#saw someone else doing this and it looked like fun

[strawberrykidneystone]

lend an arm

summary: you’re a mechanic who sevika refused to work with until one day she comes back with her arm ripped off

a/n: idk if the title makes sense but it’s a play on lend a hand but yk,,, she lost her whole arm😋

tags: fluff, banter, mention of hooking up, less spicy than i thought it was gonna be whoops, smoking

ty anon for the request!!!

ao3 version

when you were hired as silco’s handyman, you imagined you would be working with sevika a lot to add upgrades to her arm, fix her arm after combat, etc. etc.

nope.

quite the opposite. you were met with the cold shoulder every time, a gruff out ‘i can do it myself’ before she stomps off to the corner of silco’s office to tinker with her arm. you’re sure there’s a masturbation joke there somewhere, but you haven’t quite thought of a clever enough one to say aloud.

did you hook up with her a few times? yes. was it your proudest moment? no, but damn was it good.

given that, most of your time was spent with jinx, albeit sometimes more than you’d like. you love the girl to bits, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. still, you liked her music taste and you got on well enough, not to mention her inventions were quite clever, not that you’d ever say it to her; she's already got quite the ego.

still, the blue haired girl was still family or whatever you’d call it. you knew she was still sneaking into her lab and pretended to be none the wiser, but you’re pretty sure that she knew you knew.

although sevika refused your help, you couldn’t help but notice how she’d glance up every time she tweaked something on her arm, as if she were searching for approval from you. you’d make eye contact with her and glance down at what she’d fixed, giving an approving nod or shaking your head depending on what she did. each time you nodded, you’d swear you saw a blush creep up her ears. if you shook your head though, she’d scowl and vigorously undo her work and redo it until either she was satisfied with it or look to get your approval again. it was a cute little game you two would play, but you knew you’d be able to make the fixes about 10x faster if she would only let you.

and the silco died.

with nowhere else to go and determined not going to join any side in the turf war for the lanes, that left you the last drop where you’d been sleeping on the couch in his old office. damn, you still couldn’t believe that he was gone. sure he was an asshole most of the time, but he was one of the people and at least tried to keep give shithole of the undercity some sort of organization.

whatever, at least his couch was comfy.

you were tinkering with one of jinx’s old chompers in silco’s office when sevika came barreling in. you jumped a bit from the slam of the door and looked at the panting figure in the doorway. she had her poncho covering the front of her body, but the lumpiness under the cloth alarmed you that something was wrong. she wordlessly walked past you and threw her poncho off to the side, revealing her flesh arm holding her mechanical arm under her armpit. the gears sticking out of the stump of her mechanical arm told you that someone had ripped it out, and she was pissed.

she slammed her arm on the table and grumbled to herself, grabbing a flathead screwdriver from the table of her former boss’ desk. she stabbed the head in and cursed under her breath, muttering something about a ‘pink haired brat’ as she attempted to fix her mechanical limb. she spent a good 10 minutes trying to fix the arm with her one good hand. you minded your business and kept your eyes on your book, studying about the latest technology in the upper city, hextech.

until you heard it. she sighed and turned around, leaning her back against the table, saying something quietly in your direction. you lifted your head and tilted it questioningly to the side, “what was that?”

sevika huffed and dragged her hand down her face, “can you fix my arm?”

a small grin crept up your lips, oh you were gonna have fun with this, “what’s the magic word?”

sevika deadpanned at you and rolled her eyes, but was too tired to argue, “…please.”

you clapped your hands together and happily stood up, “yes! i’ve been waiting for this!”

you basically pushed her aside as you quickly got to work on her arm, trying to undo as much damage as you could. after about an hour, you were able to restore basic function in the arm, but one good punch could make the whole thing fall apart all over again. you straightened up and looked around the room to see where she had gone, you really fell into your own world as you worked. looking around, you saw her on the couch fixated down, the same area where your ass had been only moments before. you cleared your throat which seemed to snap her out of her trance, her head snapping up to meet your eyes.

you held her arm up and gestured for her to come over. she scrambled up to meet you at your side, holding her arm out expectantly. brushing past her, you attached her arm back on with a satisfying ‘click’ at it latched into place. you took a step back to let her adjust to it again. she clenched her hand into a fist and turned her hand over, admiring your handiwork. she hummed in approval and looked down at you with a glint of respect in her eyes that you’d never seen before.

“that should do for now, but you’ll probably need a new arm if you don’t want to get your ass beat,” you smirked as you dusted off your hands off on your pants.

“thought that you fixed it?,” she said with a raised eyebrow. her tone was meant not in an attacking manner, but more curiosity on the actual damage of her arm.

“i’m a mechanic, not a miracle worker,” you chided, crossing your arms over your chest.

sevika raised her arms in relinquishment, a half smirk gracing her lips, “easy princess, ‘meant no offense to your skills.”

“uh huh,” you responded sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you patted her shoulder.

she sighed and looked down, glancing back up at you in reluctance, “what i meant was… thank you.”

you raised your eyebrows in surprise, but smiled at the sentiment, “you’re welcome, i just wish i could’ve helped more earlier.”

“earlier?” she asked in a neutral tone, taking a cigarette out of her pocket and putting it in the corner of her mouth, lighting it with one hand while she cupped around her mouth with the other. she took a quick drag and blew the smoke away from you, letting the cigarette rest lazily between her fingers.

“y’know, before silco died. if you had let me work on your arm and upgrade it, it probably wouldn’t have broken in the first place,” you said matter-of-factly, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a puff, purposefully blowing it towards her.

“my arm was fine, it was just this one time,” she responded gruffly, taking another drag from the cigarette. you shrugged and glanced over her arm, subconsciously making sure that every part was working as it should.

“…where the hell should i get a new arm?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could, but a little more waiver of worry still came through in her voice.

you looked up at her and grinned, pointing up, “the answer is closer than you think.”

she looked up and jumped a little seeing the blue haired girl, “jesus jinx.”

nothing made sevika jump, she must’ve really been on edge with silco’s death.

jinx giggled and shook her head, “fine, but i want complete creative control.”

sevika sighed defeatedly and looked at you for any sort of help, which of course you gave none.

“fine.”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Girl, it's not just an emotional rollercoaster it's a full on emotional CARNIVAL 🤣

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

The line is devastating. It ''bites." It's more than just telling someone that they messed up, it's also kinda catty lol.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

He really bet it all. And I'm in love with the person who said "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." 😂

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

I think it would have been a bigger gut punch to Dean if she didn't stay in the room with him, but I still think that the her turning her back on him and not letting him touch her kinda hit the nail on the head pretty well too.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

It's not weird, I think that it's really fitting! And I also really like writing the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff too lol. But you're absolutely right, Dean really does adopt that mentality after Lisa and Ben and it is really heartbreaking to see him like that.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

As much as I do love the readers who are "tough as nails" and "doesn't cry very often" I love the readers who are strong but are allowed to break. It makes them seem more real. Because as much as I believe that there are people who are completely just insane badasses, they've gotta have some kind of emotion or compassion or else they don't seem human. Also "Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL" I'm DEAD 😂

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

Please never apologize for the angst. I LOVE IT! And I really did also love how emotional this fic made me. It was wonderful lol.

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

GIRL WHAT?! OH MY WORD THAT IS JUST SO MUCH BETTER! Thank you for explaining that to me!

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

No, THANK YOU for writing this wonderful fic/series! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[solxamber]

Heyya saw you're still open, so I will request my favorite character. I've been seeing a lot of RSA!Silver. So it's about Silver and MC/Yuu still not in relationships. Then some shenanigans happen. Where there's RSA version Silver shows up. I'm not sure if he can be a different character or personality, but the interpretation is up to you.

