#show some common fucking courtesy

[actual-corpse]

If there's a group of people that are just as shitty as shit can be...

It's Sunday Shoppers.

Fresh outta church service and ready to run you down. Entitlement at its most entitled. Always in the fucking way. Just STANDING THERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE! Or.... They abandon their cart in the WORST SPOT so they can go shopping TWO AISLES OVER!

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

someone's health and safety will almost always be more important than a joke. btw.

[white-spirit-of-darkness]

so many ppl are being too annoying about the good omens leak rn. im gonna start blocking like you don't even go there just shut up

[united-under-skyfall]

btw if someone is listening to music it’s kind of shitty if you just go “this is a terrible song”. if you don’t like it, ask them to turn it off, or skip it, or leave the room. tell them you strongly dislike it. don’t just tell them it’s awful and expect them to fix your problem.

[huicitawrites]

Patiently Craving 

Yandere! Sukuna x Reader 

warnings: major jjk spoilers (non/manga readers, or manga readers not up to date), assault, yandere behaviour

word count: 4k

It has been a long, arduous, night of study- you and Yuuji stayed up past twelve to finish a history group work. Jujutsu history homework was no easy task, for there were various curses, clans, battles, cursed techniques, and objects to recall. Still, the two of you managed to push through with the blessed help of some energy drinks and snacks. 

Yuuji sighed as he carried over a blanket to your form that was passed out on the couch. The pink-haired boy felt a little bit guilty; he should be the one sleeping on the couch. It was common courtesy that he should lend you his bed if you were staying over at his dorm. 

But you insisted, and ever so persistent, Yuuji could not get past you. So now here he was, gently placing down a blanket over your form to keep you warm. 

The blanket was slowly descending when it happened again. 

For just a second, an extremely dangerous second, Yuuji’s body shook. His face contorted uncontrollably, his eyebrows trembled, and a wicked grin plastered itself. Out of his own bodily command, Yuuji’s eyes widened and the hidden eyelids in his cheekbones popped open. 

The monster threatened to come out. 

But then, Itadori Yuuji’s contained him, again. 

Yuuji’s hand had tossed the blanket. He bent over to pick it up. His lips were tight against each other and he flared his nostrils to get a good breath of air. He opened his mouth wide and as he exhaled, he tried to let his body loose and ignore the stiffness of his muscles. He settled the blanket on you, and this time, he was hesitant to touch your body or get any closer. 

His face showed despair and signs of concern, and his heartbeat fast and climbed in his throat. 

He was afraid, but he better not show, not let the monster know. Yet Yuuji knew of such to be naive, for the curse is one with his body, a parasite- and Yuuji is his vessel. 

“Don’t be a fool.” A voice, deep, rumbly, and cunning spoke. Its words laced with the venom of mockery as a soft, condensing, chuckle vibrated after. 

A voice, a tone, Yuuji was familiar with. The one he despised the most, Sukuna Ryomen. 

He glares down with his four eyes from the comfort of his skull-throne, a tall phantom tori-gate framing his body and painting him in a royal manner- The King of Curses, of course. 

Itadori clicked his tongue and blew air against his lips his eyebrows, furrowed, and with much annoyance he faced his enemy forth. 

“What do you want, Sukuna?” 

He is not scared to say his name, if anything, he is tired of saying it. He spits it out without any hint of respect, the King's antics have grown old and bothersome on him. Sukuna’s grin twists into a cheshire smile and he scrutinizes Yuuji with his hellish crimson irises. 

“You know well what I want,” His head cocks to the side and lands on his clawed palm, the other set of fingers tapping rhythmically on the throne’s armrest. 

Usually, Yuuji tries to keep his cool. The pink-haired boy is aware of the manipulative tactics and shenanigans of the curse, so he knows better than to give in and be played by his words to physically maintain him at bay. 

Albeit, this is not the case, not when it is about the life of a friend. More so when it is about his unexpected and inexplicable obsession, he has with you. Yuuji does not know how or why, but you have caught the eye of Sukuna. 

“Fuck you,” Yuuji spat at him, and Sukuna simply laughed, “I will never let you, ever.” Yuuji looked up at him to challenge him, meeting his piercing stare with one of his own dark eyes. 

