#once that realization hits him i think he'd do way better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvergirl777 · 28 days ago

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Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“Stop calling him that?”

“Calling who what?”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean-“

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

“What?! It is not-”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

---

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

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

“Washing your dirty ass car.”

“And why would you do that?”

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

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

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

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To you, of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just, fuck, give me a second.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.”

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

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

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

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no you do not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

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

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need you,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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pynkfairyheart · 9 months ago

Text

Pairings: connie x black reader

Warnings: smut 18+ Connie's a lil toxic, mentions of a gun, pretty angsty

pt.2 to birthday girl but can be read as a standalone

Miss you

Constance Springer. The man who was once the source of your happiness though recently the source of your frustration and headaches.

“I just don't get it, Con. You take me on these amazing dates, buy me anything that catches my attention, and say you wanna spend the rest of your life with me, yet when I ask to publicly announce we’re together, which I shouldn't have to, you always brush it aside.” You spoke as calmly as possible. Though considering this was the 4th time this week you were having this conversation your calm tone resembled shouting.

It had been five months since your birthday. Five months since Connie gave you the best gift you could ever think of. Himself.

The first four months felt as if you were on cloud nine. The entire duration it was as if you were conjoined at the hip. Connie had to make a couple of drops? There you were in his passenger seat watching a movie or using his card to pay for the large quantity of your cart.

You needed to go make up a missed exam? Connie was waiting in his car with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The only time you weren't seen together was if he was doing something he didn't want you involved in or if he was out buying you secret lavish gifts such as the car he got you a week after your birthday. Life was great.

It wasn't til you were at your nail appointment with Mika where she nearly cut you with her clippers from shock the moment you brought up your relationship with Connie, that you realized no one knew about it.

At first, you were confused. How could no one know? You were always together but the more you thought about it you started to understand. Whenever you were out he wasn't as affectionate as when it was just the two of you, just a few touches that could easily be considered friendly, but you just brushed it off as him not being comfortable with PDA.

Even when you went on dates he'd buy the entire venue or restaurant out so it'd be just you two or would plan the nicest dates at the house, either way, no one saw you on dates as a couple.

You thought about it for a while before it finally ate you up and you just had to ask. His response was the reason shit went left.

“Whatchu mean let people know we’re together? Ion want people in our business. I'm yours and you're mine, that's all that matters” He brushed it off with a kiss on your forehead before running to go get some eggs around the corner. He was only gone for ten minutes yet in that time frame you went through hundreds of different reasons as to why he responded that way.

At first, you were confused. Then, you were trying to reassure yourself he's right as long as we know then we straight. But immediately after that thought came anger why the fuck doesn't he want people to know? Am I the fuckin side chick?

By the time Connie came back you were fuming. You trusted Connie, the night he asked you to be his he promised you he'd never do anything to hurt you yet you couldn't deny how suspicious this was. He barely had time to lock the door behind him before you started with your questions.

“You cheating on me Constance?”

“What?” He almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned, looking at you as if you had said the stupidest shit ever which in his mind you did.

“You heard me. Are you cheating?” You followed him into the kitchen of his apartment.

“No [☆] I'm not cheating. I needa take you to the ER? Cause it sounds like you hit your head while I was gone”

“Then why don't you wanna tell anyone?”

“About us?”

“Duh”

“I already told you, mami, I don't want people all up in our business”

That was two weeks ago and you guys were nowhere near in a better place. By no means were you insecure. You knew Connie loved you and only you but you wanted others to know as well. It's not like you wanted to leak one of your many sex tapes on IG. You just wanted at least your friend group to know you were together. Connie wasn't having it though.

“Mama lower your tone” He groaned. Inked hands rubbing his face from frustration.

“Just tell me, Con. Why don't you want anyone to know?”

“Is it wrong to wanna keep our relationship private? I love you princess but you buggin’ for real. Drop it”

“You know what. Fuck this, nd fuck you too. There's a big fucking difference between private and secret.” You slammed his bedroom door. This was too much. You couldn't take it anymore; it was as if he was ashamed of you. You loved Connie, you really, really loved him but this hurt, the constant drop of your heart whenever he let go of your hand the moment you stepped out of his apartment complex or whenever a girl flirted with him in front of the group but there was nothing you could do. You were done. No amount of love could make you settle for anything less than you knew you deserved.

Despite your teary eyes you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing your bag, you packed as much as possible before finally exiting the room.

Connie was in the middle of rolling a blunt when he saw you walk out, he would have been convinced that his heart was lying on the couch when he stood up if it wasn't for the loud thumping in his ears.

“Where are you going?” He stood in your way

“Connie please move” You sniffled

“No, not until you tell me where you're going. Please [☆] lo siento, mami, por favor, no te vayas please don't go” His voice cracked as reality hit him. Dropping to his knees, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips.

“I promise to be better, I promise. I will call everyone on my phone and tell them about us right now, please don't go” At this point, you had to look away. His tear-stricken face and Spanish almost had you fold.

“We'll work this out ma, estaré mejor, lo prometo I'll be better, I promise”

“No, we can't Connie. Not right now” And with that, you left.

A month had passed so far. It was rough in the beginning. He blew your phone up 24/7 to the point where you had to block him. You couldn't eat, and whenever you did have the energy to stay awake you did nothing but scroll on your phone, your thumb always finding the photo album where you stored all pictures of Connie.

Sasha and Mikasa finally had enough, while Mika was the only one you told Sasha had a pretty good idea after she went to visit Connie only to find him in the same state as you, maybe even worse. Deciding you needed to leave the walls of your apartment and have fun, they finally convinced you to go out. Taking a couple of pregame shots while shaking ass in the mirror, your outfit leaving nothing to the imagination as you finally felt ready to face reality.

By the time you had arrived at the party, the drinks started to kick in and you grabbed the first sexy guy you saw and dragged him to the dance floor.

Unknown to you Connie was also at the party, standing in the corner as he made a few deals. He looked tired, and he was. The moment the door closed behind you he broke down. Ignoring all of the calls and texts he got from clients as he sat there. He was angry. Angry at you for leaving him but mostly angry at himself for fucking up.

When Connie finally caught sight of you it was as if someone had finally flipped the switch on throughout his body. His heart sped up, his posture straightened and his dick twitched at the sight of your body in the dress.

His dick wasn't the only thing twitching. When it finally registered to Connie that you were letting some random guy touch you as you whined on him, his eye twitched and his hand immediately went to his gun.

He was furious. With zero fucks he approached you, the barrel of his gun pressed against the guy who you were currently throwing it back on.

When you no longer felt the swaying of the man behind you, you turned to be met with the fear-frozen stranger and Connie whispering something in his ear. You didn't have time to ask what was going on before the guy scurried off and Connie roughly grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the house party.

Despite the fact you were no longer together and he had no right to drag you away, you stayed quiet. Connie rarely got angry but when he did you knew it was best to just stay quiet.

“Get in the fucking car [☆]” He threw open the door. You were convinced the thong you had on was completely drenched after those six words. His voice was low and threatening and you almost felt disgusting from how turned on you were. Almost. With one look into his rage-filled eyes, you got in the car, the door slamming behind you when he was sure you were safely in.

He quickly got in, tire tracks marking the ground as he sped off. It was silent for a minute before you decided to speak, once his grip on the steering wheel loosened and the color returned to his knuckles.

“Connie?” You faced him, eyes burning into the side of his head as he kept his dark stare on the road.

“Connie, come on. You can't just kidnap me and then not speak. Pull over and talk to me now” You huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled into a deserted parking lot.

“Hello? Either you get to talking or I'm getting out nd calling an Uber”

“No the fuck you're not” He groaned loudly, eyes meeting yours.

“Then talk” You borderline yelled

If Connie's hair was long enough to grip he'd have a couple bald spots from how frustrated he was. He gave you both time to cool down before he spoke.

“Look I'm sorry for dragging you away, and for threatening your lil boyfriend-”

“He's not my boyfriend”

“He's not?”

“No. Continue your apology” You rolled your eyes.

Your response had a smirk forming on his face. He missed you so much, even your attitude.

“I missed you ma. I'm sorry for dragging you away. I'm also sorry for how things ended.” He grabbed your hand.

“I now understand your feelings and your concerns and I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I was ashamed of you or if there was another woman. You're the love of my life ma, this past month has been pure hell. I need you baby. Please take me back.” His hands were shaking as they held yours securely. It was rare to see Connie cry, and the sight of his tear-streaked face made your heart ache. He really did love you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you asked the one question that started it all.

“Be real Con. Why didn't you want anyone to know?”

With a sigh, he rubbed his facial hair.

“I was afraid you'd realize you could do better”

“What? What made you think that Con?”

“I sell drugs for a living, mami, I'm involved with a shit ton of dangerous people. I was afraid when others found out they'd start telling you things about me and you'd realize you can do so much better”

“Oh, Connie” You could no longer resist the need to be close to him. Maneuvering yourself so you sat in his lap you cupped his face as your eyes searched his.

“Papa there is no one better. I love you so much, Connie. There is nothing anyone could ever say to make me want or love you less because I know you. I know how much you care and love those around you. There is no one better, Connie.”

For some time, the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms as you faced your emotions.

When you both were calm, you finally dared to look into his eyes. The energy shift resembling the one from your birthday.

“Con” You slowly inched your face closer to his

“I'm sorry for all the hurt I put us through mami” His hand wrapped around your neck

“Déjame compensarte let me make it up to you” He closed the space between you.

It felt like the first breath taken after being underwater for a long time. You felt alive, felt loved. The once slow kiss grew into something more passionate. Both of you needy, as you fiend for dominance in the heated exchange.

Ultimately you lost the battle when his hands gripped your hips tightly as if to assure himself you weren't leaving again. It wasn't soon after that you found yourself in the back of his car with your legs resting on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

He littered kisses on your ankle as his grip on your hips tightened. His thick cock stretching you out had your eyes rolling back and moans of ecstasy coming out of your agape mouth.

“Yeah? You doing so good fa me ma. You miss this? Miss how good I fuck you?” His thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Connie” You whined. Attempting to push his hand away from the sensitive bud.

“Answer me princesa or ima stop” He warned

“Yes, Connie- mhmph I miss it so bad papi oh my god” Your velvety walls squeezed him tight.

"Fuuuck. Don't ever leave me again, you hear me? I can't take it, baby, I love you too much. T-try that shit again nd Imma make you watch while I put a bullet in between his eyes. Understand?” His pace increased.

God that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. You were convinced you could have come on the spot, the added pressure on your carotids when you didn't answer immediately wasn't any help.

“Y-yes Con, I promise it won't happen again” You managed to say in between the moans and whimpers that you no longer had the energy to contain.

“Keep squeezing me, mami. I'm so fuckin close” He groaned, hand no longer on your neck as it rested against the steamy windows to stable himself.

The atmosphere of the car was pure filth. Your moans bounced off the windows, the sloshing sound of your wet pussy and slapping skin that created the creamy ring around the base of cock topping it all off.

His thrusts were slowly getting sloppy, you were just squeezing him so tight.

“C-Con” You managed to gasp out, the marks he littered on your neck to suppress his whimpers, having the coil in your belly tighten.

“I know mama, let go fa me” He groaned.

That instant you came, eyes rolling to the back of your head for a quick second as your cream and small spurts of squirt leaked from your pussy.

“Shit mama” He panted, dick twitching as he painted your walls with his cum.

Connie being the lover boy he was despite repeatedly denying it whispered apologies, and sweet promises into your ear as you came down from your high.

“I'm sorry mami, I promise to be better” He kissed you softly as if you were in a fairytale before whispering in your ear.

“But don't think just cus we're good now, that I'm not gon tear that ass up when we get home for giving that loser a taste of what's mine.”

I dont know how i feel about this one buuutttt all thanks to @masterofthepp for giving me this idea. Hopefully it meets your standards babes. As always any feedback is welcome. mwah

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d-emeter · 2 months ago

Text

Simon Riley who loves to watch you shower (though not in the way you think). — plus-size!fem!reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley

CW: plus-sized reader but can be read as body neutral, non-sexual nudity, simon being smitten

You're not sure when it became a habit, but you remember the first time it happened. You had announced you were going to take a shower, and Simon had sprung up, asking if he could quickly brush his teeth before you went in there. You snorted a little at that, telling him he could do it while you were showering — he'd seen you naked plenty of times before, you didn't even think twice about it. And always one to follow an order, he did as he was told.

It took you a second to notice how he had stilled his movements, toothbrush still hanging from his mouth and his eyes focused on you through the mirror as it slowly fogged up.

"Something wrong, Si?"

"N'thin, baby, jus' do y'r thing."

It became almost ritual not long after that. If Simon spotted you with a fresh set of clothes in your arms, he padded over to the bathroom behind you, not a word exchanged. He'd sit on the closed toilet seat, insisting you left the shower door open.

"Si, the whole bathroom's gonna get wet..."

"Don't matter. I'll dry it after."

And then he just... watches. In complete silence, he just gazes at you. Watching how you wash your hair (doing it twice, because someone on social media told you it was better for your hair), inhaling deeply as the scent of your shampoo fills the air. He watches how you work the conditioner in, letting it sit while you continue with the next step of your routine. He watches you scrub away with a washcloth, suds covering your skin before rinsing it all off under the hot water. He particularly enjoys what you call your 'everything showers'. If you're in the mood to shave, he wants you to put your foot up on the toilet seat, right between his thighs — he'll handle the hard to see parts, lovie, don't worry about it. He's a little confused about the concept of scrub, but you have no problem babbling an explanation as you rub it all over your body (you find a whole array of newly acquired shower products the day after — scrubs included). He's still watching when you get out, how you dab yourself dry instead of rubbing, almost hypnotized as you smear serum after serum and layer cream after cream on your face and body.