Imagine how RSA! Silver can be more up front showing affection to Yuu but Silver is not. It ends up confusing Yuu's feelings and makes Silver try his best to show his affection too. It's making RSA!Silver and Silver fighting over Yuu. Hopefully no problem.

Silver x reader x RSA! Silver

loved the idea! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3

It all starts during a spell misfire, and suddenly an RSA student who looks exactly like Silver but acts a little differently is standing in the middle of the headmaster’s office, looking only mildly concerned. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Crowley had crowed, immediately shoving the “guest” into your care.

The RSA Silver is… different. He’s friendlier, more open, and somehow even a little more dazzling with that unguarded smile he flashes your way. He introduces himself as a knight-in-training who’s proud to serve his prince with a wink and, surprisingly, a slight bow directed at you.

“This should be fun!” he says with a laugh, catching your stare.

Silver — your Silver — is already watching from the shadows, his calm gaze hardening when he sees RSA Silver’s warmth towards you. Normally, Silver isn’t easily rattled, but he finds himself lingering close, always observing this other version of himself who seems so openly comfortable with you.

The jealousy is subtle at first: he stands a little closer, making excuses to keep you nearby when RSA Silver is around.

And you? You’re a little bewildered yourself. This easy-going RSA Silver is affectionate in ways you aren’t used to — patting your shoulder when you’re joking, walking close enough to brush your arm, offering to help you with even the most minor tasks.

He’s friendly, sure, but it stirs up a mix of confusing emotions when compared to the quieter, more reserved Silver you know.

One afternoon, RSA Silver and Silver both linger in the garden as you sit with them. You’re laughing at something RSA Silver says, and he leans in, his expression soft. “I know we only just met, but it feels like I’ve known you for ages. When I leave, would you—”

Silver clears his throat, cutting RSA Silver off. “There’s no need to trouble them,” he says, almost flatly, surprising you with the way his usually calm expression is edged with something sharper.

RSA Silver just smirks. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” he teases, crossing his arms. “But it’s cute.”

Silver’s jaw clenches. He moves closer, his presence steady and warm at your side, more open than usual. His gaze softens when he looks at you, a small but genuine smile on his lips. “I don’t think you need anyone else,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

By the time RSA Silver’s two days are nearly up, the confusion you feel is almost overwhelming. Your heart’s been tugged between two versions of the same person, each showing you a different side.

When RSA Silver finally approaches you, his expression is thoughtful, almost reluctant. “I’ll be leaving soon, but… I’d like you to come with me. My world could use someone like you.”

It’s tempting, for a moment. You glance at Silver, the one who’s been by your side all along, steady and loyal, the one whose quiet strength has already won your heart.

You shake your head with a soft smile, looking back at RSA Silver. “I appreciate it, but… I think I’ve already found what I’m looking for here.”

RSA Silver accepts your answer gracefully, with a small, wistful smile. “He’s lucky, then,” he says, clapping Silver on the shoulder in a final parting gesture before disappearing in a swirl of magic.

As soon as he’s gone, Silver’s gaze locks onto yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for yours. “I… I wasn’t sure if you—” His words trail off, and without thinking, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I always liked you, Silver. Just you.”

His face softens, his cheeks just barely pink, and he smiles — the genuine smile you don’t see very often. “I was hoping you'd say that”

Masterlist

[olderthannetfic]

Fandom's Newspaper: Revisiting /Report

It's 2011. LJ is dying. Fandom is splintering. You keep asking where we're going next.

You're haunted by the creeping realization that the rest of "we" is leaving for some stupid, weird site with bad features that lacks all the things that make a proper fandom home. They wouldn't really do that, would they? They wouldn't go where you can't follow!

It's okay though: LJ was fandom's home because it was hands down a better site. You'll simply have to wait till someone builds one with the right features, and then fandom will naturally migrate back there.

At least there's AO3. It's getting so big! There are over twenty thousand accounts and two hundred thousand works! Too bad there are so few Asian fandoms on it. Anime fandom will probably always be on FFN even if it's kind of hostile to m/m. Oh well.

But where is the community?

You stumble across a podcast that's a couple of slashers chatting about the latest in fandom. How fun! It's like the best of a fandom newsletter and a phone call with your fandom bestie rolled into one! You're between fandoms, and you don't have that bestie right now, but /Report lets you feel like you know what's going on. It's like reading the fandom newspaper!

--

Okay, but in all seriousness, at Slash Report (/report)'s height, I often saw people talk about it the way they talk about my tumblr now, and it cracks me up. I guess in any era, we're wondering where everybody else is.

/report was a casual podcast of friends chatting that ran from August 2011 until June 2016.

I wasn't a regular listener back in the day. I did listen to quite a few episodes later on, long after they'd aired, but also long ago by now. A couple of things that I do remember from it (like mentions of Chinese media) make me think it would be highly entertaining to revisit it now, in 2024.

Tumblr is still hanging on as a fandom hub of sorts, just like LJ was still active in 2011. (Just pretend you can't hear that clock ticking down!) So much else has changed. The internet is a radically different place now. But fans are still floundering around, looking for a sense of connection.

So just for fun, listen to /report's very first episode 101 Slash Cast.

Suits, Hawaii Five-0, The Mentalist, and a mention of knots that has nothing to do with omegaverse!

[tsams-is-my-hyperfixation]

◀ | ◼ | ▶

[NONVERBAL SUN AU: Eclipse.]

Sun's head was hurting as he walked over to the desk, sitting in a chair. It was after hours, and the lights were dimmed. Moon crawled over. "Sunny, are you okay?" he asked his daytime counterpart, who just nodded tiredly. He put a hand on his head. "Just a headache..." Sun responded. "But we're animatronics, how can we get headaches?..." Moon asked, curious. Sun actually didn't know. Maybe it was something more...

"Moon, would you mind checking my systems?" Sun asked him. Moon nodded, crawling over to Sun, who sat down on the floor. "I need you to power down..." Moon told him. Sun did as told, powering down. Last thing he heard was Moon going into his mind to check...

~~~

[MOON'S POV:]

Sunny's head was all fun and games, quite literally! Cute little strawberry plushie's jumped up and down on the trampoline, while cartons of Chocolate Milk danced in the fridge. It wss all bright and colorful. Moon loved it. "I love this place!!!" he exclaimed. Then he shook his head. He was here for Sunny, not for the fun. He saw a yellow glow from the desk. He crawled over, to see someone who looked exactly like Sunny, but glowing brightly.

"Ooh! What's your name?" he asked them. They turned too look at him, giving him a dirty look. "First, stop crawling and stand up." the glowing Sunny said. "But I don't know how..." Moon mumbled. The glowing Sunny just stared at him, dumbfounded. "How do you—" he sighed in exasperation, getting up and grabbing Moon by the arm before jerking him upwards. Moon almost fell, but the glowing Sunny caught him. He was able to stand with glowing Sunny's help. "My name is Eclipse." the glowing Sunny—no, Eclipse—said. "I like your name!" Moon told him happily. "I'm Moon!"

"Nice to meet you I guess, Moon..." Eclipse mumbled under his breath. The lights grew brighter, causing Moon to flinch and cover his eyes. Again, the light hurt him, because he was darkness. Poor guy. Eclipse looked thoroughly surprised, before turning off his glow and hugging Moon. Moon hugged back. "Are you the thingy in Sunny's head that's making his head hurt?" Moon asked. "I guess I am..." Eclipse muttered. Moon just poked him innocently. "Bye bye, Clipsy!" Moon said innocently. Eclipse looked at him, before hesitantly waving goodbye. Then, Moon went back to the real world.

~~~

[SUNS POV:]

Sun opened his eyes, powering back on. He glanced at Moon, who seemed too be fine. "What happened?" he asked his nighttime counterpart. "The thingy hurting your head's name is Eclipse!" Moon told him. "YOU GAVE IT A NAME!?" Sun exclaimed, dumbfounded. Moon just nodded. Sun face planted. "Whatever floats your boat, Moony..." he mumbled. He pat his brother's head. Innocent little Moon...