Sukuna’s cheeks puffed, only to explode into wild laughter. Yuuji simply stand still, tall, and straight- unfazed. He must not lose his cool, not let him grasp the reigns. 

He must not take over, not with you here so close and vulnerable. 

Surely, people have priorly done this- the feat of impressing the King. Gojo, who is the strongest and Sukuna's biggest threat, and Megumi for some reason Yuuji has not yet deciphered. In any case, it is their power and potential that beckons Sukuna, and which made them appear worthy, he guessed.  

With you- it is completely different. You are not a particularly strong sorcerer; you are at the same level as him and Kugisaki. You also lack any inherited technique. heavenly pact or extraordinary mumbo-jumbo from the jujutsu world. 

And yet- you caught his interest. Somehow, your presence grew on Sukuna. At first Yuuji did not notice, for it was subtle. Like a little gut-feeling whenever he was around you, like he could suddenly feel Sukuna paying attention and listening with keen ears, 

After a while, it became more obvious, but not obvious enough. If Yuuji happened to walk away from you, be it because he was heading somewhere else or something, his body protested. His legs became a bit heavier, and his torso and shoulders tried slightly to twist in your direction. Even further- Sukuna's mouth began to pop out randomly but in your presence. Sometimes, the curse would tease you or mock you, or smile wickedly at you- all which made Yuuji apologize profusely. 

The last, most prominent, bright red flag which slapped Yuuji into the implications of Sukuna's undivided attention occurred in a mission two months ago. The four of you had been sent to exterminate a couple of small grade curses, and unfortunately the lot of you miscalculated the situation. A special-grade curse, a cursed womb to be precise, rose within the shadows and overwhelmed the team. Yuuji was out of breath, Kugisaki had only a few nails left and Fushiguro had already spent more than half his arsenal, and you were far from them, snatched by the throat by the curse. You were passing out on its claws as you thrashed through your last breath. Yuuji recalls vividly how your writhing form made the curse inside of him snap.  

Itadori was surprised to find himself detached from his body as he watched from a spectator's standpoint. His body launched at top velocity and obliterated the curse with one swipe of his hand. Merciless, unbound, and wild- yet delicate when he held you. This had never happened before, Sukuna would never help someone else, Yuuji was testimony to that when Sukuna laughed cruelly alongside Mahito at Junpei's tragic predicament. 

But there you were, unharmed on his arms, passed out, and Yuuji swore he even felt Sukuna clutch you tighter. Heck, his clawed hand carefully caressed your face and nudged aside the hair strands. Oh, this was fucked up, he realized. So, he did what was entrusted to him, and regained control of his body. Kugisaki and Megumi observed with widened eyes and slacked jaws. The silence between the three of them was loud and spoke volumes. That day the three of them expressed their concerns to their teacher and decided to hide this incident from you- in their version of the tale, Yuuji saved you, which was half-the-truth in the least. 

After the incident that almost cost you your life, Sukuna got worse. He was unbearable and unashamed, the curse attempted to take over his body numerous times. Anytime, anywhere. In Jujutsu High, during missions, in the streets even. It was tiresome, but Yuuji would not budge. He even tried to distance himself from you, but your friendly self was too naive to notice.  

Each day, Yuuji fights to keep his body to himself and protect you, and Sukuna fights to break free and do whatever he wants with you, which terrified Yuuji. 

Yuuji didn't realize how close Sukuna got to him whilst he was lost in thought and memory, but realization had been too late by the time the Cursed King delivered a blow right to his gut. The two-eyed salmon haired coughed in pain and fell to the ground, and his counterpart used this opportunity window to press the sole of his foot on his face, harshly. Yuuji's skull resisted, and the palm of his hands went to both sides of his chest, but he couldn't pick himself a centimeter up. His face was flushed and rubbed onto the mysterious watery floor, and Sukuna chuckled devilishly. 

"Just what exactly do you plan to do to stop me? You cannot even pick yourself up, idiotic brat" The force pushing him into the floor got stronger, the foot twisted deeper into his cheek. Yuuji opened his mouth in any way he mustered, but before any words came out of his mouth, Sukuna fully stomped his feet and Yuuji sank into the water. 

