#maybe then it s going to be a bit more quiet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seitmai · 2 days ago

Text

Sooo many things to say

You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.

Yeah now guess how tired it makes to grow a human from scratch while also being the food source for another one🙄

Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."

🥰🥰🥰

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with." Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

Say it!!!

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

hahaha fair

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please." You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

He loves being a dad so much 🥹

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way. "Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls." Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

Bradley's excitment for his daughter(s) is so pure 🥹

You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.

This is just breaking my heart, she has already so much on her plate...

Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need." You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

I think I'm gonna throw up🤢

"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.

Oh no, I just wanna hug her 🥺 (and maybe slap some sense in Bradley)

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?" Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

Oh I have a feeling Nat is gonna my part in slapping some sense into him

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it. "You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked. "What?" "The word dumbass written across your forehead." "Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place. Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup." Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Oh good he is so clueless...also Jake for backup is great because he no matter what will be on BG's side!

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

Nat is just the best🫰🏻

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity. "She wants in your pants," Jake drawled. "Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about. "Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest. Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

Oh god he really doesn't get it 🤦🏻��♀️

If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it. Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well. Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

Halleluja! It got through his thick skull

"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."

She's so real for that lol

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?" "Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

Jake is jumping on the opportunity to bash Bradley hahah

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?" "Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes. "Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

They are not wrong🤷🏻‍♀️

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?" "Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

Oh he is so fucked when they gang on him like that

When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.

I love that he loves doing the bedtime routine🥹

Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly. "I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

Oh he better start to act like it... I have a bad feeling 🥴

Aim for the Sky Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, vomiting

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.

She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.

"Are you ready?"

Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."

You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.

"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"

"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks.

"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with."

Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.

"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.

"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."

A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.

"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.

"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."

He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.

"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.

"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."

He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.

He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring.

Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"

"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."

You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.

"It's a girl."

He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.

"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."

Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.

----------------------------

Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.

"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.

When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.

But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.

Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite.

When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.

"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.

You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.

A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.

When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.

-----------------------------

Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.

As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."

"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"

Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"

Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."

She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."

Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.

"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"

"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"

Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"

"Yeah."

She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.

"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.

"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

----------------------------

After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.

He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag.

"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.

"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.

"What?"

"The word dumbass written across your forehead."

He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.

"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place.

Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."

Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"

Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"

"Huh?"

"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."

"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.

"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.

"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.

"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.

"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."

"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.

"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."

Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.

Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.

Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.

"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"

Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.

"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"

Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.

"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."

"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"

"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.

"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."

"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.

Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.

"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"

"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.

But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have?

"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."

Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.

This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.

Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.

Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.

Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately.

Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."

-----------------------------

Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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theballadofharkness · 6 hours ago

Text

Sickbed

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: While Agatha takes care of you through a particularly nasty bout of illness, you begin to notice that maybe her hovering might be about something deeper…

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Next uploads will be some part 2’s but for now here is some good old fashioned hurt/comfort! 🪻💜

The house was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the hum of the wind outside. Agatha was sitting on the couch, as she had been for the past few hours, watching movies she was absolutely horrified you admitted you’d never got round to watching- you were too sick to respond to her shocked ‘what self respecting lesbian hadn't seen Mulholland Drive’ quip- while absently running a hand through your hair.

You hadn’t been feeling yourself for the past few days. It started with a headache, then a sore throat, and before you knew it, you were burning up with a fever that wouldn’t let up. Agatha, ever the attentive lover, had been by your side every moment, her sharp eyes watching your every move, her fingers always brushing against you, as if to reassure herself that you were still there, still alive.

It wasn't unusual for Agatha to be affectionate, to hold you close or kiss your temple just because. But today... today she was different. She hovered. She wouldn't let you out of her sight, and every time you stirred in bed, she'd be there, pulling you back to her chest, smoothing your hair with tender hands, or bringing you water with a look in her eyes that made you feel like you were the most precious thing in her world.

You were too tired to question it. Besides, you didn't mind. Her touch was a comfort.

"How are you feeling, love?" Agatha asked softly for the tenth time that afternoon, her voice warm like honey.

You blinked, trying to focus on her. The world felt fuzzy, as if you were existing on the edge of it, but you managed a small smile. "Better... I think. Still a bit... out of it."

She gave you a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes in return but didn’t stop the constant stream of affection. Her hand, which had been gently rubbing your back, now found its way to your cheek, her fingers cool against your skin. You leaned into her touch instinctively.

"Do you need anything? I can make you some tea, or get you something to eat," she said, her voice a little more urgent now, though she tried to mask it. Her usual tone had been replaced with something more desperate.

You shook your head. "No... no food. Just... stay with me a bit longer."

She nodded immediately, her lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before she resumed her position, the two of you cocooned in the warmth of the living room, the flickering light from the TV the only source of brightness. Agatha’s hand didn’t leave your body, and you realised then that, though it had always been natural for her to touch you, now she was holding you in a way that made you feel as though she was afraid to let go.

Agatha had cancelled all her plans for the day, even with Billy, which was a rare move for her. Normally, she’d balance her life as a busy witch and mentor with her life as a loving, though slightly chaotic, partner, but today nothing mattered more than you.

You were nestled under the thick, knitted blanket in the living room, your head resting on the soft cushions. The fever was still hanging around, making you feel weak and out of sorts. But Agatha? She wasn’t going anywhere. She hadn’t left your side since the morning, even if it meant putting aside everything else.

She hovered like a protective shadow, her steps light as she moved around the house, always checking on you, always within arm’s reach. Even when you’d tried to push her to go out when she’d mentioned her plans with Billy, she’d just shaken her head, the look in her eyes leaving no room for argument.

"I’ll just nap, love. You go. You love your mentor sessions with Billy. I’ll be fine," you had insisted earlier, your voice a little weaker than you liked.

Agatha’s eyes darkened, a glint of stubbornness flashing in them. "No," she’d said, firmly. "I’m staying right here with you."

You hadn’t pressed it further. Agatha had always been fiercely protective, and when she decided on something, it was impossible to change her mind.

Now, she was gently leaning over you, her fingers softly brushing your hair away from your face as she crouched beside the couch. "You’re so warm, darling," she said, her voice laced with concern. "But we need to get you feeling better. Stand up baby, I’m going to wash your hair for you."

You blinked lazily, a soft, appreciative smile on your lips. "You really don’t have to, Agatha," you murmured, your voice barely audible. You hated feeling so weak, but she didn’t seem to care. You were her priority now, and that was all she wanted.

"I want to," she said, her tone both soothing and insistent. "Come on, love, let me help."

With a softness that belied her usual strength, Agatha helped you sit up, carefully guiding you to the bathroom. She ran a warm bath, the scent of lavender filling the air, and when she turned back to you, her hands were already gentle as she helped you out of your clothes, her movements smooth and considerate. You felt yourself relax under her touch despite the discomfort of being unwell, comforted by the familiar sound of her voice and the feeling of her hands on your naked flesh.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got you," she murmured, coaxing you into the tub with her usual mixture of care and quiet dominance. She helped you settle into the warm water, her hands running through your damp hair with such tenderness that you couldn’t help but close your eyes.

You let out a small sigh, the soothing feel of her hands massaging your scalp pulling you further into relaxation. You were too weak to do anything on your own, and Agatha seemed to revel in the opportunity to care for you in this way, a soft hum escaping her lips as she washed your hair.

"You deserve to be spoiled, you know that?" she said, her voice a soft whisper as she rinsed your hair, fingers gently running through the strands. "I’ve been waiting for an excuse to bathe you."

You chuckled lightly, though it was more a rasp than anything. "I’m hardly in any condition to argue, am I?"

Agatha's lips curled into a smile. "Exactly. So let me do this for you, love."

When she finished, she carefully helped you out of the bath and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, her hands never leaving you for even a moment. She dried you off gently, as if you might break, then helped you slip into your softest, coziest pyjamas—ones she knew you loved. She fussed over your comfort, pulling the blanket up around you when she noticed a slight shiver, her fingers brushing the side of your face tenderly.

Once you were settled back on the couch, your favourite blanket tucked around your shoulders, Agatha sat down beside you, her eyes scanning the TV for something she knew you’d enjoy. You raised a brow.

"Are you really going to let me watch this crap?" you asked, referring to the mindless reality TV show you had a guilty pleasure for, one that Agatha always scoffed at whenever it was on.

Her lips quirked into a small smile. "I’m staying here with you," she said, her voice soft but firm. "And you’re watching whatever the hell you want. I’m not going anywhere."

You knew her well enough to recognise the finality in her tone. It wasn’t a request; it was a statement of fact. You chuckled softly, giving in, and the two of you settled in to watch the ridiculous drama unfold on screen. You barely even noticed the time slipping by. Agatha’s fingers gently stroked your hair, her presence a constant reassurance.

Eventually, when you started drifting in and out of sleep, Agatha gathered you up in her arms and took you to bed, tucking you into her side as she watched you sleep, her lips occasionally brushing against your forehead.

“When did you take me to bed?” You yawned as you were awoken by Senõr Scratchy jumping onto the bed to sleep alongside his moms.

"Rest, darling. You’ve been through a lot. Let me take care of you."

You smiled lazily, your eyelids heavy. "I think you already are, love."

Agatha gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, her voice low and reassuring. "Always."

As the days passed, her behaviour only intensified. The fever was getting worse, your body too weak to fight it off. Agatha refused to leave your side, even when she had business to attend to. She’d dismiss it with a wave of her hand, muttering something about ‘not being important’ when she turned her attention back to you.

You had always known Agatha was deeply passionate, but this new level of care unsettled you. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—it was just that something in her seemed different. She was more possessive, more protective, and at times, you thought she might just burst if she didn’t get to hold you in her arms.

One afternoon, as you lay on the bed, sweat beading on your forehead, Agatha came in with a damp cloth, wiping your face with it as if you were something fragile—something she was terrified of breaking.

"I know you hate when I do this," Agatha murmured, her fingers cool against your heated skin, "but you really need to cool down."

You smiled weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t hate it... just... not used to Nurse Agatha… hey maybe we should buy you a little outfit hmm? Really fulfill the fantasy." You tried to keep bringing up her hovering light.

Agatha let out a short, humourless laugh. "I suppose it’s... a side of me I’ve kept hidden for too long. You mean so much to me, love. I... I don’t want to lose you."

Her voice cracked on the last words, and it was then you realised, really realised, that this wasn’t just about you being sick. There was something deeper, something darker in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place, but you knew it was there.

There was something in the way she touched you, something that felt less like affection and more like a fear of losing you. She was, after all, no stranger to loss. You had heard her speak of her past, of her long and storied life, though she rarely ever went into specifics. You knew of her son, Nicky, the boy she had lost centuries ago when he was only a young child. The pain of that loss still lingered in Agatha’s eyes, though she rarely spoke of him. Every now and then, her expression would turn wistful, a soft sadness clouding her features for a brief moment, but she would always push it aside, as though brushing the memory away.

You had never pried. You knew it was a wound that would always run deep, but now, as you lay in bed, feverish and weak, you began to wonder if that same pain had resurfaced. Her obsessive care over you, her constant need to keep you in her arms, was unsettling, though you couldn’t deny that it felt like love. Still, something about it felt… different.

You hadn’t realised how bad it had gotten until one evening, when you turned to her, lying in bed and watching her pretending to read a book, though her eyes kept darting to you every few seconds, checking that you were still breathing. Her concern was almost palpable, and the flickering of fear in her gaze didn’t escape you.

"Agatha," you murmured, your voice soft but steady, "I’m not going anywhere."

She froze, her fingers stilling on the page of the book. Her gaze flicked to you immediately, her lips parting as though she were about to speak, but the words never came. Instead, she reached out, brushing your cheek with her cool fingers.

"You’re not going anywhere?" she repeated, her voice thick with emotion. "You promise?"

You smiled weakly, though the exhaustion from the fever made it hard to keep your eyes open. "I promise. You don’t have to worry about me, Agatha. I’m not leaving you."

Her eyes softened, but there was still an edge to her expression- something unresolved, something she was clearly holding back. You could see it in the way she clenched her jaw, the way her hands trembled slightly.

"I can’t lose you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You frowned slightly, your brow furrowing as your gaze locked with hers. "What do you mean?" You decided to press further.

Agatha bit her lip, and for the first time in days, she pulled away from you, standing up and pacing a few steps away, as though trying to find the words she had never spoken. Finally, she turned to face you, her eyes heavy with unshed tears, her breath shallow.

"Nicky," she said softly, her voice trembling. "It was centuries ago, but it still feels like it was yesterday. I was asleep when it happened. I couldn’t protect him."

You felt your heart tighten at her words. You knew that losing a child, especially at such a young age, was a grief that no one should ever have to bear.

You sat up slowly, your hands reaching for her, and she came to you immediately, her arms enveloping you as you pulled her close. She buried her face in your neck, her breath shaky as she held onto you like a lifeline.

"I don’t want to lose you too," Agatha whispered, the rawness in her voice breaking your heart. "I lost him, and I can’t go through that again I-"

"You won’t lose me," you interrupted gently, stroking her hair. "I’m right here, Agatha. You have me, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you."

She held you tighter, her body trembling with the weight of her emotions. You could feel the fear, the loss, and the deep, aching need for reassurance that was clawing at her. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, holding her as close as you could.

"I’m not leaving you," you repeated, your voice firm. "I’ll be here. Always."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the quiet of the room settling over you like a warm blanket.

Eventually she pulled away just slightly, enough to look you in the eyes. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, and she leaned down to kiss you, her lips warm and desperate against yours.

"I love you," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the lines of her face as you both settled back into the bed, wrapped up in each other.

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped tightly in Agatha’s arms, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, despite the lingering fever. You knew that no matter what happened, Agatha would always protect you. And that thought was more comforting than anything else.

The next morning, Agatha woke up to an empty bed.

Panic surged through her like wildfire. She scrambled out of bed, her heart hammering in her chest as she darted through the house, her mind racing with all the worst possibilities. She called your name, her voice rising in desperation as she checked every room, every corner.

"Baby? Where are you?" she called, her eyes wide with fear. Her breath hitched when she reached the kitchen, but there you were—standing at the stove, humming a little tune as you flipped a pancake. When you saw her standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and breathless, you couldn’t help but smile.

"Fuck baby" Agatha breathed, rushing over to you in relief. She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around your waist as though she would never let go. "Why didn’t you wake me?"

You looked up, a sheepish smile on your face. "Sorry love,” you smiled, your voice warm and soft. "I’m feeling better so I wanted to make you breakfast in bed as a thank you for taking care of me..."

Agatha’s eyes welled up with tears, and for a moment, she just held you close, taking in the relief of knowing you were alright. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you," she whispered, pressing her face into your hair.

You pulled back slightly, a playful smile on your lips. "You’ll never have to. We are witches baby, you’re stuck with me for a very very long time. You’ll be old and wrinkly with a hundred rabbits and I’ll still love you just as much as I do right now”

Her hands slid down to cup your face, and she kissed you deeply, the tension in her body finally easing. "I can’t believe you’re making me pancakes," she teased, a glint of mischief returning to her eyes. "Do you have the syrup I like?"

You giggled, pulling back slightly to rummage through the cupboard. "Of course I do. I’m treating my girl, after all."

Agatha grinned, her playful side returning. "Careful, if you keep spoiling me like this, I might begin to expect it."

You smiled, feeling your heart swell as you handed her the syrup. "I’ll make sure to add making you breakfast every morning to our wedding vows."

As you stood there together, the quiet of the house no longer felt heavy with fear or uncertainty. Instead, it was filled with the warmth of love and the promise that, no matter what, you and Agatha would always be there for each other.

And for the first time in days, you both felt like everything would be alright.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #kathryn hahn

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 2 days ago

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Lucifer x Reader - It's Been A While... (NSFW)

Based on @the-other-soup's post from a little bit ago ;3

Lucifer's been alone from quiet some time now, ever since his wife left years ago

He's never found anyone else to share his life with after that

That is, of course, until you came along

You never intended to fall in love with the King of Hell, but his goofy charm and profound silliness enchanted you

Things were slow to start, it took him a few months to ask if he could hold your hand

You didn't mind though, you thought it was adorable; the most powerful being in the realm became a flustered mess around you

After things became more serious, however, it was you that brought up the possibility of being more intimate

Lucifer was somehow very eager and very hesitant at the same time; as though he wanted nothing more than to be with you physically but something was holding him back

You told him it didn't have to be today, or next week, hell, it didn't even have to be this year!

You only wanted to have a discussion and didn't want to pressure him at all; he was very appreciative

One night, a soft make out session on his bed developed into something deeper

Your eyes couldn't help but notice the bulge that was forming in Lucifer's pants

"Maybe we should stop," you suggested, gesturing below his belt

Lucifer looked down, his eyes wide. "O-Oh! Oh golly...sorry about that..."