"Sometimes you're an idiot...but that's okay, because you're my little brother. You are my world..."

THE SILLIES! Tagging people who might like it even if we aren't mutuals: @goodolddumbbanana @noinoi999 @ikamigami @multifandomcutie13 @thekillermaretwinz @inkyucu @skyuvu123 @ryomaandgundhamkin @coffee-the-bat @sen-sational @dagh0stking @ilikescience-confession-blog @tsamsconfessions123 @silly-a-777 @nosleepygay @eddwardharrison @bloodmoon-da-idiot @lunarlovesbeanbags @mo0ndr0p @sleepy-hall @a-fucking-tornado @rayofmfsunshine1201 @darksuns-beloved-pet @letthebloodrunlikeariver @astrofairy06 @sunny-sourzii @upsidedownapple @yelesomeblue @deyisacherry and literally anyone else. Half the people on here are not my mutuals and half of them are. If you would like your tag removed, just ask me and I gladly will. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

[everythingmp3]

giving in

adult!Van x fem!reader

the fact that you work for Van makes your dynamic a bit complicated - you both keep flirting, but still, you don’t know if you should act upon your feelings. then, one night, you find yourself in desperate need of company and end up at her place.

authors note: this started out as a comfort thing but turned into sth more erotic, so it’s a mixed vibe! I had fun with it, so I hope you enjoy <3 (around 5k)

warnings: smut (reader receiving), minors dni

it was around 10 pm as you wandered down the street and wondered where you could go besides back home.

you’d had an exhausting day and wanted nothing less than to return to a dark, empty apartment. the night air was punishing, freezing cold, wind hitting your face from seemingly all directions, so you were desperate for comfort, for warmth, for anything to reawaken your spirits.

you stopped by a corner, debating what to do, and felt the sudden urge to call someone. there was only one person you could think of: Van.

there were others you could have considered, but you paid them no mind, you wanted nobody else’s company but hers. the one thing that made you hesitate, was that you worked for her. it wasn’t an intense job, you just helped her out at the store about twice a week - routine work like stacking shelves and cleaning up - but over the few months you’d known her, you’d quickly developed a close bond.

it only took few days of knowing her for Van to start joking around with you, to bring you coffee when she got one for herself, to remember things youd told her and inquire about them the next time you were there. she made you watch certain classics you’d never seen before and made you report back to her, she got into heated discussions about favorite actors with you, remembered your preferences and made you little lists with films you might like.

it was clear that she liked you but you weren’t sure yet if her feelings ran as deeply as yours did because your crush on her only got worse each time you saw her.

over time it kept happening more and more when you were around her that you found yourself checking her out - when she reached up to get something from a higher shelf and her shirt hiked up, revealing the skin above her hips, when you stood close enough to her to see all of her freckles clearly, when she talked to customers and you watched her gesture wildly with her hands, her fingers always a point of focus for you.

you got the sense that she looked at you in a similar light, there was some tension there, and at times you’d almost been brave enough to ask her out but in the end you were always too nervous.

you had no idea if she had caught on by then and felt like you were giving yourself away by calling her at that hour, but your pride couldn’t keep you from reaching out; it was cold and you were lonely and you wanted to see her. it was simple. instinct.

when Van picked up, you tentatively asked her if you could come over for a second because you were close by, trying your best to sound nonchalant about it. she answered surprisingly fast "yeah, sure, come by!", and for a second you wondered why she didn’t push back more, perhaps hoping that it was her way of giving you a sign: that you weren’t alone in your desire to spend more time together.

so, about a fifteen minute walk later, you stepped up the stairs to her apartment.

Van immediately got up from the couch and walked over to greet you, pulling you into an embrace, tightening her arms after a second as as she said "jesus, you’re shaking, you’re dressed way too thin" her hands rubbing up and down your back, firmly, to warm you up a bit. you had to be careful not to rest your head against her shoulder in a way that would have felt too intimate as she held you, still, the desire was there, it always was.

"yeah, it was a bit brutal out there.." you admitted, breathing in her familiar, soothing scent, soaking up the sudden rush of having her body heat infused into your system - you could have stayed like that for much longer but Van pulled away and looked at you, searching your face for other signs of discomfort, pain. "okay, come on, let me make you a tea, that should help. I have this speciality, you know" she said, a promising grin as she walked over to the kitchen and told you to sit by the counter.

you took off your jacket and got comfortable as you watched her put on the kettle, smiling to yourself as you felt the exhaustion from the day slowly falling off, replaced by the joy of being in her cozy space, being tended to by her, even just in that small way.

as she moved around the kitchen, you told her about your day and recalled some absurd moments that might amuse her, a few quiet laughs from her here and there, little comments like "damn, okay".

a few minutes later, Van said "here, this is the trick, you add some honey and some oat milk. it’s really nice, should warm you up for good, here drink" and handed you over the finished product, smiling and watching intently as you took the first sip, without any protest or skeptical looks, a signal from you: that youd drink or eat pretty much anything she prepared for you, without protest.

you nodded as you put the cup back down on the table and said "yeah this perfect, thank you". the hot, sweet liquid spread through you in a way that loosened you up, made your face glow from the steam. you let out a deep, shuddering breath of relief, which was loud enough for her to hear and be endeared by.

"come on, let’s go sit down, get a bit more comfortable" Van said, while going over to her couch. "you sure? I mean I don’t wanna keep you up or anything" you asked, unsure if she was just being nice or actually wanted you there. she sat down and gave you an amused look "keep me up? it’s 10:30, I am not that old yet, I can handle staying up til midnight, sweetheart"

you rolled your eyes a bit and drank a bit more of the honeyed tea before walking over and sitting down next to her, conscious of the space between you, keeping it bigger than you actually wanted to,

"so, did a date ditch you or something? or why did you call me while walking around outside" she teased a bit, which you immediately denied, "no, you were actually my first choice, believe it or not", your tone a bit too sincere, her attention suddenly sharper, her gaze not moving away from your face as she adjusted her position and turned her body more towards you.

"well, I don’t know what that says about you and your social life, but I’m glad you thought of me. I didn’t think you’d feel like seeing more of me after listening to my rants earlier this week...". you had to laugh then, recalling a long tangent shed gone on about some film shed seen at the cinema and absolutely despised. "oh no, that’s very entertaining, I am never bothered by any of it" you said, leaning a bit closer too, smiling at her, noticing her scent again, only made more intoxicating by your proximity to her, the way her face looked in the dim light, her hair shimmering lightly.

for a few more minutes you sat there and chatted, the way you always did, instantly back to your natural back and forth, which somehow felt even nicer while relaxing on the couch together instead of standing around in her store - there was an intimacy to your exchange that wasnt usually there, perhaps also because it was late and the darkness gave you a feeling of privacy, that lent itself to letting your guards down a bit.

for a moment you were both quiet, just listening to the faint sound of cars outside, watching the candlelight dance on the walls, until you felt her eyes on the side of your face and turned to look at her.

"what?" you asked, quiet, curious.

Van cocked her head and eyed you for a second longer before saying "oh its just-" she stopped herself, but you insisted "come on, tell me". so, she went on, her tone unusually soft and earnest, "you know, a lot of the time, you’re so fun and easy to talk to, you get this sparkle, its really infectious, and then and hour later I will see you sitting somewhere and looking so.. I don’t know. tired. exhausted. same thing happened just now, and I never wanna overstep, really, but I do worry sometimes. about you."

her words struck you at your core, it was out of nowhere, her revelation: that she had read you exactly right, without you being aware that you were that transparent to her. you were not used to it, at all, being observed that closely, being seen in that almost painfully accurate way, least of all by her. you had been so focused on paying attention to her, that you had forgotten that she was able to the same thing, that she might have also thrown looks your way when you hadnt been aware. there was also a pleasure to it, being caught off guard, being exposed in a way, unable to hide from her.