He woke up on the tatami of his dorm in cold sweat and rushing heartbeat, a dry throat to top it all. '(Y/n)!', Yuuji snapped his head to glance at the coach. He stood up desperately, his legs stumbling, and he fell on the coach's armrest. His own eyes scanned your sleeping form; indeed, you were resting peacefully.  

Itadori Yuuji's body collapsed on itself slowly. He fell on his rear, and then tired on his back. He faced the plain ceiling. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Once he gathered himself, Yuuji glanced out the window and distinguished the light and smooth colors of dawn.  

Fuck, it was late. 

Naturally, he sought out the clock hanging on his dorm wall and his hand came to his forehead, where it damped. He brought it up his hair before it slid down to cover his eyes, and a series of swear words and curses left his mouth in a hush manner. 

Time, he was running out of time. 

“Fushigoro?” 

Itadori Yuuji asked with a cracked voice. As an answer, he only received the distorted laughs of his friend, Megumi Fushigoro - no, of the curse possessing his friend, Ryomen Sukuna. 

‘Fuck, fuck! How could this be?!’ 

Both you and Yuuji stood frozen in place, shocked. The tables had turned drastically, never had you entertained the thought of Sukuna switching into another vessel, least of all Megumi. 

You took a quick glance at Yuuji. He looked heartbroken. Sukuna looked delighted, joyous, ecstatic. He ran his hands on his new hair, feeling the black locks of Fushigoro Megumi. 

“Stupid brat, you didn’t really think through our Binding Vow,” he blurted in between laughs, his voice alien to his body as the red eyes filled with mockery and disdain. 

“Die.” 

You saw Megumi, no, Sukuna, incoming, and you picked up your stance, you looked sideways to Yuuji, and - 

“Yuuji!!! Dodge!!!” You cried out for your friend, your arm desperately reaching for him, your body ready to sabotage its survival instincts to push him out of the way. 

But you were too slow, and he did not move a muscle. He just stood there and took the powerful blow. 

Eyes widened; you saw him spit out blood. With a single blow to the gut, Sukuna blasted Yuuji away, and his body crashed through several buildings, far from your sight.  

It is about damn, fucking time. That Itadori brat has had his use, and at this point, he was becoming more of a prison than a vessel. Although dumb, weak, and naive, that brat did only one thing right. 

He could restrain him. 

Every.single.fucking.time. 

Sukuna had tried more than a couple of times to catch you off guard. When you turned around, when you were too focused to notice your surroundings, when you stayed over to sleep at the brat's, when you were too weak and exhausted to fight, or simply anytime Ryomen Sukuna desired. 

And each single fucking time, the damn brat stopped him. 

But now, now that was a thing of the past. A nuisance he no longer had to deal with. Not as he had the body of Megumi Fushigoro under his control, and with a single punch to the gut, that weakling was done with. 

Sukuna laughed, his eyes wide and mad, his pupils dilated, and his toothy grin wicked. 

About. Damn. Fucking. Time. 

Horror painted a canvas on your face, and despair formed a pit in your chest, but despite it all, you managed to cast a spell. Even with a tight lump inside your throat, you brought your hands together in a seal - your last two fingers crossed each other and the first three touched each other. 

“Caladrius!” You conjured a white owl Shinigami big enough to carry you. You grasped its feathers to propel yourself upwards and climb it, but a tough arm grabbed you by the ankle. 

“Oh, no, you won’t.” 

He pulled you down, and you failed to resist his strength, but you were quick to command the owl to set off on its own. It was more important that it reached Yuuji, for his sake, yours, and Megumi’s - if he was still there, he had to be there, deep down. 

With the usurped body of your friend, his black hair thrown back out of his usual hairstyle and sinister signature tattoos invading his skin, the ‘borrowed’ arms went around your waist, and his sharp claws slightly tore the layers of your clothes, prodding at the skin below. 

“Do you like my new host, [Y/n]? I sure do; it feels refreshing,” The usurper said nonchalantly in your ear as you struggled against his frame. He chuckled at your struggle, finding it cutely futile if anything. 