"Lucifer, you don't have to apologize for being turned on!"

"I know," he sighed, "I just...I feel like I'm forcing you to wait for me. You've been so patient and I can't tell you how much that means to me, but..."

You smile and plant a kiss on his tinted cheek. "It's alright, I understand. You know I'd never force you into anything you weren't ready for. I'm perfectly fine waiting for-"

"I want you to touch me." Lucifer cut you off unexpectantly. "I-I mean, if you would like to! I don't want you to if you don't want to! I just...God, what's wrong with me?!"

You sat there stunned for a moment before taking a hold of Lucifer's hand. "Luci, please don't force yourself into this. If you're not comfortable with-"

"I promise I'm not forcing myself into wanting this, wanting you. God, I've wanted you for so long now...I'm tired of being afraid." He leaned in to kiss you tenderly before pulling away. "Please..."

You leaned your forehead against his. "Are you sure?"

"I am."

Slowly, your hands traveled south on his body, making quick work of his belt and shuffling his pants down to his ankles.

His bulge looked even more impressive pressing against his boxers; you had to hold back a smirk when you saw the spot of precum that already leaked through the material

You pushed his boxers down and freed his thick shaft, gasping at his size and trying to keep yourself from drooling

"I'll go slow, okay?" you reassured him. "If you want me to stop, please tell me. Promise?"

"I promise," he murmured.

The poor man could barely look you in the eyes, but it was adorable how nervous he seemed to be

Tentatively you gripped the base of his cock which you could barely wrap your hand fully around and began to stroke him gently

God, the sounds that left the angel’s mouth were immaculate; soft mewls and choked back moans

You wanted him so fucking bad

But you promised you would go slow, and that’s exactly what you planned to do

You kissed him softly, swallowing every noise he made

Only about a minutes passed before Lucifer started to tremble under your touch, his breathing beyond labored

He was a goner

“S-Shit…love, I…oh, God…oh no…no no no no, FFFFUUUUCK!”

Without so much as a warning, Lucifer came hard into your hand, unable to keep himself from bucking into you

His cum spilled passed your fingers and dripped onto the bedsheets below

“Oh…” you whispered to yourself

“Fuck…FUCK! I’m so so sorry! I didn’t think I would…oh my God…it’s been so long since someone else has…this is a disaster!”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that left your throat

Lucifer blushed hard and hid his burning face in his hands

“No, no, Lucifer it’s alright!” you tried to comfort him. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear I’m not. I don’t care that you finished so quickly! If anything, I’m flattered! Please don’t be embarrassed.”

You brought your hand to your face, making sure he watched you lick up the mess he had made

That gesture alone made the man whimper

“Did it feel good?” you asked, wiping the remaining remnants of his cum from your lips

“Good? Sweetie, that felt incredible…I’m sorry again. Can I at least make it up to you?”

You blushed at the thought of his proposal. “Lucifer, that’s very thoughtful of you, b-but you don’t have to-”

You don’t know how you ended up laying flat on the bedsheets with Lucifer hovering over you, but you were

And you didn’t want to be anywhere else

“Do you think it’s fair that I get to cum and you don’t?” he asked. “No, no, that’s not going to work for me.”

He shifted himself down, his face planted firmly between your clothes sex

“With your permission, darling.~”

Lucifer spent the next hour bringing you endless pleasure with his fingers and tongue alone

You now knew it was possible for you to cum 7 times within the span on 60 minutes

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #SOUP THIS IS FOR YOU 💖

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lila-lou · 3 days ago

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✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 9✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Fuff, Angst

Word Count: 8800

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

He met your gaze, a mixture of regret and understanding in his eyes. “Guess I left you with more than a few bruises that didn’t heal so easy”. His voice was quiet, and for once, he wasn’t hiding behind his usual bravado. “I know I… wasn’t around to help pick up the pieces”.

You looked down, tracing the edge of your wine glass with your finger, the years of hurt and healing flashing through your mind. “I tried to let it go, you know? Tried to be… okay”. You took a breath, steadying yourself. “But it’s hard when you can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing. Like you’re trying to move on, but there’s always this empty space that just… doesn’t go away”.

Dean opened his mouth, the words forming on his lips, but you gently raised a hand, stopping him before he could speak. “It’s not your fault, Dean”, you said softly, your voice steady but threaded with the honesty you’d held back for so long. “Eight years ago, you were upfront with me. You never promised me forever; I knew what I was getting into with you”.

You looked down again. “I just… I guess I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d feel enough to come back. That one day, you’d walk back through that door on your own”.

Dean’s face fell, the weight of your words pressing down on him, and he took a shaky breath, the flicker of guilt and sorrow unmistakable in his eyes. “I thought about it… about coming back”, he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “More times than you could imagine. But every time, I told myself you deserved better than a guy who could only give you bits and pieces. I didn’t want to hold you back from having… everything”.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, a mixture of tenderness and hurt in your expression. “Everything, Dean?”, You let out a soft, sad chuckle. “What’s everything without the person you can’t stop thinking about?”.

The vulnerability in your voice broke something in him, and he reached across the table, his hand finding yours, his touch warm and grounding. His thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, grounding you both. “I was scared”, he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “Scared I couldn’t be what you needed… that I’d mess up something real and leave you worse off”. He hesitated, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “But not a day went by when I didn’t regret it. Not one”.

Dean’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that held years of unspoken words and hidden fears. “I wanted you to have… kids”, he began, his voice rough, each word a struggle, as if saying it out loud made it hurt more. “That house we always talked about, a life, (Y/N). Not this”. He gestured vaguely, encompassing everything that his life had become—the dangerous hunts, the constant running, the never-ending fight against things that most people only read about in horror novels.

He let out a heavy sigh, his gaze dropping for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “It’s not just ghosts and werewolves, sweetheart”, he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet urgency. “It’s demons, things darker and… worse than I could ever explain. And you don’t belong on that path. I can’t stand the thought of you living in fear—sleeping in dirty motels, wondering if you’re going to wake up the next morning, or if some creature’s going to turn up and…”. He trailed off, shaking his head, his eyes brimming with something raw and unshielded.

“I want you to have peace”, he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “To feel safe, to have that family, to go to sleep at night knowing you’re going to wake up safe in the morning. I want you to have a life that’s… beautiful, and not shadowed by the things I can’t escape”.

You felt the weight of his words settle over you, the quiet, profound ache behind every syllable. Dean had left, not because he didn’t love you, but because he loved you too much to drag you into his world. The realization washed over you like a wave, the years of wondering and hurting suddenly making a different kind of sense.

“But Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling, “that life… it doesn’t mean much if you’re not there”. You reached up, your hand brushing gently along his jaw, grounding him in your touch, your voice thick with emotion. “I get what you wanted for me, but… all I wanted was you”.

Dean looked away, his jaw clenching as he wrestled with the emotions your words stirred up. You could see it—the conflict, the regret, the deep-seated belief that he was doing what was best for you, no matter how much it tore him apart.

“(Y/N)”, he murmured, his voice thick, each word weighed down with guilt and sorrow. “You don’t understand… you deserve so much more than what I can give you. My life, it’s… it’s a war zone. I’ve seen things, been through things I’d never want you to know about”. His voice broke slightly, and he took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay. But wanting isn’t the same as doing right by you”.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a gesture that felt as comforting as it was heartbreaking. “If I stay… you’ll never be free. You’d be tied to a life that would keep you looking over your shoulder, wondering if I’ll come back each time I leave. And you’d see me—”. He hesitated, his voice filled with a quiet self-loathing that nearly undid you. “You’d see me worn down, one hunt after another, one scar after the next. I can’t do that to you”.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to look away, to let him turn this into a goodbye. “But, Dean… I don’t care about any of that”, you said, your voice thick with the love you’d held onto for so long. “You’re not just some guy who comes and goes—you’re… you’re the one person I never stopped loving. I don’t care about the scars, the hunts, the danger. I care about you. And if you think you’re sparing me from something by leaving, you’re wrong”.

He shook his head, a pained smile flickering across his face. “(Y/N), this life… it breaks you. It’s broken me. And you—you’re strong and good, and I don’t want to be the thing that takes that from you”.

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Dean”, you whispered, your voice firm even as it trembled. “You don’t get to choose what I’m willing to face, who I’m willing to love. That’s mine, and I’m choosing you. I’ve always chosen you”.

Dean’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked as though the fight had finally left him, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his own feelings. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were filled with a raw vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

“Do you know how many times I thought about coming back?”, he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though he were confessing a sin. “Every time I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d be strong enough to keep you safe. That we could have that life. But then I’d see… the things I had to do, the people I couldn’t save, and I’d talk myself out of it. I kept telling myself that letting you go was the only way I could protect you”.

Your eyes glistened, a mixture of frustration and heartbreak surfacing after years of keeping it buried. The words escaped before you could rein them in, soft but edged with a quiet, fierce pain. “Nothing… nothing could feel worse than waiting eight damn years, Dean. Eight years for that one guy who took my heart with him when he left”.

Dean’s gaze dropped, the weight of your words settling over him, his own pain evident in the tight line of his jaw, the way he ran a hand through his hair as if trying to find a way to fix what had broken. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, the words clearly failing him. He looked at you as if seeing the hurt he’d caused in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to before, the reality of it hitting him with a force he couldn’t ignore.

Your voice dropped to a whisper, carrying the weight of every year you’d spent trying to move forward yet feeling anchored to a part of your life that hadn’t let you go. “Look where I am, Dean”, you murmured, the words trembling with a quiet vulnerability. “I don’t care about my stupid bookstore, or the dress hanging in my closet that I’ll never wear… every step, every plan, every single moment, I kept wondering… what if Dean was by my side?”.

Your voice gained a quiet, trembling strength, the years of suppressed pain and longing spilling over. “I’m anything but happy, Dean”, you whispered, your voice growing more resolute with each word. “Anything but at peace. Every single day, it feels like I’m just… existing, going through the motions, trying to build a life that doesn’t feel real without you in it”.

Dean’s expression twisted with a mix of frustration and anguish, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back the emotions surging within him. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, his voice sharp, edged with pain. “But you’re alive, dammit. You’re here, safe, in one piece. That’s what I wanted for you, even if it meant…”. His voice cracked, but he pushed on, “even if it meant I had to stay away”.

You flinched slightly at his tone, not from fear, but from the raw truth embedded in his words. He had chosen your safety over his own happiness, a decision that had broken both of you in different ways.

Your voice rose, trembling with the intensity of every feeling you’d held back for so long. “I would trade my damn safety in an instant, Dean”, you whispered, the rawness in your voice making him falter, “if it meant I could be with you. If it meant feeling alive again, actually living instead of just… existing”.

Dean stood up, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and something darker—something that carried years of wounds, both seen and unseen. Without a word, he lifted his shirt, revealing the bruises and fresh stitches scattered across his torso. But the worst of it was a deep, angry gash just above his heart, the skin around it still raw and healing. You inhaled sharply, a wave of shock and horror settling over you as you took in the reality of what he’d endured.

His voice was barely steady, each word laced with a raw edge. “I was possessed, (Y/N). Literally. There was… someone else in my head, guiding me, forcing me”. His eyes flashed with a bitterness that cut through you, and he gestured to the wound on his chest. “I took this knife—my own damn hand—and I slit my chest open. Tried to rip out my own heart. But it wasn’t me… it was a demon. A demon using me, my own mind, my own hands”.

He paused, the words hanging heavily between you, the rawness of his confession unraveling the walls you’d built to protect yourself from fully understanding what his life entailed. “Is that what you want?”, he continued, his voice breaking. “Because that’s the life you’re asking for right now—a life where every time you turn around, you’re wondering if it’s me, or if it’s something that’s using me to get to you, or to hurt you”.

You looked down, your mind spinning as you tried to process the weight of what he’d just shared. Dean leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively over his bruised chest, his expression hard but filled with a pain that went beyond the physical. There was a rawness in his eyes, a desperate, unspoken need for you to understand, and yet… a hesitance, as if he were daring you to truly see the darkness he lived with.

“Look at me”, he said, his voice low and filled with a bitterness that broke your heart. “And tell me… tell me that loving me is enough to overshadow all of that sick shit”. The words came out with an edge of self-loathing, as if he couldn’t fathom anyone wanting to hold onto someone so scarred, so damaged by things most people could never even comprehend.

The way he spoke—as though even the idea of loving him was something ugly—sent a pang through you. You lifted your gaze, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the haunted look in his eyes, and you felt your own heart ache. He’d endured so much, and he still couldn’t see that none of it made him unworthy. If anything, it made him braver, stronger, someone who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders alone because he didn’t want it to touch the people he cared about.

You took a small, steadying breath, meeting his gaze with an intensity that matched the weight of his words. “Obviously, you don’t know how much I’ve fallen for you if you think any of this would stop me”, you whispered, the words slipping out softly but laced with unwavering conviction.

Dean’s posture stiffened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he absorbed your words, his defenses crumbling in a way that left him looking more exposed than ever. For a moment, he was silent, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could look at him that way, how you could see all of him—the scars, the trauma, the darkness—and still be here.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I just… I don’t get it”, he murmured, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “Why? Why me, when all I seem to do is break things?”.

Dean’s voice dropped to a murmur, barely more than a whisper. “I’m not worth it, baby. Trust me”, he said, his eyes darkening with an ache that went far beyond the bruises on his body, carrying the weight of everything he’d been through, every person he’d lost. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to push the thought of deserving you away. “All I do is bring people down… get them hurt or worse. You deserve so much better than someone like me”.

Your heart clenched at the self-doubt etched into his face, the look of someone who had spent too long believing he was unworthy of love. You reached up, gently cupping his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Dean, don’t you see? You don’t have to be anything other than who you are. You’ve spent your whole life trying to protect everyone, carrying everyone else’s pain. I know you’ve been through hell and back, and I know you think that makes you damaged somehow. But it doesn’t”.

He looked down, swallowing hard, his expression wavering between hope and disbelief as he leaned into your touch. “But what if… what if all of this, everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve done… it’s too much? What if one day I look at you and I see the hurt I’m so afraid to put you through?”.

You held his gaze, steady and unflinching. “Then we face it together, Dean. Because I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you”.

Your voice trembled as you looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears that held both the ache of the past and the fragile hope for something more. “I spent eight damn years missing you, Dean”, you murmured, the weight of those years evident in every syllable. “Thinking about you, wishing… for nothing but you in my life”.

You took a deep breath, the vulnerability in your words spilling over, raw and unfiltered. “I don’t care about where we go, or what it looks like, or if it’s not what most people would call normal. I just want you. In all those dirty motels, on the road, wherever you go, take me with you, Dean. Please”.

Dean’s face softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in the sincerity in your gaze. His own eyes glistened, caught between disbelief and a kind of cautious hope he hadn’t felt in years. He reached up, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek as if grounding himself in your touch, his hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions behind his gaze.

“I can’t promise you anything but the life I’ve got… and it’s not pretty”, he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your breath hitched as you whispered, “I don’t care, Dean”. The words left you in a soft, trembling rush, tears beginning to trace paths down your cheeks. “I can’t let you leave me again, not this time. Not again”.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on yours, the intensity in his eyes almost overwhelming. And then, without a word, he pulled you closer, both hands coming up to cradle your face with a tenderness that stole what little breath you had left. His thumbs brushed away the tears as he looked at you, his own eyes shining with a vulnerability he rarely showed. Then, slowly, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise, a reunion, and an apology all at once.

It was gentle at first, like he was rediscovering something precious, but as the years of longing and missed chances caught up with you both, it deepened, each second erasing the distance that had once stretched between you. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he needed to prove that this moment was real, that you were here, together, in spite of everything.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads resting against each other, both of you were breathless.

Dean’s hands slipped from your face, his gaze holding yours for one more beat before he let them drift down to your hips, his fingers gripping you with a renewed urgency. Without another word, he lifted you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt both possessive and tender, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go even for a moment.

Your arms wound around his neck as he carried you down the hallway, each step steady, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight of everything unsaid, everything lost, and everything found again lingered in the air, creating a feeling both electric and deeply comforting. By the time he reached your bedroom, his breaths were ragged, mirroring your own, a testament to the years of longing you’d both endured in silence.

Gently, he laid you back on the bed, his hands still cradling your hips, and his gaze softened, holding a quiet reverence as he took you in. He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to your forehead, then your cheek, his touch warm and lingering as if he were mapping the parts of you he had missed. The room fell into a calm quiet, filled with the steady rhythm of shared breaths and the comfort of knowing you were finally here, together, without any walls between you.

He kissed you again, deeply, fully, as his hands traced the curve of your waist, his touch saying all the words that had lingered between you.