"you worry?" you asked, almost unsure if you’d heard right, your expression slightly fragile then, vulnerable. Van nodded and kept looking at you, "yeah, kinda. I mean, it wasn’t for no reason that you came here, right."

you couldn’t deny it, "well. yeah I did have a pretty bad day”

Van touched your arm then, to soothe, but it didnt just soothe you, it thrilled you. she kept her hand there, caressing you lightly as you looked at her and said "I mean, you’re kinda..." you started, which got her attention, so she said "yes, go on", her touch still distracting you.

"you’re the only person I’ve felt at ease around lately. that’s why I called you." you admitted.

Van seemed touched, almost shy as she said "good." she realized how that sounded and corrected herself, a quiet nervous laugh, "I mean, not good that you don’t have others but...", you smiled then and reached out to touch her too in response, your hand on her knee, a hint of something in her eyes then.

"I really like you, Van. I hope you can tell" there was weight to your words. you wanted her to know. you were tired of pretending she didnt mean more to you than being your employer. you needed her to see and she did. left her at a loss for words, your sincerity, her eyes suddenly completely soft. you doubled down and took her hand while whispering "isn’t it obvious?".

she nodded, her voice low, her fingers lacing through yours. "I mean, yes, it is. I just... don’t really understand why". that baffled you. her inability to see her own appeal. "you’re funny. you’re kind to me. you’re beautiful". she flushed then, before she moved closer to you and took your face in her hands. you held your breath. a charged pause. both of you searching each other’s eyes, an urgent silent agreement before she gave in and kissed you.

there were many things Van could have said but the only way she knew how to show you what she felt then, was by kissing you the way she hadnt kissed anyone in years: eager, passionate, her lips so soft but pressed hard against yours as you both sighed at the same time, overwhelmed by by the sudden confirmation: she wants me. she wants me badly.

you held onto her and ran your hands down her back, under her shirt, to feel more of her, as she pressed you back against the couch and felt you open your mouth for her, immediately begging her to turn the kiss deeper, a moan from her as your tongues touched, both of you instantly addicted to each others taste, that animal thing of two bodies fully in tune, fitting together at a primal level.

you made out in a way that made it clear you had both dreamed of it, many times, going back in for more and more, kissing turning into devouring very quickly, her way of holding your face as she kissed you enough to make your whole body burn up, the mix of tenderness and possessiveness. she kissed you more intensely than you were used to from others, at times just breathing into your open mouth and soaking up the tension for a few seconds, before resuming the kiss.

each time you separated it only took a split second for you to pull her closer again, leaving you both breathless and dizzy as you shifted on the couch, grabbed each other all over. there was a thrill to the fact that she had years and years of experience on you, that she knew what she was doing, a security and ease to her way of handling you, like you were hers already.

a few minutes into kissing, you grew needy and started tugging at her clothes, so she pulled back and watched you breathe heavy with a hint of a smile, your hands still on her, unwilling to let go now that you had her. "let me take care of you, okay?" she uttered, while her hands traveled lower on your body, grabbing your sides as she leaned closer to your ear and whispered "tell me what you need..." one hand on your neck then, a shiver down your spine.

you whispered "can we go to bed.." your voice hoarse with need. "you sure?" she asked, still caressing you, so you grabbed her face and leaned in to kiss her cheek and sighed "yes. please Van" your breath hot against her skin, her grip on you tightening at the sound of your begging, the feeling of you almost climbing onto her lap, your eagerness hitting her right at her core - it was the final thing she needed to hear in order to abandon all restraint and pull you up to lead you to her room.

the moment you were inside, you both looked at each other and reached out, pulling each other close to kiss again while fumbling with your clothes. she pulled your shirt over your head and kissed your neck feverishly as she relieved you of your bra too, a gasp as you felt the heat of her palms on your exposed chest, a faint moan as she squeezed your soft flesh, bit down on your shoulder lightly, unsure how to handle the sudden all-consuming hunger for you.

"let me see you" you pleaded and pulled off her shirt too, after which you both wordlessly agreed to undress down to your underwear, stumbling to the bed afterwards and crawling up to get comfortable, her on her back as you climbed over her and settled on her in a way that made her thigh push up against your core, a whine as you leaned down to kiss her, your hips grinding down as she kept her hands on your lower back and moaned from the sensation of having you pleasure yourself like that, the faint dampness she could feel on her leg where you moved up and down.

you struggled to kiss her back then, which made her smile up at you, deeply pleased by your pathetic sighs and whines, whispering “you’re so pretty like this”, her hands on your waist.

Van leaned up to kiss your neck, a gasp as she did this, that made her crave more sounds from you, leaving open-mouthed kisses all the way down your pulse point, working you up before she moved her face to your tits, a guttural hum of pleasure both from her and you as she started sucking on your sensitive skin, your eyes shut as you felt yourself grow more and more desperate for her, your underwear soaked from grinding down on her thigh. you were almost scared of how far she would push you, how hard you would unravel for her, after months of waiting for it. part of you wanted, it to be wrecked by her.

Van licked over your tits in broad strokes, sloppy and eager, as you tried to suppress the moans she was drawing out of you, squirming on top of her, until you eventually wanted more and said "please... I need you." which she didn’t need to be told twice. you climbed off her, shaking with want, and switched places, so she could pull off your ruined underwear. afterwards, she got settled between your legs and almost moaned from the sight of you spread open for her like that.

Van seemed to be in awe as she gently ran a finger over your cunt, teasing you a bit, a brief touch to your clit, parting you, hearing you whimper from it as you braced yourself against the mattress.

"hmm" she hummed to herself, almost salivating as you shifted your hips a bit, "you really need this, don’t you?" she whispered, looking up at you then as she kept her finger running up and down your folds, not doing much yet but already leaving you a mess. "yeah.. I haven’t let anyone touch me since we met, I just wanted you" you confessed, which made her pause her movements for a second and stare at you.

"hm. I should make the wait worth it then" she said and used her free hand to keep your legs open as she pushed two fingers inside of you. the moment she did this, Van sighed "god.." as she felt just how wet youd gotten for her, her fingers instantly drenched in your cum, the slick heat of your cunt a heavenly feeling to her. she slowly pushed herself in until she was knuckle-deep, almost sick with want from the sight of it.

she gauged your reaction, turned on when all you could do was moan her name and let your head fall back, the feeling of her fingers in your throbbing cunt almost too much to bear at first. your sounds, the way you felt, the way you looked then, your lips parted, your neck bent, your tits on display for her, it made Van grow possessive, deeply so. there was an intensity to her that few people ever got to see as she started fucking you, watching her own hand for a second to see her fingers pumping in and out of you, slowly at first, building up a rhythm, a distinct force to her movements.

"fuck... that feels so good" you moaned and made eye contact as she nodded and kept going, her other hand gripping your knee, “such an angel for me, hm” she praised as she hit you at the exact right spot in you, your face twisted in pleasure, gripping the sheets, a stifled, barely audible "god" as you felt your whole lower half on fire from it, a deeply pleasurable ache where her fingers kept applying pressure to your walls, fucking you faster then. the thing you realized, as you got soaked in a way you never had before, was that your insane attraction to her made it feel a thousand times better than you were used to - your own touches or the touches of past lovers did not compare to it: having her, the woman you’d wanted for months, had constantly dreamed of and jerked off to, finally give you what you needed, it made you feel a kind of pleasure that almost scared you for a second, sweating and panting and close to crying for her as she kept up the pace and added even more pressure to it, her fingers curling up inside of you in a way that made you black out for a second.