"No fuckin' wonder your skin is so soft- Y'got a whole apothecary in here."

"What, you think this happens naturally?"

—

The first time he actually joins you, he doesn't really know how to get the question out. It's a day and a half after he came back from deployment, and as much as you would have loved to smother him in affection, you knew he needed time. Time to ground himself, to stop seeing the blood on his hands even after scrubbing them raw, to go from being Ghost to being Simon. He's been holed up in the bedroom since he came home, and only moves to leave once he hears the bathroom door open. You only smile at him when he appears in the doorway, assuming he'd take his usual seat. He doesn't. Instead, he's gesturing awkwardly to the shower. You know what he means.

"Can I- D'you mind if-"

"Of course you can, Si."

You're gentle with him; coaxing him out of his clothes and mask, turning the shower on and letting it get to temperature before guiding him in with you. He's stiff as a board still, but you see the small exhale at the hot water hitting his skin. You reach for his shampoo (the one you picked out for him — you nearly broke up with him when you first saw the single 5-in-1 bottle he had in his bathroom), but he's faster, grabbing your own and handing it to you, and you know what he wants. You don't say a word as you squeeze some onto your palm, and go to reach up when you realize-

"Simon, baby, could you bend down a little? I can't reach..."

He's on his knees before you know it. His eyes close when your hands start working through his hair — it's longer than when he left. His hands find their way to your thighs. You know he doesn't need it for balance. His forehead rests against the pudge of your stomach as you rinse him out. You can still see the remnants of his eyeblack when you tilt his head up.

You take him through your whole routine. He lets you wash him before you take care of yourself — he just watches, like second nature.

You know you have your Simon back once you turn the water off.

#this becomes a regular occurrence too and then he starts insisting on everything showers too #the whole shebang #he's making you shave and scrub him and WILL want to try out your facemasks #texts soap saying he feels like a whole new man and has he ever tried mango-scented body lotion before? it's fucking fantastic mate #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod mw2 #cod x reader #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #ghost x you

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whateveriwant · 1 year ago

Note

Can you please do Task force 141 finding out they’re having quintuplets! I’d imagine that they wouldn’t plan to have that many….at least not all at once 🧍‍♀️

Ghost

When the technician points out the five distinct dots on the ultrasound, he immediately goes dead silent

I mean, he's always pretty quiet anyway, but this is like quiet quiet

He doesn't utter a single word for the rest of the appointment, nor on the ride back home for that matter

This has you more concerned than you care to admit because you know that, not that long ago, he didn't think he'd ever have (much less want) kids of his own some day

So now that he's learned he's about to have five? You can't imagine what's going through his mind right now

It isn't until you're walking through the front door that you're being stopped with a gentle hand tugging on your wrist

You turn to look at him and, without a word, he drops to his knees before you, rolling up the bottom of your shirt to expose your belly

He'll press the softest of kisses just beside your navel, before looking up at you with expressive eyes that convey the foremost thought in his head: Thank you

Soap

Nearly shits a brick the moment the words leave the technician's mouth

All the color swiftly drains from his face and he has to sit down before he keels over right in the middle of the office

It's not so much fear that has him going paper white but pure shock at hearing the unexpected (yet not unhappy) news

While you'd already discussed having a big family together one day, you didn't think you'd get it done in one fell swoop

However, maybe you should've seen it coming since you both come from families that have had multiples

The possibility of this happening was decently high, so in a way, you're not all that surprised by the revelation

Once he's composed himself and is a little less ghostly pale in the face, he's eagerly requesting the technician to print out an excessive number of copies of the ultrasound

Why? Well, he's gotta send them to everyone, of course! His family, your family, all the lads at work. Hell, maybe your neighbor Charlie would like one too. Better print several just in case

Gaz

"C– Come again?" He thinks he misheard the technician at first

However, even hearing it a second time, he has to stand up, round the bed, and get about an inch away from the monitor to confirm for himself

It's almost comical the way his eyes widen at the screen, darting around the black and white image like he can't comprehend what he's seeing

It'll take some coaxing to get him back in his seat, and as he does, you hear him mumbling to himself – something about nappies, never sleeping again, and *shudders* University

At some point, out of the corner of your eye, you see him messing with his hands

He's putting his palm in front of his own stomach then drawing it about a foot or two away, as if trying to visualize the size your belly is destined to grow

Even when you get back home, it's like reality hasn't fully hit him yet

It's not until you find him at 2am looking up double decker prams that you realize it's finally starting to sink in, and he's more than ready for the challenge ahead

Price

Seems awfully calm when the technician breaks the news to you two

Based on his reaction – a light smile and mere "Oh, that's wonderful" – you'd think he'd just been informed of the weather or something

To be honest, his reaction (or lack thereof) is a little disarming, but you don't comment on it until you're buckling up in the car, mentioning his seeming total lack of nerves about the future

He chuckles and jokes that he already has to look after three big kids at work. What's five little ones at home to compare?

Though you think you can see what he's getting at, his cool-headedness about it all still has you in a bit of a tizzy

Is he not even a little surprised by the news? After all, it's not every day that people fall pregnant with quintuplets

At your question, he smiles and leans to press a bristly kiss to the back of your hand. When he pulls back, he's smirking, giving you the smuggest look you've ever seen from a man

"Told you I've got strong swimmers, love"

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3amfanfiction · 2 months ago

Note

May I politely and desperately request daddaughter Simon x reader? It doesn’t exist and I’m in despair. Not fauxcest/stepcest as that just doesn’t hit the spot

Nonnie you sent this less than a week ago and i can now present you with 2.7k of dad!simon incest. you're welcome, lovely <33 You should also check out santaprice for some more dad!simon x reader works. A lot of her works are sweet and horny.

Synopsis: dad!Simon stops you from heading to a date and has you hang out with him instead.

Cw: incest

Come Sit On My Lap

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice rumbled out of the darkened living room causing your heart to leap into your throat. You whirled around, diverted from your trek towards the door.

"Dad! You're home," you exclaimed happily, a smile creeping across your face as you made out his shadowy form sitting in his recliner, tucked back into the far corner where he could see everything.

It's where you'd normally find him after coming home from a deployment. Still too tightly strung to find rest in a bed, the position far too vulnerable. So he'd post up in his big, comfortable chair instead. It allowed him a clear line of sight of the entryway while also letting him find some sort of rest if he could manage to doze in the plush cushioning.

"Mmm. I'm home and the first thing I see is you trying to sneak out of the house, how's that for a welcome?"

"First off, I'm an adult. I wasn't sneaking out of the house. I just didn't realize you were back," an admonishing smile peeked out as you made your way into the darkened living room, "second off, what if I was sneaking out? What're you going to do? Ground me?"

"Well, I guess that depends on why you were sneaking out. Going to meet up with a boy, were you?" he asked, giving you an obvious up-down and judging your attire. You smiled and gave a little twirl, showing off your new dress you had bought for just this occasion.

"I am, actually," you smoothed a hand down the skirt, making sure it was laying correctly, "seeing a guy, that is."

You didn't notice in the dark but your Dad's face grew stony, no emotion finding it's way from behind his eyes. It was like the whole room was holding it's breath for a split second.

"Is that so?" he took a drink of the amber liquid sitting next to him, "Why don't you come over here, let me see you better."

Not seeing any reason to argue you made your way over, coming to a stop directly in front of him. He gave a little 'spin around' motion with his finger which made you laugh before you complied, spinning on the ball of one foot to allow the skirt to flair out ever so slightly with your movement.

When you came to a stop facing him once more you smiled in delight, not noticing the predatory look in his eyes. What you did notice was him leaning forward and grasping your waist.

"Dad?"

With a sharp tug he pulled you into his lap, legs over the arm of the chair as your shoulder and side pressed into his abdomen.

"Dad! What are you—what are you doing?" you gasped in surprise, putting your hands on his shoulders to try and stabilize yourself. It had been years since you'd sat on his lap but you fit just as well now as you did back then.

One thing about your dad was he was always larger than life. This behemoth that never let anything get in his way. It had never failed to comfort you. If there was a problem you knew he could handle it, you only had to ask and it would be taken care of. It went to your head sometimes.

You tried to pull your legs down but he wrapped a large arm over your knees, placing a work-roughened palm against the outside of your thigh, holding you in place.

"Who's this boy you're going to see?" he ignored your slight squirming as he encased you in his arms, his other going behind your back to pin support you.

You settled down after a moment, accepting this would be your position for the next little bit. You relaxed into him, letting him take your weight and rested your head on his shoulder, forehead tucked into the crook of his neck as you looked down at your hands placed in your lap. You started to twiddle your fingers.

"I don't know, just someone who I've been talking to. He's been really sweet so we were going to go to a drive-in tonight to watch a movie."

He didn't say anything for a moment, just sat and held you, resting his cheek ever so slightly against the top of your head. You thought you heard him sniff your hair but that must've been a mistake.

The silence prompted you to fill it.

"He's been really nice to me, I think you'd like him," you tried, unsure of this thing that was hovering in the air but trying to inject some normalcy into the conversation. "He's been excited about seeing this movie with me all week."

"Of course he has," your dad scoffs in admonishment making your shoulders rise towards your ears for a split second before you lowered them again, "a drive-in is where you go to fuck your date."

"Dad!"

"It's the truth and if you're too naive to see it you won't be going tonight." You tried to pull away so you could sit up and look at him but he just cradled you tighter, fully tucked into his warm body.

"Well maybe I want that tonight, have you thought of that?" you sputtered your rebuttal into his chest but tried anyways. You felt your face heating talking about this with your dad but he was the one who started it.

And besides. It was true, you did want something to happen tonight. You'd been thinking about it all day and you were slick between the thighs even now. While getting ready you had touched yourself over you panties, teasing yourself with a glimpse of what was to come—working yourself up. The slick slide of your thighs reminded you of your debauchery with every move.

And now your dad was trying to cockblock you.

You pouted down towards your lap, safe in the assurance he couldn't see you.