Only a few minutes later, you found yourself straddling Dean’s lap, your hand resting gently on his shoulder, mindful of the bruises and healing wounds scattered across his body. The heat between you both was undeniable, a palpable warmth building with each passing second, but you hesitated, searching his face, worried that even the smallest movement might hurt him.

Dean, ever himself, noticed the hesitation in your eyes and let out a soft, exasperated chuckle, his hands giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “C´mon, sweetheart”, he murmured, that familiar teasing glint sparking in his gaze. “You really think a few bruises are gonna keep me down?”. He tilted his head, flashing that trademark smirk that somehow made your heart race and eased your worries at the same time.

“Trust me, I’m not made of glass”, he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur as his thumb traced circles against your hip. “I’ve been through worse, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”.

You felt a smile tug at your lips, your nerves fading under the warmth of his gaze. Dean leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Besides, if this is how I go out, I can’t think of a better way”. His voice held that cocky, playful edge that was so quintessentially him, reminding you that beneath the scars and bruises, Dean Winchester was still very much himself—unbreakable, stubborn, and entirely in the moment with you.

With a soft laugh, you leaned in, finally letting go of your hesitation. “Alright, Winchester”, you whispered back, “just don’t say I didn’t warn you”.

Dean’s smirk widened, his eyes sparking with that familiar mischief. “You know, I don’t mind a little pain”, he teased, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he held you steady, his hands warm and firm on your hips. “Actually… might even say I like it”. His grin grew as he emphasized his words by pushing his hips up gently, nudging himself just barely inside you, a silent reminder of his impatience and his eagerness to close the distance between you.

The small movement sent a spark of heat through you, erasing any remaining hesitation. Dean’s eyes locked onto yours, holding you in his gaze. “You’re making me wait way too long, sweetheart”, he murmured, his hands urging you closer. “What’s a guy gotta do to show he’s ready?”.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned in, meeting his gaze with equal intensity as you let yourself sink down onto him, savoring the feeling of being close in a way that felt both familiar and brand new. Dean’s grip on your hips tightened, his breath hitching as you settled fully, and for a moment, the only sounds were your shared breaths.

“Damn”, he muttered, his hands moving up your back as he pulled you in for a kiss, slow and deep, his usual playfulness softening into something more intense and tender. “Guess that was worth the wait”.

You couldn’t help but shiver, caught off guard by the intensity, the fullness, as if you’d forgotten just how overwhelming being with him could feel. You took a steadying breath, letting the sensation settle over you, before slowly lifting your hips. Dean’s hands moved with you, guiding you with a care that softened every edge of the moment. His gaze was fixed intently on your face, his eyes heavy-lidded, a quiet awe filling them as he took in every little reaction, every flicker of pleasure that crossed your expression.

His jaw tightened, and he bit his lip, clearly trying to rein in the sounds building in his chest. But a low groan slipped through, despite his efforts, his breath hitching as he felt you sink back down. His hands pressed into your hips with just enough pressure to ground you both, a silent testament to his own restraint.

“Fuck, you have no idea”, he murmured, his voice strained, as if the words were pulled from somewhere deep within him. “No one… no one has ever felt this good”. He shifted slightly, his hands guiding you into a rhythm that made your breath catch.

You let out a shaky, breathless laugh, leaning in close enough that your lips brushed his ear as you moved, your voice a teasing murmur. “Is that what you say to all the women you’ve been with these past eight years?”. Your words were light, but there was a hint of something deeper, a vulnerability you tried to hide beneath your playful tone as you sank down onto him again, letting your hips roll in a way that made him groan.

Dean’s eyes darkened, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter, pulling you closer, his own breath coming out in a shudder. He shook his head, a small, breathless chuckle escaping him as he looked up at you, a tender honesty in his gaze. “You really think anyone else could ever feel like this?”, he murmured, his voice low, each word laced with that familiar intensity. “Trust me, no one even came close”.

He lifted his hips to meet yours, his movements growing a little more insistent, as if to prove his words. His gaze stayed locked on yours, a silent promise in his eyes. “It’s just you”, he whispered, his voice rough. “Always was”.

A quiet whine slipped from your lips as you looked down at him, your fingers tracing a path along his shoulder, your voice barely a murmur as you teased, “I don’t believe you”.

Dean’s eyes narrowed playfully, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tilted his head, his hands pressing you down against him with a gentle, insistent pressure. “Oh, you don’t, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low, almost daring. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you”.

Dean shifted, turning the two of you over despite the clear discomfort it must have caused him. His eyes glinted with that unmistakable spark, the one that told you he wasn’t about to let anything hold him back. You felt him still inside you, steady and unyielding, his warmth grounding you both.

Your gaze drifted down to his chest, taking in the angry, jagged cut just above his heart. The stitches looked haphazard, as though they’d been done in a rush, and the surrounding skin was a mix of deep purples and blues—evidence of just how much he’d been through. Gently, your fingertip traced along the edge of the bruised skin, your touch feather-light, filled with worry and tenderness.

Your voice came out in a quiet murmur, worry lacing your tone. “Dean… it’s infected”, you whispered, your fingers hovering over the wound, the red, inflamed skin and rough stitches telling a story of hurried care and relentless battles. You could feel the concern flooding through you, the urge to make him rest, to tend to his wounds.

But before you could say more, Dean’s hands found your hips, grounding you. His eyes, filled with an unwavering intensity, held yours as if to say he’d handle every ounce of pain if it meant proving just how much you meant to him. Without a word, he shifted, pulling you closer, his own pain evident but ignored as he thrust deeply, a gesture meant to bring you back to the moment, to remind you both why you were here—together.

A breath caught in your throat, a mix of sensation and shared vulnerability bringing you back, anchoring you to him.

Dean's voice was low, rough with both determination and an edge of vulnerability. "I want you here with me, sweetheart", he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours, his hands steady and grounding on your hips. "I’ve waited eight years… so stop worrying about something stupid like me".

His words hung between you, raw and insistent, filled with a depth of feeling he usually kept hidden beneath layers of armor. You could feel his sincerity, the unyielding need that drove him to push past his pain, to have this moment with you, undiluted and real. He wanted to make every second count, to show you that even through all his scars, he was still yours.

You felt the last of your reservations fall away, leaning into his touch, matching the intensity in his eyes with your own. “I’m here, Dean”, you whispered, your voice steady, your hand resting softly over his heart, feeling its strong, unbroken beat.

"Good", he whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he leaned in, brushing a tender kiss across your mouth. His touch trailed down along your jaw, his lips grazing your skin with a gentleness that made your breath catch. All the while, his movements were unhurried, savoring each moment as he thrust slowly, steadily, holding you close as if he wanted to prolong every second of this closeness.

There was an intimacy in his touch, a quiet reverence that spoke volumes without a single word. Each gentle thrust, every brush of his lips along your neck, felt like a vow, a promise made in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. The world seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you—no past regrets, no fears of what was to come, just the warmth of his skin against yours and the shared rhythm you’d fallen into together.

It felt like coming home.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you instinctively tightened around him, your body responding to his touch, to the feeling of him moving within you. Every inch of him felt achingly familiar, yet new, as though the time and distance had only intensified the way he filled the spaces you’d kept hidden for so long. It was overwhelming, each slow movement stirring up emotions you hadn’t let yourself feel in years, everything raw and unfiltered.

For Dean, every sensation felt like a reunion, a rediscovery of something he’d lost but never truly let go of. The warmth of your skin, the softness of your touch, the quiet gasps you made as you held onto him—each was a reminder of the love he’d left behind, of the emptiness that had lingered in every city, every hunt, every lonely motel room. The pain and sacrifice, the years spent convincing himself you’d be better off without him, all of it melted away in this moment.

Both of you moved in sync, guided not by urgency but by a quiet, reverent understanding of the time you’d lost. His hands held you with a mixture of tenderness and need, each brush of his thumb against your skin, each press of his body against yours, a silent reassurance that he was here, now, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The weight of eight long years, the ache of missing each other, faded into a wordless connection, a love that hadn’t dimmed but had only grown stronger, waiting patiently to be reignited.

In that moment, there was no doubt, no lingering fears—only the overwhelming relief of being together, two hearts finding their way back home.

You spent hours wrapped up in each other, lost in the warmth and connection that had been denied for so long. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word filled the room with an intimacy that felt like both a reunion and a promise. The night stretched on, and the world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared breaths and murmured affection.

By the time the clock neared three in the morning, you were both spent, your bodies exhausted and drenched in a comfortable sheen of sweat. Dean’s face was flushed, a shade deeper than usual, his breathing heavy as he finally allowed himself to collapse beside you. He let out a quiet sigh, a contented sound, as though just being there, with you, had lifted the weight he’d been carrying for years.

You turned toward him, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead, but as you did, you noticed the warmth radiating from his skin, hotter than usual. A small frown tugged at your lips as you gently touched his cheek, the flush there not entirely from the hours spent together. His eyes flickered open, catching your worried expression.

“Dean… you’re burning up”, you murmured softly, concern etching into your voice.

He gave a lazy, dismissive smile, waving off your worry. “I’m fine”, he mumbled, voice thick with fatigue. “Just… been a long few days, that’s all”. But the weariness in his gaze, the slight edge of fever in his flushed skin, told you there was more to it than he was willing to admit.

You pressed your palm firmly against Dean’s forehead, feeling the heat radiate through your hand—a clear sign that his fever wasn’t just “nothing”. Your gaze traveled down to the wound on his chest, your concern deepening as you took in the angry, red edges of the cut. It was obvious that the stitches were barely holding, and the faint yellow tint around the area spoke to a growing infection. The rough bandage job and few pieces of surgical tape were only making things worse, failing to keep the wound clean or properly closed.

“Dean… this isn’t just a little fever”, you murmured, your voice edged with worry. “This is serious. You need proper stitches, and we need to take care of that infection. You can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away”.

He let out a sigh, his attempt at a reassuring smile faltering under your concern. “I’ve had worse”, he said quietly, but even he seemed to know how thin that excuse sounded as he shifted uncomfortably, the strain on his face evident.

You stood up from the bed, slipping into your satin robe. As you moved toward the bathroom, you could feel Dean’s gaze on you, and even though you knew he was stubborn enough to resist, you weren’t going to let this go. Pulling the first aid kit from the cabinet, you began rifling through its contents, mentally cataloging what you’d need.

“Dean, you really can’t keep brushing this off”, you called over your shoulder, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He shifted uncomfortably, grumbling in that way only he could. “You know, just because you took one semester of medical school doesn’t make you a doctor”, he muttered, his voice holding that familiar mix of sarcasm and exasperation.

You returned to the bed, raising a brow as you met his gaze. “And I’m hoping you’re just this mean because of the fever”, you shot back, unflinching, though your worry softened the edge in your voice. “Otherwise, I might start thinking you don’t appreciate the fact that I’m trying to keep you from ending up with an infection that could put you in the hospital”.

Dean huffed, averting his eyes. “I appreciate it”, he mumbled, begrudgingly. “It’s just… I’m fine. I’ve had worse, really”.

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes as you took a closer look at the wound, the jagged edges of the stitches clearly the result of a rushed, one-handed job. You stepped between his legs, hands on your hips as you inspected the inflamed, swollen area, barely able to keep the frustration out of your voice.

“Who the hell stitched this up, anyway?”, you muttered, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at him, fully expecting an explanation.

Dean looked away, a bit of embarrassment flickering over his face before he grumbled, “Did it myself. Sam wasn’t around, and I wasn’t about to go to some clinic just so they could tell me to ‘take it easy’”. He paused, glancing at the bruised mess on his chest, almost as if seeing it through your eyes. “It wasn’t exactly my best work”, he admitted, his voice barely more than a mutter.

Your heart softened despite yourself, knowing how fiercely independent he was, how he hated being vulnerable. You let out a slow breath, the mix of worry and tenderness filling your chest. Gently, you touched the skin around the wound, your fingers brushing softly as you examined it.

"Clearly”, you mumbled, trying to keep the frustration in your voice light as you unscrewed the cap of the antiseptic. You soaked a cotton pad, glancing up at him for a brief moment to give him a wordless warning. Dean was already bracing himself, his hands gripping the bedframe on either side, his jaw tightening as he looked down.

The second the antiseptic touched his skin, he sucked in a sharp breath, his knuckles going white as he held onto the bed. His entire body tensed, his eyes squeezing shut as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that crossed your lips, a part of you secretly pleased that you were getting back at him just a little for the stress he’d put you through.

“Hurts that much, huh?”, you teased, though there was an unmistakable gentleness in your voice. You dabbed carefully, doing your best to be gentle while still cleaning the wound properly.

He let out a strained chuckle, his voice rough. “Feels like hellfire, sweetheart. But don’t let me stop you… ”, he bit out.

You gave him a sympathetic but firm look, your tone softening slightly as you said, “You know I’m going to have to take these stitches out, right? They’re… not doing you any favors. I need to redo them, and it’s going to hurt—probably a lot—especially with this infection”.

Dean’s face twisted in a grimace, his fingers flexing around the bedframe as he let out a resigned sigh. “Perfect. Exactly what I wanted to hear at three in the morning”, he grumbled.

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before going all DIY surgeon on yourself”, you teased, your tone warm but edged with concern.

Dean scoffed, though his grin was tight as he braced himself. “Yeah, because I have so many other options on a hunt”, he muttered, a hint of defiance in his voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fingers gentle as you began to carefully peel back the old, grimy surgical tape. He hissed, the tension evident in the way his hands tightened around the bedframe, his jaw clenching as he tried to mask the pain.

“Don’t be such a baby”, you murmured, attempting to keep your touch as soft as possible. “Big, tough hunter, but a little bit of tape has you groaning like that?”.

He shot you a look, his usual bravado slipping just enough to reveal the discomfort. “Yeah, yeah”, he ground out, wincing again as you finally pulled the last bit of tape free. “You try dealing with it and see if you’re all smiles and rainbows”.

“Maybe I would be”, you replied, giving him a teasing smirk, though your voice softened as you took in the state of his wound. “But seriously, Dean… if I’m not here next time, maybe just skip the home surgery routine?”.

Dean’s expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “Maybe I’ll just… stick around, then”, he mumbled, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The unexpected confession hung in the air, heavy but laced with something hopeful, and you felt your heart tighten.

“Yeah”, you replied softly, letting the weight of his words settle over you both. “Maybe you should”.

As the last of the tape came off, you took a steadying breath and began the delicate process of undoing the stitches, working carefully to minimize his discomfort. Dean’s breath hitched with each slight tug, his hands gripping the bedframe tightly, but he kept his eyes on you, watching every movement as though grounding himself in your presence.

Every so often, a tiny bead of blood would surface along the wound, and you’d pause to dab it away gently with cotton, the antiseptic stinging just enough to make him wince. His jaw tightened, but he stayed still, holding himself steady through the pain with quiet resilience.

“Almost there”, you murmured softly, your voice soothing. “Just a few more, then I’ll clean it up and redo them”.

Dean gave a slight nod, his eyes never leaving your face. “You make it sound like it’s nothing”, he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the strain. “Forget the one semester—you’re practically a pro at this”.

You chuckled quietly, though your focus didn’t waver. “And here I thought you didn’t think I was qualified”, you teased back, trying to keep his spirits up as you finished removing the last of the stitches.

As you carefully set the first new stitch, Dean’s hands instinctively flew to your thighs, his grip tightening almost reflexively as a pained groan slipped through his clenched teeth. His fingers dug in, steadying himself against the sharp sting, grounding himself through the contact with you. You glanced down at his hands, feeling the warmth of his touch even through the tension of the moment, and you couldn’t help but pause for just a second, your gaze flickering to meet his.

“Hold on, Dean”, you murmured gently, focusing on keeping your movements as smooth and precise as possible. “Just a few more”.

Dean’s eyes closed briefly, his jaw flexing as he drew in a shaky breath, his fingers still gripping your thighs as though he needed the contact to anchor him through the pain. “You’re… doing great”, he managed, voice rough but laced with gratitude, the faintest hint of a smirk breaking through despite his discomfort. “Just… didn’t realize you’d turn torture into a bonding experience”.

You let out a soft laugh, the warmth of it soothing the tense air around you both. “I thought you could handle a little pain, Winchester”, you teased gently, finishing the stitch with as much care as you could manage. He huffed out a laugh, squeezing your thigh once in acknowledgment, his fingers relaxing slightly as he took a deep breath.

“One down, a few more to go”, you whispered, your tone reassuring as you moved to the next stitch. Dean’s hands remained on your thighs, steadying himself, and somehow, amidst the quiet pain and gentle touches, a calm seemed to settle over both of you, an unspoken understanding that this moment—like so many before it—was bringing you closer in a way that went beyond words.

