyes. He's seen many robloxians in his life-time, but your eyes just stood out. How they seemed to keep him captivated, it was one of the reasons he struggled because he didn't want to look like a weirdo. He'd zone out endlessly, forgetting all of his surroundings but be amazed but your looks and your eyes. It was something he loved about you, and one of the many reasons why sometimes, you'd catch him not replying but making heavy contact. It'd make him forget how to breathe! Of course, he'd get embarrassed each time you called him out... he'd just say he was zoning out or dissociating, thinking, whatever excuse he can use to save himself.

Medkit and You were basically two peas in a pod after your first assignment with him. But, because you both studied different mediums, you were separated into a different department after a while and he was placed with a whole new person. Agriculture was your one, while his one was robotics and certain, secret project. But, that never stopped your guys endless meet-ups. Your department and his were very strict, keeping everyrobloxian on their toes and to keep a look out, since the very best were the most to survive.

Picnics were occassional, sometimes even inviting Grav and Warp alone if possible. They also studied a different medium together, which was the environmental setting, but their department was hated for it's easiness and lack of 'strong' competitors. It didn't bug Grav and Warp since they seemed to have already aced everything. Medkit and you, on the other hand, had to fight restlessly just to see one another or to complete a singular class assigned. Being one of the smartest kids was one thing in your shared departments, but you could tell it was taking a toll on Medkit.

Medkit was always one to push you away when you came to support him on heavier tasks, always saying that there is no need to help him, that you wouldn't understand. Sure, some pieces may be difficult, but it didn't stop you from helping your boyfriend friend from getting out of such a place. Medkit would get defensive, you'd retaliate but end up helping him in the end. Sometimes, you'd shamelessly get yourself into his dorm complex and finish off the work yourself.

Medkit and you would go out on dates spend time together whenever you both can. Sometimes, it'd be spending time in one anothers presence, others may be going to the parks or ice-skating. He was a pro at ice-skating, while you were to be held by him. You always got embarrassed and flushed at each time he'd hold you, sometimes even feeling him against you. It made you flare up, in which he'd get worried your getting sick!

Medkit has sketched you sooooo many times in his work books. Sometimes, he'd became so zoned out thinking about you, that he'd have someone tap him on the shoulder if he wasn't paying attention. In the end of the day, he'd always get the answer correct if possible, in a some-sort of short response and go back to thinking about you.

Subspace found out about his crush about you, and kept urging and making stupid jokes around him. It got to the point, that Hyperlaser had to separate you two from one another. It was that bad, mostly because Medkit despised Subspace. He has no right talking about you like that! And he proves it, but he also proves the fact he is so into you.

He has tons of letters in his drawers that were supposed to be sent to you, but he never had the courage. Some are even ranking before he was transferred from the shared-department you both were in. Sadly, because of being kicked out of the school after the accident, he lost all those letters. But, who knows, Grav and Warp snuck around and about and found a bunch...

You would sometimes kick your legs and dedicated paragraphs to him in your work. When it came to english assignments, especially in some parts of your class-curriculum, you'd write so many aimed sentences towards him. Of course, your teacher didn't bother to question it, since no matter what you wrote it was aimlessly on theme. It just had that sort of aimed ring to it, and I'm sure Medkit would understand what you wrote instantly.

Medkit compares you to the moon, no take backs. Sometimes at night, when he struggles to sleep, he watches the moon. It reminds you of him, especially when you are unavailable a lot. You were the moon, and he was the sun watching from afar. The stars that trinkle support each dime, each feature that he loved about you.

Nature was what reminded you of him, or small little trinkets you were able to collect. They were your reminder, and you'd dedicate each trinket to him.

Overall, you both are just two teenagers aimlessly falling in-love with one another, but are so unaware and obnoxious to every sign given!!!

[what-have-i-unleashed]

You hate me? You hate poor little Silly anon? You remove my rq from yyou inbox :( (very much /j of course) Lucky I have the tumblr outbox extension hehehehehehe (i mean i remembered anyways but still :3 ) This was what I sent: "If you're uhhh still taking the MTT flash-fic RQs. May I ask 14 + Cry (or tears)? No pressure of course :3"

i'm so sorry silly anon for deleting your asks waaaaaaaaaaa

please accept this as my apology..........

14. w.d.y.w.f.m? - the neighborhood

Maybe you're right, maybe this is all that I can be But what if it's you, and it wasn't me? What do you want from me? What do you want from me?

aaaaaand i'm gonna add another song, just because this delicious prompt reminds me of its existence too >:3

cry for me (english ver.) - twice

I want you to cry, cry for me The way I cried for you, baby, cry for me Make your rain fall, cry for me But again Somehow you keep me goin' round and round All the walls I built around me come crashin' down Makin' excuses, gotta drown 'em out I want you to, I want you to, I want you to die for me

PROMPT: CRY

⚠️ so just a warning: this thing is heavy, okay? like, i think even heavier than the horrordust one i did before, so mind the tags here ⚠️

(cw: toxic relationship, implied self-harm, verbal abuse, probably ooc - they're all assholes in here)

the door slams open, the sound reverberating through the apartment like a gunshot. murder stumbles in, face flushed purple, a stagger in his walk. he smells of booze and fire. his jacket is torn, some parts charred. and yet, there’s a manic look on his face when he stares into the eyes of horror and killer, who are rushing to the hallway to see what the commotion is about.

“what the-” horror says, his voice sharp, his eyes narrowed. “murder, what the hell did you do now?”

murder lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, throwing his jacket on the floor with more force than necessary. “what the hell did i do?” he echoes, his tone wild and shaky. “i survived, horror. barely. isn’t that what you wanted?” his gaze darts from horror to killer, who leans against the wall all nonchalant. “for me to barely keep living while you both stand there and watch the show?”

killer looks murder up and down, his mouth curved downwards. “you’re drunk,” he says flatly. “and stupid, apparently.”

“yeah? and you’re an unfeeling statue,” murder snaps, his voice rising as he points a finger at killer. “you always sit there on the sidelines, watching, like none of this matters. like i don’t matter.”

horror steps forward, placing himself between them. turning to murder, he says, “ok, you need to calm down. you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“oh, i already tried that.” murder’s words come out bitterly, his lips curling into a manic grin. “almost drove myself off the cliff. you should’ve seen it – it was spectacular.”

horror scowls. “that’s not funny, murder.”

“what? so making jokes about killing others is fine, but you draw the line at my attempt to off myself?” murder spits, his bi-colored eyes blazing and wild. “maybe i should do this more if this is the only way to make you care!”

“we do care!” horror says quickly, the words coming too fast. “i care, okay? you don’t have to throw that in my face every time something goes wrong.”

murder laughs, a sharp and broken sound. “that’s rich coming from you. you’re so good at tearing me apart with your words, but the second i need you to actually be there, you disappear.”

“what?” horror clenches his fists, his soft tone swiftly gone. “why do think that’s the case, huh? i can barely breathe around you without you demanding more, like i’m some kind of bottomless pit.”

“because you never give me anything!” murder screams, leaning into horror’s space, his chest heaving. his eyes brim with tears of frustration. “i am drowning, horror! i am bleeding out for you, and all you give me is venom instead of a cure! what the hell do you even want from me?!”

“i want you to stop acting like you’re the only hurt one here!” horror’s voice booms in the cramp space. for a moment, the apartment feels like it might collapse under the weight of their shouting. “you think it’s easy for me?! to care about someone like you?! someone who’s all or nothing, who’s willing to break your own arm just to make a point?!”