"Pouting about how badly you want it?" You jerked in surprise, how did he always know what you were doing? "Want someone between your thighs tonight, you little whore?"

~~~

"I don't—that's so inappropriate," Simon smiled as you stuttered, clearly unsure of what was happening. He'd never acted this way before and watching you flounder had him chubbing up in his pants, blood rushing south at your sense of propriety.

He was going to enjoy pushing you tonight.

It was your own fault for coming out looking like that.

" 'S not inappropriate. It's a fathers job to take care of their kids, no matter what that looks like," his hand rubbed back and forth against the warm skin of your outer thigh. It felt silken under his fingertips. "If you need someone to deal with your whining cunt then so be it. I'll be handling it."

He felt you clench your thighs together tightly at his quiet commandment that he would be addressing your problems. He knew how it turned you on when he was competent. He'd seen you shuffle in your seat or excuse yourself to your room when he took care of things for you.

Your pussy was going to be included on that list.

His hand came around to rest at the seam halfway between your knee and hip, his wide palm covering a good portion of skin. He didn't press, just slowly stroked his thumb along the soft plushness, waiting for you to open up, to let him in.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered, grasping at straws "this is wrong."

That finally got him to let you sit up. Still with one arm behind you he grasped your chin with his other, turning you to look into his eyes, unable to look away. They were inky black pools in this shadowed corner—watching everything and allowing nothing to slip past.

"There is nothing wrong with pleasure. I'm not the kind of father to sit back and watch his kid hurting." He watched as your eyes darted down to his lips before looking away. Felt the heat of your face against his fingertips. "I don't want you getting hurt by some overeager little shit rutting like a beast between your legs."

"I don't—Dad . . ."

Even now you looked to him for guidance. It went to his head how trusting you were, looking to him to help you out of this situation he was placing you in. He'd help. Make no mistake about it.

"I know, sweetheart," he cooed condescendingly as his thumb raised to trace along your lower lip, a wave of heat rushing through him when your tongue subconsciously followed the path his thumb took. When it caught up to the digit he knew he was gone. The wet give of the muscle against his skin was unlike anything he'd felt before.

You were such a fucking slag.

He held himself back from shifting his hips to rub against you through pure force of will. He wouldn't scare you off just yet, not when the reward was sitting right in front of him, waiting to be coaxed into his hand, sweet as you please.

"I thought that I raised a good girl. But you haven't been one, have you? It seems like when I'm away you turn into quite the little slut. I bet if I reached between your legs right now, played with those cute panties you have on, I'd find you dripping, wouldn't I?"

You didn't respond to that, your eyes darting away in shame as you tried to pull your chin free. Simon tightened his grip to keep you pinned facing him. He drank up your discomfort with delight. He wanted you to make that same face when you were tucked underneath him.

"No need to be shy now, after all you wouldn't have been shy once you got to the movies. Go on then, prove me wrong. Show me you're not wetter than a whore right now."

He watched tears fill your eyes as you valiantly fought not to let them spill over your lashline while you squirmed in discomfort. He was fully hard at this point and every movement you made rubbed his cock between his own leg and the fat of your ass. It took everything in him not to toss you to the floor in that moment and crawl between your legs.

He had to fight to keep his breathing steady as your legs slowly parted giving him access to the treasure housed between.

Maintaining eye contact he dropped his palm down to your knee, squeezing in a mockery of comfort before slowly trailing up the inside of your thigh. You radiated heat, soaking into his skin with every slow inch climbed. He listened to your hitched breathing with delight knowing he was the one causing such reactions.

When he reached your apex he was greeted with exactly what he'd been expecting.

"It seems I've raised a whore."

That caused the tears to finally spill as you denied it fervently. You tried to push his arm away but it was useless. He had you in the palm of his hand and he had no intention of letting go now. You closed your thighs around his hand, trying to protect your center but only pinning him firmly against you.

"I don't know why I expected anything else—everyone knows your mother was a slag so it's my own fault for thinking you'd be any different.

"Dad, please!" you cried, holding onto his forearm now that it was clear you weren't going to be able to push him away. "Please don't be mean to me."

You always were his sensitive little girl, weren't you. Couldn't stand a harsh word spoken to you without breaking down into tears. He was gratified that same reaction remained even now. He wondered how far he could push you before you would sob.

A goal for next time.

"You don't want to be called a whore? You want to be my good girl instead?" —you nodded firmly— "Then spread your legs for me, let me see this cunt that won't quit crying on my fingers."

You sniffled as you reluctantly opened your legs giving him free range. So obedient. Maybe he did raise you right.

Now with room to properly explore he dragged firm fingers up the indent of your slit, enjoying the texture of the soaked fabric against his skin. Watching you give an aborted twitch of your hips sent heat racing down his spine. He wanted you making those twitches while speared open on his cock. He wanted to feel every muscle spasm and hitched hips you'd give him. Pulling the wet fabric to the side he repeated the motion skin-on-skin.

Your whimpering moan was musical.

"You say you're not a whore but you sound like that when I get my fingers on you? Your own dad?" He scoffed deridingly, "you must think I was born yesterday."

"I'm not a whore," you insisted with a gasp, hips moving like you were unsure if you wanted to press closer or pull further away. "It's just—it feels really good," you ended on a mumble, ashamed.

"Feels good, hmm?" Simon smirked to himself, "well let's see what else feels good for this needy cunt."

Moving down he wasted no time pressing one finger in to the knuckle, entranced at the lack of resistance. Your body practically sucked it up inside it was so greedy. He watched the faces you made as he stroked at your sensitive insides, his callouses adding a delightful roughness to the sensation.

It was the work of minutes to have continuous moans falling from your mouth as you humped his hand—the wet squelch of his fingers a counter-tune. By this point your slickness was all the way to his wrist, smearing down onto his clothed thigh—staining the fabric with your essence.

He watched with avarice as you grew closer to your peak.

"I need to cum."

That was the best you could do? No, he wasn't going to let you off the hook that easily. It was clear you'd been suffering from a lack of discipline since he was gone so often. If he wanted to correct your behavior it would start here.

"That was pathetic. Try again."

"Dad," you cried, whether from your encroaching orgasm or from his harsh words who knew, "please, I need it. Please make me cum."

"Still not quite there, try again."

He watched you scramble trying to find the right words, trying to figure out what he wanted to hear in order to let you cum. He wasn't going to help you, not when those pretty, pleading eyes went straight to his cock.

"I—I'm sorry for being such a whore," you tried, mumbling it quietly under your breath.

"I couldn't hear you. Did you say you wanted me to stop?" he slowed his fingers and began to withdraw them.

"No!" you choked, clawing at his arm as if you were trying to sink your nails in and hold him in place, "I'm sorry I'm such a slut."

"—who gets wet with her daddy's fingers inside her."

"I can't—" he shifted his fingers again, "who gets wet with my daddy's fingers inside me," you finished quickly, shame coating your voice.

"There we go, that wasn't so hard now was it?"

Getting what he wanted he returned to his motions with purpose, bringing you to the edge of your orgasm within moments. With one last twist of his fingers he sent you over the edge, falling into the abyss that was him.

He watched your face as you fell, drinking in the parted lips and unseeing eyes. This was something to remember. The first time he made his baby fall apart on his fingers.

It certainly wouldn't be the last.

Easing you down gently he tucked you back into the crook of his neck as the last aftershocks raced their way through your trembling muscles.

"Look at that, seems you've missed your movie. I guess you'll have to stay home with me instead." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, "Let's head to bed. I know just the thing to tire me out so I can get some sleep."

#cw incest #dad!simon x daughter!reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you

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bratzkoo · 5 months ago

Text

barely yours | mingyu pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 5.4k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for this chapter only) Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot, AGAIN. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs

find other parts here! pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes. The lead vocalist and leader of HHT stood before her, his usually melodic voice now tight with concern and something that sounded like barely contained frustration.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware of the curious glances from passing employees. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of her father's company.

"Not here," she hissed, grabbing Seungcheol's arm and pulling him towards an empty conference room. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could physically block out the complications that were piling up around her.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol demanded as soon as they were alone. "Mingyu showed up at our dorm this morning looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He's refusing to talk to anyone, and we have that radio interview in a few hours."

Y/N closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She'd been so focused on protecting herself that she hadn't considered how her decision might affect the band. "I... we ended things," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up. "Ended things? I didn't realize there were 'things' to end. I thought you two were just..."

"Fooling around?" Y/N supplied bitterly. "Yeah, well, it turns out feelings don't always follow the rules we set for them."

Understanding dawned on Seungcheol's face, followed quickly by sympathy. "You fell for him."

It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded anyway. "I did. And when I tried to talk to him about it, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more. So I ended it."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Mingyu when he was stressed. "Shit, Y/N. This is... complicated."

"You think I don't know that?" Y/N snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. And now my father wants me to take a more active role in managing you guys, and I-"

"Wait, what?" Seungcheol interrupted. "You're going to be our manager?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not exactly. He wants me to be more involved in the management side of things. Apparently, I 'understand your demographic' better than the older executives."

Seungcheol let out a low whistle. "Talk about adding fuel to the fire. How are you going to manage that with... everything else going on?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, slumping into one of the conference room chairs. "I never wanted this, Cheol. Any of it. I was happy being the party girl, the CEO's wild child. It was easier."

Seungcheol took the seat next to her, his expression softening. "Maybe it was easier, but was it really what you wanted? Because the Y/N I know is smart, talented, and more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It had been a long time since someone had seen her as more than just a pretty face or a potential scandal. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Seungcheol reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this, Y/N. The band... we care about you. Both you and Mingyu."

At the mention of Mingyu's name, Y/N felt her heart clench. "How is he, really?"

Seungcheol sighed. "He's hurting. I've never seen him like this before. Whatever was between you two... I don't think it was as casual for him as he let on."

Y/N's head snapped up, hope and confusion warring in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Seungcheol said carefully, "that maybe you two need to have an actual conversation. One where you both be honest about your feelings."

"I tried that," Y/N protested. "He laughed it off."

"And you immediately ended things instead of pushing the issue," Seungcheol pointed out gently. "Look, I'm not taking sides here. You're both my friends. But I think there's more to this story than either of you are seeing right now."

Y/N wanted to argue, to defend her decision. But a small part of her wondered if Seungcheol might be right. Had she been too hasty? Too afraid of rejection to really hear what Mingyu was saying – or not saying?

Before she could respond, Seungcheol's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grimaced. "That's our manager. I need to go wrangle the guys for this interview." He stood, then hesitated. "Y/N, promise me you'll think about what I said. And maybe... maybe come to our studio session tomorrow? We could use your input on some of the new tracks."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Seungcheol reached the door, she found her voice. "Cheol? Thank you. For everything."

He flashed her a warm smile. "That's what friends are for. Just... don't let fear make your decisions for you, okay?"

As the door closed behind him, Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling. She'd thought ending things with Mingyu would simplify her life, but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Now she had a broken heart, a new job she wasn't sure she wanted, and the possibility that she'd misunderstood everything about her relationship with Mingyu.

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a message from her father:

"Meeting with HHT's team tomorrow at 10 AM. Be there."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face Mingyu, the band, and her new responsibilities all at once. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

As she left the conference room and made her way out of the building, Y/N made a decision. She would go to the studio session tomorrow, as Seungcheol had suggested. She would face her fears head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to have that honest conversation with Mingyu. Because if there was even a chance that he felt the same way...

Well, that was a risk she might just be willing to take.

Y/N stood outside the studio door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear muffled voices and the faint strains of music from inside. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her blazer and steeled herself. Today, she wasn't Hwang Y/N, the party girl with a broken heart. She was Hwang Y/N, the professional, here to do a job.

With that thought firmly in mind, she pushed open the door.

The chatter inside the studio immediately died down as she entered. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, but she only allowed herself to focus on one – Seungcheol's. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"Good morning, everyone," Y/N said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be sitting in on your session today. My father thinks it would be beneficial for me to have a more hands-on role in the creative process."

She deliberately avoided looking at Mingyu, who she could sense was staring at her intently from his position by the guitar rack.

Vernon was the first to break the awkward silence. "Cool, always good to have a fresh pair of ears. We're working on the bridge for the title track. Want to hear what we've got so far?"

Y/N nodded gratefully, taking a seat next to the sound engineer. As the music started playing, she allowed herself to get lost in the melody, analyzing the composition and arrangement. This, at least, was familiar territory. She'd always had a good ear for music, even if she'd never pursued it professionally.

As the song progressed, she found herself nodding along, impressed by the intricate harmonies and the way Seungcheol's powerful vocals blended with the instrumental. But something was off in the bridge – the guitar riff didn't quite mesh with the rest of the arrangement.

When the song ended, Y/N cleared her throat. "That was great, guys. Really solid work. But I think the bridge needs some tweaking. The guitar part feels a bit... disjointed."

She saw Mingyu stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on Seungcheol.

"What do you suggest?" Wonwoo asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "Maybe if we simplified the riff a bit? Something that complements Seungcheol's vocals rather than competing with them."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mingyu spoke for the first time. "And what would you know about composing guitar parts?"