Sukuna lowered his head into the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent. He was slow, painfully so, taking his sweet time in tormenting you. 

"So sweet," he whispered in your ear, but blood did not rush to your face nor taint the tips of your ears. No. That intimidating aura, that immeasurable amount of cursed energy so close to you. 

You froze. 

You could die here and now. 

Only when you felt a slim sensation up your neck, dangerously close to your jugular, did you wince. Snapping out of your shocked state, you began to thrash in his hold. 

Sukuna merely chuckled; you could feel his chest and abdomen rising and falling against your back. He laughed and laughed, baring his teeth and fangs, his four eyes brimming with joy. He dragged his maniacal display until it ended with a satisfactory sigh. His expression fell, his grin fell flat, and his eyes narrowed. 

“You don’t have any idea how much I wanted out from that Itadori brat." the King of Curses sighed. 

His arms began to snake around your waist, and his clawed hands grasped your skin. His sharp nails dragged tightly against your skin, leaving a thin reddish trail behind, but you were too focused on his words. “All this time I have been looking at you, woman, my woman. My future queen.” Such a passionate confession would leave anyone stuttering with a mad blush, but this was Ryomen Sukuna, the enemy of all enemies, the worst of curses, a threat to any living being - he couldn’t be serious, this just could not be real. 

This was madness. 

“You made friends with two weak and idiotic boys, did you know? But I must admit, at least that damn Itadori brat did quite the job in restraining me.” His nails began to feel tighter on your skin and were threatening to tear into you at any moment. 

“All this time, I’ve been craving you.” He parted his lips and brought out his tongue, lapping it all the way up your neck. Sukuna relished it - he could taste your fear, and he loved it. 

It was addicting. 

He continued, “Now, now [Y/N]. If I had to tell you something with all my years of experience, is that I do not like being bothered” The King of Curses could sense people coming, and while he normally enjoyed torturing and murdering his enemies, just for this time he would rather be left alone, with you. 

Utilizing the body of the Fushigoro boy, he moved his grasp from your waist and brought them together in a seal, in front of your abdomen - of course, silly, he would not let you go. 

"Nue," his deep voice vibrated against your ear, and a wave of cursed energy flooded the area. You shot up your head, and your jaw dropped. Megumi's bird Shinigami had turned into a colossal predator, at least four times its usual size, and it even developed a tail. With the flap of its wings, thunder and lightning surged, attacking the neighboring area around you and Sukuna. 

The sight of the beast made you snap out of your haste. You had to do something. Although you were powerless against this demon, Megumi was still there. He was being held prisoner in his own body, but he could break free. If you could just reach out to him, "Megumi! I know you are there! You can snap out of it, just like Yuuji! C'mon Megumi!" 

Naively, your eyes sought for eye-contact. Only to see the four red irises of Sukuna, his tattoos shifting along with the grin on his face. 

"Megumi? Really? He may be able to hear you, [Y/N], but I assure you, he's not coming back," Sukuna purred, his grip on you tightening. "Don’t make me jealous now, calling out another man’s name... I’d rather you call out mine." 

Desperation and fear surged through your veins, but you refused to give in to Sukuna's taunts. Summoning every ounce of courage, you had left, you clenched your fists and glared defiantly at him. 

"You're wrong! Megumi is strong, and he won't let you control him forever. I believe in him, and we will find a way to break your hold on him!" You retorted, determination shining in your [e/c] eyes. 

Sukuna's laughter filled the air, echoing around you like sinister bells of doom. "Oh, how amusing! Your faith in him is laughable. But I'll humor you, my dear [Y/N]. Let's see how long you can hold on to that hope before I make you mine entirely." 

As Sukuna's laughter subsided, you felt a surge of raw energy emanating from him. The air crackled with malevolence as Sukuna prepared to unleash his Nue’s full power. But before he could strike, an unexpected presence intervened. 

A figure emerged from the shadows, radiating a powerful aura that seemed to challenge even Sukuna's might. Itadori Yuuji, battered, bruised and with several cuts from the earlier blow, stood tall with a determined glint in his eyes. 