“i wouldn’t have to hurt myself if you’d meet me halfway!” murder shouts back, his voice cracking. “i’d die for you, sans. for both of you. and all i get is this- this emptiness!”

horror flinches, his jaw tightening as his glare softens for just a moment. he looks away from murder’s fiery gaze. “i’ve never asked you to kill yourself for us. but,” he squints at murder’s slightly smaller form, “you don’t know how to do anything else, do you?”

killer sighs, finally stepping forward. “maybe if you both stopped shouting long enough to say what you need, this wouldn’t be a disaster.”

murder whirls on him in an instant, laughing bitterly. “oh, great. killer, the voice of reason. except, you never do a damn thing to help!”

“i’m not the one constantly crashing out and sleeping around just because i can’t handle my emotions,” killer replies coolly, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“angel, you’re both impossible!” murder screams, his hands holding his skull as if he wants to break it apart. “do you even want this?! do you even care – either of you?!”

horror hesitates, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but unable to. killer, as always, is the first to answer.

“i care enough to stay,” killer says, his tone even and detached. “that’s more than you give me credit for.”

“that’s not enough!” murder screams, tears spilled over. he shrinks into himself, his body trembling with the force of his sobs. “i can’t be the only one who feels this! i can’t be the only one who cries, who loves, who bleeds in this forsaken relationship!”

horror steps forward hesitantly, his hand twitching but not daring to touch the vibrating ball that is murder. “sans…” he starts, his voice softening. “i… i don’t know how to fix this.”

“then why are we even doing this?” murder whispers, his voice full of anguish and desperation. he looks up at both of them with his tear-streaked face. “why do i even love you when it’s killing me?”

neither of them answers. the silence blankets all of them, heavy and suffocating.

after a while, murder wipes at his face, breaking the fragile quiet. “it doesn’t matter, does it…? this is all i deserve. all i’ll ever have, like you said.” he laughs, a manic sound. “stars, i just wish…” he hiccups, as another sob threatens to tear through his vocal cords again. “i just wish you’d cry for me. just once. just like i do for you.”

horror looks away, gritting his teeth, while killer stares down at murder, face unreadable. and murder realizes, with a sinking feeling in his nonexistent stomach, that they never will.

[brainddeadd]

Popcorn and Panic

You knew agreeing to a horror movie marathon with the New Jersey Devils was a bad idea. It was bad enough when they dragged you to a haunted house last week. But tonight? Tonight is shaping up to be another level of chaos.

Jack Hughes, Nico Hischier, Luke Hughes, and Dawson Mercer are sprawled across the couches and bean bags in Jack and Luke’s apartment. You’re squished in between Jack and Nico on the couch—your unofficial "designated protector" seats—because apparently, you’re still the team’s baby.

“Okay, first movie is The Conjuring,” Luke announces, aiming the remote at the TV with a grin. “Everyone good with that?”

“Nope,” you say instantly.

Jack laughs, pulling the popcorn bowl onto his lap. “Too bad, Y/N. You’re in this with us now.”

You glare at him half-heartedly. “When did I lose veto power?”

“When you joined the team,” Dawson replies, already stuffing his face with candy.

Nico pats your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry. If it gets too scary, you can hide behind me.” He says it with such sincerity that it makes everyone burst out laughing.

The lights go out, the movie begins, and you feel the first tendrils of dread settle over the room. Five minutes in, and it’s already too quiet, the suspense building like a ticking bomb.

Suddenly, a loud knock from the movie makes everyone jump.

“Holy shit!” Jack exclaims, nearly dumping the popcorn everywhere. “This was a mistake.”

You snort. “Told you.”

As the movie progresses, the tension in the room is palpable. Jack keeps glancing at you, clearly waiting for you to freak out, but you remain composed—mostly to spite him. Luke, on the other hand, is gripping a throw pillow like it’s a lifeline.

Then, the first jump scare hits—a ghost appearing out of nowhere.

“Nope!” Dawson yelps, pulling his hoodie over his head like it will somehow shield him. “I hate this. I hate everything about this.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Dawson, it’s just a movie.”

“Just a movie?” he gasps dramatically. “This is psychological torture.”

Halfway through the film, the room smells like a mix of buttered popcorn, candy, and pure panic. Nico has gone into full “dad mode,” sitting up straight like he’s ready to protect everyone if a demon somehow comes through the screen. You find it adorable.

Another jump scare makes Jack fling the popcorn bowl in the air, sending kernels flying everywhere.

“Jack!” Luke groans, brushing popcorn out of his hair.

“I panicked!” Jack defends himself, though he’s clearly more amused than sorry.

You laugh so hard you nearly fall off the couch. “I thought I was supposed to be the scared one?”

“We’re switching roles tonight,” Jack says with a grin, kicking your foot playfully.

When the movie finally ends, everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief.

“One down, three to go,” Luke announces cheerfully.

“Three?” Dawson looks horrified. “I thought this was just a one movie thing!”

Nico shrugs with a small smile. “We said marathon. That’s kind of the point.”

Dawson groans dramatically, collapsing into his bean bag like a defeated warrior. “I’m not gonna survive this.”

The next film on the list is Hereditary—which, as it turns out, is an even worse idea. Less than ten minutes in, the eerie music alone is enough to send everyone spiraling into full-blown panic mode.

At one point, Luke throws his blanket over his head. “Tell me when it’s over!” he whimpers.

Jack is practically curled into a ball beside you, clutching your arm. “Y/N, why aren’t you freaking out?”

You smirk, loving every second of this. “Because this is way more entertaining than the actual movie.”

By the time Hereditary ends, everyone is thoroughly traumatized.

“Who the hell chose that one?” Dawson demands, glaring at Luke.

“It was highly rated!” Luke protests, though even he looks like he regrets it.

Nico shakes his head, standing up and stretching. “We’re taking a snack break. I need to walk this off.”

In the kitchen, Jack leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest as he watches you with an amused expression. “You’re a lot tougher than I thought.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why? Because I didn’t scream at a movie?”

He grins. “Nah, because you’re still here.”

Back in the living room, Luke puts on Scream—a classic, but at least a bit less traumatizing than the previous choices. Or so you thought.

The phone rings in the movie, and as if on cue, Jack’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He jumps a solid foot off the couch, nearly dropping it.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims, glaring at the screen.

You and Dawson dissolve into laughter, tears streaming down your face. “You’re hopeless, Jack.”

By the end of the marathon, everyone is half-asleep, sprawled out across the furniture. Luke is snoring lightly from his bean bag, and Dawson is draped over the arm of the couch like a ragdoll.

Jack nudges you with his elbow. “So, what’d you think? Best team bonding night ever?”

You smile, glancing around at your chaotic, overprotective teammates. “Absolutely.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t trade nights like this for anything.

[ants-personal]

benson has a thing for strays he shouldnt care about the stray cats and their kittens hes not gonna be like the old lady a few houses down that feeds them and lets them overrun her house he hates when he stumbles upon thrown out pets that are clearly sick or in pain and maybe the best thing would be to put them out of their misery but thier eyes are different than deer and rabbits those are pure animal instincts survival the only thing driving them but these dogs and cats most of them knew love once or maybe hes being stupid and sentimental and its not like hes rolling in money to even care for them so he avoids until its literally on his porch or yard and he cant help but sometimes see himself in those tiny shivery creatures looking for anyone to reach out even when he bites back and he drops them off leaving them tied to the towns vets doors and hope that hes actually doing something right that he was able to help and get something fixed and theyll be happy healthy in thier new life even if a darker part of him whispers that he knows thats unlikely nothing benson gets involved with ever ends up better he leaves it just as rotted as he is and so he avoids it more tries not to look and see

most times he looks at bradley especially when he thinks no one is watching him he reminds benson of those strays sad little eyes always somehow wet with unshead tears shaking like a leaf like hes a minute away from calling out for mother like bambie and it makes a small part of him ache he wants to help but knows better other times randy reminds him of those rabbits in the field hyper aware of his surroundings like a wolf is going to jump out and snap his neck any moment eyes full of nothing but survival instincts jumpy fingers ticing before being dug into palms and very rarely he gets to see the scared eyes turn violent breathing rapid as bradley clenches his jaw like hes close to literally snapping at chris before it dies out leaving benson all the more intrigued all the more willing spread his sickness to Bradley just a bit to get closer

[francis-writes]

Could you do a modern NSFW oneshot for Ramsey x reader where the reader and Ramsey are having an Argument in a car which somehow leads to Ramsey pulling over somewhere and the two of them end up having hate sex in the car?