His tone was cold, almost challenging. Y/N finally allowed herself to look at him, keeping her expression neutral despite the way her heart raced at the sight of him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still unfairly handsome.

"I may not be a guitarist," Y/N replied evenly, "but I know what sounds good. And right now, that bridge doesn't flow with the rest of the song."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol cut him off. "She's right, Gyu. I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn't put my finger on why it wasn't working. Let's try simplifying it."

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might argue further. But then he shrugged, turning back to his guitar. "Fine. Let's hear your ideas then, Y/N."

The way he said her name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, made Y/N wince internally. But she pushed through, working with the band to refine the bridge. To her surprise, once they got past the initial awkwardness, the creative process flowed smoothly. Even Mingyu, despite his obvious reluctance, contributed valuable ideas.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself relaxing into her role. She offered suggestions on vocal arrangements, helped fine-tune lyrics, and even hummed out a melody idea that Vernon quickly turned into a catchy hook for their b-side track.

It wasn't until their manager called for a lunch break that the comfortable bubble of creativity burst. As the others filed out of the studio, chatting about where to grab food, Y/N hung back, gathering her notes. She was so focused on avoiding being alone with Mingyu that she didn't notice Seungcheol had stayed behind until he spoke.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Y/N looked up, offering him a small smile. "No, it wasn't. You guys are incredibly talented. It's... it's an honor to work with you like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened. "You're good at this, Y/N. Really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing music production?"

She shook her head. "Not really. It was always just a hobby. Besides, my father has other plans for me."

"Maybe it's time to make your own plans," Seungcheol suggested gently. Then, after a pause, "Mingyu was watching you, you know. When you weren't looking."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "We have to work together now. It's bound to be awkward for a while."

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, the studio door opened and Mingyu walked in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot my phone."

The tension in the room was palpable as Mingyu retrieved his phone from beside his guitar. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on her notes, hyper-aware of his every movement.

As he turned to leave, Mingyu paused. "The bridge sounds better now," he said stiffly, not quite looking at Y/N. "Good call."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol squeezed her shoulder supportively. "Give it time. And maybe... maybe try talking to him? Outside of work?"

Y/N shook her head firmly. "No. It's better this way. Clean break, professional distance. It's the only way this can work."

As they left the studio to join the others for lunch, Y/N repeated those words in her head like a mantra. Professional distance. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong? -

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with tension, the usual easy banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of instruments being tuned. Seungcheol watched as Mingyu stole yet another glance at Y/N, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as she reviewed some paperwork in the corner. The leader of HHT sighed inwardly, knowing that something had to give.

For weeks now, Seungcheol had noticed the change in dynamics between Mingyu and Y/N. The playful flirtation that had once been a constant source of amusement (and occasional exasperation) for the band had vanished, replaced by awkward silences and stilted interactions. It was more than just personal drama – it was affecting the band's chemistry, and as the leader, Seungcheol knew he had to do something.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Seungcheol called out, hoping that focusing on the music might alleviate some of the tension.

As they launched into their latest single, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how Mingyu's usually flawless guitar work seemed off. The tall guitarist kept missing cues, his rhythm slightly out of sync with the rest of the band. Every time this happened, Mingyu's eyes would dart to Y/N, as if seeking her reaction, only to quickly look away when he realized she wasn't even watching.

Y/N, for her part, seemed determined to focus solely on her work. She sat in the corner, ostensibly reviewing marketing reports, but Seungcheol noticed how her pen hadn't moved on the page for the past ten minutes. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her gaze would flicker to Mingyu, a mixture of longing and hurt in her eyes.

After an hour of subpar practice, Seungcheol called for a break. As the other members dispersed, grabbing water bottles and checking their phones, he pulled Vernon and Wonwoo aside.

"We need to talk about the Mingyu-Y/N situation," he said in a low voice, guiding them to a quiet corner of the room.

Vernon nodded, relief evident on his face. "Thank god someone said it. The tension is killing me. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells every time they're in the same room."

Wonwoo frowned, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of strain. "It's affecting our performance too. Did you hear Mingyu during that bridge? I've never heard him miss those notes before."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up when stressed. "I know. That's why we need to do something. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help."

As Seungcheol outlined his plan, Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief while Wonwoo's narrowed in thought.

"Fake dating?" Vernon whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mingyu wasn't within earshot. "Isn't that a bit… I don't know, dramatic?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But subtle hasn't been working. Those two are too stubborn for their own good. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "It could work. But are you sure Y/N will agree to it?"

"Leave Y/N to me," Seungcheol said, a determined glint in his eye. "For now, I need you two to help set the stage. Can I count on you?"

Both Vernon and Wonwoo nodded, though Vernon still looked a bit uncertain. As they broke apart, returning to their instruments, none of them noticed Mingyu watching them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Later that week, Y/N was working late in her office, the soft glow of her desk lamp the only light in the room. She rubbed her eyes, tired from staring at spreadsheets all day. As she reached for her coffee mug, a soft knock on the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair.

Seungcheol poked his head in, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Got a minute?"

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to sit. "What's up, Cheol? Is everything okay with the band?"

Seungcheol settled into the chair across from her, his usually relaxed posture tense. "Yes and no. The band is fine, but… well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "If this is about Mingyu-"

"It is," Seungcheol cut in gently. "But not in the way you might think. I have a… proposition for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath. "Look, we've all noticed the tension between you two. It's affecting the band, and frankly, I hate seeing you both so miserable."

"I'm not-" Y/N started to protest, but Seungcheol held up a hand.

"Y/N, come on. We've known each other too long for that. You're not happy, and neither is Mingyu. But you're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Y/N slumped back in her chair, the fight going out of her. "What am I supposed to do, Cheol? He made it clear he doesn't want anything serious. I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if we gave Mingyu a taste of his own medicine? What if… we pretended to date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? Cheol, that's crazy. Why would we-"

"To make Mingyu jealous," Seungcheol interrupted. "Look, I've known Mingyu for years. He's stubborn and proud, but he cares about you. A lot. I think seeing you with someone else might be the push he needs to confront his feelings."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. The idea was tempting, but… "But what about the band? And my position? Wouldn't it complicate things even more?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But it could also solve our Mingyu problem. Plus, it might help deflect some of the pressure from your dad about taking things seriously. Dating the lead singer of HHT? That's a power move in the industry."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I care about both of you," Seungcheol said sincerely. "And I hate seeing you two dance around each other like this. So, what do you say? Want to be my fake girlfriend?"

After a moment of hesitation, Y/N nodded. "Okay. Let's do it. But we need to set some ground rules…"

Over the next few days, Seungcheol and Y/N put their plan into action. They started small - sitting closer during meetings, sharing inside jokes, leaving together after practice. The other band members, clued in by Seungcheol, played along perfectly.

Vernon, ever the actor, would waggle his eyebrows suggestively whenever he saw them together. Wonwoo, more subtle in his approach, would casually mention how much time Seungcheol and Y/N had been spending together lately.

Mingyu, however, was oblivious to the plan. At first, he barely seemed to notice the change in dynamics. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, alternating between trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Y/N and convincing himself he didn't care.

But as the days passed, little things started to catch his attention. The way Seungcheol's hand would linger on Y/N's back as they walked into a room. The inside jokes they seemed to share, leaving the rest of the group puzzled. The fact that Y/N was suddenly at every practice session, even when she didn't need to be.

During one particularly grueling practice, Mingyu fumbled a guitar riff he'd played perfectly a hundred times before. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was laughing at something Seungcheol had whispered in her ear. The sound of her laughter, once a source of joy for Mingyu, now felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Dude, you okay?" Vernon asked, concern evident in his voice.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, just… distracted."

Vernon followed Mingyu's gaze to where Seungcheol and Y/N were huddled together, looking at something on Y/N's phone. "They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Mingyu grunted noncommittally, but his grip on his guitar tightened. "I guess. Not that it's any of my business."

Vernon raised an eyebrow at that but didn't push further. As they resumed practice, he exchanged a meaningful look with Wonwoo. Their plan was working, perhaps a little too well.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu's mood grew increasingly sour. He snapped at staff members over minor mistakes, isolated himself during breaks, and threw himself into his music with an almost manic intensity. His songwriting, always emotionally charged, took on a darker, more melancholic tone.

One evening, after a particularly tense practice session, Wonwoo found Mingyu alone in the studio, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"New song?" Wonwoo asked, settling into a chair nearby.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It's… it's about letting go of something you never really had."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up at that. "Sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might open up. But then he shook his head, slamming the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just… exploring some new themes."

As Mingyu stood to leave, Wonwoo called out, "You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to us. We're not just your bandmates, we're your friends."

Mingyu paused at the door, his back to Wonwoo. "I know," he said softly. "But some things… some things you have to figure out on your own."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wonwoo to wonder if perhaps their plan was causing more harm than good.

The situation finally came to a head at a company party celebrating HHT's latest album going platinum. The event was in full swing, the cream of the K-pop industry mingling in a high-end Seoul nightclub.

Mingyu arrived late, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent hours agonizing over whether to attend, knowing Y/N would be there. In the end, his pride (and a strongly worded text from their manager) had won out.

He froze in the doorway as he spotted Y/N and Seungcheol on the dance floor. Y/N was wearing a stunning red dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Seungcheol, looking handsome in a well-fitted suit, had his hand on her waist as they moved in perfect sync to the music.

Something snapped inside Mingyu. He stormed over to the bar, downing a shot of soju before grabbing another. As he watched Y/N throw her head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, a series of memories flashed through Mingyu's mind:

Y/N's shy smile the first time they met at a company event. The electricity he felt the first time they kissed, hidden away in a dark corner of a after-party. Late nights spent talking about their dreams and fears, sharing parts of themselves they'd never shown anyone else. The way Y/N's eyes lit up when she listened to his new songs, always the first to offer genuine feedback and encouragement.

And then, more recent memories: The hurt in Y/N's eyes when he'd laughed off her suggestion of something more serious. The growing distance between them, a chasm he hadn't known how to bridge. The ache he felt every time he saw her now, an ache he'd tried to ignore, to rationalize away as mere physical attraction.

But seeing her now, radiant and happy in another man's arms, Mingyu could no longer deny the truth. He was in love with Y/N. Truly, madly, deeply, irrevocably in love. And he might have just lost her to his best friend.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. The glass in Mingyu's hand shattered, startling nearby partygoers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Y/N, beautiful and radiant, looking at Seungcheol with an affection that used to be reserved for him.

As staff rushed to tend to his injured hand, Mingyu's eyes met Y/N's across the room. The concern in her gaze was almost more than he could bear. In that moment, Mingyu knew he had to fight for her, to tell her how he really felt, before it was too late.

But first, he had some serious groveling to do. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to turn his pain into the most heartfelt song he'd ever written.

As he allowed himself to be led away for medical attention, Mingyu's mind was already racing with lyrics, a melody forming that he hoped would convey everything he'd been too afraid to say. He'd messed up, pushed away the best thing in his life out of fear and stubbornness. But if there was even a chance that Y/N still cared for him, he'd move heaven and earth to win her back.

Little did Mingyu know, across the room, Y/N was fighting every instinct to run to him, her heart breaking at the pain evident in his eyes. As Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly, Y/N wondered if their plan had worked a little too well. -

Y/N went home to her apartment. She sat curled up on her couch, a glass of wine in hand, trying to process the events of the evening. The company party had not gone as planned – the image of Mingyu's pain-filled eyes as he clutched his bleeding hand was seared into her memory.

Y/N's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Another message from Seungcheol:

"Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need to talk."

She sighed, typing out a quick reply:

"I'm fine. Just need some time to think. Talk tomorrow?"

As she hit send, a loud, insistent knocking startled her. Y/N glanced at the clock – 1:37 AM. Who could it be at this hour?

The knocking continued, more urgently now. "Y/N! Y/N, I know you're in there! Please… please open up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even slurred as it was now. Mingyu.

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find Mingyu leaning heavily against the doorframe, his usually impeccable appearance in disarray. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, hair a mess, and the unmistakable smell of soju wafted from him.

"Mingyu?" Y/N said, shock evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu's eyes, glassy from alcohol, focused on her face. A lopsided smile spread across his features. "Y/N… beautiful Y/N. I had to see you. Had to tell you…"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling. Y/N instinctively reached out to steady him, the familiar warmth of his body sending a jolt through her.

"Woah, easy there," she said, guiding him inside and closing the door. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You shouldn't be here."

Mingyu allowed himself to be led to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. 'm not supposed to be here. But I couldn't… couldn't stop thinking about you. About us."

Y/N perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. Despite her better judgment, concern overtook her resolve to keep her distance. "Mingyu, what's going on? Are you okay? Your hand–"