After a few more stitches, the cotton pads in front of you were soaked in his blood, a quiet testament to the care and patience you’d poured into every careful movement. You let out a breath of relief as you finally tied off the last knot, your fingers moving with a practiced gentleness as you made sure everything was secure. Just as you reached for a bandage to cover the wound, you felt a subtle tug at your waist, Dean’s hand slipping beneath the edge of your robe, fingers brushing your skin with a warmth that sent a gentle shiver through you.

You glanced down, meeting his gaze, seeing the flicker of tenderness and gratitude mixed with something else—a quiet, unspoken need that lingered between you both. His hand opened your robe just enough for his fingers to rest against your hip, his touch light, hesitant, as if waiting for your permission.

Dean’s eyes softened, an almost playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Guess I owe you one, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low, roughened by the combination of pain and something deeper. He leaned forward slightly, the hint of vulnerability in his gaze grounding you both in the intimacy of the moment. “You patched me up pretty good… now I just need to return the favor”.

Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion��you felt warmth bloom in your chest, the connection between you two as solid and undeniable as ever.

Dean’s lips trailed ghost-light over your stomach, hovering dangerously close to where every nerve seemed to spark under his touch. His breath was warm against your skin, and you felt the familiar ache of anticipation, even as your voice faltered with concern. “Dean, you need to rest now”, you mumbled, trying to keep your resolve firm as you reached to gather the bloodied cotton and gauze.

But Dean’s hand closed gently over yours, stilling your movements. “Just… stay”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with that undeniable pull that only he could create. He looked up at you, a teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something deeper. “Besides, I think you’re the one who needs to unwind”.

You tried to protest, to insist he should be resting after everything, but his gaze held yours with a quiet determination. Dean’s fingers grazed up your thigh, grounding you in the moment as he leaned in, his lips pressing warm, lingering kisses along your skin.

"Let me take care of you for once", he murmured softly, his voice roughened but sincere.

You let out a soft groan, partly in annoyance at Dean’s stubbornness, but mostly at the way he knew exactly how to coax you into letting go of any protests. Just as you opened your mouth to object, he sank back onto the bed, settling himself comfortably with that signature grin that was equal parts challenge and invitation. He lifted his hand, curling his fingers in a slow, beckoning motion, and grinned wider as he said, “Sit”.

You stared at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with mischief as he saw the uncertainty flicker across your face.

Slowly, you climbed on top of him, instinctively moving to settle over his hips, but Dean’s hands tightened gently around your waist, guiding you higher, closer to his face. His touch was both steady and insistent, and when you finally realized what he wanted, a flush of warmth spread over your cheeks, your heart beginning to race. He looked up at you, his gaze dark and filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken even further.

“Right here, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low, filled with a soft, teasing warmth that only heightened the intensity of the moment. His eyes held yours, his expression open and eager, as if he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the pleasure of you. His hands settled firmly on your thighs, grounding you, reassuring you that he meant every word, that this was exactly where he wanted you.

You hesitated for just a second, your heart pounding, but as his hands guided you forward, you felt every lingering worry slip away. He looked at you with such genuine affection, that familiar, stubborn patience in his gaze, that it was impossible to resist

As the early morning light crept into the room, you found yourself under the warm spray of the shower, the heat easing the fatigue from a night filled with closeness and quiet whispers. Dean joined you, carefully adjusting his stance to avoid getting his wound wet. Despite his best efforts, you could see him wince every so often, his jaw clenched in concentration.

“You’re as stubborn as ever”, you teased, stepping closer to help shield his wound from the water.

Dean took the opportunity to draw you in, his arms wrapping around your waist with a gentle but steady pull. He guided you back just enough so the water wasn’t pouring directly over you both, creating a small, intimate space where the warmth of his body surrounded you.

You felt his lips press softly against your shoulder blade, a lingering kiss that sent a shiver up your spine. His embrace tightened slightly as he leaned into you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. His hand splayed across your waist, anchoring you both in the moment.

"Thanks for looking out for me", he murmured, his voice a low hum that vibrated softly against you. There was a rare vulnerability in his tone, a quiet appreciation that went beyond words.

You leaned back against him, resting your hands over his as you both stood there in comfortable silence, the sound of the water filling the room. His hand slid up, brushing a stray droplet from your collarbone, his fingers lingering as if memorizing every curve and line. For a moment, it was as if time stood still, the world outside fading away as you both found peace in the closeness you shared.

With a soft sigh, he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering as he whispered, "I could get used to mornings like this".

You mumbled, barely above a whisper, “You said that before…right before you left me the second time”. The words slipped out, laced with a hint of sadness. You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the past settle around you both, the times he’d walked away despite the promises that still lingered between you.

Dean’s arms tightened around your waist, his hold becoming firmer, as if he could anchor you to him just by sheer will. His breath stilled for a moment, and you could sense his heart beating a little faster against your back, knowing he felt the truth in your words.

You turned in his embrace, looking up at him, a fierce determination in your eyes. “I swear to you, Dean, if you’re not taking me with you this time…”. You paused, your voice steady, holding his gaze without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll hunt you. I’ll join up with every demon, ghost, and whatever else is out there, and I’ll find you. I’m not losing you again”.

A flicker of something softened in his eyes. He swallowed, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek in a silent apology. “I know”, he said, his voice barely a whisper. “And I’m done running, I promise. You’re coming with me…wherever this road goes”.

You felt the tension melt away as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. In that moment, you knew he meant it—this time, he wasn’t going anywhere without you. The past may have cast its shadows, but standing there with him, you felt the strength of something real, something that wouldn’t break again.

The warm spray of the shower continued to cascade around you, but the world felt perfectly still. Dean’s arms around you, his forehead pressed to yours, were more grounding than anything you’d ever known. For the first time in what felt like forever, the doubts and fears that had haunted you both were quiet, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

His whispered promise lingered in the air between you, fragile but unshakable, like the first light of dawn breaking through the darkness. “Wherever this road goes”, you echoed, the words a vow of your own, a tether tying you both to the promise of staying together.

Dean looked at you then, his gaze filled with an unspoken tenderness that seemed to reach into your very soul. “We’ve got this”, he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as much reassurance as it was devotion.

You knew deep down that, no matter the battles or storms to come, you’d face them side by side. Together, you had finally found your way home.

-The End-

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A/N: I LOVED writing this one. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @globetrotter28 @ladykitana90

#jensen ackles #dean and sam #deanwinchester #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #deanwinchtser #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n

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hxrsheykisses · 10 hours ago

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Hiii! Ever since I found your fanfic on AO3 I've been OBSESSED! It's just that good! And this is my first request :3 The Eltingville club guys with a very much goth very much Morticia Adams vibes fem friend! She finds them interesting and calls them pet names like "hideous" or "freaks" as forms of complements and she genuinely gets sad when it's the opposite of that, and ofc she has her morbid curiosity and interests!

(sorry if it's hard to understand, English isn't my first language (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) )

Oh ima LOVE this one🙏🙏🙏🙏 And thank you for loving my fic so much!!!!💋💋💋💋

Josh, Bill, and Jerry were intimidated by you mainly because of your appearance. It was just so offsetting for them because it was something new. They never saw someone with your style. Bill being himself would joke on you from afar but god forbid hun actually say it to your face.

Pete on the other hand was ROLLING. He was so fond of you and to him you were a horror hottie! he loved your vibe, he loved your style, he loved everything about you knowing his love for horror was high and running. He begged, and begged, and BEGGED for the other members to stop being so paranoid and just talk to you as a group! Maybe even recruit you!

“Girls aren’t allowed 🤓…” stfu

After they got tired of hearing Pete’s pleads, they obliged in scouting you out to go and have a chat with you. They had a mini argument who was going to talk to her first…Jerry was the sacrifice.

It felt so…awkward. Jerry was trying his best to not freak out due your piercing staring, your eyes just stared into his soul as he stammered over his words.

“S-So would you like to join…?—“ “No.” “O-Oh…🙁”

Jerry you’re such a sweetie we love you.

BUT…you did find the boys to be pretty amusing. They were weird—VERY weird. And to be honest they looked pretty fucking pathetic. Never talked or touched a girl who wasn’t their mother and it was so obvious—maybe you could keep them around a bit. Especially Pete because you had him wrapped tightly around your finger.

From that point on, you stuck alongside them. You didn’t participate really in the meetings, only there because you had nothing else to do. The only issue you had was how they fought a bunch, it was so nerve wracking. Everyday they fought about something a bunch of geeks like themselves would and you got tired of it. So, you being yourself decided to sprinkle in your own chaotic—just to mess around with them.

You’d treat them like pets, but also kinda like your friends. You’d call them out of their name, saying something rude about them or to them, just to see how they’d react. Also, you may or may have not made them buy you some more accessories or clothes for your gothic style. Whenever you take trips to the mall, you’d drag them along with you, not listening to complaints as you make them follow you everywhere. Like I said, you have them wrapped around your finger! You’d could tell them to do anything and they’ll do it.

Bill, he won’t let it slide. Or, at least the first few times. He would cuss at you and say something misogynistic about you but it’ll go out one ear and out the other. Once you see how you got under his skin much to your satisfaction, you’d ease it up a bit by teasing him, telling him that you meant nothing of it and how he needed to relax, your voice was cunning—but also smooth and hypnotic.

Pete? Oh. He don’t give a fuck. A fine goth girl was talking about him so why would he care? He’d thank you because woah??? (I am so sorry) He doesn’t mind the name calling because who wouldn’t want to be called out of their name by a pretty girl like you?

Jerry and Josh were still paranoid of you. So whenever you called them out of their name they would stay quiet because they don’t want to “set you off”. Like Jerry lowkey was thinking that if he ever were to get out of line with you, you would put an evil curse on him. He’s been involving himself into too many fantasy junk apparently because deep down, you don’t mean it in a rude way.

You have a strange personality, you’ll admit. But it’s never out of you being an ass about it. It’s hard to explain because so many people would take your words as rude. To you, they are just some small compliments that only someone like you could pull off. To be fair, you liked having people who didn’t really fit the social norms. You’d like people who stood out and knew that they did stand out but yet did little to fix it. That’s what you like. You’re still a good friend to them and you find yourself hanging around them more than just finding them to be brainless nerds who do jerk off rituals every fucking night—weird. But besides from that, you’ve become better. Sure, there’s still those times where you act a bit bitchy but other than that, there’s still a little part of you that lets them off the hook just a tiny bit.

The boys can’t deny that you make them feel all sorts of emotions though. Some days they hate you, some days they yearn for you, and some days they feel the need to bend at your every step. It’s a wreck but let’s be honest here, the eltingville club was always a wreck anyway so what’s the difference???

#eltingville bill #eltingville jerry #eltingville josh #eltingville pete #the eltingville club #jerry stokes #josh levy #pete dinunzio #welcome to eltingville #bill dickey #kissy 💋#bill dickey x reader #pete dinunzio x reader #josh levy x reader #jerry stokes x reader

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bamf-prongsminiprongs · 3 days ago

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My take on the Marauders

I'm a Marauders era fan. MY take on what it should be

Sirius Black- is the tallest (Well over 6 foot), maybe one or two tattoos, black hair above his shoulders, doesn't simp over Remus and can't do anything without him, one of the smartest in the school, hell of a dark humor, dark looks, VERY popular, has many flaws, but is still the best, prefers James over anyone, one of the hottest in the school, reckless

James Potter- not as tall as over 6 foot, like 5,10 or 5,11 (Like Harry), one of the smartest in the school, popular, not constantly asking Lily out or assaulting her

Remus Lupin- quiet, coward, tries to keep to himself, good at quidditch, but doesn't play, isn't the school's Casanova, not the hottest guy, a bit below average or such, not over 6 foot, not the smartest in the school (Like average or just above), doesn't swear like a sailor, doesn't have anger issues, isn't an asshole, not a tattoo type of guy

Peter Pettigrew- most likely more popular than Remus, is included, not hated by his friends, not a bitch to his friends, doesn't act like his adult self

Lily Evans- isn't Hermione 2.0, she does swear occasionally, is able to beat someone's ass, rightfully hates Snape and the other Slytherins or blood supremacists, strong, smart (Not as much as James and Sirius though

Regulus Black- not a twink, isn't a crybaby who constantly cries about Sirius (They probably threaten each other and use death threats until Pandora and James are like 'Oi, wtf'), tall, not as much as Sirius, but probably James' height and maybe taller

Walburga Black- doesn't use unforgivable curses on her kids, doesn't physically abuse them. I hope you guys know that emotion abuse exists. DOES spoil her kids, puts expectations on them, but does praise them about being the Black heir, she's the reason they're so bloody hot

The others aren't so bad (But they still have bad characterization)

The Slytherins are not softies. It was the 70's, LGBT wasn't s respected, though there could be a few gay kisses and other stuff. They don't have so many tattoos that it covers their whole body, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just that there's pure bloods and they're still in Hogwarts. Sirius is TALL. He has dark humor, is capable of doing stuff himself, did NOT regret the prank.

The Prank- Sirius openly said (And to Remus) that Snape got what was coming to him for the prank, I bet there wasn't a whole angst thing where they ignored Sirius. James would NEVER do that. Remus was a coward; he probably forgave Sirius very easily (Though he couldn't trust him), they probably laughed about it in the dorms.

Wolfstar- It's one of the biggest ships. I don't ship it or see the appeal. Though I'm not going to hate or tell anyone to stop, but there's so much evidence that Remus and Peter were toxic to each other (I'm going to say it all in a different post). Sirius and Remus can live without each other perfectly fine. It was James that Sirius couldn't live without. Though you guys can ship whatever you want (But please no pro-ships), but also. ATYD is NOT canon. The writing is brilliant, it must've taken a god long time, it's great. BUT. The characterization is completely off, the girls are barely there, even Snape is wrong (Still hate his guts though).

Also, I know SOME fans are going to come to my house with pitch forks. THOSE FANS, you can come and suck my nonexistent DIC- (I'm a woman). ALSO, I'm not homophobic for saying stuff about gay not being as active in the marauder's era, there were probably SOME, but I'm lesbian, so I can't be homophobic. And to THOSE fans, I know it's not real, but I don't have a life, and I like being a part of the marauder's era, but it's the characterization

Also, everyone says "Canon? What's canon", but the only reason the marauders era exists is because of canon. It's like me making Sirius a blonde, and I go "Canon? Never heard of her"

#harry potter #james potter #sirius black #marauders era #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #fandom #walburga black #regulus black #lily evans

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kiefromgingerland · 1 day ago

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LINGER (p.1)

outlaw!lottie matthews x farmersdaughter!reader

summary: after weeks mourning the recent death of her father, y/n decides it’s time for her to take responsibility and fix the family farm her father left her. just when she’s about to give up and go home, she ends up housing—and hiding—the infamous outlaw of the west.

warning(s): not historically accurate, mentions of crime, mentions of death, mourning, angst, slow burn, secret romance, cursing, possibly ooc!lottie

a/n: this is supposed to be set around the 1890s, but if women and poc actually had rights bc like why not 🥲 also they’ll be using somewhat modern language bc idk how people in the west spoke

word count: 705

you should be at home, tucked away in bed with plenty more time left to sleep. you should at least have been rising peacefully by now, waking up to the sound of chirping birds and the rumbling of distant trains and the quiet stirring of street wagons. but no, you’re not home, and there is no exciting city ambience. where you are is slouched in a small run down saloon. you move the damp slabs of ham around with your fork and poke at the cold scrambled eggs. you finally spot the busy saloon waitress, a short woman around your age with shaggy dark hair. she has the striking hazel green eyes and arched dark brows. she had served you your eggs and ham, and offered some strong alcoholic drink, which you turned down. looking back on it, maybe you should’ve taken the offer.

“ehm, excuse me, ma’am? uh.. could i get that drink, actually?” you chuckle hesitantly. your friends back home would most definitely judge you for drinking this early in the day.

“the food that bad?” the woman asks sarcastically, with a charming smile. “coming right up.”

“no, the food’s.. great! i just got a lot on my mind.” you stutter nervously with a tight lipped smile, trying to be polite. “and thank you, ma’am.”

the woman slides the glass mug of liquor over to you from across the bar. “it’s no problem. and you don’t need to call me ‘ma’am’.” she says matter-of-fact-ly, with a raised brow. “‘name’s natalie. you can call me nat.”

“oh. thank you, nat.” you smile, offering out your hand, which she takes in a firm handshake. “y/n.”

“well? what are you here for?” natalie asks, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter.

“i’m visiting my dad’s farm.”

“hm. fun.” natalie says sarcastically.

“why do you say it like that?” you chuckle.

“why would you want to be hanging around some old man?” natalie scoffs.

“oh, uh.. i won’t be around him, actually.”

“yeah? why, where will he be?”

“uh, he’s dead.”

“oh!”

“yeah.”