Van herself was close to coming apart from the way you took her, the way you sounded and looked as you surrendered to her, fully. she guided you a bit as she felt you grow erratic and cooed "shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, baby", the unexpected "baby" enough to make you moan even louder, almost drenching her whole hand in your juices at that point, your cunt pulsing like you had a second heartbeat.

you were desperate for release then, so you fucked yourself in a way by moving your hips to match her movements, her fingers a bit more still then as she hummed in approval and uttered "yeah that’s it. god.. look at you" her voice cracked with lust as she watched you push yourself down onto her fingers again and again, her angle adjusted to help you with hitting your weak spot, her free hand grabbing your chest to tease your nipple, as one of your own hands wandered down to your clit, to rub yourself and really get off.

"don’t stop, please" you begged Van as you kept your fingers on your clit, applying intense pressure, while hers kept fucking into you, wet sounds from the mess between your legs echoing through the room, which only turned you both on even more. “you’re close, hm?", she sighed, her own face and chest flushed, her hair messed up, her body unbearably hot to you as she sat there in her underwear between your legs and had her way with you.

you whined in response "yeah.. fuck I´m gonna come..", your hips bucking up aggressively, you biting down on your lip to prevent a pathetically loud cry as you felt the orgasm spreading from your core through your whole body in one violent shock wave - Van kept you in place and whispering sweet things as you desperately rubbed yourself and felt your walls clench around her fingers, her also moaning at that point, unsure how to survive seeing you come for her like that, hard and uninhabited and all hers. she fucked you all the way through your high, her eyes roaming over your whole body, the way your abdomen tightened, the way your muscles tensed up, a vision of pure erotic perfection to her, her own cunt soaked from it.

Van refused to move her fingers out of you until you collapsed a shaking mess, whispering "fuck...", rendered helpless by the aftershocks that were still going through you.

she stayed between your legs as she licked your cum off her fingers, which gave her a craving for more. "can I taste you. please" she asked, "can you handle a bit more?", desperation dripping from her tone, so lifted your head, gave her a nod and said "yeah okay..", a bit scared of your reaction but unwilling to deny her, eager to take whatever she was willing to give.

Van lovingly kissed your thighs for a few seconds and adjusted your position a bit before she pushed her face up against your soaked cunt, breathing in your scent as she moved her tongue up and down your still sensitive folds, before swirling it over you swollen clit.

you were still so raw that it felt overwhelming in the best way. you wrapped your legs around her head and held her in place, your hands in her hair, a moan from her as you let her push you towards another orgasm, fast. she was obsessed with how needy for her you were, the way you were squirming and crying, the way you refused to let her move an inch, the way you moaned "yes.. just like that". she licked all over you in intense strokes, pushed her tongue in deep, and sucked on your clit until you came against her mouth, weak from your first orgasm but not too weak to savor it, an almost religious experience, how utterly flooded by pleasure your body was.

you let out a satisfied "god..." as you loosened your grip on Vans head and laid there completely spent and relaxed, hot all over, your blood rushing, your face glowing.

Van smiled to herself, her chin glistening, even in the dark, and placed a few sloppy, heartfelt kisses all the way up your stomach, out of breath and high on your taste. you tangled your hands in her hair again and tugged lightly, blissed out, both of you still buzzing with desire as you pulled her closer. she gave you a lingering kiss to your forehead and she traced your soft skin, waiting for you to come back to your senses again, dazed and satisfied by her own sudden eagerness, after years of thinking she had grown numb in that regard.

Van broke the silence first by saying "I knew this before of course but. you are so fucking hot... jesus" shaking her head in disbelief as her mind was still clouded over with the way you had reacted to her every touch.

you smiled at her then, your gaze roaming her pretty face from up close as you played with a front piece of her hair and whispered "you are too. I’ve never finished like that before..". she smiled and cocked her head "no?" visibly pleased by that confession, "no" you reaffirmed and absentmindedly caressed her arm, "it’s different when you have been dreaming about it for weeks and weeks, I guess. when youre obsessed with someone", you said, purposely wording it that way, which made her blush and hold you tighter. "you’re a sweet-talker, huh. but I agree, I haven’t felt like this in... god I don’t know. forever" her tone almost wistful, emotional as she held you in her arms, the skin to skin contact endlessly soothing, a sensation you both wanted to sink into forever.

you clung to her and closed your eyes for a second, until she said "stay here tonight, okay?", which made you stare at her with a sparkle in your eyes and nod, "yes. I’d love that."

"you want a shower?" Van suggested as she sat up on the bed. "yeah, if you join" you responded, nudging her leg with yours.

so, a minute later, you both stood under the hot stream of the shower, face to face, you teasing her a bit by soaping her body up for her and letting your hands linger on her chest, giving her wet shoulder a kiss, whispering to her that you couldnt wait to return the favor. Van stood there with her eyes closed, letting you hold her from behind and said "god. where the fuck did you come from, huh" as she tried to process how heavily you were coming onto her, that you didnt just want to be pleased but clearly wanted to please her too, desperately.

she wouldn’t have assumed or demanded that you touch her in any way, but your open fantasizing about it made her curse herself for not throwing caution to the wind weeks before and kissing you in the back of the store one of the many times shed wanted to.

once you were done and went back to her room, she handed you over some of her comfortable clothes and told you to take up however much space you wanted to on her bed, before getting in under the covers next to you.

there was a giddiness to both of you as you realized that you were only getting the first taste of the intimacy you would be able to share from that point on, both the erotic aspects and the domestic, sweet ones. it had been too long for her. it seemed surreal to Van, to feel a warm body snuggle up to hers. she had to be careful not to shed a tear as you reached for her under the blanket and pressed yourself against her.

after a moment of content silence, both of you melting into a soft embrace, your head on her chest, she asked "did you mean that earlier? about feeling comfortable around me, at ease".

you nodded, tracing her outline over her soft sleeping clothes "I did yes. I didn’t just say that to make you cave." a grin from both of you as you said that. you continued "the past few weeks have been kinda draining and sometimes the only thing I look forward to was seeing you. I mean that" Van squeezed you in response, "I am very glad. you make my days much brighter too, always. but it does make me sad to think you’re stressed when you’re not here. I did get close to asking you to stay after work a few times but. well. I couldn’t figure out a way for that to not sound a bit creeppy because. you know... the age difference, me technically being your boss." that made you laugh and look up at her.

"oh, I don’t mind a creepy older boss if it’s you" you joked.

Van smiled, "right, I should have known from the way you kept staring me down" teasing you, her tone low and suggestive.

you gave her light shove under the covers, "yeah and you fully played into it, you were just pushing me to make the first move, don’t even lie". it had happened more than once that she had felt your gaze and stretched her arms, so her midriff would show, or played with her hair, or leaned over the counter in a way that lent itself to fantasy very easily.

still, she acted oblivious and said "I don’t know what you mean", her grin giving away that she absolutely did.

you reached up and tapped her on her freckled nose while whispering "sure”, after which you both leaned in for a kiss, the taste of her toothpaste making the it taste minty, both of you smiling into it.

you nuzzled up against each other then and closed your eyes, sighing in unison, your bodies devoid of all the tension they usually held onto.

"I am really glad you came here tonight. I could get used to this." Van said quietly before you could drift off for good. you slid your hand under shirt, your palm resting on her lower back, a sigh from her. "me too. you’re mine now" you proclaimed, joking but not really, since you did want her all to yourself. to your luck, Van liked it, a lot, being claimed like that, so she smiled and whispered "oh yeah?".

"hm, yeah...." you insisted, half asleep already but lucid enough to feel the joy radiate from her as she said "good."

the sleep you both fell into at the same time was heavy and dreamless, which felt fitting, since reality had suddenly taken on a dreamlike quality.

you were glad that the cold had forced you to your knees, that youd been lead by instinct that night, that you’d come to her and been received with open arms.

it was one of the coldest nights of the year but to you it ended with a kind of warmth that you couldn’t have conceived of before. in the darkness, she was your sun. your fire. your light.