Mingyu waved dismissively, wincing slightly at the movement. His palm was wrapped in a white bandage, a few spots of red seeping through. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt. Not like…" he trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Not like what?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Not like seeing you with him," Mingyu finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt her heart clench. This was exactly the reaction their fake dating scheme was meant to provoke, but seeing Mingyu in actual pain made her question the wisdom of their plan.

"Mingyu, I–"

"No, let me… let me say this," Mingyu interrupted, sitting up straighter and fixing Y/N with an intense gaze. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up so bad. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you with someone else. Thought it didn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."

He reached out, taking Y/N's hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but found herself frozen, captivated by the raw emotion in Mingyu's eyes.

"I miss you," Mingyu continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I miss your laugh, your smile. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating. I miss the way you make me feel – like I'm more than just a idol, more than just a pretty face or a good voice. With you, I'm just… me."

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was everything she had wanted to hear for so long, but the circumstances were all wrong. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Mingyu shook his head vehemently, then immediately looked like he regretted the motion. "No, no. I'm drunk, yes. But I know… I know what I feel. What I've always felt, even if I was too scared to admit it."

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of Y/N. In any other situation, it might have been comical, but the desperation in his eyes killed any urge to laugh.

"Please, Y/N," Mingyu pleaded, still clutching her hands. "Please give me another chance. Break up with Seungcheol. He's… he's my friend, but he's not right for you. Not like I am. We're… we're meant to be together. I see that now."

Y/N felt panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mingyu wasn't supposed to show up at her door, drunk and emotional, laying his heart bare. She wasn't prepared for this.

"Mingyu, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're not thinking clearly. We can't… I can't…"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look. "I'll do better this time, I promise. I'll… I'll write you songs. Take you on real dates. Show the whole world how much you mean to me. Just please… please don't leave me."

His impassioned speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. The adrenaline and alcohol seemed to be wearing off, leaving exhaustion in their wake.

"I love you, Y/N," Mingyu mumbled, his head drooping. "I love you so much. Please… please just…"

And with that, Mingyu slumped forward, his head coming to rest in Y/N's lap. Within seconds, soft snores filled the air.

Y/N sat frozen, her mind reeling. Mingyu's words echoed in her head, everything she had longed to hear for months. But was it real? Or just the ramblings of a drunk, jealous man?

Gently, she extricated herself from under Mingyu, laying him out on the couch and covering him with a throw blanket. She allowed herself a moment to study his face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluding her, Y/N's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The fake dating plan had worked – perhaps too well. Mingyu had confessed his feelings, but at what cost? And what would happen in the morning, when he woke up in her apartment with a killer hangover and the memory of his whiskey-soaked confessions?

One thing was clear: the game they'd been playing had just gotten a lot more complicated. And Y/N had a sinking feeling that someone's heart was bound to get broken in the process – quite possibly her own.

#svt #mansaenetwork #mingyu fic #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu fic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #svt x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #rockstar! mingyu #rockstar! mingyu x reader

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neerons · 8 months ago

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Some of Ikémen Prince Emma's best quotes + Akatsuki's bonus quotes

"The day's barely started, but I want to go back to bed already." (—Emma's thoughts)

"I'm putting on the best performance of my life here, and you're turning this into the worst melodrama I've ever seen!" (—Emma's thoughts about her made-up romantic relationship with Clavis)

"I don't know what to do. Why can't I be like the heroine in one of my stories, able to outwit everyone no matter how clever they are?" (—Emma's thoughts)

"I didn't, did I? Please tell me I didn't. Oh god, what was I thinking? Why would I throw myself at a sleaze like you?" (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

"Ooooh, if I could strangle you right now, I would!" (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"So... we have a prince that likes blowing up the palace and no one cares?!" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"I could feel Chevalier's cold, silent stare, and that was somehow worse than anything he could have said." (—Emma's thoughts)

"You mean between Sariel's hellish lessons or your adoration? You're right, it's blindingly obvious which is better. Thanks, Sariel, I can hardly wait!" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"Take this! Bunny... Kick!" (—Emma trying to kick Gilbert, as a bunny)

"Don't tell me one of his business deals failed? Or maybe he stubbed his toe on something? Or hit his fat head on a doorframe?" (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"Honey: 1. Luke's dignity: 0..." (—Emma's thoughts)

"You have no problem invading my privacy and coming in here whenever you please, but you think it's fine to threaten me because I did the same to you?" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis coming into her bedroom)

"I went on staring at him, trying to decide whether it was worth it to punch him or not." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"If you let down your guard just because I'm a little rabbit, you might be the one who regrets it in the end." (—Emma to Gilbert)

"Could you get your face out of my face?" (—Emma to Silvio)

"Ahhh, why do you insist on acting the villain when there's not a single thing villainous about you?!" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"I slowly lowered my head onto his lap as though it might turn into a bed of knives at any second. (...) I realized I was laying on what were possibly the most deadly thighs in the world." (—Emma's thoughts about Gilbert)

"I am SO close to punching this guy." (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

"Some people would call that a book..." (—Emma referring to Rio's love letter)

"I know you hate it when I call you adorable, but... you really are adorable right now." (—Emma's thoughts about drunk Licht)

"...Instead of grabbing hold of me, have you considered maybe wearing warmer clothing?" (—Emma to Gilbert)

"Who in their right mind could have imagined that I'd be dragged into his bed and pounced on almost every morning?" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"His Highness... stole my first time." (—Emma talking about Silvio to the King of Benitoite)

"Wow. He said something sensible for once." (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

"I didn't have his strength, but I had fingernails, and I made sure they dug in deep." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"I'm not going to let you have your way about anything and everything just because you were born important." (—Emma to Gilbert)

"PLEASE SHUT UP NOW." (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis misleading everyone about their relationship)

"No, it's fine, really, please take your time... Take all the time you need!" (—Emma to Gilbert telling her he won't be able to spend time with her that day)

"I always thought you were pretty overprotective, Rio, but I take it back—you've got nothing on Silvio!" (—Emma's thoughts)

"Would it be strange if I said I was relieved that the man I love is so intimidating to other men?" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"He'd leapt so cheerfully into the pit that I was pretty certain I'd be traumatized for the rest of my life by the flamboyant way he'd hit the bottom." (—Emma's thoughts about seeing Gilbert fall into Clavis' trap voluntarily)

"If we ever actually find you, Clavis, I have about a million things I want to say to you, and none of them are polite..." (—Emma's thoughts)

"If you live for me, I'll stay with you, forever. I'll never leave you alone, ever again. Don't you want to find more ways to have fun with me?" (—Emma to Gilbert)

"He's hard enough to approach when he's fully awake, I can't imagine what he's like first thing in the morning!" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"You're lucky that I still want you even after you call me soft and silly and say my heartfelt declaration is 'embarrassing crap'. Silvio... take me."

"I couldn't help reaching out and squeezing his upper arm, just to see how it felt." (—Emma's thoughts about Gilbert)

"(...) I know you can be cold and ruthless, but you always make me feel more sure of myself." (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"This man invented a bizarre device to keep me cool, covered me up to protect my modesty... And now he's drying me off so I don't catch a cold. He's the sweetest person in the whole world, and I—" (—Emma's thoughts about Clavis)

"Gilbert can really make anything he puts his mind to. I mean, how many gunsmiths are also fashion designers?" (—Emma's thoughts)

"Oh, boy. Here comes Drama Queen Gilbert. (...) And here comes Sulky Gilbert." (—Emma's thoughts)

"I hope he comes back soon... ...Or just... never." (—Emma talking about Silvio to Rio)

"You're all good, kind men, and I know you'll never become the sort of corrupt, tyrannical rulers that Gilbert hates so much." (—Emma's thoughts about all the Rhodolitian princes)

"Okay, I admit that writing him letters in a language only the two of us know IS pretty romantic. But to think that people would assume I'm writing dirty things to him because of that..." (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"'By the time you'll be reading this, I'll be gone'...? Did you... Did you have to write something so cliched?" (—Emma reading Gilbert's letter)

"Nokto? Stop talking. You're only digging yourself into an even deeper hole."

"I can't see much with that hood in the way, but I can still tell you're exasperated. ...You know, I think we're going to become good friends..." (—Emma's thoughts about Roderic)

"He was the perfect prince... so long as he didn't actually talk." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"So he wants a kiss, huh? I think he's actually looking for more than that, but let's make him work for it." (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"I guess he means me...? What an ass." (—Emma's thoughts about an auction manager calling her a 'fine article')

"If you're asking stupid questions, expect a stupid answer. That's all I'm saying." (—Emma to Nokto)

"Is it just me, or has his expression softened a tiny, tiny, TINY bit?" (—Emma's thoughts about Chevalier)

"He was like a tyrannical villain from one of my books, flashy and loud and pompous, and a part of me wished he'd go back to whatever book he'd come from." (—Emma's thoughts about Silvio)

"It's like every time I think something positive about you, you find a way to ruin it immediatly." (—Emma's thoughts about Nokto)

Akatsuki's bonus quotes:

"Kill him." (—Akatsuki replying to Rio asking him what he intends to do to Gilbert)

"How dare he do something so shameless to my daughter, in front of a crowd like that..." (—Akatsuki talking about Gilbert)

"(...) when your vacation is over, you will return to your duties. (...) And I know someone as earnest as you would never do anything to breach a contract like that. ...I will come for you. So it's just until then. Got it? (—Akatsuki telling Emma he'll come save her from Obsidian)

"I'm not your father." (—Akatsuki to Emma)

"...I did not tell you stories about Emma so that you could make her your wife." (—Akatsuki to Gilbert)

"...I'll stop by to check on you regularly. If something happens to my daughter, I'll kill you." (—Akatsuki talking about Emma to Gilbert)

"She may not be my real daughter, but I'd never let a man I don't know near my valued worker." (—Akatsuki to Rio)

"They're for Emma. I collected them from all over the world in order to handle any sort of injury or illness." (—Akatsuki talking about his medicinal herbs to Rio)

"If even a single hair on her head is harmed, I'll never let you see my daughter again." (—Akatsuki to Rio)

"Your potential is limitless. It would be a shame for you to be confined here. (—Akatsuki talking about the bookstore to Emma)

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applestorms · 2 months ago

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tbh idk if i fully ascribe to the belief that light was actively suicidal in the days before he met ryuk, but he absolutely had given up on the idea that he could ever be a good person again.

this is where i think soichiro's Cop influence really gets to light-- not in terms of some basic ass Cops Are Evil Which Is Why Light Is Bad logic, but through the transfer of this kind of black n white, absolutist ethical thinking. if there is one (1) thing that light's actions as KIRA make clear, it is that he doesn't believe in rehabilitation. light Does Not think that anyone could ever come back from a crime once it has been committed, and it is this belief specifically that really breaks him imo-- the realization that everything he has been working for, everything that everyone around him has been building him up to be for as long as he can remember, has all been for absolutely nothing. he's nothing now. he dropped it all in a second, on a whim, for the stupidest, least conscious decision ever, and now he can never be the same. in one moment, all his dreams are dead-- this one action now defines the trajectory of the entire rest of his life.

what KIRA does is not just retroactively make light's actions justified-- it makes them an action done out of Conscious, Careful Thought. it is an Act of Justice, against the typical (current) standards of humanity, yes, but a carefully thought out plan all the same. light is a Martyr, he's a God, he's Changing The World. he's saving face and trying to put the pieces of his pride back together, not only to be a good, pure person again but also so he doesn't have to face the embarrassment of fucking up in such a half-assed, dumb kinda way. he picked a notebook up off the ground with a stupid title, wrote a couple names, and now two men are dead. do you think he'd planned to show his friends that thing beforehand? his sister? how long was this a joke before it wasn't, before it couldn't be?

this is also the exact nail that near hits on the head so viciously in the final confrontation. what he tells light is twofold: that he is a murderer, that his desperate attempts to claw back his humanity and justify his actions have only dug him a deeper grave, that light Fucked Himself by committing to this shit so hard; but also that this is Not the only way it ever had to be. light could've rehabilitated himself, he could've felt guilt and regret and allowed himself the human reaction to his actions, he could've moved on. but he didn't.

light never thought that he could get better, he didn't think that anyone could ever get better once they strayed too far or fucked up too bad. it was this belief that condemned the vast majority of his victims, and it was this belief that similarly set up the sword hanging over his own head. how fitting it is, then, that they all get to die the same way, go to the same place, never again to be granted the chance to try it all again.

#death note #light yagami #astronaut rambles #saw a post that pissed me off can you tell asdjkfsdjklfds #sigh.

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hardwriterdeluxe · 5 months ago

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The new Jon

Jonathan had always preferred to stay out of the spotlight. At 20, he was a lanky, naturally toned mailman balancing long days delivering letters with the demands of his college coursework. His demeanor was calm, almost passive—until his temper flared. A few months back, he'd smashed his bike to pieces in a rage after it failed him on the way to work. That fiery temper was a side of him he kept hidden, but one that he struggled to control. Though he followed orders well and generally kept a low profile, Jonathan couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching him. Lurking. Waiting. He was right.

Jonathan delivered mail like clockwork, his route taking him past familiar faces. But there was one person he always dreaded seeing—Dieter Wenzel, the burly skinhead from apartment 302. His piercing gaze, thick German accent, and the way he always seemed to be watching made Jonathan uneasy. More than once, Dieter had spoken to him, his deep voice laced with something dark, sending a chill through Jonathan each time they crossed paths.

Today, Jonathan’s mind was elsewhere, distracted by thoughts of college deadlines and his boring routine. He didn’t notice the glossy black boots lying in his path until it was too late.

His foot caught on the heavy boots, sending him sprawling forward. He hit the ground with a hard thud, hands and knees slamming into the floor. Then, before he could react, the boot came down hard on his face. A sharp explosion of pain erupted in his cheek and nose as the impact knocked him sideways.