“shit, sorry—“

“nah, no worries, it’s no problem. really.”

you take a long sip of beer, quieting down after the awkward encounter. nat continues cleaning the bar, serving customers. one of the guys at the bar points at a poster hung up by the door.

“what’s that about?” the man asks.

“hm? oh, yeah, the sheriff is making everyone hang up those wanted posters.” nat scoffs. “some felon on the run, i dunno what she did, but she’s a big deal apparently.”

“‘she’?” he questions.

“fuck yeah, ‘she’. women can be criminals too, y’know.”

the further you traveled through the quaint little town, you more Wanted posters you saw. a few of them were of old criminals, dating back from a few years to a few weeks old. however, you saw a lot of these new ones from the saloon, of that woman. the road began to get dirtier and the buildings started to lessen. soon enough, you ended on a dirt road with short, thin trees.

you can see a few farms in the distance, but keep on your track. after a while, you can see the house. increasing your pace a bit, you jog over. the house looks bigger now than it did when you left. you, your parents, and your siblings seemed so crowded, but now it’s looks so lonely. nobody bothered to come around after your dad died. there are still farm animals lazily stumbling around.

you take the time to lay out some food for the birds in the chicken coop, pile some hay and put out water for the horses, and toss some grains out into a pile for the goats and the pigs, all of the animals having run slim due to only having grass around.

when the sun begins to set, you decide it’s best to go inside. as you lie beneath the weight of the heavy quilts, the flickering candlelight casts warm shadows on the old wallpaper. the night is silent, except for the occasional bleat of a goat or low rumble of a cow in the yard below you. each breath hurts, your heart aching. outside, the wind picks up, howling through the trees, and in the distance, you hear the faintest sound of hooves. you begin to fall asleep, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

what you don’t know is that a dangerous woman is drawing nearer, her intentions as shadowed as the night itself, and soon, the quiet of your father’s cabin will be disrupted.

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putschki1969 · 10 hours ago

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Hello Sarah,

First of all, thank you for the insight on the matter. I know you are super busy and not in the perfect mood (trust me I'm not doing any better) considering what happened, so I leave it up to you if you want to post this or not as it may be abit too dark of a message.

I know these past couple of days have been disheartening and disappointing, especially when you feel powerless to do something right now other than support the girls.

Part of me was thinking, "Why we the fans don't do something about it?", like signing a petition with a respectful message towards Yuki to reconsider, and for the future FJ/YKL events (since this year has already been decided) to include Keiko (and Hikaru, Wakana if possible) again.

However, I'm also thinking that this may add fuel to the fire and maybe it's something that the girls and Keiko foremost would not want us to do, considering how subtle and professional she was in her statement.

I'm not gonna lie that with all this s...show, makes me worry about Keiko's wellbeing.

Seeing 20 years worth of work thrown out of the window from someone who you have utmost respect and getting the silent treatment from people you have long friendships it's a tough pill to swallow.

Considering what we have seen with other Japanese celebrities over the years, it's a thought that gives me shudders.

Now, we never know what is going on behind the scenes, and I pray that the connections are still there.

Apologies if my message got a bit dark there, but some tend to forget that we're dealing with human beings.

Hopefully, we will have some good news in the near future to turn things around. We really need a breather after all this. For every low, there's a high as they say! 🙏

Hi there!

Thank you for being so considerate. I am in fact having a very hard time right now. Questions are piling up in my inbox and every post inspires a new wave of replies. It's a uphill battle for sure. But don't worry, it's mostly my fault for feeling too overwhelmed and not knowing when to stop🙃. I want to try my best to clarify the situation as best as possible and to answer any open question. I also feel the need to explain myself if things didn't come across properly. Oh well, in short, I am happy to reply to your ask even if it's a tricky topic.

Hmm, yeah, I don't think petitions directed at creators or artists are ever a good idea. I'm actually strictly against them. Even if we hate the current developments, we have ultimately no choice but to respect those decisions or move on to another fandom that brings us more joy. Of course we can be critical and question all the things that are happening but we should always do it in a contained space, in our own little fandom corner, far away from any of the involved parties. With a delicate matter such as this, it would probably cause more harm than good to publicly express our dissatisfaction and make demands. Everything in this feud boils down to keeping your head low, avoiding confrontation, being quiet and not disclosing any valuable information.

And yes, as you say, based on Keiko's comment, she would definitely not want us to do anything drastic that would draw attention to us. and could potentially make Yuki look bad. She has taken this decision in stride so as her fans, we should probably be able to do so as well. It's gonna take a little while longer but that's basically what I'm working towards. Just have to get rid of some of my bitterness.

Keiko is strong, I think we don't have to worry about her. She has stayed true to her word in her last Yodel message and gone back to her regular routine as if nothing happened. Like always, she has been wishing us a good morning with a funny emoji, she has given us glimpses into her work day and made sure to emphasise how much fun she's been having (probably to give us some peace of mind). Yesterday, she apparently had a super fun photo shoot. Many of the photos will be useless because of her cracking up and laughing like crazy [She didn't specify but I think this might have been for a new calendar? I wouldn't know what other things she would do a photo shoot for. Maybe the Undokai festival will have a pamphlet or something? I don't know.] Today was filled with lots of meetings [Once again, no idea what for but I'm kinda hopeful it was Kalafina related since Hikaru's tweet about starting "another task" for the day - implying that she had been doing something else before - came around the same time as Keiko's message on Yodel, saying that she was done with interviews for the day] . She got home pretty late but apparently she had a blast and time went by super quickly. She treated herself to some chocolate and sent an adorable picture. I cannot possibly gatekeep this precious photo so here you go!

For my part, I am confident that none of their connections are severed. It's a rough patch for sure and what is being conveyed to he public seems very harsh. But there's so much more going on behind the scenes. I wish there wouldn't be so many missing puzzle pieces but that's just something we have to live with. Do you remember when everyone believed that the connection with Wakana was lost? None of that was true. And I never believed it to be true. I always had faith and I shall continue to have faith.

Yes, let's stay positive!! Hikaru herself just recently said that life balances itself out, good things will follow for sure.

#kalafina #reply #kalafina reunion #yuki kajiura #kajiura yuki #Yodel #fan club exclusive content

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trucbiduleschouettes · 2 years ago

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I hate my FUCKING brain

#I hate this so fucking much #and this whole fucking body #and i just want to tear it apart myself #chop all my hair off and tear my inside out #break the bones and let everything bleed #maybe then it s going to be a bit more quiet #quiet enough to not get fucking headache over it #or need to go to bed to keep myself in check #fuck this #vent #personal #tw: invasive thoughts

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kamitv · 4 months ago

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Suguru walking in on you pleasing yourself would probably go something like…

“Well, shit. Didn’t know I had such a slut for a wife,” He’d comment mere seconds after walking in on you.

You’d be laying on your stomach, back arched, knees bent, legs spread, and a hand in between your legs as you fuck a rather lengthy dildo into your sloppy cunt. Your husband, who you weren’t expecting to be home so soon, seems anything but surprised to catch you like this.

If anything, Geto barely tilts his head as he approaches the bed and then cracks a smirk, “Look at this pussy… fuuck, she’s drippin’ all over the place. All because of some stupid toy?” As he makes his comments, he’s unbuckling his belt and tossing it to the side.

“Suguu… S’not ‘cause of the toy,” You huff out with a pout, shamelessly staring at your husband as you continue pleasing yourself. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? Y’Missed me baby?” He’d tease, not even bothering to take his shirt off as he can’t help but reach forward and swat your hand away from the toy stuffed inches inside your cunt. He’d purposefully drag the item out of you, listening to that filthy squelch before brining it to his mouth and licking your taste off. “Mmh. Couldn’t even wait f’me, huh? Were you missin’ me or my cock, princess?”

You let out a heavy sigh and wiggle your hips back a bit, begging for him to give you something-, anything, “Both Suguru.”

“Needy ass girl,” He’d scoff in response.

He’s actually rather kind when he catches you pleasing yourself. Which is how and why you ended up with his cock inside you not too long after he’s come home.

Geto doesn’t really like knowing you were getting off without him but at the same time, something about coming home to you whining his name as you imagined he was fucking you instead of some toy kinda turned him on. He wondered how often you did this kinda thing.

And so he decides to ask you while he’s stuffing your cunt full of his thick cock, “You fantasize about me often, baby?” He hushes out to you, staring so deep into your eyes that it makes you feel embarrassed all over. His tone is so soft and loving with you too that it just makes you shudder beneath him as if he’s not fucking you at such a merciless pace right mow.

All you can do is nod as your jaw hangs open, “Uhuh… mmgh, I-, hah, think about you a-ah, all the t-time, Sugu.” Your words come out in between moans but that only fuels his arousal.

The way his lips curve into that knowing little smirk has your nails scraping against his back before he lets out a low hiss. “Fuck. You imagine my cock’s inside you when m’not even here?” Geto asks rhetorically before shifting his hips and hitting that one mushy spot inside you, “You replay our moments together, huh? Maybe we should record it one time so you have somethin’ better to get off to.”

Your legs squeeze around his waist and he notices your back arching up off of the bed. Geto thrusts in harder and faster, eager to watch your face twist up the same way it was moments ago before he’d caught you— he’d never let you feel that euphoric sensation more with some toy instead of his cock. Not that he’s jealous, of course…

“S-Sugu,” You choke out with how rough his hips grow against yours.

His head tips down into the crook of your neck and you can feel his fat cockhead knocking deeper and deeper into your sopping walls as his strokes become more calculated-, passionate almost. “Mhm, I know baby, I know,” He coos against your skin, his breath hot and tone almost hoarse, “M’right here,” God, his gentleness was a complete contrast to those mean hips of his.

Even the way his hands traced along your arms in search of your hand to grab had you so utterly weak.

“Y’missed this right?” Geto whispers hotly as he shifts his lips up to the crown of your ear, “Missed how I treat this pussy, huh?”

Your neck arches as you toss your head back and you feel his fingers squeeze onto one of your hands whilst he presses it down into the mattress. Moaning quiet little babbles in agreement to his soft-spoken yet lewd words, your cunt gushes around his aching cock, almost invitingly encouraging him to continue talking like that.

And who is he to ignore such encouragement? Pressing against your ear again, he starts fucking you a little slower but noticeably harder, “Agh… Missed you too, pretty girl. Hah, missed how she,” He emphasizes that word with a heavier thrust, “Takes me so fuckin’ well-, shit.”

Then he moans into your ear and you think you cum at the sound alone. So clear and provocative, echoing in your ear and making your mind go blissfully blank. “Ha-ah… ngh, Suguru, I… mmh..” You moan as his cock splits you open so deliciously.

Hell, that’s all you could do. Geto weighs his body down against you, pinning you to the mattress completely as he drags his cock almost all the way out of your twitching pussy just to give you a seconds rest. Not that it really helped as he slipped his dick right back into you, his jaw dropping and a filthy moan leaving his wet lips at the way your cunt feels so utterly soaked and warm wrapped around his cock.

Geto swears he could fuck you like this for hours and hours and hours but he’s too eager to see other things.

“Gonna have t’show me how you fuck yourself one of these days, love.” He huffs out breathlessly between thrusts.

You quickly start shaking your head at that—lost between reaching your high and processing his words, “N-No…”

“No? Oh c’mon,” He puts on this pout to mock you, “You don’t wanna show me? We’re married… I’ve shown you how I touch myself when you’re not around, why can’t you do the same, hm?”

“S’embarrassing…” You mumble with your lower lip poking out so deliciously that it makes your husband smirk.

“Aw, it’s embarrassing?” He teases, “Baby, I like it when you’re embarrassed. Plus, you looked so fuckin’ cute tryin’ to fuck yourself without me. Could’ barely take that piece of plastic ‘nd it’s smaller than my cock.”

“Sugu-“

“M’just sayin’…” He shrugs, “I want you to put on a lil’ show f’me. You can do that can’t you?” You’re shaking your head all over again and he frowns, “No? But baby,” His body presses down against you as if to emphasize his words and you could feel his tip pressing into your sweet spot, “C’mon, don’t make me beg for it.”

“I-I…” You’re left stuttering and moaning as your eyes travel to the back of your skull, “Ah, Suguru-, mgh…”

“Or would you rather me demand it, huh? Should I tell you you’re gonna show me what you were doin’ with that toy before I got here?” Geto pants into your ear, his lips brushing against your warm skin as you nod frantically in response. “Yeahhh? Alright then, gimme one more ‘nd then you’ll put on a lil’ show for me, ‘kay?”

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso

note. super self indulgent once again woopsies

tags. jjk men x female reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.

even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.

“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t wish to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the sorcerer giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute. especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act. he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo fluff #nanami fluff #choso fluff #toji fluff

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bi-writes · 6 months ago

Note

I love the mail order bride !! Can we see her trying to get a job or school something and Simon getting offending thinking he doesn’t have enough to support her ??

mail-order bride

he would not be offended if you wanted to do something for yourself; but he would be offended if you felt you were required to.

you pick up your blazer out of the closet, fitting it over your shoulders and buttoning it. you check your hair and your makeup one more time in the mirror before making your way into the living room, where simon still is, tools laid out at his feet as he uses a level and a pencil on the wall.

you clear your throat, knocking on the doorway gently.

"s-simon?" you ask gently. he grunts in response, marking a place on the wall, and you shuffle on your feet as you try to calm your stuttering breath. "i...can i ask for a favor?"

"can ask me for anythin'."

you purse your lips, "uhm...i need a ride."

"where ya wanna go?"

you play with your hands, rocking back and forth on your heels. he's still facing the wall, dark sleeves rolled up as he lifts a wooden block to the wall and starts to mount it there. he's putting up floating shelves you think, but the block of wood is very short in length. odd.

"i...have a job interview," you say softly. "it's in a half an hour. i...have to leave now to be on time. i'm..." you close your eyes, flinching. "i'm sorry, they only just called me, i-i should've given you more time--"

"why are you apologizin'?" he asks, setting his things down. he turns around to face you, and you open your eyes again, biting your lip. he comes closer, making you look up at him, and he narrows his eyes at you. "just said they only just called ya. so 's not y'r fault."

you open your mouth to say something, but he just brushes past you to head towards the door, grabbing his rain jacket and slipping it on. he flips the hood up over him after he shrugs his balaclava on, and he meets your eyes where you stand there oogling at him.

"well?" he raises a brow. "get y'r shoes on."

you scramble to go slip your boots on, picking up your purse by the door. simon opens the front door, revealing the misty rainy weather that's emerged since the morning. simon opens up an umbrella, making his way down the steps, and you follow him. he stops you before you come down, holding his hand out, and when he gets to the bottom of the steps, he holds his hand out for you.

you take his hand gently and let him guide you down the steps, and you're startled when he appears at the passenger side door of his truck. he holds the umbrella over you, opening the door for you, and he holds your hand again as you get settled before he shuts it behind you.

the drive is quiet. the rain falls hard, but simon is unbothered. you clutch the seatbelt a little bit as he drives--you don't want to be ungrateful, but simon sometimes makes a turn too sharp and brakes a little too hard. he sometimes has a hard time staying in his lane, too, but you just squeak and try not to be too loud when he swerves into a parking space crooked at a 45-degree angle.

simon opens the door for you, holding the umbrella and taking your hand again to help you onto the pavement. he walks you to the door, humming lowly, and he tilts his head to the side as you open the door.

"'ow long will y'be?" he asks, and you shrug.

"i-i don't know. maybe an hour?"

simon huffs a little, "olright. y'call me when y'r done."

you nod, about to go in, and he stops you again, big hand on your elbow.

"just..." he sighs deeply, looking anywhere but into your eyes. "good luck."

simon doesn't leave. he sits in his truck in the parking lot, eyes narrowed at the door of the building you just went inside of. his leg bounces underneath him, and he doesn't turn the car on for the heater because the bite of the cold, rainy weather keeps him awake and alert.

it's been over an hour. his phone sits on the dashboard, silent. he's not a patient man, never has been. his patience certainly has been tested with that fucking gremlin you insist on keeping around, the pocket of fur that drinks out of his water glass when he isn't looking and must nibble on his herbs in the kitchen (he can't prove it, but there's teeth mark tears in the basil leaves, the little shit). but this is somehow worse. he doesn't know why you want to get a job. he's been thinking about it while you've been gone.

maybe he hasn't made you feel secure enough. maybe you still feel like a stranger in your own house. maybe you still don't trust him yet, so you're too afraid to ask him for anything.

his phone starts to ring. he picks it up immediately, putting it to his ear.

"'ello?"

"s-simon?" it's you, of course, soft voice a little shaky. "i-i'm...can you pick me up now?"