A/N: i will someday finish it... perhaps.

Also sorry that i am not so active recently. I spend almost whole days on the university and I also joined local anarchist collective. Anyway. There's a lot going on.

"Don't be such a bitch"

"A bitch? I just wanted to know who's the girl that you spent the whole evening with. That makes me a bitch?"

"Can't I even talk with someone without your permission?" Ramsay raised his voice, visibly irritated. You were coming back from a party in friend's house. After you went to the kitchen, you couldn't see your boyfriend until you found him sitting on a couch with a stranger girl. It wouldn't be such a problem but they seemed to be unsettlingly close. You tried to find out something after the party but Ramsay wasn't eager to satisfy your curiosity.

"You can but that girl was definitely flirting with you. And you looked as if you wanted to get into her pants as well"

"Maybe I wanted to" he snorted "But I didn't. I don't fuck anyone behind your back so stop being so suspecting"

Sure, for now Ramsay didn't give you any reasons to worry. You didn't have any proofs for his infidelity, even though he was a hedonist and you knew that before meeting you, he had many lovers. Still... this  evening left you in a bad mood and you couldn't forget it.

"If you cheated on me, why would you tell me about that?" You shrugged. To be honest, you didn't want to argue but something was pushing you to defend your earlier anger.

Ramsay growled something under his breath and made a quick move with steering wheel. Fortunately, the road was empty at this hour but driving with Ramsay was usually an exciting experience - the same way rollercoaster is exciting when your heart stops for a moment and you wonder if you're gonna survive this.

"What are you doing?!"

Ramsay stopped the car on the roadside.

"We need to talk, but if you kept screaming at me while I was driving, there would be an accident"

"I wasn't screaming" you said a bit quieter than before, feeling some remorse for your (perhaps) unjustified anger.

Ramsay grabbed  your shirt and pulled you closer, so you could feel his warm breath on your face.

"You were. For no goddamn reason. I am starting to regret that I didn't fuck this girl, at least you would have a reason to make a scene"

Without a second thought, you slapped him. He looked at you with anger, maybe surprise in his eyes, and he grabbed your throat, squeezing it slightly so you barely could breathe.

You felt a mix of emotions, anger and fear were battling in you for domination. But there was also... excitement? You felt familiar wetness between your legs. Oh, as usual you couldn't decide whether you would rather kill Ramsay or fuck him.

"Maybe..." you tried to form a sentence despite lacking air "we should...move...to the back seats"

Ramsay raised his eyebrow and smirked. He let go of your throat so you could take a deep breath with relief.

"For what?"

"It would be easier to... discuss there"

He nodded, still with a sarcastic grin on his face, and moved to the back seats.

You just closed the door when Ramsay pulled you to himself and started kissing you, sneaking his hand under your shirt. His warm, calloused fingers wandered across your skin. The experience was pleasant and you usually relaxed under his touch but this time, something didn't let you focus on the moment. You pushed him away.

"So we're just gonna fuck now? As if nothing happened?"

He didn't say anything, just kissed you forcefully, holding your head so you couldn't move away. You bit his lip with all your strenght until he pulled off and touched his lip, just to see blood on his fingers.

"You stupid whore..." he mumbled and pushed you on your back. You tried to get up but he pinned you to the seat and with one free hand he tried to unbutton your shirt, but most buttons just fell off when he yanked the material. He leaned over and bit your breast. Pain pierced your body and you wanted to scream but he covered your mouth with his palm.

"Shhh..." he silenced you "You don't want somebody to catch us?"

Instead of responding, you bit his hand and used all your strength to got up while he still was surprised. You grabbed his tshirt and tried to pulled it over his head. Despite his irritation, Ramsay helped you (perhaps he wanted to see more than just dark material on his face).

You sat astride on his lap and began to kiss his chest and suck on his neck. You were still angry at him but the desire turned out to be stronger. You still could see the fire in his eyes, but for now Ramsay stayed unmoved, focusing on the pleasure.

His hands went under your skirt, squeezing your thigs, digging nails into your skin. You moaned between the kisses as he was marking you with bruises. You could feel bulge in his pants so you started moving your hips and rubbing against him. Ramsay gasped. You were together long enough for you to know how to stimulate him, get him on the edge and drive him crazy.

He raised his hips a bit and pulled down his trousers. His dick sprung out, already hard.

You  took off your panties and wanted to slide on him but it didn't want to get in.

"Fuck" you swore under your breath and you wanted to put it in forcefully but Ramsay stopped you. He started fingering you, massaging your clit with his thumb.

"Tight as a virgin. But don't worry, we'll get you wet"

"I am no virgin" you replied angrily. He smirked.

"I know, you're more visited attraction than Statue of Liberty"

"Oh, fuck you"

"Fuck me yourself, coward"

He took off his fingers and pushed his cock inside you. You didn't manage to find a fitting remark as you were adjusting to his girth. You slowly moved up and down and started riding him.

[super-unpredictable98]

The Eighth Child (~TUA AU~) - Season 4

Chapter 3: Next Stop at The End of Time

Warning: Strong language, mild sexual content, death, talk of addiction

(The Eighth Child Masterlist)

Victoria was scared to walk inside. Partially because the place was condemned and could crumble on them just like when Viktor started having a fit back in the day, but also because she didn't know what to expect. Ben was there and Five said it was her Ben, but what if it wasn't? Last time she had any contact with him, they were fighting for their lives, right before he disappeared forever. It was hard to believe he would simply waltz back into their lives.

All of the doubt and the nerves disappeared the moment she laid eyes on him and realized that was her brother. It wasn't the same as looking at the knockoff Sparrow version, it was a bond that survived time, death, and several ends of the world.

"Ben!" She screamed when the door opened and she ran into his arms crying. "Bennie Boo, I missed you so much, oh my... where have you been?"

"Another timeline," he chuckled and hugged his sister. "Someone told me you married Klaus! How insane is that?"

"I know, I know... it's crazy, but you'll get used to it," she laughed, drying her tears. "You need to meet my daughter, her name is Fortune. We gave her the middle name Bennie."

"That's so sweet... ugh too sweet, you're gonna make me emotional! I didn't think you'd ever forgive me after I made Klaus kiss Jill," he sighed.

"Oh, that? That was a billion years ago, I swear I don't resent you at all for that. It was your chance and you took it, I would've done the same. You need to visit my bakery! The Ben special on my menu is your favorite, torta holandesa."

"With Calipso cookies on the rim?" he chuckled.

"Of course, it's not torta holandesa without Calipso cookies on the rim!" She squeezed him tighter and covered his cheek in kisses. "And when our youngest is born, you have to be there! We'll know very soon if it's a boy or a girl! I have so much to tell you, just... so much."

"Are they always so gross? Good thing she hates me," Sparrow Ben scoffed. "Helloooo, we're all in danger?"

"Oh fuck, yeah," Victoria swallowed nervously, trying to catch her breath. Okay, so what I know is that Abigail, Dad's wife, somehow disguised herself as Sy Grossman and gave us the marigold hoping we'd take it. You're very welcome for that, by the way, we'd be very screwed if I let you do that. Then her plan was that we'd look for Jennifer, who has some sort of anti-marigold in her called durango. Once those two substances interact, horrible things happen... the cleanse. Which from what she said is just killing everyone."

"If it's so dangerous for marigold and durango to interact, that's why Dad locked Jennifer away, which means he didn't know about his wife's plan," Five said.