“Stay down, boy,” growled Dieter’s low voice, looming over him like a shadow. Jonathan’s vision blurred, and everything faded into blackness.

When Jonathan woke, the first thing he felt was pain. His face throbbed with sharp, deep agony. His cheek and nose felt swollen, as if they’d been shattered, and every breath sent waves of hurt through his body. But before he could process the pain, his ears picked up a familiar buzzing sound. Clippers.

Cold metal grazed his scalp, the clippers methodically shaving away his hair, strip by strip. Jonathan blinked, trying to move, but his arms were bound to the chair he was sitting in. Panic surged through him as he realized he couldn’t escape.

“Ah, you’re waking up, Jonathan,” Dieter’s deep voice broke through the haze. “Or should I say... Jon. A much better name for you, don’t you think? More... brutish. Lean. Like you.”

Jonathan’s heart raced as Dieter leaned over him, his grin spreading. “You’ve always been too soft. But now, you’re Jon. Perfect for the skinhead I’m making you into.”

The clippers buzzed their final pass across Jonathan’s scalp, leaving his head completely bald. Dieter switched to a manual razor, scraping away the last stubble with precise, rough strokes. Jonathan’s skin burned as his scalp was stripped bare, leaving him exposed, helpless. He could feel the heat of Dieter’s gaze as he admired his work.

Jonathan noticed something else. He wasn’t wearing his familiar mail uniform anymore. Instead, he was dressed in a tight pair of blue bleachers, a crisp black Fred Perry polo that hugged his lean frame, and black Dr. Martens boots laced tightly up to his calves. Everything fit perfectly, like it had been tailored specifically for him.

“These clothes… why do they fit me so well?” Jonathan muttered, his voice trembling.

Dieter smirked, circling him slowly. “I’ve been watching you for months, boy. I know everything about you. Your size, your habits. You’ve got the perfect body for this—lean, toned, tall. I’ve been planning this for a long time.”

Jonathan’s heart raced as the realization sank in. Dieter had been stalking him. Following him. He even remembered seeing Dieter entering apartment 302 during his mail deliveries. Dieter Wenzel. Jonathan had always felt a sense of unease around him, but now he understood why.

“I saw you when you smashed that bike of yours. You’ve got fire, boy, but you still follow orders. Perfect for what I need. You belong to me now.”

Jonathan's mind reeled. He had noticed Dieter around for months, but now he understood. Dieter had been stalking him, planning this transformation, watching every move. He had seen Jonathan’s rage when he’d smashed his bike, observed his tendency to follow orders without question. And now, Dieter had claimed him.

“These pants,” Dieter smirked, eyeing Jonathan’s groin, “they show off everything, don’t they? Especially that bulge of yours. You’re exactly what I’ve wanted.”

Dieter wasn’t done. He grabbed a piercing kit from the table and walked over to Jonathan with a dark gleam in his eyes. Jonathan’s pulse quickened as Dieter’s fingers gripped his face roughly, holding him in place.

“Let’s finish the job,” Dieter said, pulling out a needle.

Jonathan winced as Dieter pierced his nostril first, the pain sharp and immediate. Before he had a chance to catch his breath, Dieter pierced his eyebrow and lip in quick succession. The pain grew with each stab of the needle, his face burning from the multiple wounds. Finally, Dieter pierced both of Jonathan’s ears, threading small silver hoops through the fresh holes.

The pain was excruciating, a constant throbbing that mingled with the earlier bruises on his face. Jonathan gasped, trying to endure the sharp sting in his nose, cheeks, and ears. Blood trickled from the piercings, mixing with the sweat and bruises.

“You’re really starting to look like a skin now,” Dieter said, admiring his handiwork. “The piercings, the shaved head... You’ve got the face for it. Rough. Just like I imagined.”

After unbinding Jonathan, Dieter grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the apartment. Jonathan struggled to keep up, his boots heavy and awkward as they clomped down the stairs. The tight bleachers clung to his legs, and the Fred Perry polo fit snug against his chest, making him feel trapped in this new identity.

They arrived at a dimly lit tattoo parlor, the stench of ink and disinfectant filling the air. The tattoo artist looked up as they entered, a cold smirk playing on his lips.

“Here for the boy?” the artist asked, eyes scanning Jonathan’s body.

Dieter nodded, pushing Jonathan forward. Here for him. Make sure it’s perfect.”

The tattoo artist fired up the machine, and without hesitation, began inking Jonathan’s arm. The pain was relentless, the needle stabbing into his skin over and over. Dieter stood over him, watching intently as the black ink spread across Jonathan’s forearm, etching the design into his flesh.

The tattoo was brutal: an iron cross encircled by barbed wire, thick lines that cut deep into his skin. The mark of a skinhead. A permanent brand.

“You’re mine, Jon,” Dieter said, his voice low and possessive. “This tattoo marks you as my skinhead. My boy. I’ve crafted you just the way I wanted. The perfect skinhead boyfriend.”

Jonathan gritted his teeth as the needle continued to tear into his arm. The pain was unbearable, but there was no escape. Dieter’s grip on him was too strong, too controlling. The tattoo burned as it took shape, a constant reminder that his old identity was being torn away.

Once the tattoo was finished, Dieter stood back and handed Jonathan a mirror. For the first time, Jonathan saw the full extent of his transformation.

His head was completely shaved, his face bruised from the boot that had knocked him out. The fresh piercings in his nose, eyebrow, lip, and ears glistened, adding to the rough, dangerous look Dieter had forced upon him. His arm, now inked with the iron cross and barbed wire, bore the permanent mark of Dieter’s ownership.

The tight blue bleachers clung to his legs, and the Fred Perry polo hugged his chest, showing off his lean, toned frame. The Dr. Martens boots were laced tightly, every detail meticulously planned by Dieter.

Jonathan stared at himself in disbelief, barely recognizing the man in the mirror. The person staring back wasn’t Jonathan, the quiet mailman. He was Jon, the skinhead boyfriend Dieter had crafted with brutal precision.

Dieter stepped behind him, gripping his shoulders possessively. “Look at you, Jon,” he whispered, his breath hot against Jonathan’s neck. “You’re exactly what I wanted. You’re mine now.”

Before Jonathan could react, Dieter spun him around and kissed him hard. The kiss was rough, dominating, claiming Jonathan in every sense of the word. Jonathan’s mind raced, but there was no escaping it now. Dieter had shaped him, transformed him, and owned him completely.

As Dieter pulled away, he smirked. “This is just the beginning, boy. You’re mine, and you’ll work extra hard to keep up with me. We’ve got a lot more to do.”

Jonathan’s heart sank as he realized the full extent of what had been done to him—and that it was only the start

#male tf #my writing #skin head #skinhaed #skin heads #skin head tf #Skin boi #Bleachers #ranger boots

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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Hello and hope you are doing well!! I was wondering if you could do smut story where the reader get more than she bargained for when telling Bucky that his dark side could do a better job at certain things. Also your stories are amazing ❤️🖤

Bucky gives you what you ask

YESSS. Thank you bb, Im so sorry this took forever and I hope you see this, I loved this so much. And as always I got so lost in it. Good God. He is dirty, dirty here.

You loved the way Bucky loved you. He was so soft, gentle, took care of all your needs without leaving behind a single mark on your delicate skin. Bucky was nothing more than a soft sweet thing, slowly getting back into his boyish 40's charm, a gentleman at all times. If you didn't know about his past, you would've never guessed he'd have another side to him.

But you'd seen the shift in his demeanor whenever he'd train in the gym and even more so when he was out on the field. The way his eyes would narrow with laser like focus when hitting his targets, the way he wouldn't flinch when putting a bullet between their eyes. His face would be expressionless when his metal arm would wrap around their throat, slowly draining life out of them, parts of the Winter Soldier still running deep in his veins.

And how badly you craved to have that side of him take you apart.

"What is it sweets" Bucky watched you fidget with the buckles of his tac suit, helping him undress after he'd just returned after a mission. There was something about him in his all black straps, leather and weapons that made your knees weak. It didn't help that his beard had started to fill out, the ends of his hair starting to curl at the nape of his neck. "You okay?"

You adore how attentive he is even when he's exhausted after weeks away from home but you wished just for once, he'd choke you with his metal arm instead of just hugging you with it.

"I want-" You paused for a second before continuing, "I want more"

"More of what doll" Bucky's wide puppy eyes were filled with worry; he made sure to always pay attention to your needs and he'd do anything to make you happy. "Tell me, you know I'd do anything"

"Just- take more control, be more rough with me" You weren't sure how you wanted to explain yourself but your body knew exactly what it needed, growing hotter by the second the longer he stood there in his tac suit before you. He let out a soft chuckle when he realized what you meant, laying down his knifes off to the side on the dressed.

"I had you moaning my name before I left doll" Bucky playfully rolled his eyes while you huffed, your sexual frustration only growing more when he tossed off his Kevlar leaving him in his tight black tshirt.

"Well the Winter Solider would have me screaming" You shrug, not noticing the way Bucky froze, now staring at you without blinking. "I think that side of you would do a better job at certain things, Buck"

"You don't want to see that side of me sweets" Bucky tried to keep his voice neutral, ignoring the way his cock was already throbbing in his pants, straining painfully against the thick fabric.

"But what if I do?" you challenged back, taking a step back when he moved forward, slowly backing you against the wall of your shared bedroom.

"Doll..." He warned, squeezing his eyes shut trying to collect himself, his fingers twitching at his sides. "That's not a good idea"

"Why not, think the Winter Soldier wouldn't be able to make me feel as good?" You added a taunt to your voice, hoping to rile him up, his chest now nearly pressing against yours, caging you against the wall.

"Is that so" Bucky tested the water slowly, still wanting to give you an out if you needed one because he wasn't going to be able to hold back once he started. You nodded, heart hammering against your chest as he took in a deep breath, his jaw clenched.

"As you wish sweets" He whispered by your ear, the tip of his cool metal knife suddenly pressing against your throat. Your eyes grew wide at the fact that he'd slipped it into his hand so swiftly, you hadn't noticed. "If you want me to stop, say Brooklyn, understand?"

"Yes" You squeaked, while he dragged it till it rested under your chin, tilting your head up to look meet his darkened eyes. Without a word, he sliced down your blouse, ripping away at the material that caught in the middle. He didn't give you a chance to speak, his hands grabbing the edges of your bra, splitting it into two before tearing your leggings into pieces next.

You were complete naked within seconds, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze, still fully dressed himself. Bucky had seen you naked countless times, in fact you'd change in front of him without a care in the world, always giggling at the cute blush he'd have on his cheeks.

But this wasn't the same.

Not even the slightest.

He tossed you over his shoulder and threw you on the bed letting you bounce off the mattress while he stood at the edge.

"Spread your legs"

It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

Bucky looked like he wanted to devour you. This was the same man that had his head between your legs more times than you could count but he was staring at you like he'd never seen you before. You shrunk back, squeezing your thighs together at the low growl he made, grasping your ankles and splitting them apart till you were completely exposed to him, your wet folds giving away how turned on you were. He fumbled with the button of his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down just enough to free his cock, his palm and fingers swiping up your pussy to gather you slick, slathering it over his erection.

"Such a pretty baby with such a pretty pussy"

You bit back a whine as he started to jerk his cock, circling the tip with his thumb, spreading his own arousal around. He took a step back to admire you, his eyes shamelessly raking up and down till he was satisfied with his fill. He moved to lay on top of you, his nose trailing along the column of your neck, inhaling your soft scent. There was something so feral about him, you stayed frozen in place while his hands found their way to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh.

"I'll show you exactly what you've been missing out on" He nipping your earlobe before crawling off you again to throw off the rest of his clothes. "God, I've wanted this for so long"

There was no prep, no foreplay, no soft kisses and sweet words. Bucky grabbed your hips, manhandling you till your face was pressed against the mattress, his swollen cockhead prodding at your fluttering pussy. He let out a dark chuckle, swiping his cock up and down through your folds, pressing his tip against your clit.

"Bucky, fuck me" You were desperate to feel him inside you, wiggling your hips as best as you could to get him to push it in you but you were instead met with a harsh slap to your ass, the cool metal making your skin sting.

"Impatient little slut" He shook his head, taking both your wrists and twisting them behind your back, He held them in one hand while the other snaked up tp grab your hair, tugging it tight from the roots. "Beg. Beg me to fuck you"

"P-Please Bucky, want it!"

"You want who to fuck you princess, say it, tell me exactly whose cock you want to ruin you"

"Yours soldat, please, want you, please fuck me solda-FUCKK" Bucky slammed his cock into you without warning, setting in a brutal pace that had you gasping for air. His balls smacked you with each thrust, the grip he had on your wrists and hair tightening for better leverage.

"I fuck needed this" His head was thrown back, his thighs meeting the back of yours as he fucked you harder than ever before, the squelching of your pussy making a sticky, dirty mess all over him. "You have no. Fucking. Idea. how fucking hard is it every time I fuck you"

His words were punctuated with harsh thrusts, growling at the way you'd already started to flutter around him as he hit your cervix. Your jaw was slack from surprise and pleasure, pathetic moans and whimpers replacing your words.

"Do you? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to hold back kotenok? How hard is it for me to not fuck your brains out when I'm deep in such a tight pussy? How badly I want to rail you, YA tak dolgo khotel tebya trakhnut" [I wanted to fuck you so hard for so long]

You'd never hard Bucky speak Russian, not once but his filthy mouth didn't stop as he continued to rail you, foreign curses dripping from his mouth.

"You think I'm such a gentleman don't you, huh? You remember the first time we had sex princess? how I made love to you? How slow it was, how you moaned when I put my cock in you for the first time?"

"Y-yes" Your body was slack against the bed, only held up because Bucky was gripping onto you with a bruising hold.

"I made love to you that night, didn't I. But I like to fuck baby, especially you, I've wanted to fuck this pussy for so long, ruin it all just for me"

You were suddenly flipped over again, whining when you felt empty, only to be filled right back up again seconds later when Bucky laid on his back, pulling you to straddle on top of him. He planted his feet against the mattress, not giving you a chance to move, fucking up into you, the angle of his hips rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Oh-oh f-fuckk" tears streamed down your face as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers before wrapping his hand around your throat. He muffled your sobs, slipping his thumb between your lips, shoving it down your mouth till you drooled.

"You look so pretty when you cry kotenok, is it too much?" He taunted, squeezing your throat tighter, "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at my arm princess, I always knew you were a needy little slut deep down You wanted this though, hm? Wanted my fat cock to ruin you till you wouldn't be able to walk?"

"I-oh god-fe-els good I-gonna cummm" You could barely formulate sentence, practically squealing when Bucky rolled over once again, this time tossing your legs over his shoulders, his hand snaking down to rub your swollen clit.

"Gonna cum, are you princess? Who do you belong to, say it, who fucks you this good?!"

"Y-You Bu-"

A harsh slap to your cheek made your pussy clench, Bucky's blue eyes dilated to rings, a feral expression his face as he smacked your face once more making you sob out of pleasure again.

"That's not whose fucking right now you is it?! Tell me, say it"

"YOU SOLDAT" You wailed as he continued to thrust into your puffy, overstimulated pussy, getting his teeth, grabbing onto the headboard as it slammed against the wall.