"Leave [Y/N] alone, Sukuna! This is between you and me," Yuuji declared, his voice steady despite the pain. 

Sukuna's lips curled into a sinister grin. "You still think you can stand up to me, boy? I'll enjoy tearing you apart, scum." 

Yuuji's resolve only strengthened. He clenched his fists and channeled every ounce of cursed energy he possessed. "I won't let you hurt [Y/N], and I won't let you get away with what you've done." 

Using another set of Megumi’s shikigamis, Sukuna conjured the monster serpent (now, a full, intimidating horned cobra) and it curled tight around you- rendering you immobile as it drained you of your cursed energy.

The battlefield crackled with tension as Sukuna and Yuuji faced each other, locked in an inevitable clash. Meanwhile, you struggled against the shikigami’s tailed hold, trying to summon every ounce of cursed energy within you to break free. The ground trembled beneath your feet as the battle commenced. 

It soon became clear that Yuuji was no match for Sukuna's overwhelming power. Despite his valiant efforts, Sukuna's strength and cunning proved to be too much to handle. With a single devastating attack, Yuuji was defeated, lying unconscious on the ground. 

“Yuuji!!!” You screamed and tears welled up in your eyes. 

Sukuna stood triumphantly over Yuuji's fallen form, a sinister grin stretching across his face. "Pathetic brat," he sneered, "You were never worthy of her attention. But now, she's all mine." 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you faced the monstrous curse before you. Sukuna's eyes bore into yours with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and desire. He took a step closer, and you could feel his cursed energy suffocating you. 

You clenched your fists, trying to muster the courage to stand up to him. "I'll never be yours, Sukuna," you retorted, your voice wavering and cracking but determined.  

Sukuna's grin widened, reveling in your resistance. "Oh, how delightful. The more you resist, the more enticing you become," he said, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey. With a chask of his fingers, the shikigami which held you vanished, and you fell on Sukuna’s arms. One of his clawed and tattooed hands reached out to grasp you by the chin, forcing you into eye-contact and squeezing your cheeks- bringing your lips forward. 

Your heart raced with fear, and Sukuna's grin only grew wider. His face inched closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "My love," he whispered, his voice laced with a possessive edge. “I will not let you escape me. You are mine, [Y/N], and I will gladly be yours " he murmured, pulling you closer to him. Anticipating his actions, you focused your remaining strength in struggling against him. Regardless, Sukuna leaned in and succeeded in sealing his lips against yours.  

Ryomen Sukuna kissed you with a passion you would never expect, or experience- a profound hunger and impatience that had been finally sated. A tongue, thick, slimy, and intrusive that relentlessly claimed a pair of lips it had been craving for so long, a desire long fulfilled. 

His onslaught was merciless; he wanted more, but when he looked at your flushed face and shut eyes, and attention to your weakening fists against his chest, he chuckled against your lips and broke the kiss. You gasped for air and breathed frantically, as Sukuna admired the trail of saliva that bridged his lips to yours. 

"You are mine, [Y/N], and there's no escape. I have been waiting for so long; I have been so patient. I think it’s time I deserved my reward." 

His lips peppered and trailed up your neck, climbing across your jaw, past your lips and near your ear. He whispered, hungrily and husky “I’m just so hungry for you.” 

A/n: I’ve literally been trying to write this a LONG time ago, and finally broke through! I hope you like a normal dickhead sukuna that is a hard simp for darling. One more sukuna fic that I’ve been saving to go!

[kbwrites]

Up In The Clouds

synopsis: you are a first-year jujutsu high student, seemed only natural that satoru and suguru would want to protect you... right?

⚝ a/n: I'M ALIVEEE. my first fanfiction in over FIVE YEARS?!

⚝ tags: sfw/suggestive satoru x reader. suguru x reader. satosugu x reader (KINDA). marijuana use!

⚝ wc: 1412

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

You were given one condition by your parents when you got into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, and that was to stay out of trouble. And yet there you were, with the school’s most infamous troublemakers - high as the clouds you were observing.