"'m outside. i'll come get ya."

he practically rips open the door, and you're already standing there, coming out. he stops you before you start walking, making sure you're underneath the umbrella before you start to walk again. you keep your head down, and he doesn't even get a glimpse of you as he opens the door for you again and helps you up and into your seat.

as he pulls back onto the road, he barely hears the sound of your tears over the rumble of the engine. he looks over at you, frowning when he sees your hands covering your face and your shoulders shaking lightly.

he growls under his breath, not even turning on his blinker as he pulls over onto the side of the road. there's a honk sounding as other cars pass, but simon just turns to face you.

"oi, why are y'cryin'?" he asks firmly. you don't respond. you keep your face hidden, your body turned away, and simon huffs.

"oi!" he startles you with his loud voice, and your hands fall into your lap. "wot the fuck happened?"

"i didn't get t-the job," you hiccup. "i-it went...it was h-horrible. he hated my...m-my resume. the questions...i-i took too long t-to answer them, and i-i could tell...i could t-tell he h-hated me--"

"so you didn't get the bloody job," simon shrugs. "come off it. there'll be others."

"i-i don't even wanna do this!" you cry, wiping your face. your mascara is running, and simon sighs, frustrated.

"then why are you?"

"i...i-i--"

"look at me," he tells you, and your eyes meet his finally. your face is puffed and messy, wet streaks along your cheeks and eyeliner smudged along your eyes. "y'can do woteva y'want. anythin'. 'f you want t'stay home, then ya stay home. 'f y'wanna go t'work, then y'go to work." he reaches over and grips your face in one big hand, cupping your jaw and forcing you to lean closer to him. you can feel his breaths through the mask, warm and anxious. "don't worry about me. now tell me y'understand."

your lip wobbles, but you nod anyways.

"i-i understand."

your eyes close when you both lean in closer, and the mouth of his mask brushes against yours. you stay that way for a few long moments, lips brushing together, and when he pulls away to get back on the road, you notice his hand has fallen to rest on your thigh.

you put your hand over his gently, and by the time he pulls into the garage, your tears have dried, and your anxiety has dissolved.

when you emerge from your warm shower, there's an envelope by your purse. simon is in the kitchen, busying himself with dinner, and you pick up the envelope and rip it open. when you unravel the paper, there's a new credit card taped to it, with your name on it.

there's movement out of the corner of your eye, and when you look up, you realize simon had finished putting the little shelves up on the wall.

you can't hold back your smile, watching as the cat jumps from one shelf to the other. the cat follows the ascending and descending blocks of wood, all the way around the room until they curl up on their favorite spot on the couch, right inside the throw blanket that has been curled into a neat ball just for them.

you slip the credit card into your purse. when you pass by simon in the kitchen, you put a hand around his bicep and coax him to bend low, giving his cheek a kiss.

does he know he's not wearing his mask anymore?

his ears get red when he blushes.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon thoughts #order up

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httpsleclerc · 2 months ago

Text

the story of us

pairing/s: Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader, Eventual Charles Leclerc x Single Mom!Verstappen!Reader

eries summary: after a traumatic childhood, y/n verstappen leaves an abusive relationship with a 6 month old baby in tow, with her brother trying to discreetly matchmake her with a certain Monegasque.

warnings: DEPICTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE, BABY TRAPPING, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ANGST!!

word count: 2.4k words

a/n: praying this shit does not flop I put my heart and soul into this one - also ! This one is mostly just backstory!

the first time you ever met Charles Leclerc, you were 9 years old, sporting a poorly hidden bruise under your eye which your so called father had given you for 'talking back' after he had yelled at you for Max losing. You didn't understand that, why was it your problem if Max lost - although he didn't really lose, as such, he came second or third, but in your dad's opinion? They were the first to lose. You had wandered off from your father, claiming that you needed to get yourself a drink of water, but you knew that Max had just came second, Charles had beaten him and you could already see how mad your dad was going to be, you'd seen his grip tightening on the barrier, his face growing more and more red as Max fell further and further behind the young Monegasque.

"And Charles Leclerc of Monaco is our winner for today, congratulations Charles!"

Your heart ached at the announcement, as now it was confirmed what awaited you when you got home. You sighed, taking the last gulp of your water as you made your way back to the small podium area, seeing who you assumed to be Charles' family cheering him on after winning - You frowned at the very thought of a loving and functional family, you knew that your mother loved you, but she didn't by any means particularly like you, it didn't seem like anyone did, since you only apparently existed as your fathers punching bag and your mom was only interested in you when it was her weekend with you and Max. Spotting your father, you weaved your way through the crowd, your heartbeat increasing as you silently stood beside him, quietly praying that if you were quiet enough, he might not sense your presence and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be punished for your brother coming second.

Looking down at his father from the 2nd place spot on the small podium set-up, Max frowned as he looked at Jos and then to you - He was 13, yet somehow understood that this, him coming second, would somehow be your fault, and you would be the one to take the beating from Jos. It was cruel, but it was all you and Max had known, since your mother had taken only your older sister and not you - Max had guessed you had been getting punished since Jos assumed if Max had to watch you suffer the consequences of you losing, then it would make him perform better. In some way, maybe it did - But maybe it just scared Max that one day his father would take it too far, and instead of icing bruises under your eye, he would be calling the police.

From his spot on the podium, he flinched slightly as he saw your father harshly grab your wrist, dragging you through the crowd and away to the car - Max would know to hang back for a bit, he had seen Jos hit you enough to know that it would just end in him feeling such overwhelming guilt for not winning and therefore stopping anything from happening to you.

However

Jos' beatings of you had not gone unnoticed, as the young Monegasque winner of the day had made his way to his families car, his two brothers and parents already inside, he found you, sitting on the wet grass beside your fathers car, shivering and sobbing.

"Um...are you okay?" He asked you awkwardly, unsure of how to either help or console you. When you looked up at him, he immediately recognised you - You were Max's sister, it was obvious, since you two were sometimes mistaken for twins despite having a 4 year age gap. You sniffled and nodded - Which Charles knew to be a lie, the make up which attempted to cover a barely healed bruise under your eye had worn off, and a new bruise under your other eye, along with a cut on your cheek and a busted lip proved that you had taken yet another beating from your father. He frowned, he had only heard rumours that Jos Verstappen was...unhinged - But he had never thought them to be true in this way, despite being the same age as your brother, Charles knew that you were a defenceless child, and so was Max - Yet everyone was too fearful of Jos to help either of you.

"Charles, let's go!" He stammered, looking between you and his older brother, impatient to get home and out of the wet. You hadn't said a word to him, only silently begging him to please, tell someone, about what your father was doing to you and your brother - At this point, you would take living with your mom, even if it meant your existence was ignored, anything would be better than this.

"I have to go, but I hope to see you again soon," Charles offered you a genuine smile, waving back at you as he walked to his family car, shutting the door and staring off at you as they left the track.

You sighed sadly as you dropped your head between your knees once more - You knew that this was only a part of what awaited you when you got home, but some part of you hoped that he would make you walk home, so you could take as long as you liked, and maybe by the time you got home, he would forget about the brutality he had planned out for you as soon as you walked through the doors.

Like that ever happened.

13 Years Later

You had apparently never escaped your dad.

Put better, you had never escaped men like your dad.

Thanks to the way you had been raised and how you had been treated by the man who was supposed to show you how you should expect to be treated by a man, you had ended up with a string of awful boyfriends, who in the end, received a very verbal and intensive warning from your older brother. Most of them ran away with their tails between their legs at the mention of Max's name.

But one had stuck around longer than the others, going as far to get you pregnant with your daughter, Romy. Max had been convinced you were ready to leave him until he baby trapped you, he knew that would send you running back to him, with the hopes of having the happy family you never got to have yourself. He had been fine with you the entire time you were pregnant, even managing to almost convince Max that he had changed, and that he was ready to look after you and your daughter.

Lukas was different, you told Max. You told him that Lukas looked after you and your unborn child, especially after finding out that you were carrying a baby girl. You told Max that he doted on you, talking to your bump like Romy could hear him, which he argued that she could, since she kicked at the sound of his voice.

And for a while, Max was convinced that Lukas had changed, he had changed his mind on the idea that you had been baby trapped and that maybe it had purely been an unplanned pregnancy.

How wrong he was.

After the birth of Romy, everything went back to normal - You weren't allowed to talk to your brother, you could only go out when he let you, Victoria and Max weren't allowed to come and visit their niece, you weren't allowed to have your phone. It was around 6 months after having Romy when you realised that you had to leave, you couldn't bring your baby girl up like this, and have her turn out like you? Absolutely not.

You wanted your girl to have a chance in this world, you wanted to break the cycle.

So that's what you did.

During the night, while you had Romy settled after her feed and your boyfriend was asleep, you slipped out onto the balcony, your phone in your shaking hands as you dialled Max's number, praying that he would either be awake normally or on streaming.

"Hold on guys, I don't know who is calling...me," Max's joking demeanour dropped as he saw your face flash across the screen. He hadn't heard from you since you stopped returning his calls after you had Romy six months ago. Abruptly, Max ended his stream. "Y/N?"

"Max?" He could tell that you were close to tears, if not already crying. "I'm leaving name but I'm scared to because h-he's been drinking and I don't know if he wakes up i-if he'll hurt me or Romy. I don't care what he does to me, I just don't want him to hurt her." You cried to your brother, nervously peering into your bedroom through the curtains to make sure that the two of them were still asleep - If Romy so much as stirred, then it was game over.

Max was astounded.

Of course, he was going to help you, he was your big brother, how could he not? But you calling 6 months after you last spoke to tell him you were ready to leave, he could have cried in relief.

"Okay, do what you can quietly, I'll come over and make sure that you and Romy can get away safely," Max proposed to you, he knew this was a big, monumental step for you, you needed him to be there for you, now more than ever. "We've got a spare room here, I'll ask Kelly if she by some chance has even an old cot of P's that Romy can sleep in for the night." You sniffled and nodded, even though Max couldn't see the gesture.

"Thank you Maxie, I love you," Tears sprung to your older brother's eyes, he couldn't imagine how much you had been through, the fear of your boyfriend harming your baby must have been a constant forefront on your mind, you must have been exhausted.

"I love you too, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

You hung up, sighing in relief as you realised that you had taken the hardest step of your life - Yes, you were leaving your abusive boyfriend, but you were also leaving your daughter's father. Moving as quietly as you could, you buckled your sleeping baby into her car seat - Thinking if Kelly didn't have anything; which would be fine; then you could have Romy sleep in her car seat. You packed a small bag for her and yourself - If you needed anything else, you could pick it up when you needed it, as far as you were concerned right now, you and Romy just needed out of here.

the next morning when you woke up, the night before felt like a blur. You swore you were high on adrenaline, and now you were on a huge comedown. You turned on your side, reaching to hold your babies hand, smiling gently as you now realised that you wouldn't have to face seeing (Name) when you went out of this room. You sat up as Romy stirred, reaching out to lift her from the next to me bed that Kelly had put beside the bed in the spare room.

"Shshsh, it's okay, my love, mama's got you," You rocked Romy, pushing her small tuft of her hair out of her face as she fussed before latching to you.

"Mommy, I want to see auntie Y/N's baby!" You smiled, hearing Penelope being so excited to meet Romy, even though she would have to wait a while to be able to play with her.

"I know, but you need to wait until they wake up," Kelly tried to reason with the young girl, who pouted and crossed her arms and turned to Max, as if he was going to risk going in and waking a sleeping baby.

"Maxie!" Penelope whined, pouting as Max and Kelly chuckled at her behaviour. They both looked up as the door to the spare room opened, you holding Romy at your hip. "Mommy look!" Penelope pointed at your daughter excitedly. "Can I hold her auntie Y/N?! Please, please please?!" You chuckled and smiled down at Penelope.

"Maybe not right now P, she just had a really big breakfast and I wouldn't want her to throw up all over your nice pyjamas," You reasoned with the small girl, smiling as she nodded in understanding. "I promise that you can hold her later."

"Yay!" Satisfied with your answer, Penelope ran back to her toys, occupied with whatever new toy Max or Kelly had bought for her. You smiled as you continued patting Romy's back, hearing her coo and try to wiggle towards her uncle Max.

"Aww, she wants me," Max cooed at her, taking her from your arms and holding her the way you previously did. "She's so cute, almost makes you want another, Kelly?"

"In your dreams, Max Emillian," You laughed at the two of them, you knew that Max was a great bonus dad for Penelope, he was the opposite of Jos - Which was still a pretty low bar. "How old is she Y/N?"

"She's almost 7 months, which is crazy for me, she was my tiny little baby and now she's starting to crawl," You told Kelly, holding your arms out to your brother as Romy started fussing in his arms, reaching out to you. "Anyway um...thank you, both, for last night. Lukas text me this morning, he doesn't want us back, left all our stuff in the lobby of the apartment which is fine cause I need to go back for my car anyway."

"Don't be silly, I'll go get it, you don't need to go back there. And anyway, there's someone you're spending the day with to get back into socialising - He's great with kids too, so you can take Romy with you." Max told you, watching as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"What? Who is it?"

"Do you remember the whiny one from Monaco that had the inchident? Him, he got broken up with and he's been depressed so I thought you two could be friends."

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc #max verstappen x reader comfort #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #verstappen!reader

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screampied · 9 months ago

Note

pls pls pls can we get some overstimulating toji, Hes whimpering so much, maybe tie his hands up 👀🙏 love u twin

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji letting you "top" him

warnings. fem! reader, overstim, whiney toji, riding him after he cūms, dirty talk, mdni.

“hmph. you’re gettin’ too fuckin’ cocky,” toji gruffs lowly, leaning back against the padded comforter. dark eyes stare right back into you as you straddle his lap. he’s buried into you, and he was just about to finish. his breaths were quick paced, huffing and puffing. white clouds of air escape his lips as he keeps dark irises on each of your fidgety movements. “wipe that smile of y’er face. don’t like when ya give me that look.”

you hum, leaning in to toss your arms over his wide shoulders. whilst he’s stretching your gummy walls out to the very fullest— you lean in to plant a kiss near the right side of his lip, soft contact right against his infamous slanted scar. a soft moan always withdraws from his lips whenever you did that. the toughness that scraps against your mouth as you plant your lips down on that specific spot. “or …what?” you tease, grinding your hips just a bit more brisker at a fleeting tempo. “aw, someone’s getting close?”

“fuuuck,” he growls out, pearly white canines sticking out near the very corners of his mouth. toji’s head throws back in rapture and he feels your hand glide down the middle part of his chest. his shaggy, unkempt bare chest—all types of scars from his work that you love to feel all over. he’s about to pump you full, the blissful agitation that pokes against his nerves makes him feral. “sensitive still,” and with a low exhale, he glares at your stretching sly smile. “don’t give me that look. don’t …. even—f-fuck..”

and at that exact moment, toji fushiguro whined.

you grow quiet. he grows so quiet, it’s so silent that you could hear a pen drop.

toji swallows, even a simple action as that was just so loud. he groans, leaning back against the fat silk pillows before he stares at you with low hooded eyes.

“s-shit,” and his voice continues to grow more . . . shaky.

it’s so unlike him, the way his words quaver from each word was so cute to hear. you even had his hands tied up, pinned amongst the edges of the bed. he was sprawled all out for you while you were grinding against his lap.

“i spoil you too much, f-fuckin’ little girl,” and he’s clearly trying to keep up his rough facade— but alas, it’s really no use.

“you’re cute when you whine, baby,” you smooch against the scar near the right side of his lip.

his mouth twitches in vexation and you watch as his eyes roll further back.

his abdomen— oh, it burns into a mild volume of arousal, he’s profusely sweating before he feels himself about to break. each time you sneak a kiss against his scar, he groans. “mwah,” you tease, treating the lower part of his face with such delicacy. toji was shooting you a look of grimace. briefly—he tried to keep up his stubborn antics, but his glare only turned into lewd eye rolls from how good you clamp against his cock. it’s so good, the saturation of your sopping wet pussy squeezing down on him tight, he’s going dumb by the minute. “it’s okay, toji. you can cum.”

“don’t tell me what to d—” and he gets cut off before he quite literally does cum, it’s abrupt. toji’s quavering underneath you as he dumps a thickset load of seed into you. “shit, fuckin’ damn,” he heaves. his breath was heavy as he’s leaning all the way back now. with a hand still gripped onto your left hip, he sinks into the weightlessness nirvana that awaited him. “fuuck,” he pants, a rough hand grasping your ass— for a solid moment, toji grows quiet and the only sounds that’s could have been made were the sloshes of your cunt accepting his seed. somehow he managed to rip off the restraints on his wrists—wasting no time to finally touch you. in the midst of still rocking your hips in a circular rotation again toji—it consists of such satiny ropes, you’ve never felt more stuffed. “ugh, fuckin’ slut. got me moanin’ for you like this-”

you giggle, gifting him with a chaste kiss. “i’m not done, baby. keep up with me, okay?”

toji’s caught by surprise once you start to move your hips again, accelerating them against him and he whines. “f-fuck, the fuck? girl, ‘jus fuckin’ came . . sensitive, goddamnnn.”

it was cute, the way his low raspy voice pitches up an octave— he’s whimpering, the rapid movements of your pussy having him practically speechless. with his twitching dick now flaccid, he’s still got a firm grip on your waist. a raw groan only then wrenches from the back of his throat.