"That's right kotenok, you belong to him now" Bucky let his body weight fall onto you, bringing his knees up and pounding you deep against the bed, his own pace growing sloppy, balls pulling tighter towards his body. "Gonna give you all of his cum sweets, gonna fill this slutty desperate cunt with all of my cum, that's what you want isn't it? To be a little cum dump for the Winter Soldier?"

Bucky's mind went somewhere else, back to the first time he'd seen you, still as the Soldier, back when the team first discovered him. Back when his brain was fried but you had remined seared in his mind. Back when his mission was to finish you but some part deep down inside him wanted something else he didn't understand.

"God, where were you all those nights I had to touch myself alone, when I needed something warm and tight to cum in? huh? Bet you didn't know that huh princess? didn't know that the Soldier lusted after the pretty bunny that tried to take him down?"

Your eyes grew wide at his confession, pleasure desperate to snap within seconds.

"Did you know the winter soldier wanted to fuck you bunny? Did you know he'd jerk off when no one was watching? Had no idea what was going on Bunny, just remember my cock aching so bad, leaking so damn much. Nothing made it better until I touched myself. Didn't even know what I was doing, just fucked my fist while I thought about how pretty you looked in that tac suit, came all over my sheets like a little boy"

"I-fuck-Can-can I cum soldat?" You clung onto him, whimpering at the way you had to desperately hold back from gushing all over the sheets, his words too much, you couldn't take it any more.

"Go a head and cum princess, takoy khoroshiy kotonok" [such a good little kitten] He nipped up your neck, rubbing your clit faster, moaning with you as you started to cum around his cock. His movements didn't stop, fucking you through your high till your body jolted under him, the smell of sex heavy in the room.

"S-S'too much" You hiccupped while Bucky continued to fuck you like a man with no morals.

"Too much? It's too much for you kitten? Don't worry, gonna fill you up so good baby, where, where do you want to soldat to cum?!"

"Inside!" You cried out, locking your ankles around his waist, your slurred sob turned into a guttural moan when he pinched your clit between his fingers.

"Here it comes kotenok, got so much cum for you, it's gonna drip baby, get ready, here it comes, here it fuckin' comes- OH FUUCCKKK" Bucky roared against your neck before stilling, his cock throbbing and twitching, hot seeding feeling you up till it leaked. You were practically floating, too fucked out to realize He'd gently gotten off you and cradled you close.

"Are you okay pretty girl?" Bucky cooed, snapping back into the sweetheart that he was, the switch over leaving you reeling with your eyes still crossed. "My poor baby"

Bucky chuckled at your dazed expression, cuddling you up to his chest, caressing your sweat slicked skin.

"Come back to me princess" He pulled the covers up to warm you up in his arms, resting you carefully against the pillows. "My good girl, you did so good for me angel, m'so proud of you, so good"

You whimpered in response, curling up against him, your body still jolting and pulsing.

"Was it too much angel?" His brows furrowed with concern, cupping your cheek to look at him. He kissed away the now dry tear tracks that stained your face, his thumb swiping over your hot skin.

"Never" You rasped out, your voice raw from screaming, "Was perfect Soldat"

"You're perfect angel" Bucky grinned, stroking your spine while you continued to snuggle into him, his cock already twitching at the thought of another round. "My perfect little kotenok"

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snek-eyes · 2 years ago

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I keep thinking about what slotting the Job sequence in between the Flood and the Crucifixion does for Crowley’s arc, and his relationship to both Aziraphale and heaven.

@amuseoffyre did a great analysis of the importance to Aziraphale's arc here that sparked this thought, but it sent me down a rabbithole because A+C are both having very different experiences here.

Compare how Crowley bounces up to Aziraphale at the flood vs how standoffish he is when the angel shows up to the Job situation. Aziraphale is the one who's all friendly, "Oh it's you!" while Crowley... is pretty businesslike, at least until he gets the chance to start rubbing the reality of the situation in the angel's face.

The flood pissed Crowley off. Job is the first time we start to see the more bitter Crowley we'll get to know. In the Garden he was bemused about overreactions and almost having fun poking this angel with questions about God's plans. Beginning of the flood sequence he was pretty playful. This whole earth thing hasn't been so bad so far, and oh here's that weird angel again, that's fun.

But then he gets hit with God turning on their creation without warning, again. And the flood was at least in God's name ("That's more the type of thing you'd expect my lot to do," he said. Wasn't heaven supposed to be the good guys?). But now with Job? God turns their back and just... doesn't stop hell. Heaven's hands stay clean while hell dirties their evil little claws. Oh, so this is how things are, Crowley realizes. This is the part he's meant to play. Fine.

And seeing how he acts here... I can't help but feel like he'd mostly given up on Aziraphale after the flood. After Crowley went, "Wtf, this is clearly an atrocity," and Aziraphale stuck to "You can't judge the Almighty!" ...well. Giving away the flaming sword was probably a fluke. Just another tool of heaven, that one. Disappointing, but what should he have expected?

So all through their Job interaction he plays up his demonicness, trying to force Aziraphale to toe the party line and prove Crowley's new view on things right, once and for all. But there is a crack there, because not-so deep down Crowley would love for Aziraphale to surprise him again.

(After all... he is lonely. Try some wine with me, or have an ox rib, angel.)

(Fascinated by the difference in Crowley's gleeful "That's just how it started for me, see you in hell" vs. "I'm not taking you to hell, Angel. I don't think you'd like it." And only admitting to the loneliness once he isn't totally alone anymore; I think the original lie was more to himself than anything. He's angry, he's bitter, these righteous angels shouldn't think they're any better than him, not when they can doubt too. But when it comes down to it? No, I don't actually want to drag you all the way there. Something about guns and miraculous escapes, and his comment about Wee Morag, it's different when it's someone you know, isn't it. Hm. Anyways.)

By the end of the Job situation they have a moment where they confirm they are more similar than they thought. But it's not a happy thing. It won't be until Rome when they start enjoying each other's company just for the sake of it. So at the crucifixion Crowley comes up to Aziraphale still prodding at him. You happy about this, Angel? You smirking over how righteous it is? But now instead of, "You can't judge the Almighty," we get "I'm not consulted on policy decisions." Implying he disagrees without really saying it. And that's enough for now, Crowley will take it.

From the flood -> Job -> crucifixion -> Rome, we see Crowley get angry, then more and more resigned and bitter. Until Aziraphale reaches out and pulls him out of it.

#i like how the Job sequence both shakes things up and doesn't at the same time #it's not totally necessary to make the arc work but the context helps you understand so much more #good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #crowley #v watches good omens #job flashback

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justwinginglife · 7 months ago

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Gimme a oneshot of Reader who doesn't have any experience in love so she panics when she gets feelings for Hoshina, giving him random things (a nice rock, random vegetables, ect.) And randomly blurts out embarrassing compliments "YOUR MUSCLES LOOK VERY NICE TODAY VICE CAPTAIN SIR" before she just fucking books it out of there.

I love you so much bestie. I will do this for you 100%, thanks for always matching my freak.

The Thing About Being In Love

You always thought you wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face. But then you fell in love and felt like you just couldn't stop taking hits. You had no idea how to process your feelings, no idea how to convey those feelings in a way that made sense, and no idea how to stop those feelings from overflowing.

The thing about being in love with Soshiro Hoshina was that your feelings always made themselves known to him before you wanted them to. Before you could even think about what you needed to say and how you needed to say it, you words were already tumbling out in a chaotic jumble. They always did. And it made you love him even more that he never judged you for it. He'd just smile the same sweet smile again and you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper.

When you first met him, you made quite the first impression- after reflexively reaching out to ruffle his hair because you just needed to know if it was as soft as it looked, you earned yourself 50 push-up's and his undying attention going forward. He wanted to know more about the girl who'd said fuck it to all manner of decorum and propriety, ignoring the chain of command to satisfy her desires. It wasn't until he got to know you better that he realized that you just couldn't control yourself.

He'd been particularly amused when you'd complimented the way his muscles looked in his favorite compression shirt (it was his favorite only because you'd complimented him in it). In fact, you'd noticed that he'd started wearing it more frequently around you after you made comments on it the first time around. And you just couldn't stop making comments on it every time after that.

"Oh, wow... your back muscles are gorgeous, can I touch them?" You yanked your hand back before you actually did touch him and scurried off, red in the face.

"Your abs look so solid... shit, I'm drooling." You shook your head aggressively, wiped your mouth, and ran off again.

One time you'd even had the nerve to say "Do you think you could wear me like that shirt?" Immediately after, you slapped a hand over your mouth and bolted like you were on fire.

And when you'd taken up gardening for fun, after harvesting a bunch of potatoes, you wondered if Hoshina liked potatoes which led you spiraling down the rabbit hole, wondering if he was eating enough. So, of course, you made the walk to his apartment in your gardening overalls and offered him the potato, still covered in dirt. He took it, stunned, and watched as you proceeded to walk away as if you'd never been there in the first place. Little did he know, you were embarrassed that you'd trudged over to him, still caked in mud, just to present him with the most underwhelming of gifts. You still didn't know how you got these ideas in your head and why your body executed them before your mind could properly protest.

Then there was the time that someone had painted a smiley face on a rock and placed it near the sidewalk by your house- it had reminded you of his warm smile and you'd given it to him in the middle of a training session. Despite your malfunctioning brain, your strength and your skill were actually quite impressive, and he always enjoyed a good spar with you. It wasn't until he had you pinned to the ground that you felt the rock digging into your leg and you'd pulled it out of your pocket and gifted it to him right then and there. He did more than smile that time, he actually laughed. You flushed, wondering if he was going to make fun of you for once, but he didn't. He took the rock gleefully and even named it after you. You started giggling and soon, the two of you were just collapsed on the floor, filled with laughter.

At least some good could come out of these random bursts of affection and you wouldn't trade these precious little moments with him for the world. The thought that you were the one that made him smile and laugh like this, it filled you with the most genuine sense of happiness even if you were embarrassed at how you'd done it.

At some point, Hoshina thought he'd have some fun with the situation- he didn't want you to feel left out after all, and he wanted to compliment you too.

So he started running up to you, yelling something like "Your hair looks very pretty today!" or "Those curves of yours are looking mighty fine!" and then dart off; even though he wasn't embarrassed, he wanted to keep the same energy as you. It made you laugh. And he loved when you laughed.

And then it got easier and easier to be around him. You weren't stumbling over your words anymore, you were proclaiming them with pride.

"Thought you could hide those biceps from me forever, huh, Hoshina? Let me get a good look." You even had the nerve to fucking wink at him.

He'd smirk and flex them at you, then blow you a kiss.

And you went on and on like this, flirting with him, laughing with him, stealing little moments with him anywhere you could. The thing about being in love with Soshiro Hoshina was that your feelings always made themselves known to him. But somehow, someway, through all the awkward encounters, all the stammered words, all the heavy breaths threatening to collapse your trembling lungs, your feelings found their way into his heart. And he guarded them like they were his treasure. And he reciprocated them tenfold.

One day, he said the cheesiest thing about how when you had kids he'd have the best story to tell them about how you met and how you started falling for each other and you teased him for being so corny, but that was the day you knew you'd marry him.

Because the thing about being in love with Soshiro Hoshina is that it's the best feeling in the world, but being loved by Soshiro Hoshina is even better.

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina #anime #oneshot #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #fluff #han's library

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logictoinsanity · 3 months ago

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Do you ever think about Logan being terrified of thunder and fireworks (too proud to ever ever admit it, of course he's not scared of shit) both because of PTSD from the wars and also because his enhanced hearing makes those sounds 100x louder for him than anyone else.

And how he's always been shut out and alone so it was easy to hide it and hide away until it's gone but now he's living in a tiny apartment with Wade so there's no way to keep avoiding it

WELL NOW I HAVE

And you're so fucking right, he'd never want to admit that he's scared of thunder storms and fireworks of all things, he's the fucking wolverine, he's seen things regular people can't even imagine, and he's scared by the fucking weather??

He tries so god damn hard every time to just be okay and power through it, he knows it can't hurt him, but every time no matter how prepared he is and how hard he tries, with the first crash hes spiralling, it feels like someone shot a gun right next to his face, his ears are ringing and his head starts hurting and he looks around and all he can see are trenches and guns and the dead bodies of his fellow soldiers. Before Wade, he'd always just find somewhere to hunker down and wait it out, pretty much in a constant state of flashbacks and panic attacks until it finally stopped.

This is just me projecting but I feel like Logan would feel safest in small spaces where he can shove himself into a corner, so he knows no one can sneak up on him, so he spent a lot of stormy nights and fourth of Julys shoved into the closest of a shitty motel.

I also think that it reminds him of the night the X-Men died, like most things do. He'd run off to go drink himself into a coma at a nearby bar, and a storm picked up while he was there. He didn't think anything of it at the time, but later realized that it had probably been Orroro's last attempts to save herself and her friends. He blames himself for not thinking of that at the time, just one more reason to hate himself.

But then he moves in with Wade, and it doesn't occur to him at first to even worry about it, so much happened so fast, storms and fireworks were pretty low on his list of concerns with a whole new universe.

Luckily, Wade isn't home when the storm hits, neither is Althea. Unluckily, Wade returns about 30 minutes after. He almost thinks Logan went out, since he isn't in his usual spot on the couch, or anywhere else for that matter, until Wade goes into the bedroom and hears the tiniest shifting sound coming from the closet.

Logan freezes when the door opens. He'd been hoping Wade would stay out until after the storm, but when did Logan ever get a lucky break? For a solid ten seconds, it's silent, Wade staring down at Logan, Logan remaining squished in the back corner of the closet, knees to his chest, looking like he can't decide whether he wants to stab Wade through the skull or bolt out of the apartment into the rain.

Wade opens his mouth to say..something, he hadn't actually figured out what yet but it didn't matter because before he got the chance there was another crack of thunder, and Logan jolted like the lightening had hit him square on his head. His eyes went distant and dark like they did when he just woke up from a nightmare and he slammed his hands over his ears, pressing his face into his knees. Wade felt kind of stupid, once he realized what was going on, of course Mr. Logan every-war-ever Howlett would have a problem with noises like that.