 Suguru approached you on your first day, his kind eyes and dulcet voice made you feel more than welcome. Him and Satoru were joined at the hip, as you soon found out. It only took a few days for you to be fully integrated into the group. So their duo (and occasionally Shoko, when she felt like dealing with their bullshit) grew to include you. They shouldered the burden of showing you around the school. Suguru educated you with the history of the school, while Satoru listed the best places to slack off. And slack off you did, the two boys were first-grade sorcerers, why the hell would they need to attend classes?

Yaga lectured you of course, “A bright girl like you has no business hanging around with those two”. And yet, they were the strongest. And you were their new obsession, fitting right into their antics.

The antics for today? Courtesy of Satoru, the lanky second year stood before Suguru and (Y/N) dangling a ziploc bag with a blunt inside.

“Are you trying to get us expelled?” Suguru sighed.

“Seriously. If Yaga catches us-”

The white haired teen sighed dramatically (you were confident that that was the only way he knew HOW to sigh)

“You guys are no fun.” A pout forms across his lips, crossing his arms.

“Who did you even get this from?”

“Does it matter? Let’s get high~” Satoru smirks, discarding the ziploc bag and holding the blunt up to his nose to take a deep inhale.

Suguru glances over at you.

“Satoru… do you really think you’re setting the best example for our underclassmen.”

You smile awkwardly, sure he was referring to you.

“She isn’t some baby doll Suguru. Right (Y/N)?” Satoru turned his attention to you. He knew that with that honeyed voice of his, he could get anything he wanted. Suguru glared back at his slightly taller friend, who grinned through his dark shades. You shift uncomfortably, the tension thickening by the second. It was pretty common that you ended up being the one breaking up fights between your two best friends. For some reason you were always caught in the middle. You sigh standing up.

“Fuck it”

And there you three were laying on the grass of the field.

You’ve gotta hand it to Satoru.

You feel pretty amazing right now.

“Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something?”

“Shut the hell up Satoru.”

“Please. What Suguru Said.”

“Guys… seriously-”

Bzzt bzzt.

You slowly sit up, reaching for your vibrating phone.

Shoko ^-^

Where r u guys?

(Y/N)

Practice Field.

Shoko ^-^

Huh? Those two idiots are actually doing work?

(Y/N)

Satoru brought weed~

Shoko ^-^

Ahh.

(Y/N)

You comin’?

Shoko ^-^

Doing work for Yaga :(

You close your phone, laying back down between the two teens.

Suguru takes the blunt from Satoru taking a drag before passing it to you again, your fingers grazing each other, the touch lingering. A familiar heat in your chest rising.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that you didn’t find your two friends attractive. Satoru was confident, he knew that when he walked into a room all eyes (girls and guys) were on him. His silken white hair, and eyelashes that when fluttered he got whatever he wanted. And of course his azure blue eyes, like pools of shimmering water too deep to ever reach the bottom of. In layman’s terms; he was hot.

And Suguru? Well, his beauty was more understated. That isn’t to say he wasn’t hot.

 He was.

With his raven-black hair that cascaded in sleek waves always neatly put up. His piercing coffee-colored eyes, the subtle curve of his lips. When he told you something was going to be okay. You could actually believe him. It was his overtly calm demeanor that probably made him seem more like Satoru’s shadow… But to you? That shadow lurked in the depths of your mind, suffocating your thoughts at the worst times. Times like this.

You take a long drag from the blunt, desperately trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that plagued your head. You hold the smoke in, before letting out an exasperated sigh. You cough quietly at the sensation in your lungs, sitting up. Suguru looks over at you in concern, sitting up with you to pat gently on your back.

“Don’t overdo it, yeah?” His voice, ever the gentle caress, only works to fluster you further. 

You turn away desperately trying to hide the blush creeping onto your face. Suguru continues patting your back, reaching for a bottle of water.

“(Y/N)? Here. drink.” Your heart flutters, you snatch the drink gulping it down.

“Thanks, Suguru..” 

Satoru turns his attention from the clouds to his two friends, his eyebrow quirking up in curiosity. But he doesn’t say a word, just snatches the blunt from you and continues the rotation.