"He didn't, she said she was doing that because she didn't ask to be brought back to life and blah blah blah," Victoria rolled her eyes. "She created these elements and she wants them to stop existing via the cleanse. In a way, Ben saved all of humanity when his tentacles killed Jennifer and himself that night, this reaction had already started. I remember the glowing rash on his arm, of course he couldn't just leave an innocent girl to be destroyed even though that's what Dad told us to do."

"Good thing I died that once then," Ben tilted his head, thinking. "So the cleanse would be like... a monster that carries the seeds of its own destruction? Kills everyone and then itself?"

"Exactly. Maybe if we got Jennifer to drink some marigold, the cleanse would happen in a contained environment and end this nightmare," Victoria suggested.

"I don't think there is containing the monster, don't you remember what happened the first time?" Luther murmured, giving Ben a look.

"I guess we should first figure out how to get the timelines to merge and leave us with one," Five pinched the bridge of his nose. He was definitely too old to be dealing with that sort of stress.

"Oh easy then," Lila joked.

"There are portals all over the place, we could go down there and try to decode the map. Find a way to shut down the train, anything," Ben said.

"He might be right, we should go down there and see who's in command of the train," Diego nodded. "Let's go."

"Hey guys... I sort of can't," Victoria murmured. "I need to look for Klaus, I think he might have relapsed. We had a big fight and... I need to get him back."

"Can't this wait?" Sparrow Ben grunted.

"No, it actually can't. My husband might be in danger and I don't care if he's a junkie or a germophobe, I love him. I should've never said that him getting clean was the worst thing that happened to me."

"That's harsh..." Allison mumbled.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm already very sad!"

"Alright, we'll go and meet here again ASAP, once we're all together, we fix this shit," Five walked to the door, but Vicky stopped him.

"I need your gun."

"What?"

"I need it, if Klaus is with some sort of dealer or gang member, I need the gun to protect myself and him."

"Unbelievable," he handed her the revolver. "Bring it back without a scratch, that's company property."

**

"I see a huge change in your future, it seems a few people who are holding you down will finally be out of your way... it'll hurt, but you need to let go to make way for your new and improved life," Klaus looked at the tarot cards.

"Should I start the new business then?" The lady in front of him asked.

"Definitely, I see hard times in the beginning, but look," he picked up one of the cards. "Prosperity in the future if you persist."

"Thank you so much," she gave him the payment for the session.

"No, thank you, my dear," he smiled, counting the money.

The lady left and Quinn came in followed by another woman, a beautiful woman in a skimpy outfit.

"Moneeeey!" Klaus cheered. "Here, now you know I intend on paying my debt, so please let me go home. My daughter is waiting, my wife must be worried sick..."

"Nice try, but you're not leaving until the 40k is paid," Quinn grabbed the money. "This is for food, rent, supplies, the stuff you took last night... now you choose, my little star."

He held up ten bucks or a little packet with a couple of pills.

Klaus sighed defeated and took the pills before looking at the woman by the door. "Come on in, let's start your reading, yeah?"

"She's not here for a reading," Quinn chuckled and tossed a strip of condoms at him. "She's here for your other services. Five hundred an hour."

"Wait no no no! I have a wife, I can't do this! I have a family! No offense to this beautiful lady, but..."

"You'll do your job until your debt is paid!"

"Don't worry, you'll like it," the woman placed her hand on Klaus' chest. "I love feminine men, you're so cute."

"So does my wife! I'm sorry, I can't! I can't!" Klaus pleaded while she tried to take his clothes off.

"That's just too damn bad, isn't it?" Quinn huffed while closing the door.

"Too damn bad indeed, too bad you can't take no for an answer," Victoria pointed the gun at him. She had seen that place before, she knew that's where Klaus came to get drugs.

"Who are you?" He raised his hands.

"The wife. Now you can let my husband go or you can go ahead and meet your maker."

"That's cute... do you even know how to shoot? You're some dumb housewife with her daddy's gun."

It had been a while since Victoria experienced that intoxicating feeling, being underestimated because she looked so delicate and docile when she knew she had the power to end that person's life.

"You wanna take the chance?" She smirked.

"You haven't killed a roach in your life, Freckles..."

"Yeah, I haven't," she faked defeat. "But I have killed dozens of people."

Without waiting, she shot him in the head and immediately reached into his pocket to get his gun so he wouldn't try to retaliate in his last moments.

"Piece of shit... girls! You can all go!" She screamed at the young ladies in tiny rooms, probably just as helpless as her husband.

She then opened the door with both guns ready to shoot. The woman, who was still trying to grind against Klaus, let out a yelp and backed away.

"Never touch my man again or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head too! Scram!"

"Victoria!" Klaus was crying tears of happiness, relief, and guilt. "Victoria, my Liebling, my baby! I'm so sorry..."

He ran into her arms and she embraced him too. He felt like a failure for relapsing, but she was ready to help.

"No, no I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that stuff, I should've helped you get over your fear, I should've been more empathetic."

"I should've tried harder, looked for therapy. I also said a bunch of shit I didn't mean, I'm sorry. I yelled at Fortune, I'm such a shit dad..."

"No you're not, you're the best dad ever, you just need help," she smiled sadly. "Tunnie is okay, she's with Claire and Ray."

"So you still love me?"

"Of course I do, I looked for you all night and just killed a man because I love you."

"Help me get clean again? Help me be a better Klaus that you can be attracted to again?"

"Of course," she kissed him softly. "We need to meet the others, there's a whole timeline bullshit going on, I'll explain on the way... but hey! Ben is back! Our Ben!"

"Really? Oh my..." Klaus grinned. "We'll go, we'll go. There's just a place I need to go first."

**

Victoria drove Klaus to the nearest AA meeting. He really wanted to do things right this time.

The moment he entered the room, there was nobody there except for the chairwoman, who was already gathering her things.

"The meeting is canceled," she said. "Nobody's here."

"I'm here," Klaus shrugged.

"Take a pamphlet..."

"What's your name?"

"Stephanie."

"Stephanie, listen, I've been to enough court-ordered rehab to know that if one person shows up, it's a meeting. You might make a motion to adjourn, but I'm not seconding and I've had one hell of a slip, and I'm not leaving until I get my one day chip."

"Fine... sit," Stephanie shook her head, pulling out a binder.

"Well, my name is Klaus-"

"Ah ah, no. If we're gonna stick to the rules, we'll stick to the rules," she started reading from the binder. "Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of people who share their experience, strengths..."

"It's very important, I know, and you've said it a thousand times. I've heard it a thousand times, can we get to the part where we share?"

"The floor is now open for sharing," she tried not to laugh. "You have two minutes! No more than that."

"Wonderful!" Klaus clapped and raised his hand.

"Alright, how about you?"

"Moi?" She faked surprise. "Thank you Steph, I can call you Steph, right?"

"No."

"Okay... powerlessness... it's all there on the first step, little words on the page, but I never knew what it really meant until I screamed at my pregnant wife, screamed at my child, and took her Barbie cash to only then be forcefully pimped out by a psycho who I owed money to..." He sat down. "Before that, I had three years clean, three whole years. The problem was I was trying to do it all by myself. Staying in my safe little bubble, scared of death, scared of life... scared of life and taking it out on the people who love me the most, one of whom is sitting outside by the way."

"Hey!" Victoria waved through the door. "You go, Babe!"

"That's my wife slash sister," he whispered.

"I'm not gonna ask," Stephanie breathed.

"So I'm saying it for the first time in my life without irony..." he took a deep breath. "That my name is Klaus and I'm an alcoholic. I'm also a complete drug addict. And while we're at it, I'm probably also addicted to love, and sex. Which has been tough cause I haven't gotten laid much since I went totally nuts and my wife stopped being attracted to me because I became insanely boring. I don't even know how I got her pregnant again..."