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

Beneath the Veil of Desire- Jonathan Deviss

After a long day of shooting for Outer Banks, the air was tense. The cast was gathering for the end of the day, but the atmosphere was still electric. You, who played Cheryl, had always had a special connection with Jonathan, the actor who played Pope.

Carlacia Grant, who played Cleo, couldn’t hide her interest in Jonathan. He was always looking at him with a wink, trying to get his attention in every way possible. But Jonathan... Jonathan always seemed lost in another world when he looked at you.

Every time he saw you, his look changed. He lit up, as if he finally saw someone who really interested him. Carlacia, no matter how hard she tried, couldn’t earn her attention like you could with a smile.

It was after a shooting that the situation exploded. Carlacia watched you from afar as Jonathan approached you, completely enraptured by your presence. You, with your provocative attitude, were laughing as Jonathan asked an innocent question, but you answered with a cheeky smile. You looked into his eyes with that spark that only you had, playing with your hair and touching his shoulder in such a casual gesture, but so irresistible.

"Are you having fun, y/n?" Jonathan asked, almost without thinking, while his gaze was fixed on you, unaware of Carlacia’s presence.

You answered, your voice a little lower, provocative: "Oh, really so much. You know how to make a girl laugh." Your finger slid slowly down his shoulder, and then you bent over to him, pretending to fix his hair. The contact was not random, and you knew that Jonathan could hear every single movement.

Carlacia approached, but stopped a few steps behind you, looking at the whole thing with an expression that betrayed a slight frustration.

Jonathan wasn’t even looking at her, too focused on you to notice anything else. His face approached yours, and you felt its warm, almost palpable closeness. "y/n..." he muttered, and his voice sounded like an unspoken promise.

"Do you like what you see, Jonathan?" you whispered, feeling his closer breath, his body moving towards you. The tension was high, and Carlacia could not help but watch, unable to take a step, while you were now the center of his attention.

Jonathan smiled, a smile that betrayed all his interest, and, with a quick but decisive movement, tried to kiss you. But you didn’t make it easy. Instead of completely giving in to his kiss, you reached out to him, touching his shoulder again, as if to let him know that you liked his presence, but there was a game going on.

Carlacia, seeing this scene, could not but hold a sigh. Jonathan was completely losing his mind about you, and she couldn’t understand how you could have such an effect on him. But he knew there was nothing he could do to stop what seemed like an inevitable fate between you and him.

"What do you say, Jonathan... see you later?" you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

Jonathan, visibly impressed, nodded with a timid smile, but in his eyes there was a spark of desire that even he could not hide. " Absolutely," he replied, and Carlacia, now distant, left, trying to appear indifferent, but in her heart she knew that she had lost the game.

---

The scene was like a game of seduction, and you, with your intriguing smile, looked like the undisputed queen of the situation. Jonathan couldn’t help but stare at you, completely absorbed in your presence. His mind, which normally seemed always focused on a thousand things, was now entirely focused on you, as if the rest of the world no longer existed.

Carlacia, with her usual confidence, couldn’t help but observe every movement, every word you exchanged with Jonathan. Envy, though veiled, burned inside her, but she forced herself to appear indifferent, as if it were the most normal thing to see Jonathan completely kidnapped by another.

You, on the other hand, kept playing with him. You would come closer, as if you wanted to whisper something, but when he leaned down to listen, you would walk away again with a smile on your face. You did it on purpose. Every movement, every gesture, seemed like an invitation to follow you, but without ever really granting him what he wanted.

"y/n, you really... have a way of driving me crazy," Jonathan said, with a tone that betrayed his frustration but also his fascination for you.

You slowly turn towards him, your body moving so naturally and sensually. "Really?" You answered with a light laugh, but your eyes were full of an intensity that could not hide the desire between you. You came near again, and this time there was no distance between you. "Are you sure, Jonathan? Because it seems to me that you are looking for something I am not willing to give you easily."

The tension in the air became even more palpable. Jonathan seemed undecided, his mind torn between the desire to approach and uncertainty of how to behave. Your challenge made him even more attracted to you, and the feeling that you were taking control of the situation hypnotized him.

Carlacia, seeing how Jonathan reacted, could not remain silent any longer. He came over, trying to break the magic that seemed to be between you and Jonathan. "Hey, Jonathan, I’m here!" said, with a forced smile that did not hide his displeasure.

But Jonathan didn’t even seem to notice her presence. His eyes were fixed on you, and his expression was something vulnerable, as if he was completely defenseless.

Carlacia stopped, her smile slowly fading as pride and frustration consumed her. She had never seen Jonathan like this. She had never felt so invisible before him, yet the truth was that there was nothing she could do to change things.

You, meanwhile, had not finished with Jonathan. Your hand slowly slipped on his back, and this time the contact was no longer random. You looked into his eyes, your breath growing deeper, your body approaching his.

"Do you really want to try?" you whisper, your voice sweet but charged with an energy that left little room for indecision. " Because you don’t seem ready to face what we have."

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, but your closeness and the confidence you gave him gave way. With a swift movement, he took you for life, bringing you even closer. Carlacia, now distant, watched the scene from afar, unable to hide her malaise.

"I don’t know what to do with you anymore, y/n," Jonathan muttered, his hands touching your face gently.

And at that moment, as the rest of the world seemed to disappear around you, you replied with a mischievous smile: "And I, Jonathan, can’t wait for you to find out."

The night seemed to have just begun and with it, a new game between you. Jonathan had never been so taken with someone, and he felt it in every fibre of his body. Carlacia, however, knew that the battle was lost. Now, all that remained was to watch, helpless, as you and Jonathan entered a game no one seemed to want to stop.

The tension between you and Jonathan was now unsustainable. Every word, every gesture you exchanged seemed to push you ever more towards a limit that neither of you seemed willing to stop. You, with your apparent calm, played with him as if nothing had happened, but inside you felt that desire growing, and every movement of yours seemed to bring you closer and closer to what you knew would happen.

Jonathan, visibly frustrated, had tried to keep control, but his breath became increasingly irregular. His mind was full of thoughts, but every time he looked at you, everything else seemed to vanish. There was nothing around him anymore, only you. He couldn’t resist anymore.

"y/n..." he said, his voice deeper, almost roaring with desire that he could not contain. He looked at you as if he was trying to figure out whether you were really playing with him or whether, in the end, something real was hiding beneath the surface. But there was no more room for words.

You stared at him with a mischievous smile, but your gaze betrayed your involvement. You approached him, a few centimeters from his face, letting your breath mix with his. Every heartbeat you heard in your chest sounded like an invitation, a call you couldn’t ignore. And when, finally, Jonathan could not resist any longer, he seized the moment.

He seized your life with determination, throwing you to himself in a gesture that left no room for doubt. His lips pressed upon yours as if it were the only thing that could calm him. The kiss he gave you was no longer uncertain, but full of passion, as if every second spent wishing for you was consuming it.

You, without thinking, returned the kiss, accepting his passion. His hands slipped on your back as you held him even tighter, your fingers intertwined in his hair, not wanting to let go. His breath became more breathless as he held you close to him, and you felt his happiness, his liberation. A sigh of pleasure escaped from his lips, and you realized that he had finally given in to what you both knew would happen.

"Finally..." he muttered between one kiss and another, his voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

You, without detaching yourself from him, answered with a satisfied smile. " you are so hot," whispering, the playful tone but also full of a connection that now seemed obvious.

Jonathan sighed happily, his body relaxing in your embrace as you continued to kiss. He held you close to him, as if he never wanted to let you go, as if that moment was the only thing that really mattered. Every part of him was taken by you, and in that kiss there was the promise of something more.