“can’t cum anymore, f-fuck, ‘m still sensitive,” he babbles, softly pulling you by the neck to give him a kiss.

and by kiss, it was more sloppy than anything. with wet tongues moving against each other in tavern, he feels you grinding again and again.

toji’s so warm. he can feel his heartbeat coercively pulsating through his ears. your tender touch against him had him so needy. even while having him like this— he was still attractive, yet that’s when you grab his wrists, making him pin them back again. “fuck are ya d-doing.”

“no touching me, baby,” you hum, and his glare returns. with pinkish crimson lips squeezing into a scowl, his darkened eyebrows curl into a furrow. “touch me after you give me another one, yeah?”

he swallows, toji couldn’t believe how dominant you were being. it was rare to get him like this, even rare to be on top of him.

“fuckin’ brat,” he grouses, his muscles near his forearms tensing. your cunt’s involuntarily constricting around his massive length. your walls hug him tightly before he starts to pant more and more. “fine. f-fine, just kiss me again…… please.”

you lean in, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders before pulling him into a deep kiss.

he’s so sensitive—heavy, hot huffs of breaths gnashing together, he whines again in your mouth. toji shivers, feeling the print of your thumb brush down against his undercut. he groans, feeling your hips start to pick up pace again and he pulls away to breathe. “phew,” he puffs out, seeing nothing but pure stars. you rode him so good that he didn’t even have a witty comeback.

toji’s entire face was all flustered, he glowers once he sees your smug grin tug against your lips. “what.”

“you should whine more,” you pause your hips, leaning in to pepper a few kisses against his cheek. he’s so fluttered—still heaving through his full lungs, eyelids halfway open as a big arm wraps around your waist. toji pulls you close, despite how embarrassed he was—he took it as a opportunity to pull you closer towards him. “you sound so cute when you’re whiney.”

“shut up,” he pouts, avoiding eye contact. toji’s still stuffed inside of you before he grunts once he feels you starting to move then stop. “m-mhm. don’t stop though. keep going.”

you giggle, bringing a single finger to stroke his cheek. “say please, toji.”

“fuckin—” he starts, sending you straight daggers. he’d argue further but he was still deeply buried into you. just a quick move with your hips and he’d start whining again from the euphoric friction. “fine. fine, just finish fucking me, please.”

“good boy,” you kiss the top of his head, starting up your hips again and he brings you into his chest, wrapping his beefy arms around you before whimpering into your neck.

he swallows, seeping his teeth into the crevice of your neck. “shut u-mhm,” and he slumps back with a pussydrunk smile on his face. “actually….praise me more. call me that again, ‘n look at me when you do.”

“good boy, toji,” you repeat in a sweet voice, picking up his head to make him stare into your eyes—he’s still panting before he leans back, groaning, shuddering from your touch. “such a good boy.”

#★vegasbaby.#toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #cw sex mention

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eevenus · 2 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ drabble!! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - b.c.

I have thoughts and need to get them out of my head before I go insane.

genre: PURE SMUT TBH!!! MINORS BE GONE!! I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

pairing: bangchan x fem!reader

warnings: chokeholds (sue me okay), a bit of degradation, rough channie 🥴, reader is called a whore once, size kink if you squint

a/n: I wrote this on my phone because I needed it out of my head NYEOW, I'm going insane over him. dividers by @sister-lucifer

(this is what I was writing to if you wanna listen along 😛😛😛)

✩ thinking so much about Chan having such a horrible day, and I mean absolutely retched. Maybe had some arguments back and forth with staff over a track he was really proud of, a dance practice with small fuckups just out of his control (loose shoelaces tripping him, stumbling over his words, etc), maybe even something as simple as all his anxieties and worries on new tracks and performances have manifested into a boiling anger he can't contain.

✩ he wouldn't want to say anything he doesn't mean, or hurt anyone's feelings, so he wouldn't talk much throughout the day if he can help it. Simple nods and "mhm"s to just get through it. A few texts from you ping his phone every now and then, he's short with you but responds nonetheless. It would almost make him angrier that he can't shake the feeling, I feel.

✩ so he'd try to blow off some steam at the gym, he always hit it on the way home so you wouldn't find it out of the ordinary. But he'd stay a little longer than usual. Trying so, so hard to just shake the feeling off so he can come home to you and relax. But he can't. It sits on his chest worse than any of his anxieties ever could. So he cleans up the area he was using, throws his things into his duffle, and heads home.

✩ he'd show up back to your shared apartment and throw his duffle somewhere out of his sight. His shoes discarded by the door and keys dropped somewhere next to them. And then you'd walk out.

✩ "Hi baby!" So sweet and so kind, already in your pajamas, waiting for him to come home. "Long day?" It was an innocent ask of course, but it clicked a gear in place in his mind. All that anger seemed to quicken the blood rushing through his veins, if you listen close enough in the quiet you'd hear his heartbeat.

✩ no response but he's just stomping his way over to you, and his hands grab your face to smash your lips together. It's messy, teeth knocking every now and then, moving from upper to bottom lip, a bit of spit would connect you when he finally pulled away. Leaving you in a bit of a daze. But before you could question the absolutely hungry look in his eyes his lips would be on you again.

✩ his HUMONGOUS arms would work to pick you up while keeping your lips connected, your hands in his curls as his wrap under your thighs. And he's walking you back to your shared room and his skin is just fiery hot, and he's deepening the kiss while expertly navigating his way down the hall. thank god you walked out and left the door open, because as soon as he is even near your bed he's tossing you onto it and climbing on top of you.

✩ discarding his tank top as you're ridding of your own, his lips moving after to connect with your neck. You'd swear you felt him bite and lick his away along like a hungry animal playing with its prey. And his hands are on your hips, squeezing so hard to keep you in place that it would def leave bruises in the morning.

✩ before you can even register it, you're both without clothes and he's got you on all fours. pulling you down onto his mouth that is just devouring you like your his last meal on death row, like you held a cure for whatever is making him act this way, not like you'd want him to stop.

✩ "Bad day?" You'd question with rutting hips and your hands gripping his hair, he'd simply mumble against you and pull you down further. "Take it out- oh god- on me." You didn't have to tell him really, but it was more like giving him a green light for doing whatever he needed too to blow off the steam that was so pent up. It was rare this happened, but you ate it UP every time.

✩ moments later, after he'd rip at least two orgasms out of you, he's sinking himself into you. Pulling at your hips to meet his, forcing an arch out of you with a flat palm pressing down at the top of your spine. with no mercy does he rut into you, so rough it was physically moving you forward. Your cries and moans muffled with your cheek against the sheets, though you'd have probably been muffled regardless as his moans and groans and growls would be just a bit louder. Feral even.

✩ and when your moans alone weren't enough, he'd slow himself just enough to lean down and wrap his arm around your neck. keeping a hand still on your hip to keep your arch in place when he lifts you up from the bed in a chokehold and returns to his previous pace. Your moans now cut-off whines and groans from the pressure, just enough to slightly bring pressure to your airways but not enough to make you lose all your air. A delightful euphoria of floating and the feeling of his cock pumping into you, you swore in this position he was kissing your cervix in the most delicious way. feeling floaty and so full. so full. (pushing the bde Chris agenda ok).

✩ "fuckin' take it." He'd growl in your ear, and though his arm stays around your neck his hand moves to hold your chin. Relieving the pressure as you take in shaky gasps, keeping you perfectly in place. "Yea? You're my fucking whore, mine- letting me use you, huh? letting me fuck my anger into you?"

✩ he'd be so far gone that he's just mumbling out the nastiest shit he's ever said, and just abusing your pretty little cunt all he wants. And when his growls turn to whines and gasps and groans of his own, his hand reaches between your legs and quickly circles your puffy pretty clit. Silently begging you to cum with him.

✩ ugh and he'd cum so much too. letting you out of his hold halfway through, to lay back against the sheets, but still pushing you through your own orgasm. It would take him a bit to register he's real again before he's pulling out and walking to grab things to clean you up, water, a snack, the works.

✩ "Better?" You'd incoherently mumble after, when you're all laid up together. Snuggled close and naked and safe and warm.

✩ "Mm. Sorry if I was too rough." He'd mumble back, pushing some hair behind your ear before promising to tell you what was bothering him first thing in the morning. But of course you never mind him that way, if you can help him.

✩ he'd apologize PROFUSELY in the morning when he notices your bruised hips and a few red marks of teeth on your neck. Doing his best to mend you. Draw you a bath. Snuggle you as soon as he gets home from the studio. Apologize again. And again. And one more time for good measure. cuz he's just too sweet, and even if he was pent up and needed to channel his anger in a (proactive) different way he could never actually hurt you and he'd feel awful if he ever did. Making sure you feel loved in every way he can in the following days. Cuz he's Channie and an absolute angel, who just loves a rough night every now and again. 😜

EEP KQJDJSNF there's my first spicy drabble, I just needed this out of my fucking head OMG. Need him to chokehold me so BAD KADJNDNF. this is probably a mess because I was trying to get a vision across without turning this into a 7k word fic okay 😭😭. Lemme know if y'all want more of this from meeee by commenting, liking, reposting!! Theenk yewwww ❤️✨🤞🏻

taglist: @possum-playground (taglist is open! Feel free to ask to be added to my general one or the one for my Bangchan series!! or if you'd like to only be added for non-spicy/spicy-only posts!)

#Spotify #eevenus 💌🧸✨#vix's rambles <3 #stray kids #bang chan #skz #christopher bang #bangchan #bangchan stray kids #bangchan smut #stray kids smut #bangchan x reader #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #smut #kpop smut #my fics

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kenacoki · 4 months ago

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Save the Best for Last

//Pairing// Evan “Buck” Buckley x Fem!Reader

//Summary// After so many terrible dates, you always seem to find yourself coming back to Buck’s loft.

//Word Count// 5.58k

//Request// smut prompts #2 & #4

//Warnings// smutty smut smut :)), Evan Buckley being a certified munch, lazy handjobs, p in v sex, and possessive talk

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

"Oh, goddamn it."

Here you are, standing outside Buck's loft door at 10:00 at night with a six-pack of beer in hand as you contemplate your life choices.

Your latest date had been a complete and total disaster.

The man was loud, obnoxious, and a bit too handsy for your taste. So, you left the date early feeling frustrated and angry. All you want to do is relax and complain to your best friend.

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your key to Buck's place. Letting yourself in, you sigh quietly as you slip your jacket off. The loft is empty and quiet.

"Buck?" You call out, setting the beer in the fridge.

Maybe he’s in the shower? Or asleep? You don’t get a response, so you head into the living room, flopping down onto Buck’s new couch with a huff.

You lean your head back against the couch, your eyes fluttering shut as you sigh heavily. As you sit there mentally cursing out your dumb date, the sound of footsteps causes you to open your exhausted (e/c) eyes, looking over at the source of the noise; it’s Buck, walking out of his steaming bathroom.

Completely naked.

You immediately turned red, quickly looking away and sitting up. "Jesus Christ," you blurt out, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Buck, for god's sake, a towel please." You keep your eyes trained on the wall in front of you, refusing to look at your equally embarrassed friend.

"Oh—oh god, I didn’t know you came in!” Buck mumbles, grabbing a discarded towel from the bathroom floor and wrapping it around his waist.

Well, now you understand how he got the nickname Firehose.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long." You mutter, still refusing to look at him. The image of his bare chest is burned into your brain. What you wouldn’t give to rake your fingers over his toned muscles—

Nope. Stop. No, nope. Bad thoughts.

“I’m just uh, gonna go grab some clothes.” Buck practically scurries away, disappearing up the stairs to his bedroom. You exhale, letting out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Finally looking away from the wall, you bury your face in your hands.

This is bad. You and Buck are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. You need to get these feelings under control, but it’s so, so hard.

Buck emerges a moment later, thankfully with underwear and sweatpants on, although his chest is still bare. You try not to stare at his toned upper body as he shuffles back over to the couch, plopping himself down next to you; leaving little to no space. You desperately try not to think about it.

"S-so, how was your date?" He asks, his voice is casual but a tinge of tension in his words.

You try not to grimace as you remember the disaster that had been your evening. “Ugh, it was terrible. He was so loud and obnoxious, it was awful.” You sigh heavily, shaking your head. “I don’t know why I keep going on these stupid dates, honestly.”

Buck shifts next to you, his shoulder brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. He’s so close, that you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of his body. It’s driving you crazy.

You suddenly jerk forward, rubbing your sweaty palms on your dress as you stand, “I uh, I got us beer—to drink. Do you want one?”

Smooth, real smooth (y/n).

Buck nods, his eyes following you as you walk away, his gaze trailing down your body hungrily. He can’t help it, the sight of your curves in that tight (f/c) dress is so damn distracting. He swallows hard, tearing his eyes away from you as you disappear into the kitchen.

You open the fridge door, the cool air hitting your flushed face. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You need to stop reacting this way to him, you and Buck are just friends. No matter what your stupid heart may think.

You grab a couple of beers, opening one for Buck and one for yourself. Heading back into the living room, you desperately try to get your thoughts under control.

Buck’s in the same spot as before when you come back, his arm stretched out along the back of the couch. You hand him the beer and sit back down on the couch, putting a little distance between you this time.

As you get comfortable, you take a long swig of your drink. Buck does the same, his eyes flicking over to you as he does.

The tension in the room feels thick as if you could slice through it with a knife. You take another sip of beer, glancing over at Buck. He’s still looking at you, his eyes roaming over your face. It’s making you nervous.

“What?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Hm?" Buck seems to snap out of his thoughts, blinking at you. "Oh, uh, nothing—Just thinking." He replies, looking away quickly and taking another drink of beer.

You along nod awkwardly, taking another sip of your beer as you try to ignore the way Buck’s eyes still glance at you,“Don’t strain yourself too hard.”

Buck snorts, rolling his eyes at your sarcastic comment. The corner of his lips twitch upwards, a small smirk growing on his face. But the smirk fades quickly, a flicker of something you can’t quite place flashing across his eyes.

"You’re just hilarious, y'know that?” He teases, but there’s an undertone to it that you can’t quite put your finger on.

You roll your eyes at him, though your heart skips a beat at his smirk. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you two have gotten again, the heat from his body practically seeping through his clothes onto your own skin.

“Damn right, I am.” You snark back at him, taking another drink of beer as you try to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest.

Buck lets out a soft laugh, his eyes locking on yours again. The smirk on his face fades as he takes a deep breath, seeming to come to some kind of decision. He shifts closer, his body leaning slightly into yours.

"Can I ask you something?"

You involuntarily tense up, your heart slamming in your chest. His sudden shift in demeanor can’t help but make you nervous, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Sure, yeah.” You say, trying to keep your voice even. You turn towards him, meeting his gaze with your own. “What’s up?”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his tongue darting out as he wets his lips. He’s so close to you now, his face only a few inches away from yours. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than before, barely above a whisper.

"Why do you keep going on these dates?"

His question catches you off guard, making your stomach twist into knots. You certainly hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. You can feel your heart racing, the sound of it drumming in your ears.

"I, uh, I don’t know. Does-Does it really matter?" You reply, trying to keep your voice casual. But you can feel yourself start to fidget with your fingers nervously.

Buck watches you for a moment, his eyes scanning over your face. His hand moves, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch is gentle, his fingers tracing lightly along your cheek.

"Yeah, it matters." He says, his voice soft. "It matters because all these dates are doing is making you miserable. I hate seeing you like this."

Your breath catches in your chest as his fingers lightly trail along your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel your self-control slipping, your heart and mind warring with each other. You want to lean into his touch, but at the same time, you know you need to keep your distance.

"It’s fine, Buck. I promise." You manage to say, but the shakiness in your voice betrays your words.

Buck’s hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin. His eyes are still fixed on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"No, it's not." He says firmly. "You're not fine. You’re miserable. I mean, you're going on these dates like some kind of punishment, like you think you need to suffer through it for some reason."

He moves even closer to you, so close that you can just barely feel his breath fan against your skin.

His words strike a nerve in you, because you know he’s right. You’ve been using these dates to try and punish yourself, to try and ignore your feelings for Buck. Now he’s calling you out on it, and it’s making it hard for you to think straight.

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You’re so weak for him, it’s pathetic.

Buck’s hand moves from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, making you look at him. Your eyes lock with his, your heart racing at his proximity. His gaze is intense like he’s searching for something in your eyes.