"Hey, I'm so sorry to interrupt," Victoria opened the door again. "Can he get his chip? We really need to go right now! Claire just said she just got visited by a woman claiming to be Grandma who took Fortune away when she wasn't looking. I already called Five, we're going to see Dad."

"Shit, my daughter!" Klaus took the one day chip and ran off. "Thanks for the help, Steph!"

Tag List: @jozstankovich @firstpersonnarrator @salvador-daley

[unforgivenn]

ALL IN VAIN

Masterlist

CW: guns, violence, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, coercion, pet whump, emotional abuse, self harm, slight mention to future torture, captivity

Caleb felt the gun aimed at the back of his head, making his eyes widen, but still, he didn't let go of his hold on the sharply cut wood. Death seemed like a welcome release, a final escape from the relentless torment that had become his life. He was about to plunge it into his wrist when a tight grip appeared on his hand, eliciting a gasp from him.

"You're not getting away from me that easily. What the fuck were you even thinking?" The voice hissed behind him.

Caleb bit his lip, struggling to suppress the whimpers that threatened to escape. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and desperation. Honestly? He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been thinking—just that there had been an overwhelming urge to end it all. The thought had been lingering at the edges of his mind for so long, gnawing at his sanity. The idea of more pain seemed unbearable in the face of his ongoing suffering. What was a bit more of that pain if it meant freedom?

He felt a surge of panic, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. His captor's grip tightened, forcing him to drop the piece of wood. The clatter of it hitting the ground echoed in the room, a stark reminder of the failed attempt at freedom.

"Answer me!" the voice demanded, the gun pressing harder against his skull.

Caleb's breath hitched, his throat constricting. "I-I just... I couldn't take it anymore," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "I thought... maybe this would be better."

A dark, mirthless laugh emanated from Dominic. "Better? You think dying is better?" Dominic's voice was laced with mockery. "You don't get to decide when it ends. Only I do. I decide whether you get hurt or not. I'm the one who decides whether you eat, sleep, or fucking live!"

The barrel of the gun suddenly moved towards Caleb's leg, the shot ringing out before he could even realize what was happening.

"W-What...?" Caleb mumbled before dropping to his knees, his vision swimming but able to make out the red liquid oozing near his shin.

The pain hit him like a tidal wave, sharp and excruciating, radiating from his leg and consuming his entire body. He screamed, the sound echoing off the walls, raw and primal. He clutched his leg, the warmth of the blood seeping through his fingers. Caleb's mind was a haze of agony and fear, every nerve in his body screaming in protest.

He shot him. The bastard fucking shot him!

Dominic loomed over him, the gun still in his hand, a twisted smile playing on his lips. Caleb could see the crazed look in Dominic's eyes, which managed to scare him every time, even though he hated admitting it. "You don't get to escape, kitten. You." He pointed towards Caleb, pausing for a few seconds, looking at the sobbing young boy before turning his finger back towards himself, making an innocent pouty gesture. "Belong to me."

Caleb's vision blurred with tears, his body trembling uncontrollably. He wanted to fight back, to scream and curse, but the pain was too overwhelming. He felt himself slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, the line between reality and nightmare blurring.

If this was what dying felt like, he no longer wanted to. No matter what, the pain never seemed to end. "Nghh... P-Please d-don't wanna die..." He mumbled incoherently, his words barely making sense.

"Oh baby." Dominic looked at him with fake pity. "You're not going to die."

Somehow, this only made Caleb cry out more. "Y-You shot me! Y-You fucking shot me!!" He broke down in sobs. "I'm gonna die!"

Dominic sighed, kneeling next to Caleb. "Bullets don't always kill people, y'know. You just gotta be careful where you shoot." He patted Caleb's head. "You're gonna survive, kitten. Like I said, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

Caleb just let his head fall, letting out another sob. He didn't understand why he didn't want Dominic to see him crying. Maybe it was how Dominic had a look of satisfaction whenever Caleb cried, or maybe it was him putting up a desperate act to keep his pride. Whatever it was, he'd already lost it. Just like he lost everything else.

"C'mon, Caleb, let's get your leg cleaned up. Then we'll talk about your punishment."

That only made Caleb sob harder.

Taglist: @anutz1234 @miireux134 @nuriiz134 @noeul-whumpppss @ash-reh

@someoneoninternettt @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @animesfortoday (let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

[turtleblogatlast]

How are Mikey and Donnie doing? Since we've gotten the low down on Raph

Also, have they actually started to do worse since Leo has come back? Considering how he looks, the constant injuries, ect?

[ cw: death mention / injury mention / trauma / ]

Like I said here, Raph’s reason for believing in Leo’s survival is Trust.

Donnie’s is Proof. And Mikey’s is Hope.

More on them below

For Donnie, he’s made machine after machine, each one more complex than the last, all with the aim to tear a hole in reality to bring back his brother (his twin.) It never works, not once, and he considers, really and truly, remaking the Technodrome from the parts that have fallen all over the place (that thought is banished as soon as it hits him, and he was still shivering hours later.)

He considers stealing from the EPF. He considers getting the key and making a new portal himself regardless of the consequences. He considers many things and tries to do many things and maybe he would have if not for the rest of the family being on red alert for any dangerous actions.

It’s best he never did any of it, as the odds of finding one small turtle from a single unstable opening are low.

So he continues to search for an answer, even as it becomes more and more likely that Mikey may just be it. Donnie just can’t accept the thought of waiting around for the solution to come to them. He knows Mikey needs to train, but Donnie doesn’t want to wait.

Donnie hates to leave Leo in that place any longer than necessary. And he knows Leo’s probably there, the slider doesn’t die so easily.

There’s no proof of Leo’s death. They never saw a body, they never were contacted by his spirit.

So Donnie knows Leo’s out there. And he doesn’t want to keep him waiting.

On one occasion, Donnie swallows his pride and bows his head to the witches of Witch Town, begging for an answer, even if that answer isn’t within the realm of science.

They give him nothing.

Then. One day April makes a comment. She tells him that he’s “getting so tall.” So, of course, he immediately goes to check.

And, he is. He is tall. Tall-er at least, and getting taller still.

Taller than Leo was.

April finds him again an hour later, curled up in a heap on the floor and sobbing, sobbing, sobbing as he outpaces his memory of Leo.

It’s not like he didn’t know he’d probably one day get taller - after all, he’s a softshell versus Leo’s slider. Even considering all other aspects that may make them close, at most they’d be the same height, but most likely the end result is Donnie reigning supreme in the vertical department.

So. He knew he’d get taller. He’d been hoping to rub it in Leo’s face, considering they’d been on a back and forth with their heights for so long now.

But Leo wasn’t there.

Leo wasn’t there.

And. Then he was. And he was dead - and Donnie shut down.

But then Leo was - back? Somehow? And, for once, Donnie couldn’t - didn’t want to - question it because that’s his twin and-

Leo looks so young. So small. So hurt. And that- doesn’t change.

His shell is permanently cracked, so Donnie works on a battle shell.

He’s always cold, so Donnie makes a heat lamp.

His wounds never stop bleeding, so Donnie produces reinforced bandages.

And yet, despite all of this, Leo keeps getting hurt.

And yet, despite that, Donnie is still so fucking grateful Leo’s home.

Because finally. Donnie can breathe again.

Leo may end up alone one day, at the rate things were going.

So Donnie gonna make sure he’s got some company. Even if that company is a robot.

_____________

Mikey almost gets Leo back, that day.

He struggles and struggles, knowing he can open a portal if he tried hard enough. He knows he has it in him, he can feel it, but he also feels a sharp twinge in his arm from where the Krang snapped at it, so he’s given a brief flicker of orange before his arm falls to his side.

Before he fails in getting Leo back.