"We’re here now," he said, his eyes shining with an intensity you’ve never seen before. "I don’t want to let go of you anymore."

Your hand slowly slid down his chest, hearing the beating of his heart that had accelerated. You knew that moment would change everything. There was nothing left to separate you from him, neither Carlacia nor the confusion that had surrounded them until then. It was just you and him, and nothing seemed more important.

Jonathan squeezed you even harder, as if to guarantee that he would never be without you. And at that moment, you knew you had won, that you had got what you wanted without ever having to say it out loud

[quinnfabrayswife]

hi!! i’m requesting quinn fabray x fem!reader where they tussle and quinn ends up knocking the reader out❤️

Fight Or Flight — Quinn Fabray

quinn fabray x fem!reader (but not really)

where reader finds out that her girlfriend, quinn, has been cheating on her with rachel berry… and instead of running from the problem, she takes it into her own hands.

disclaimers: violence, use of y/n like once (pls i tried to avoid it but i could not), no happy ending, really fucking stupid ending, this entire story is unserious as hell… that’s all.

a/n: i never planned on writing anything on here, but i saw this req and i had to. this is the stupidest thing ive ever created and i hope you enjoy.

____________________________________________

it’s your favorite part of the day. glee club. glee club is where you met the love of your life, quinn fabray. besides finn and rachel, you are glees power couple. while you’re putting your books back in your locker, you glance up at the picture of quinn you’ve hung up on the door, smiling softly to yourself. suddenly, you hear your name being called, and you snap your head around to see none other then kurt hummel, who then begins pulling you away from your locker frantically.

“kurt, what the hell?!” you exclaim once you two stop moving, now in a secluded corner. out of breath, he replies, “i’m sorry, but before glee club, there’s something i have to tell you. well, something i have to show you.” your eyebrows immediately furrow when you see him pulling out his phone, swiping through a few things before turning it in your direction. your heart immediately drops, and tears threaten to spill out of your eyes when you see quinn fabray, your girlfriend, kissing someone else. wait… that’s not just anyone, that’s…

“my girlfriend cheated on me with rachel berry??!!” you immediately freak out, kurt putting a hand over your mouth to shut you up. “you didn’t get this from me.” and with that, kurt struts away towards glee club. you stand there in the corner, dumbfounded, and thinking about how stupid you were to believe she wouldn’t do that to you. i mean, her ex boyfriends best friend got her pregnant while they were still together for god sakes.

you wipe a few tears from under your eyes, and begin fast walking towards the choir room in a rage. you open the door to see your girlfriends painfully beautiful face, a smile appearing once she sees you. she stands up to greet you, and you take the opportunity to aggressively pull her by her wrist out of the door and into the hallway.

“wh- what is going on??” she asks in a surprised voice, but instead of answering, you slap her across the face. that’s when everyone in the choir room piles into the hall to watch it go down. you turn back to see her clutching her cheek, her jaw slightly dropped, and her eyes full of shock. “you cheated on me with rachel berry??!!! out of all people??” you yell at her, wasting no time in yanking on her high pony so hard she collapses to the floor.

“stop it!! don’t touch her!!” rachel yells. quinn stands up, and quickly shoves you into a locker. “me and rachel are in love y/n!!!!” you scoff, pushing her away from you. “in love?? you make fun of her all the time.” quinn grabs your arms. “that was obviously a cover up!! how stupid are you?” this fills you with rage, and you slap her again.

“SLUT!!” you scream at her, tears now flying freely down your face. you see a fist flying towards your face through your blurred vision, and all of a sudden, you’re on the floor. quinn has punched you so hard, that you fell backwards and hit your head on the floor, causing you to pass out.

“QUINN!! YOUR HAND!” rachel immediately comes to her rescue. she looks at you, passed out and bleeding on the floor, and smiles. “i have a first aid kit in my locker, let’s go fix up your hand.” they interlock hands and walk away, finn running to the choir room. “i heard yelling what did i-“ his words are cut off by him screaming, seeing you in your state. “why aren’t you guys doing anything??” he exclaims, the other members looking at each other and shrugging. “y-your girlfriend is ch-ch-cheating on you with quinn,” tina stutters, finn’s face dropping. “what??” when no one answers, he bends down to check your pulse.

“she’s… she’s gone.”

this is meant to be bad i promise. dts: @planetpedri @halfwayhearted 😘😘😘

[taavisplushies]

NEW ROOM TOUR!!!

It's still a huge wip! There's lots of stickers from the previous people on the walls, writing on the ceiling, etc...

Lots of plushies on the bed... Lots of You on the walls! My bed looks so big here bc of the small room size lol

Plushies on my dresser! They block the light but that's ok (fun fact I got this dresser for free! Yippee)

My tera jumbo You neso and all 5 mega jumbo You nesos! Plus a cool You flag on the right... She blends in a little oof (this dresser was $20 smh but I actually broke 2 drawers while moving it into this room rip)

Messy corner part 1! There's a white table with a bunch of junk on it. The wall is cool tho bc You!

Messy corner part 2: my desk! More You plushies on top!! Also I found $3 so now I'm rich!! Fun fact: this desk was a gift from my dad a million years ago. We saw it at a garage sale and I fell in love. I think it was pricey tho, like $15??

My only real shelf!!! Yes I have 2 small shelves on the wall but they don't count. I like the big shelves like bookshelves! My old room had 5....

ANYWAY this little shelf on wheels isn't very organized yet... Sorry! But I do have some Prime Shiba plushies on the bottom!

I hung this shelf up with thumb tacks. That's how small it is! It has some You mini figures and acrylic stands :) even 2 little plushies!

MY YOU DOOR! Door full of Yous. I remember I got this idea from someone else on here but I forgot who. I saw them use shoe hanging storage for plushies, and that's genius!

Yayyy that's it!!!

[deskgirl]

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Rating: General Main Characters: Wee John, Izzy Hands Setting: Post-season 2, "nobody dies/everybody lives" timeline

For the Izzy and Crew Event, a slice of life piece. I'm posting this here for now, but I'll upload to AO3 eventually.

Excerpt:

“What the fuck’s a leisure activity?” the man asked, growing more confused and frustrated.

“Stuff you like doing. Like having fancy drinks and blowing stuff up just for fun and telling people to fuck off when they’re wasting your time.” Wee John paused for emphasis, holding his drink aloft. “So fuck off.”

~

Sharing a Drink

~

A rum bottle flew across the crowded bar and shattered. Someone flung a chair in response. The gift of a thrown chair was clearly not appreciated as it was returned with equal force. A pistol went off, smoke pluming up from a third table totally uninvolved in the dispute but clearly annoyed by the disturbance. Rather than settling things, though, this only encouraged more thrown objects in more directions, a fair number of them sharp and pointy. This was generally ignored by everyone else in the bar as they were too busy getting drunk or cheating at cards.

Standard fare for a “den of iniquity,” as Stede liked to call these pirate-friendly dives. Or was it den of antiquity? Something like that. This particular den of inebriety had become the crew’s new favorite tavern until Jackie could get herself reestablished. In a lot of places, the beer was shit, but the bar here served decent stuff, barely watered down at all. The atmosphere was kind of bougie, but the prices weren’t bad and you hardly ever had to step over a dead body on your way to the outhouse. 

Wee John relaxed on a bench seat tucked against the wall, resting his back as he guarded the drinks the crew had left with him before scattering to the wind. John’s corner table provided a nice vantage point to watch the doors and his friends as they got up to their usual shenanigans. 

Frenchie and the Swede were doing something by the dice tables that would probably get them kicked out before the night was over, Jim was coaching a nervously laughing Oluwande through a game of darts against Archie and Zheng, and he thought he saw Lucius and Black Pete necking in the shadows by the coat rack. Zheng’s scary aunt had been here a minute ago, but John saw her slip out through the kitchen and knew better than to ask questions. 