"I don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself." He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your jawline. "You deserve better than these idiots you keep going on dates with. You deserve someone who actually cares about you."

Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, your heart clenching at his words. You know he's right, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it. You try to deflect, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Yeah? And who do you have in mind for me then?" You half-joke, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Buck’s thumb stops moving, his gaze steady and unwavering. His other hand moves to your hip, his fingers gripping you gently through the fabric of your dress

"Me." He says, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widen in shock at his words, your mind reeling. You’re speechless, unable to believe what he’s saying. Is he being serious?

You take a shaky breath, trying to form a response but struggle to find the words. Buck’s hand on your hip tightens slightly, pulling you closer to him.

“You…you do?” You ask, your voice a little breathless.

Buck nods, and his grip on your hip tightens even more, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel his heart beating fast, mirroring your own. He’s so close to you that you can see the tiniest flecks of green in his blue eyes; you can’t help but feel compelled to touch his birthmark.

"Yeah.” He says firmly, his voice rough and low. “I do. I want you so bad it’s been driving me insane.”

Your mind is swirling, your body reacting to his every touch and word. You should be pushing him away, shoving him back, and telling him to snap out of it. This is a terrible idea, bound to end in disaster. You could lose your friendship, and your job if things go bad. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

"God Buck, me too.” You murmur, your hand moving to clutch at his waist, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

Buck lets out a low groan at your words. Your confession is like a spark, igniting a fire within him. He leans even closer until there’s barely an inch of space left between your bodies.

"You have no idea how bad I want you.” He says, his voice practically growling. “I want to kiss every inch of you, make you forget your own name.”

“Then do it.” You whisper, your voice is a little shaky but so filled with desire it’s undeniable. You want this, you want him.

You. Need. Buck.

Buck doesn’t hesitate, his lips crashing down against yours in a heated kiss. His hand in your hair tightens, angling your head back to give him better access to your mouth. His other hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

The kiss is intense, desperate, like he’s trying to devour you whole.

You let out a muffled moan, your hand moving to grasp his neck; clinging to him like a lifeline. Your body feels like it’s been set on fire, every inch of you burning with need and desire for him. You can’t get enough, you don’t think you’ll ever get enough.

You open your mouth to him, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, your own tongue meeting his in a frenzied dance. You can feel yourself falling apart, losing yourself in the intensity of his touch, of his kiss.

Buck’s hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he lifts you up, easily settling you on his lap so youre straddling him. You move your hips, grinding yourself down onto him, his body reacting involuntarily to the pressure. You can feel his hardness press against your core, it sends a throb of need throughout your entire body.

Gasping, Buck breaks the kiss before moving his lips to your neck; his mouth hot and demanding against your skin.

“You…drive me…crazy.” He mutters between kisses, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. Hishands slide under the lacy hem of your dress, his fingers burning hot against your skin as they trace patterns along your sides. You arch into his touch.

“You’re all I can think about. Every day.” He continues, his voice gravelly with lust. “God, even when we’re at work.”

You let out a gasp as his tongue swirls over your skin, your fingers tangling in his curly, blonde hair. His words make your heart pound even faster.

You press yourself against Buck, your hips rolling involuntarily against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. You can feel him growing harder underneath you, only making you ache for more.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve had to go to the bathroom to get myself under control,” Buck admits, his voice rumbles against your skin. He moves his hands lower, cupping your ass and grinding you down onto him. His mouth moves lower, his teeth grazing over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone, his thumb moving over your hip bone, tracing the outline of your underwear.

You let out a soft moan, your head falling back as he works his mouth down your neck and across your chest. His touch is like gasoline on an already out-of-control fire, and you can feel yourself losing more and more control.

“Buck…” You breathe out, his name a plea and a prayer all in one.

Buck moans at the sound, his hands moving to your hips again, holding you still against him. His mouth moves back up to your neck, his teeth and lips roaming over your skin.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you so long.” He mutters, his voice rough and strained. “You keep coming to me after those stupid dates, all dressed up in these pretty dresses. Do you have any idea what it does to me?”

The mental image of him watching you from across the station, seeing you all dolled up for these dates and not being able to do anything about it, watching as you leave with another man, it makes your stomach clench. You wonder how many times he's sat there, fighting the urge to pull you into his lap, to kiss you senselessly and show everyone that you’re his.

You let out a pathetic whine, the thought making you throb with need.

Buck leans back slightly, his eyes raking over your disheveled form. You’re panting heavily, your (e/c) eyes dark with desire, lips swollen from his kisses. You’re a mess, and it makes him feel a sense of satisfaction that he’s the one who’s made you this way.

“God, look at you.” He murmurs, his hands pushing up your dress, his fingers tracing over your bare thighs. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You shiver as his hands move higher, brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You can feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, your underwear getting more and more damp at his touch. You want him, you need him so badly that it’s starting to become painful.

“Buck please,” You pant out, your voice pleading. “I need you…I need you so bad.”

Buck’s breath hitches at your words, his grip on your thighs faltering momentarily. He can see the desperation in your eyes, the need written all over your face.

“You’ve got me.” He says, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve always had me…just didn’t know it.”

Your heart clenches at his words, your mind warring with your body. Everything about this is a bad idea, you’re playing with fire here. But at this moment, with his hands on you, his body under yours, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Prove it. Show me I’m yours, Buck.”

Buck’s eyes flash at your challenge, a wolfish smile spreading across his face. He moves without warning, standing up and easily lifting you with him. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, and your arms cling to his shoulders. Spinning around, he starts the ascent to his loft bedroom.

You cling to him as he moves through the apartment, his hands holding you tightly, supporting your weight without any effort. You bury your face in his neck, leaving teasing kisses along his skin, your tongue and teeth nipping at his pulse point. You can feel every muscle in his body as he moves, your hands roaming across his back and shoulders, your fingernails scraping gently over his skin.

As you reach the top of the stairs, he walks you over to the edge of the bed and sets you down on the soft comforter.

“(y/n)…” He mutters, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you. Your hair is tangled and messy, your chest heaving as you breathe heavily, your dress pooled up around your thighs, exposing your (s/c) skin. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

You smirk up at him, a feeling of power rushing through you at the way he’s looking at you. You lay back slowly, arching your back and letting the skirt of your dress ride up higher. You run your tongue over your bottom lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Pretty good way to go though, huh?” You tease lightly.

You don’t know how, but Buck’s eyes darken even more, the sight of you on his bed—practically inviting him to take you—pushes him over the edge.

“You’re such a tease.” He mutters, moving closer to you as his hands go to the waistband of his sweats.

You let out a small gasp as he starts to lower his sweatpants, the sight of him in nothing but low-hanging boxer briefs makes your mouth water. You can see the desire and hunger in his eyes, the fact that he wants you so badly sending a thrill of pleasure through you.

“Only for you, Buckley.”

Buck moves onto the bed, caging you in with his body, his hands on either side of your head.

“Better be.” He grins, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw to your ear. His teeth nip at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.

He moves lower, his lips finding your neck again, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin there, leaving a mark you know you’ll struggle to hide the next day.

You can feel your hands starting to shake as the ache between your legs grows and your mind gets fuzzy. You arch up into him, your body seeking more of his touch, more of his attention.

“Buck—need you to touch me.” You pant, your voice needy and desperate

Buck groans at your words, his hands sliding lower down your body, gliding over your stomach and then lower until they’re at the edge of your dress.

“Lift your hips.” He instructs, his voice commanding, leaving no room for argument. You instantly comply, lifting your hips off the bed, allowing him to slide your dress higher up your body.

With a quick tug, Buck pulls the dress up over your body and tosses it to the side. He takes a moment to admire you, trailing his eyes over every inch of you.

You’re laying there in just your (f/c) bra and panties, your legs slightly parted, your chest rising and falling quickly as you breathe through the need coursing through your body.

He leans back down over you, his hands and mouth immediately going to work. His mouth trails wet kisses down your torso and across your stomach, his fingers tracing lightly over your skin. You can’t help but whimper as he moves, your body responding to every touch, every graze of his lips against your skin.

His moves lower, just barely brushing the edge of your panties. You let out a gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your body arches into his touch.

You feel Buck’s smile against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you still. He loves seeing you like this, lost in pleasure and need, your body responding to his every move. He moves his mouth lower, his tongue tracing over the thin, damp fabric of your panties.

“B-Buck!” Your voice cracks

“You’re so damn sensitive,” Buck mutters, his fingers slowly tugging at the edge of your panties before pulling them down your legs and tossing them off to the side.

You clasp a hand over your mouth as you hold back a whine as you feel his hot breath fan against your soaked center.

Buck gently nips at the inside of your thigh, leaving small marks on your sensitive skin. He moves one of his hands to rest on your knee, keeping you spread open.

“It’s okay, (y/n).” Buck says, his voice full of desire. “Let me hear you, let me hear what I do to you.”

Before you can respond, his mouth is pressed against your soaking folds.

You let out a high-pitched moan, your hands automatically digging into his scalp, your fingers gripping his curly blonde locks. His tongue is skilled, his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“F-fuckin’ dick!” You manage to gasp out, your words quickly turning into broken moans and gasps as he continues his assault

Buck doesn’t stop, his tongue working you over, his lips and teeth nipping and sucking at you in all the right places. He loves the way you taste, and the sound of your moans. But he’s greedy, and he wants more.

He slides his hand from your knee to your core, one of his calloused fingers gently teasing at your entrance.

Your body is buzzing with pleasure and your mind is fogged with need. The feeling of his finger at your entrance, teasing and tantalizing is almost too much.

“O-Oh god, Buck…please…don’t stop!” You desperately gasp out, feeling the coil inside you building.

Buck groans against you, sending vibrations straight to your core, “You’re so damn wet.”

“All for you—Fuck!”

Buck practically groans with need at your words. He gently pushes one of his fingers into you, the slide easy due to your arousal. You throw your head back from the pleasure.

“You’re like heaven, baby.” Buck mumbles, his voice filled with awe as his finger continues to move, gently stretching you in preparation for more. “Like an angel…My pretty, perfect angel.”

You can’t respond, your words are caught in your throat, replaced by gasps and moans as Buck continues to work you. He adds another finger, scissoring them gently, the sensation making your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Buck commands, “Open your eyes, (y/n). Let me see you.”

With a great amount of effort, you force your eyes open, to meet his gaze. The sight before you is one that’ll be engraved into your memory forever.

Buck’s hair is a mess from your fingers running through it, his cheeks flushed, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal, eyes dark with lust and possessiveness that makes your skin flush with goosebumps. He looks wild, untamed, and yet he’s completely focused on you, on giving you pleasure.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He whispers, his fingers curving slightly, the way that makes you see stars. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you forget your own name, how about that?”

“Yes, please!” You gasp, your words coming out needy and desperate. “Please, Buck, please. I need you-need you so bad.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulls his fingers from you, your walls fluttering around nothing. He doesn’t leave you waiting for long, shifting to kneel on the bed, his hands go to the edge of his underwear.

You watch, breathless and eager, as he slowly pushes down his boxer briefs, freeing his aching cock. The tip is red and dripping; you swear that you feel your mouth water.

“You see what you do to me? See what you caused?” Buck’s voice is rough, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

You run your eyes up and down his body, taking in the sight in front of you, the way his body is practically trembling, desperate for you. You lick your lips, your thoughts swarming with things that would make a sailor blush with shame.

“Please, Buck.”

He looks down at you, his eyes raking over your body, as he takes in the sight. You sound so needy, so desperate. He leans over you, his hands on either side of your head.

“Please, what, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice a low, teasing whisper.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders.

“Fuck. Me.”

Buck lets a curse slip from his lips as he captures yours in a hungry, rough kiss. One hand grasps your hip, while the other hand drifts to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he lines himself up at your entrance. Breaking the kiss, he lets his forehead rest against yours.

His eyes lock with yours, a silent question in his gaze. You nod, your hands running down his arms.

“Do it, Buck.” You say, your voice is desperate and whiny. “Please.”

Buck lets out a low moan at your voice, his body trembling from the effort of holding himself back. He can’t take it anymore, he needs you, needs to feel you around him, needs to taste you.

He slowly pushes into you, going as slowly as he can manage, relishing in the way your walls flutter against his member.

You let out a gasp, your hands tightening around his wrists, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel him fill you, stretch you in the best way possible. There’s a slight burn, but you welcome it as you shakily exhale.

“A-Ah...” Buck moans, his voice strained as his hands grip you tighter, burying himself fully inside you. His head drops to rest in the crease of your neck. “You feel… you feel so good—god, so warm.”

You let out a moan as he bottoms out, your mind lost in the pleasure of him filling you so perfectly. You want to tell him how good it feels, but words are lost amongst the fog in your mind.

Buck presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips feeling like fire against your skin. His hand leaves your hip and moves to grip yours, his fingers carefully intertwining with yours. Using his other hand he gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him

“Look at me, baby.” He mutters against your skin, “I wanna see your face. I wanna see how good I make you feel. Can you do that for me?”

You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The way he’s looking at you makes your heart swell; his eyes are filled with such adoration, such love.

Buck lets out a pleased noise, “That’s it, so good for me. Look so pretty when you’re like this…all flushed and trembling, just from my touch.”

He gives a shallow, experimental thrust, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as an electric feeling shoots through your body.

He moans against your skin, the sound making the hairs on your neck stand up. He moves again, this time pulling out slightly before slowly pushing back into you. You gasp again, your hands grab at his shoulder; your nails breaking the skin.

He sets up a steady pace, pulling out and then pushing back in with slow, steady movements.

Each moan and gasp, each twitch of your brow or hitch in your breath, he takes it in, and stores it away. He shifts his hips slightly, changing the angle, and a guttural, desperate moan tumbles from your lips.

Buck lets out a taunting chuckle, “Did I find a sensitive spot, baby?” He asks, his voice teasing and gruff against your ear.

You can’t find it in you to respond, completely blissed out from the pleasure Buck is giving you. Your words catch in your throat, replaced by a series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’ as he continuously slams into you.

His pace quickens as his breath comes out in short pants, his hand gripping yours just a little bit tighter.

“F-Fuck…Who do you want?”

“You. Only you, Buck.”

Buck’s eyes close for a moment, a shudder raking through his body at your words. He lets out another moan, his head falling forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder as he untangles his hand from yours. Hastily he brings it down, harshly rubbing it against your sensitive bud.

The sudden change in stimuli makes your eyes roll back, the pleasure and heat reaching a breaking point.

“B-Buck, I’m not gonna—”

“I know, baby, I know.” He whines, his own voice wavering. “I want to feel you cum around me. C’mon, cum for me.”

That’s all it takes, the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his voice, the sensation of his hands on you against you—your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. Your entire body tenses, a broken moan falling from your lips as your back arches against Buck’s sweaty figure.

Buck groans as he feels you cum, your walls clenching around him tightly. His hips stutter, losing their steady rhythm as he pulls out and starts pumping himself over your stomach.

“Ngh—shit!” Buck gasps suddenly as he feels your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, taking over for him.

“(y-y/n), you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” You look up at him with a small, exhausted smile on your lips as you continue to leisurely pump him at your own pace.

Buck lets out a high-pitched whine, his hands gripping onto you tighter, “M-mm’ so close.”

“Then come for me, Evan.”

Buck lets out a desperate noise, the sound of his real name falling from your lips being his final breaking point.

“(y-y/n)—”

You keep stroking him through his orgasm, watching as his body shivers from the overstimulation. Slowly, Buck’s flushed face lifts from your shoulder, his breaths leaving his lips in heavy pants, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile. His blue eyes meet your gaze, they’re hazy and unfocused.

“God, I love you.” He mutters, his voice a little hoarse, but still filled with an amount of tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.

You bring your clean hand up to his face, running it through his messy, tangled hair, your fingernails gently massaging his scalp “I love you too.”

Buck lets out a content hum, pressing a few soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose—Anywhere he can reach without having to pull his body away from you.

You laugh softly at his affection, your chest filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling, a smile resting on your lips. You feel…at ease.

Happy.

Safe.

Buck slowly pulls away, just enough to move off your body and lay next to you. He instantly pulls you against his chest, one arm around your shoulders, cradling you against him. He sighs contentedly, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

You rest your head against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear grounding and soothing. Your eyes slowly close, your exhaustion finally catching up to you. You snuggle closer to Buck, a soft yawn escaping your lips.

Buck chuckles as he hears you yawn. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You give a tiny hum, the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand on your back making your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Sleep starts to overtake you, but not before you mutter out one final sentence.

“I love you, Buck.”

Buck’s heart warms at your words. He pulls you even closer to him, relishing the feeling of having you this close. He presses a kiss to the top of your head again, his voice soft and gentle as he speaks.

“I love you too, (y/n). More than anything.”

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