He tries again when he gets back control of his arm, but whatever he managed in the moment had passed.

Nothing but fizzles. Whiffs of uselessness.

He’s inconsolable and screaming for hours, hours, and for a while, the happy ball of sunshine he used to be has dimmed into stone. Expressionless and weary.

And then Draxum said he could teach Mikey.

And Mikey had hope. Just like Leo had said a ninja’s greatest weapon was.

Leo was always so cool, so confident. He’d play with Mikey and always got on his level. He’d protect Mikey when needed most, but let him be when not.

Leo had instilled hope in them, that day, and Mikey was ashamed that he allowed it to be extinguished so easily.

So, Mikey trains. Day after day, until he can reliably use his abilities without coming apart at the seams (and, sometimes/often/always Mikey wonders if maybe that’s okay, if it means Leo is back.)

But he acquiesces when Splinter looks at his spiderweb scars in horror.

It takes years, too long, much too long, (so long he has hair now-) but Mikey is finally able to do it.

He gets Leo out and-

And-

His brother.

Leo.

Leo was dead.

Mikey was too late. He failed Leo again.

Mikey doesn’t remember anything other than screaming, his own screaming, but he remembered Raph’s sudden change in expression, and how the snapper trailed off.

And Mikey remembered turning around, and feeling Hope flare up once more.

Leo was back, he was alive, and Mikey didn’t care how or why. He had problems, he was young looking, he was horribly wounded (always, now), he was kinda cursed, but he was home.

Leo wasn’t okay.

He wouldn’t talk about why either.

Mikey could figure some things out, off context clues alone, but the rest he’d need from the source.

But, Mikey wasn’t about to push his brother away. So he accepted the deflections and chose the next best thing - sticking as close as he could.

Gosh, he missed his brother so badly. He’d been training so much, so thoroughly, that six years came and went both agonizingly slowly and incredibly fast. He can only image it was similar for Leo.

So. So! Mikey has decided to live his life to the fullest, even if- even if Leo will outlive them. For the time he has, he will live for himself and his family.

And maybe look into how mystic spirits could stick around after death.

_____________

As for your last question - there’s some aspects of Leo’s return that are hard to deal with, undeniably so, but they’re more just. So happy he’s back. It’s 1000% more of a good thing than anything else. They missed him terribly, and weren’t the same with him gone, even if they were functional.

They weren’t whole without him. Just as he wasn’t whole without them.

[something-pithy]

Oooo a drabble. I've been craving your writing, I love the tone and the way you write internal dialogue for both Astarion and Zee/Tav, it's so distinctive for each character. Please gimme a (fluffy?) drabble from Astarion POV?

Looking forward to mid-Julyish!!

Ummm... soo.... first of all, I probably should have checked my tumblr messages before now if I was gonna make such an offer... >.< but better late than never? I hope? I'M SO SORRY Also I tried to do a drabble and this is what happened instead. loooooooooool Thank you so much for the ask! I swear to god I'll write them actually interacting with each other if I get another ask or request looooool ANYWAY HERE WE GO --- Obviously he couldn't tell her what a precious thing she actually was. His self-absorbed mien more than suited him; it was a trademark, a bait-and-switch, and as such, part of an intricate web of defense- and survival mechanisms that had served his aims well.

It wasn't the sex. Well, it wasn't just the sex -- which was obviously superlative, since he was involved, and she was not only creative and cheeky but quite the acrobat, really. At first, he'd tried leaving her tent after -- casual, rakish, smirking.

But the little gremlin always pulled some sort of trick -- asked him some question too ridiculous not to answer, hid his smalls or his boots or his favorite shirt, or simply draped herself over him as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and it always felt like she belonged there.

And how galling it was, at first, to have to attach himself to someone who not only committed their little band of miscreants and misfits -- and consequently and most importantly, him, to acts of kindness, generosity, and selfless heroism, but was a damned bard, and too witty and clever by half to dismiss. Yes, pretty and witty, and despite her do-gooder leanings, indisputably an agent of chaos with a penchant for mischief that... well, how could he help but appreciate it? She was worth her weight in entertainment value, that much was obvious to anyone.

But although it was a rare quality indeed for such a little altruist to be likeable, charming, and interesting enough for him to overlook -- or at least tolerate -- her benign shortcomings, that wasn't it, either.

Well, not all of it.

Part of it was that she was deceptively, appallingly observant. Keenly so. Quietly so. She saw what she oughtn't; past the misdirection, distraction, past the profundity of violence and darkness and rage that pulsed at his core to something... else. Something she had no business looking at, to be frank, but...

He actually hated that. Hated all that she saw and the strange version of it mirrored in her honestly absurdly large eyes and soft soulful melodies and the audacity of her unguarded sadness that in the briefest of moments, he saw. Hated the way it made him ache, the confusion of unsettling softness it evoked. But saw it he did, despite her performance of the clever, playful, pretty, witty mien that suited her even better his own fit him.

Because somehow it was all genuine, it was all her. Like her warmth. Like her kindness. Like her ferocity and tenderness and feral, demented glee. And though he hated those moments when something in her eyes or voice or touch suggested she saw every pathetic, stunted, debased nuance of his being, the magnitude of his deficiency, his weakness, she never exploited it. Never exposed it, never spoke of it.

He strongly suspected that it had never even occurred to her to do so, and that it never would.

Because she was good. Immutably, implausibly, irrevocably good, no matter her impish insouciance, her reckless intemperance, her convivial subversion. No matter whatever shadows or grief haunted her even as she reveled in joy and color and life.

That such a creature could look at him, see him, and see something worthy... it was almost enough to give him hope.

And the rarity of that for one such as him made her precious, indeed.

Or at the very least deranged beyond reckoning. Either way, entertaining such thoughts and... feelings (eugh) was troublesome enough. Actually speaking them could be ruinous.

No matter what she thought she saw in him or how good she might be, he could only entice if he was always just out of reach. It would hardly do for her to know that she was perilously close to having him in the palm of her dainty, lute-calloused little hand.

Besides, the little gremlin would never let him live it down.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Swallow's Symphony In Spring (10/19)

Chapter 10 - And will the Swallows Come Again?

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Warnings: Some people being assholes in general. Shitty arranged marriage talk.

Word Count: 2851

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Roman’s life was over.

This was it, the end, he was never going to survive this. 

And that’s how Virgil found him, buried under all of his pillows like he was trying to hide with a pile of handkerchiefs looking practically miserable. 

One of the pillows was lifted and Roman found himself met with the concerned face of his guard. Roman sniffed - he couldn’t think he looked any good right now, a pile of tears and red puffy eyes and all sorts.

“Is it really that bad?” Virgil asked, sitting down next to him and patting his back. “It’s just a gala - we already went to one and it was fine - surely this one can’t be this bad?”

“Oh but it is, Virgil,” Roman said with another sniffle, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm. “It’s so much worse than the winter gala.”

“Your acting is quite impressive,” Virgil said. “I couldn’t have guessed you were feeling this bad about it from how you reacted to the announcement.”

Roman huffed and buried his face in a pillow again. He’d been practising his acting skills all his life - of course he was good at them. At least he was good at them when he knew what his mother wanted from him, and in this case it was for him to be excited about the Spring Ball coming up (as excited as was proper to show, at least). Knowing he had fooled Virgil gave him hope that he had fooled his mother too. 

“What’s so awful about this one?” Virgil asked, still rubbing his back. The action was soothing as it always was - he found himself relaxing practically against his will. “Should I be worried?”

“It’s… Spring is the season when everyone wants to marry,” Roman said glumly, “And because it’s being hosted here it means everyone will be wanting to marry me.”

“...Ah,” Virgil said softly. “And… I suppose you don’t particularly want that, huh?”