“Whoa, look at you!” 

Wee John glanced sidelong at the man who’d staggered up to his table. He was about average as far as pirates went: a smattering of piercings, tasteful battle scar here and there, bit of gunpowder under the nails, short beard that needed a proper trim and oil, and a dusty leather jacket over what was probably the only shirt the man had to his name.

The unwanted visitor was also clearly deep in his cups, judging by his gaping expression and faint swaying. 

“Yer a big bastard,” the man continued. 

“That so?” Wee John asked as if it were news to him.

The other man paused, perplexed. “Yeah, mate.”

“You should see my brother. There’s a reason everyone calls me Wee John,” Wee John said, going back to sipping his drink. It was a fancy little thing in a narrow glass, orangey pink with a curl of grapefruit peel on top. He’d been feeling fancy when they all came in here riding high on their last raid, and nothing said fancy like a garnish. 

“I bet,” the other pirate laughed, dropping his hands to the table heavily. The crew’s drinks rattled and sloshed. “Let’s see what you can do, yeah? Arm wrestle, what’cha say?”

“No thanks. It’s my day off.”

“Your what?”

“My day off,” Wee John explained. “It’s like a mini vacation.”

“What’s a vacation?” 

“It’s a day when you don’t work. You’re supposed to do leisure activities.”

“What the fuck’s a leisure activity?” the man asked, growing more confused and frustrated.

“Stuff you like doing. Like having fancy drinks and blowing stuff up just for fun and telling people to fuck off when they’re wasting your time.” Wee John paused for emphasis, holding his drink aloft. “So fuck off.”

“You–!” The other man reared back, teeth bared, then lunged at Wee John. John distantly hoped that he’d come around the table instead of vaulting it. It’d be a real dick move if he knocked over everyone’s drinks. 

Suddenly the man went very still, his body hunched forward, arms out and shoulders stiff, all of his forward momentum halted by the feather-light touch of a blade at his throat. 

“I know you’re not fucking with my crew,” a familiar voice rasped from behind the drunk man. Izzy Hands stepped to the side and tilted his head so the unfortunate bastard could have a better look at who’d gotten the jump on him.

The drunk pirate’s eyes widened comically. “You’re…”

Izzy let the man flounder for a moment, clearly enjoying the recognition. “I am.” He eyed the other man up and down, taking his time, then sucked his teeth as if disappointed. God but he was a dramatic little shit. Wee John found it rather endearing now that it was being directed at someone else. 

“I didn’t know he was with you, Mr. Hands, I swear,” the man said. He still hadn’t moved and neither had Izzy’s knife. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Izzy said with a dash of fake sympathy. There was a long pause where John had the satisfaction of watching a fat drop of sweat roll down the man’s temple and into his beard. Then Izzy sniffed and slowly drew the blade away. “Luckily for you, I’m in an unusually good mood. Now, take my man Mr. Feeney’s advice and fuck off before I change my mind.” When the man continued to stand there, he made a shooing gesture with his knife.

As if an invisible cord had been cut, the man backpedaled wildly, bumped into someone behind him who spilled their beer and started swearing, then spun and ran off.

Izzy held himself tall for a moment longer before slowly deflating, leaning his hip against the table for support. Wee John recognized the signs of fatigue. The little man had pushed himself hard yesterday during the raid. Probably made himself sore the same as Wee John had with his back. 

“Hey,” Wee John called. When Izzy looked over, he patted the spot on the bench to his left.

Izzy hesitated before carefully shifting his weight and coming around the table. He startled when Wee John took hold of his elbow but didn’t protest the help as he eased himself down onto the bench. 

“Drink?” Wee John asked.

“You offering?” 

Wee John waved a hand at the table. “Crew’s offering.”

Izzy snorted softly as he perused the selection of abandoned drinks. After a bit of thought, he went for the half-tankard of ale. 

“Whose is this?” Izzy asked idly. He gave it a sniff before tipping it back to take a drink, not waiting for Wee John’s reply first.

“Archie’s,” Wee John said. “You know, I coulda handled that guy.”

“I know,” Izzy reassured as he wiped at the corners of his mouth with his thumb. “But like you said, it’s your day off. You’re not getting paid to work off the books so don’t bother.”

“That how you’re gonna play it?” Wee John gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You could just admit you like us, you stubborn little fucker.”

“I could also just jump in the bay.” 

Wee John chuckled. 

“Anyways, don’t act like I’ve done you any real favor.” Izzy gestured with his newly acquired tankard. 

When Wee John looked, he could see the drunk bastard who’d run off now sat at a table near the door and speaking heatedly to another man. He looked somewhat better kempt, with a long, red coat and dark hair tied at the nape of his neck. He was flanked by two bruisers who seemed intent on the conversation as well. 

“That’ll be his captain,” Wee John guessed. “They’re gonna jump us when we leave the bar.”

Izzy hummed in agreement.

“Should we tell the others? Leave out the back?”

Izzy eyed what was left in the tankard before throwing it back. He let out a satisfied sigh. “No need to ruin the crew’s fun. What’s a vacation without a bit of bloodshed?” 

“I don’t think you know what a vacation is.”

“Nope,” Izzy agreed. “No pass me that drink with the lime wedge in it.”

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[bunnihearted]

🫖🐭☁️🍚

[skunkes]

how did u feel about the 2nd Terrifier movie? i saw it on a first date so it wasn’t the best experience… but revisiting it I can enjoy it more. good sfx

So the first one is 1h30m i believe, and I know when I watched it and saw I was 40 minutes in i was like wow its been that long and it feels like not much has happened huh. But then it did what it did and it ended.

For the second one I was like oh its been 40 minutes. Hopefully it starts kicking off like the first one. And then after what felt like an hour only 10 more minutes had passed LOL and the entire rest of the movie felt dis way

I like that this one had more of a semblance of a plot... The clown cafe song is stuck in my head... Sfx is good but hm im not sure how to describe this....im not one of those "omg this is just a legal snuff film u guys are evil for watching this" people nor am i a "ermm if u cant handle this ur a prude and a little baby actually" person but more somewhere in between or outside. I love movie gore, when i was younger I watched Saw SOLELY for the traps, i didnt even know the plot until more recently LMAO

but obviously That One Scene...idk! I dont think it was too much in the "prude" way nor was i clapping and cheering but it did evoke a "ok come on wrap it up" feeling from me...like these faces combined...does dis make sense. Not walking-out-of-the-theater disgust and revulsion OR enjoyment/glee but just mostly straight faced this ⬇️

The first movie has a naked woman being split in half from coochie down so its definitely not the gore itself here that evoked this emotion ykwim

[sage-nebula]

There are two wolves inside me. One wolf wants to just let people have their fun, believing what they want. The other is feral and wants to tear apart the internet to source and direct link to every interview where Alex Hirsch says that Dipper is him as a child (with traits exaggerated), Mabel is his twin sister Ariel as a child (with traits exaggerated), Stan is their grandpa Stan (with traits exaggerated), and the show's premise is both a love letter to the childhood he spent with his sister and also, more specifically, the summers they would spend at their great-aunt's cabin, where they would be bored but required to keep daily journals and his would be stories he made up about encountering creatures and oddities in the woods around them. And this is all because the feral wolf is going to go from feral to savage if it sees one more post suggesting the actual core pillar of the show is Bill/Ford, rather than the found family (Alex Hirsch's own words!) the show is actually about, and the three based-on-real-people-including-Alex-himself characters in the middle of it.

[rabbit-rays]

id in alt.

i think that because terra gets baby eraqus' outfit aqua should get xehanorts. jeans and boots 👢

[skyburger]

venn diagram of these guys