Wade panics, for a second, because scared of not, this is still Logan, and he's well aware of how Logan tends to feel about being caught in a vulnerable position, but then he sees Logan's hand shaking, and hears a sound that if he didn't know any better (he doesn't) he'd call a whimper (it was), and his heart just shatters, he can't stand seeing Logan this afraid, so he quickly steps into the closet and closes the door behind him. The closet is hardly big enough for one grown man to crouch in, much less two, but Logan is clearly in no state to leave, so Wade shoves himself into the corner between Logan and the door, careful not to lress up against him incase the touch is to overwhelming.

At this point, Logan has recovered slightly from the most recent crash of thunder, and he lifts his head, though he still won't look at Wade. He wants to be angry, mad at Wade for catching him like this, he wants to scowl and tell him to fuck off and leave him alone, but he's been panicking for thirty minutes now, flashing back with every clap of thunder, slowly starting to calm down only to be yanked right back into his own mind when it happens again, he's exhausted and just doesn't have the energy, so he just sighs, swallowing thickly to try and stop his voice from shaking and grumbling something about how he's fine, it's just loud, Wade can go about his day and he'll be out in a bit.

Wade honestly only understands about half of what he says, between the mumbling and the shaky voice and the storm outside, but he's sure as hell not gonna leave Logan to deal with this alone, and besides, the closet isn't to bad, kinda cozy once you give it a chance, and hey what're the odds they have a closet big enough for this in such a shitty apartment anyway? pretty plot convenient if you ask him. He ends up telling Logan all of this, partly to reassure him he doesn't mind but mostly to buy time while he figures out what to do. After a moment he lets out a quiet gasp and stands up, assuring Logan he'll be right back. Logan just nods and puts his head back on his knees, resigned to his fate of riding out his PTSD episode stuffed into a closet with fucking Deadpool.

Wade comes back a minute later with a small assortment of items in his arms, shuffling to sit back down. First, he sets down a small electric candle that he had laying around for some reason, because even if Logan can see in the dark closet, he can't, and he explains as much as he turns it on and the soft, warm light fills the space. Wade's heart breaks just a little more now that he can see Logan better, the way his whole body is shaking with every breath, the tear tracks covering his face, some dry, some fresh, but he does his best not to make to big a deal out of it and moves on.

I'm gonna put something on your head now, Peanut. You trust me? Wade asks, trying to keep his voice low and even.

No. Logan grumbles in response, but he leans towards Wade just slightly, and Wade places his gaming headset over Logan's ears. Logan pauses, evaluating, before giving a small nod and relaxing ever so slightly. He can still hear the storm, but it's better. Wade grins, trying desperately to keep his cool as he shows Logan the rest of his items. He brought a bag of Logan's favorite chips, a water bottle, and a bottle of whiskey.

They spend the next hour and a half in that closet together, alternating between Wade talking (much more quiet and restrained than usual) and Logan nodding occasionally in response, to out of it to say much but appreciating the distraction nonetheless and, with every crack of thunder, Logan panicking, and Wade doing his best to keep him tethered to reality.

It still sucks, storms probably always will for Logan, but it's better, and when the storm finally ends Wade leads him out of the closet, and he doesn't make a big deal out if it (like Logan feared), He doesn't make fun of him or think less of him, he gets it. And damn it if that doesn't make Logan feel more cared for and understood than he has in years, maybe ever, even if that fact alone pisses him off to no end.

#damn i went a little overboard here my bad yall #rambling #highposting #poolverine #deadpool and wolverine

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stormz369 · 4 months ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 16

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: suggestive content, little bit of angst, and fluff wc: 2.5k

A/N: sorry for the unprecidented delay in updates! Life got in the way and then I got sick and lost a whole day of writing. 😥

Chapter Selection

🦇BatFam Group Chat🦇

Dick: So Jaybird, how'd she take it?

11:02am

Jason: … I didn't tell her yet.

11:08am

Steph: WHAT??? 😰

11:09am

Tim: 😐 … Do you think a better moment is forthcoming?

11:11am

Jason: You really want to talk to me right now, replacement? After the shit you pulled?

11:12am

Steph: ???

11:13am

Jason: HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID!

11:14am

Dick: Ok, ok! Look, this doesn't have to be a big thing. Just tell her, it'll be fine!

11:15am

Damian: Do not lie, Grayson. It is a big thing, and Todd is not so stupid that he will think otherwise.

11:17am

Babs: You really should tell her soon, Jay.

11:20am

Jason: … Well when is Tim telling Bernard, huh?? They've been dating longer than we have, how is it not Gang Up On Tim Day??

11:22am

Tim: Yeah, I told Bernard. … And he already knew. 😬

11:23am

Dick: … We're gonna discuss that later. Right?

11:26am

Tim: Report's already in the Batcomputer.

11:27am

Babs: … Seriously, Tim??? O.O ????

11:32am

Tim: Hey, hey! Can we get back to Gang Up On Jason Day?

11:33am

Jason: No! I'm working on it, leave me be!

11:36am

Steph: … Given how she handled everything yesterday, what's the issue? Do you think she won't be able to take it?

11:40am

Jason: That's not it at all! … With her I get to be a normal guy. And the second I tell her, that goes away, for both of us

11:41am

Damian: … Granted, I have very little experience with women, but I do think that if she wanted normal, she would have bowed out the second she realized she was talking to a Wayne.

11:43am

Dick: Or when B showed up at the diner

11:45am

Babs: Or when Damian showed up at her apartment

11:46am

Cass: Or after sitting through a dinner with all of us.

11:47am

Jason: 😒 None of you are any help at all

11:50am

After the gala, Jason became determined that I should know how to defend myself. I was incredibly uncomfortable with going to the gym with him, but after a week of assurances he had me at least partially convinced me that no one would bat an eye at me there.

Once he had the green light, he jumped into action. He took me out to get some workout clothes, and we started going to the gym together once a week. I, like most every Gothamite, had taken self defense classes as a kid, so we started with some flexibility improving stretches, strength building, and making sure I still had a grasp on the basics. Every week we trained for a few hours, and Jason would take me out for dinner after.

I would never have expected it, but I actually started to look forward to our gym days. Jason was his most cuddly after training, especially when he was particularly excited about some progress I made. Every time I got a hit in, or blocked one of his, he would beam like the sun itself. The first time I caught him by surprise and kicked him to the ground he actually scooped me up in a bear hug, cheering for the whole gym to hear.

And what's more; his work was so sporadic that it was hard to predict if and when he'd be called away on the average day. He did his best to avoid it when we had plans, but sometimes he just had to go in. But he made arrangements with someone who worked for him so that our gym days were our days, so they very quickly became the day every week where I was guaranteed his undivided attention.

It was all so delightfully domestic. We would spend the night before together, just cuddling though he was slowly getting used to me touching him more. In the morning we made breakfast and ate together in bed. We'd go for a ride on his bike, see what was new at our favorite used book store, have lunch and a walk around the park, and head to the gym. After training we would take quick showers in the locker rooms and bring some take-out home. Sometimes we'd fall asleep in each other's arms, but if he had an early morning at work he would tuck me in with a kiss and head home to get some sleep.

Damian started coming over once in a while as well; as we had discussed, he would text me that he was on his way first. Somehow he never tried to come over when I was at work, and he avoided gym day too. But his visits didn't always correlate with Jason's. Sometimes it was just the two of us, and on those days he slowly started to open up. He would do homework at my kitchen table while I made dinner, we'd play video games or watch movies, and eventually the manor would send a car to take him home. He always grumbled that I didn't need to walk him out, but I wasn't about to let him out of my sight in my neighborhood, and he didn't protest past that.

Eventually he started leaving a set of casual clothes at my apartment. I took him to the cafe down the block, let him pick out snacks at the corner store, and one day we took the bus to the local craft store. He bought a dozen craft kits; crystal growing, shrinky dinks, window decals, little figurines to paint, even a candy making kit. They only made an appearance on days when Jason had to work, and Damian always looked so sweet and relaxed while we played with them, and every time he made me promise not to tell anyone. I wasn't sure what was so bad about his family knowing he played with age appropriate toys, but I always assured him that no one had to know if he didn't want them to. The crafts were always carefully packed away when we were done and tucked into a nondescript box in my hall closet.

Steph, Tim, and Dick all found me on Waynebook, and eventually Steph invited me to join girl's night. That Tuesday I found myself at Babs' apartment with her, Cass, and Steph, watching a movie, eating pizza and popcorn, and painting Steph's nails for her. Dick started sending me memes and safety reports from my neighborhood. I wouldn't even hazard a guess why he was so up to date on my area's crime reports, but I did appreciate the heads up. Tim didn't send me many messages, usually just letting me know when Bruce had been trying to get Jason to bring me by again, but he definitely stalked my profile since he liked a picture from my high school graduation. His stalking tendencies were starting to amuse me more than anything else, so I didn't mention it to Jay. Anything that strained their already turbulent relationship felt like unnecessary information.

Jason took me to see an outdoor showing of the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. He packed a picnic dinner for us, making sure all my favorite foods were available, and brought several blankets and pillows. He held me close and whispered in my ear, quoting along with Mr. Darcy when he confessed his love to Elizabeth; “you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on...”

It was an unusually peaceful day in Gotham; the kind of day that makes the hard ones worth powering through. We drove back to my place with the windows down. I didn't notice when Jason's mood shifted, but I did notice his hands trembling as he unpacked the picnic basket, and him glancing at me next to him. I set a hand over his, frowning slightly; “... Honey?”

“Hm?” He swallowed hard. “Y- yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

“Course. … Course I’m ok, doll.” He smiled softly, kissing my forehead.

“Cause you’re squirming like something’s wrong…”

“No, no! Nothing’s wrong, baby, honest. … Sorry, I just … I wanted to …” He frowned, taking a deep breath. “... We’ve been together for a while, and I … was thinking we could try something tonight?”

I blinked a bit, nodding slowly; “Oh? What did you want to try?”

“...Um … can we … push the comfort zone a bit?” He refused to look me in the eye, blushing bright red. I bit back the urge to giggle at how cute he was being, squeezing his hand instead.

“That could be fun~ … but if anything pushes back-”

He nodded quickly. “We’ll take it slow. And I’ll tell you if I need to stop, promise.”

I nodded, cupping his cheek; “very good. Then, how would you like to proceed?”

“Um … well, … I really like kissing you … I was thinking … maybe we could kiss some more places?”

I nodded, crossing my wrists behind his neck. His hands rested on my hips, stroking in small circles. “That sounds nice. You want lights on or off?”

“... Off will help.” He nodded slowly. “Is that ok?”

I nodded; “of course. Changing one variable at a time is always best practice, right?”

“Oh god…” He chuckled, holding me close. “What is this, some kind of science experiment?”

“I mean, we are experimenting, and it’s not not science - it’s biology and chemistry and psychology, and probably a bit of neurology.” I giggled, leaning in more. “I think the only thing we’re missing is the part where you have to write stuff down for it to be science. … So unless there’s something you’d rather be doing, I guess we could start writing out some lab reports …”

“... You know what, you little dork?” He scooped me up, tossing me casually over his shoulder, and began walking toward the bedroom.

“Woah!” I gasped sharply, giggling; “what?! What’s going on?”

He kicked the door closed behind him and laid me on the bed, leaning over me a bit, his hands trapping me between them on the bed. “I’m going to show you what I’d rather be doing … i- if that’s ok?”

The demanding tone he'd used was making me tingle all over. I bit back a giggle at the cautious way he ended the sentence, nodding quickly. “Sounds good to me~”

I could see a bit of his face in the light from the window, enough to see his eager grin as he dipped down, capturing my lips with his. I cupped his cheek, kissing back hungrily. He moaned softly, pressing his knees to the mattress on either side of my hips. I ran my hands through his hair as he slowly pulled away from my lips, kissing along my jaw to nibble gently on my earlobe. I gasped sharply, shivering at the contact, and he moved on to kiss down the side of my neck.

His lips slowly trailed from my throat down to my collarbone, placing gentle kisses there. “Is this … still ok?”

I panted softly, whimpering, and nodded. “Yeah~ yeah, this is … ooooh Jay~ this is amazing~”

He grinned against my chest, kissing more. His hand slowly made its way to my side, and his fingertips slid under my shirt a bit. “And … this?” He slid his hand a little further.

I shivered hard and nodded. “ohh god, yes~”

His hand caressed my curves as he kissed and gently nipped at my collar. I quickly found myself squirming under him, whining a bit; “yes~ … j- just like that, Jay~”

I squirmed a bit as he explored my soft tummy, pressing his hands into my sides to hold me close. His lips slowly made their way a bit lower, and a bit lower, until they were at the neckline of my shirt. Jason looked up at me, stroking my sides gently.

“Can … um … can I …?” He slid my shirt up ever so slightly.

I nodded quickly, shifting to help him remove it. He tossed it aside and began kissing my cleavage again. His hands fondled and caressed more, making their way up to my breasts. He licked and nibbled there, squeezing gently.

“Ohh fuck~ Jay~”

He groaned softly, nuzzling against me. He nibbled more, holding me close. “Fuck, you're incredible, doll~”

He fondled me more, kissing all over. I panted softly, gently tugging his hair. He purred at that, nipping more. I gasped softly, tugging his hair a bit. “Ow... G- gently, Jay…”

He froze, slowly pulling back. “I … I'm sorry, … I … fuck!” He pushed off the bed, backing up until he was against the wall. He stared at me, wide eyed, as I sat up.

“Take a breath, Jay. It's ok, I'm not hurt. Your teeth are just sharp.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly nodded. “... I … I'm sorry …”

“It's ok, baby.” I held a hand out to him. He slowly walked over to me, letting me pull him down to sit next to me. I stroked his back, kissing his shoulder. “Relax, it's ok~”

“It's not. … I hurt you…”

“Well, mostly you startled me. And when I said ‘ow’ you stopped.”

He sighed softly, burying his face in his hands. “... I … I hate this … I … I don't know how to do this…”

“What do you mean?”

“... I think ... After everything I’ve been through … everything I’ve done … this isn’t what my body is built for … I can cause pain, I can take pain … I don’t know what to do with … pleasure. I don’t know how to give you pleasure. And I don’t deserve to receive it…”

I frowned deeply; “... My love, … you are so incredibly strong, and it’s true that you can take an inordinate amount of pain. But you are not meant for pain. Someone as kind and gentle and caring as you deserves to experience joy, and love, and pleasure.”

“... I don’t know how.” he shuddered, staring into his lap. “... But I want to … I want us to get to be happy together … I want to be able to pleasure you …”

I nodded slowly, chewing on my lower lip a bit. “... Jay, … how did you get so good at fighting?”

“… Years of training?”

A grin slowly spread across my face as I reached out for his hand. He let me take it, squeezing once. “Exactly. Someone who knew how to fight showed you how it was done. They had you practice punches and kicks, taught you how to shoot, right?” He nodded, slowly looking toward me. “... So why don’t we do this the same way?”

“... What do you mean?”

I cupped his cheek, purring; “you’re teaching me to defend myself. If you’ll let me, I will teach you about pleasure.”

A shuddering gasp ripped through him, and his lower lip trembled a bit as he slowly nodded, leaning into my hand more; “... Y- yes. … Yes, I want that. I … I want to learn. … Please, teach me.”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #multi chapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

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