“I’m never going to fall in love with any of those stuck up, snobby nobles,” Roman groaned. “I don’t want to marry for power like the Queen wants - I don’t want to marry because I have to - if I ever marry at all I want it to be for love-” He looked up at Virgil, takes a deep breath and considers for a moment admitting something he should never, ever admit. Eventually he just drops his head down on the pillow. “It’s going to be awful.”

“Well… I’ll be there, at least,” Virgil said. “I’ll be by your side the whole time - if you’re being approached by suitors all evening they’ll want me to be, right? For protection.”

“Mhm…”

“So just focus on me, okay?” Virgil said, giving him a soft smile. “I’m gonna hate it too just because it’s a crowd of people - so - I mean hey, maybe we’ll be able to escape off together at some point.”

Roman sighed. “Mhm, maybe…”

—-

Somehow, the ball was even worse than he had expected. 

The ballroom itself was decorated in soft pinks and greens, huge blooming bouquets of exotic spring flowers sat in elegant vases on each of the small tables set about the room for people to sit at. The room was shimmering just as Roman was, in his soft lilac and gold blazer, a white tulip in his pocket and his hair done up in tight braids and woven with fresh flowers. Apt, for the season, he supposed, though he preferred his outfit for the winter ball personally. 

About a dozen people had attended in hopes of seeking his hand in marriage. Princes and Princesses alike from other kingdoms, as well as nobles of the highest rank from their own kingdom. Roman expected that almost all of them were likely after his power, and the rest just wanted to be royalty. His parents had sat him between the two of them, with Virgil standing amongst his mother’s guards off to the side whilst each suitor approached them and presented him with a gift, each of them just as fake and expensive and useless as the last. 

“Roman,” The Queen hissed at him, halfway through the presentation. “At least look like you’re having a good time, these people have travelled a long way to see you.”

Roman straightened his back and put a smile on his face as yet another Prince offered up a jewellery set, huge blue gems and silver detailing. It was beautiful, but it would clash with his skin, look awful with his hair - he looked better in gold, he would never wear it - it was just an expensive, useless gift. Roman hated it, all of it, but he couldn’t show that with his mother right there, he just had to smile and thank the Prince whose name he had already forgotten. He just had to wait for the next person to come up and present yet another pointless gift. 

Roman must have sat through an hour of it, the pleasantries, the compliments, the introductions, the gifts, they were all the same, everyone wanted the same thing and Virgil wasn’t even here like he said he would be. It wasn’t his fault - Roman knew that it was under his parents' orders that Virgil was stuck with their other guards - but it still hurt not to have his guard (and best friend) beside him as he was forced to make stilted, painful conversations with royal after royal. From every angle he was being judged, his parents were breathing down his neck, everyone was talking and talking and the music was too loud. It wasn’t long before Roman desperately wanted to leave. 

It didn’t even feel a bit like freedom when he was allowed to leave his throne to mingle with the crowd. He was still required to interact with everyone who was presenting themselves as a suitor and Roman was already dreading it all as a noble girl came up to intercept him immediately, bringing him onto the dancefloor with a smile on her face. Roman gave a slightly desperate look back at Virgil, who was also freed from his post with the other guards but couldn’t follow him into the dancing. Virgil looked worried and upset, Roman hoped they’d be able to talk for some point. 

—-

“So, your highness…” Said the princess he was currently dancing with. Roman was required to spend time with every one of the people who had attended this ball to court him, this girl was no different. Though Roman had made it quite clear he was not interested in women, his mother still seemed to hope he would change his mind so that he would be able to produce an heir one day, “Sir Roman, are you listening to me?”

“Huh- oh! I mean, yes, of course,” he says with a polite nod. “My apologies… go on.”

The princess was talking about her kingdom, the powerful alliance that Hirundia would be gaining if he were to marry her, pretty much the same thing that every other royal suitor had promised him. Roman knew a new alliance with one of their neighbouring kingdoms would be beneficial to them - and he’d told each of the suitors who had said so just how much he would appreciate an alliance with their kingdom, for money or resources or political power, and he hated every word that came out of his mouth. 

Too many suitors wanted to dance, and by the time he had managed to find someone willing to stand or even sit and talk his whole body was aching terribly. His feet hurt now as he made his way around the ballroom but at least Virgil was finally able to join him, standing behind him like a shadow. Once, the looming might have creeped him out, but now Roman was just relieved that Virgil was ready and waiting in case something went south, in case he needed an out. 

Roman had got through a conversation with almost every suitor and a dance with everyone who wanted one and now there was only one left. He’d talked about his kingdom’s politics and his parents more than he would ever wish to, he had been forced into uncomfortable discussions about who he would choose to marry, but this was far, far worse.

“Of course, I’d like to be able to provide heirs to both my kingdom and yours,” Said the woman who sat with him. She had been pleasant while they danced, making small talk about the decorations and his clothes, but this…. “I’d like to think such a handsome Prince would be able to make suitable children?”

“I…” Roman faltered, stunned, “I am - I have barely come of age for marriage, I have not put in the time to think about children yet.”

“Ah, of course,” She said, eyes flicking behind him to Virgil. Roman didn’t look back, but he could assume that Virgil was frowning. It wasn’t an appropriate topic, at least Roman didn’t think so, not for their first time meeting at least, and Roman didn’t want to marry her anyway, “But if you were to think about it - couldn’t you see us raising such fine children?

“This conversation is inappropriate,” Roman said, hoping that that would get her to stop.

“Oh I know, I know,” she said, waving a gloved hand dismissively, “But really, what does it matter? It’s a simple question.”

“His highness told you this conversation topic was inappropriate,” Virgil cut in from behind him. It took all of his years of practice for Roman not to droop in relief.

“Who are you?” She scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“He is my personal guard,” Roman said, frowning at her, “If you continue with this conversation I will have you removed from the list of potential suitors, I do not want to discuss having children, especially not with someone I do not know.”

“But you could know me, what better way to start?”

“I could, but I no longer want to,” He said, standing up and turning, “Come, Wynter, we are leaving now.”

Virgil nodded and quickly turned to follow him, leaving the woman to watch with wide eyes as Roman turned his back to him.

“She was the last, right?” Virgil asked him quietly, barely even moving his lips - impressive. Roman gave a subtle nod in response. “Come - lets get a break.”

With yet another relieved sigh, Roman led the way out of the ballrooms and onto the balcony that led the way down to the gardens. Guests were out here too, enjoying the way the flowers were just beginning to bloom after the snow had melted away a few weeks ago. Roman enjoyed it too, though with his training starting back up he had not had much of a chance to enjoy it. The best thing about the gardens right now, though, was that they were less crowded and bright than the main ballroom, and far quieter too. In the dim light of dusk Roman could even hear the last of the daytime birds. A few people looked his way as they passed, but Roman thought the look on Virgil’s face may have deterred them. Roman was grateful for the fact that no-one approached him either way. 

“Come sit here,” Virgil said quietly, leading him to one of the rather hidden benches at the back of the gardens that Roman liked to frequent to draw or write when he had free time. Roman gladly sat down with Virgil, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air and letting it out slowly. Only then he realised that the floral smell in the ballroom had been so overwhelming, he practically slumped once they were sitting, finally out of view of everyone’s prying eyes. 

“Okay,” Virgil said quietly. “That was awful.”

Roman couldn’t help a little, tired chuckle. “I told you so.”

He received a gentle elbow to the side for that one, “I was trying to be optimistic,” Virgil huffed. “Though I’m not very good at it, I know.”

“You’re fine at it,” Roman said with a soft sigh. “You did make me feel better - but… really, this event is terrible every year - at least last year, the Queen was presenting me as a suitor to a Prince from a different kingdom.”

“The role of ‘suitor’ does seem somewhat preferable,” Virgil agreed, “I’m glad he didn’t end up marrying you, though.”

Roman hummed, leaning back a little on the bench. “Me too - I don’t think he was interested in men. As far as I know, he ended up marrying one of the noble girls there. He wasn’t very attractive anyway.”

A small chuckle escaped Virgil, “Oh really?”

“Mhm he was… blonde, and short,” he said. “I would much prefer someone taller than me, at the very least.”

Virgil nodded, “You’re quite short yourself,” he pointed out, “How short was this guy?”

“Oh - just a few inches shorter than me, and he had this sort of - his hair was quaffed,” Roman said. “It looked like a big lump on top of his head.”

With his hand, Virgil was now hiding giggles, shaking his head a little as he smiled. “No I - I wouldn’t think that sounded attractive at all,” he shook his head.

“No…” He said softly, sighing. He knew he had put a bit of a damper on that conversation - but he was finding it difficult to pretend to be happy with everything going on in his mind. 

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked, nudging him again. Roman looked up at him. He wished he could see himself getting married, but he knew that he could never be married to the person he really wanted to be married to. Maybe he wanted a wedding - not a royal one, something cosy and warm and sweet, with friends and people they both cared about, with dancing that was fun and games and no stuffy etiquette and ballrooms. 

“Have you… have you ever thought about getting married, Virgil?” He asked softly, looking up at him. Virgil’s eyes widened just a little, turning to look at him properly.

“I mean - I guess not? Not really - no-one’s ever really put pressure on me to do that kind of thing,” He shrugged, Roman sighed and looked down. “But - if I did, I’d want to get married to someone I loved - I mean, someone I wanted to share my life with.”

Roman sighed and nodded. “That’s - that’s what I want too - I want to marry someone I love, not someone who wants to marry me for my mother’s gold.”

“Yeah - all of those people you had to talk to felt like they wanted to take advantage of you for your wealth or your kingdom’s power and it’s just - I hate it so much. I’m sorry your mother is putting you through this.” Virgil sighed, fidgeting with his cape.

After a long while of silence, during which Roman avoided Virgil’s eyes. Because he knew who the person he’d want to marry if he could would be. “What sort of wedding do you think you would want? I mean - hypothetically, if you found someone you loved enough to marry?”

For a moment, Virgil didn’t say anything, looking thoughtful. “I think I’d like something small - I don’t want a huge party filled with people I don’t know, you know? Nothing like these parties - I’d want my family there - and my friends… I think I’d want to do it at home, or in Jay’s tavern, that would be cool - but yeah, something small and sweet - maybe with like - a dinner? Enough food for everyone but not anything excessive, and a party that’s actually fun afterwards - definitely a commoner wedding, nothing like what you would get done here if you got married.”

Making a face, Roman sighed, “I don’t think I’d want a wedding with all of the bells and whistles my parents would plan if I married one of those people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just… all of this is - it’s a lot, even just the balls. I wouldn’t want my parents there, that's for sure. Honestly, I think I’d prefer something like you’re describing.” Roman chuckles, looking down at his gloved hands, “I don’t want to have to wear these. I want to be able to hold my partner - actually kiss him during the ceremony, you know? I would want - I want to actually be in love and be loved in return.”

“I wish you could have all of that,” Virgil said softly, “I…. I wish I could give all of that to you.”

Roman tilted his head, looking at him, a small spark of hope flickered in his chest - what was Virgil saying? That couldn’t be right, it was impossible, Virgil didn’t like him that way. Roman shook his head, he was getting his hopes up for nothing.

“We should… we should head back.” Roman said, taking a deep breath to compose himself as he stood back up. “My parents will notice that I’m gone before too long.”

Virgil sighed, looking down. Roman wondered why he looked hurt.

“Right,” He said softly, standing up as well. “I’m with you.”

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[pilot-boi]

Thank you for notifying me about this crime, I shall rectify it:

How did Jaune encounter his patron? Did she trick him? Did he misunderstand?

Also, why do I get the feeling Jaune is accidentally good at illegal shit?

*cracks knuckles* Let me find my notes…

Strap in this is gonna be a long one

Like a really long one. I haven’t gotten to talk about this AU in MONTHS so prepare for what is basically a whole overview of Jaune’s whole arc throughout the campaign

Jaune’s wasn’t even aware that he was an aasimar until he was like 15. His whole family was born with golden hair, and sapphire eyes, and the mark of the Sun on their forehead, so to him it was just how things were

Besides, there’s people from his village who can make trees bloom with a wave of their hands, so being especially blonde wasn’t that weird

Not sure how it happens, kidnapping, trafficking, village is attacked, but somehow the boy and most of not all of his siblings are captured and thrown into a fighting ring scenario

Cue awakening of aasimar heritage in all the Arc kiddos, which helps them survive in the ring. Trauma time woohoo, they’re trapped there for literal months

Eventually, in a dream, Jaune accidentally makes a deal with a dark entity, telling it “I don’t care what you want, just please get me out of here”

The entity obliges, to the letter, JUST getting Jaune out of there, and leaving the ring burning in their wake

His siblings aren’t dead, they escape during the chaos and eventually make their way back home, but Jaune thinks that he’s responsible for all of their deaths

And as the days go on, he realizes he can… do things that he never could before

“Magic, my little bird. A gift for performing so well for me,” a dark voice whispers in his dreams

He doesn’t know it, but his patron ends up being the BBEG, AKA Salem. And for once, I didn’t decide this, you can blame @harmonylight for that one

Plot goes on, Jaune questioning every choice he makes because is it really his choice? Or is it this dark force giving power to protect people and himself? How free actually is he, or is he still trapped just like he was in the ring?

Late campaign is rough, when the party starts speaking out against Salem. It’s obvious she’s the BBEG by this point. There’s a whole cult, Nora’s mom was a member of it. Nora stops trusting him for a bit until Jaune deep in his feels does something SUPER reckless to protect her.

They more they speak out against Salem, the more she manipulates Jaune into thinking his friends hate him. Worse, they unknowingly make it easier for her by distancing themselves to protect him

The party keeps waking up for watch with him watching them, or standing over them. Anything Salem can puppet him to do to be less trustworthy. Trying to put a schism between him and them

Jaune of course remembers none of this. “See? They don’t trust you, little bird. They don’t CARE about you”

Jaune doesn’t remember doing it, but he also fully believes it’s happening. And while he believes Salem that his friends must hate him/be afraid of him he also takes it as the threat it truly is

“Look how easily I could kill them, and you can’t stop me? Look how helpless you are”

Penny is a big part of helping him realise that Salem isn't fully in control of him that he can resit and he can beat her. There’s nothing shippy, they’re bros

There’s an arc just before the end that goes REALLY bad for Jaune, he’s becoming more and more convinced that he’s a bad person, that he’s dangerous, that he’s going to get all of his friends killed just like his family

And THATS when he finds out that his family is actually alive. And that gives him something to resist for, because now he has a home to return to. Because one thing that is true about all Jaunes, he is dogshit at fighting for himself and great at fighting for others

Luckily, because she’s just his patron, they can kick her ass without worrying about hurting Jaune. The campaign ends in the nine hells, fighting Salem herself

Cinder is also a warlock of Salem. They meet her a few times throughout the campaign, each time a little more corrupted. She’s actually the first minion they fight when they reach the hells, and by that point she’s FULLY puppet, not a scrap of Cinder actually left

Sort of a “This is what could’ve happened/could STILL happen to Jaune if this doesn’t end soon” It went faster for Cinder because she’s been bonded for longer and also because she fully indulged in what Salem wanted of her

But by the end of the campaign the first bits of corruption are starting to show on Jaune. They mostly go away after Salem is sealed away, but the physical affects are still there

After all of that, obviously Jaune doesn’t have magic. No patron means no warlock. He borrows some books from Tai and Emerald (both wizards) and studies to learn what he can.

But mostly he finally relaxes, surrounded by the family he thought he lost, and the family he gained because of that loss