Satoru drones on, informing you of any and every thought that comes into his head. You and Suguru stay silent, letting out a ‘hmmm’ in acknowledgment every now and then. His hand brushes against yours, his touch sending shocks of electricity through your skin as he points out funny-looking clouds. The sky turns from blue to red as the sun sets over the training grounds. The three of you wearily rise to your feet, heading back to the main dorm.

“(Y/N)! Suguru and I are g’nna play some melee. You wanna cheer me on while I kick his ass?” Satoru loops his arm around your neck smirking. You look over at Suguru, you can almost make out his body tensing ever so slightly.

“Sorry. I have to study, but I’ll see you tomorrow guys!” You wave apologetically, prying yourself from Satoru’s grasp. Suguru offers you his signature smile. Satoru offers his signature pout.

 You take your leave, strutting off to your dorm. The two boys’ eyes linger on your form as it disappears down the hall.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

Suguru focuses intensely on the tv, hitting Satoru with combos. Satoru lazily sits back effortlessly dodging and blocking, ‘those eyes of his are basically cheats’ he thinks. Satoru glances over at his dark-haired friend smirking.

“So… I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s usually how it starts” Suguru sighs, still maintaining his focus, he has 2 stocks left. His damage at 99%.

“(Y/N). She’s a cutie isn’t she~” Satoru muses before hitting him with a spin kick.

It’s just slight enough to make out, but Suguru’s body tenses, and his eye twitches. 

133% damage

“What are you getting at Satoru..” he warns

“She’s totally my type, think she’s interested?”

Suguru can’t see the mischievous look behind his friends' blacked-out shades.

“No.” 

“No you don’t think she’s interested?”

“Satoru-“

“I mean seriously? She puts on that shy act in front of us~ drives me crazy thinking about how’d easy it’d be to make her blush”

Satoru knocks him off the platform.

1 stock left.

Suguru’s teeth clench, blood coming to a boil as he mashes the buttons of the controller. Satoru is loving this. He continues

“You don’t mind if I make a move Hmm?”

That was it.

 Suguru pauses just long enough for Satoru to land a fury of kicks and punches, hitting him with a special.

WINNER JIGGLYPUFF

Satoru leans back, his arms behind his head. Relishing in his umpteenth victory against Suguru, Suguru on the other hand is seething with anger. The thought of Satoru flirting with you… touching you…

“Leave her alone Satoru.”

“Huh? What do you mean-“

“(Y/N). Is off limits.”

Satoru perks up at this, lowering his shades to look at Suguru with his piercing blue eyes.

“Off limits? Says who?”

“She’s our friend”

“Yeah? All the more reason she should date me and not some rando”

Suguru tensed again. But that didn’t stop the white-haired menace.

“She wouldn’t say yes to you anyway”

Uh oh. He’d done it now, Satoru never backs down from a challenge. Nothing is too impossible for him, and you? You’ve just become his new challenge.

“I guess we’ll just have to see about that”

And with that, the real game begun.

[pupyuj]

The nation needs more Older G!P Stepsister Yujin 🗣🗣🗣

i actually don’t remember if i’ve written stepcest w yuj before and if i have it must’ve been forever ego so here’s a little food for ya’ll, courtesy of vexie 💕

annoying older stepsis yuj x spiteful bratty younger stepsis reader… well yes! 🥴 you and yujin hating each other the moment you met 😭 only playing nice when your dad and her mom are around bcs they want nothing more than to see their daughters getting along despite this odd situation they’ve put the two of you in ☹️ but as soon as they leave for work… yujin would spend the entire day annoying you, pulling pranks, insulting you, and sometimes even slutshaming you bcs she knows about your reputation in your university… which just so happens to be her own university’s nemesis in terms of sports (since she plays for her uni’s women’s soccer team and all) 🤓☝️ but sometimes you get the upper hand! there are days where yujin is too exhausted to bother you, merely giving you a dirty look before dissolving into the soft couches and watching her favorite shows for hours on end… and that was where you got the wicked idea to play into this whorish reputation your fellow schoolmates have given you!

see, ahn yujin may be to worst thing that has ever happened to you but she also just so happens to be criminally attractive so as messed up as it was, considering that you’re technically family, you were super into her! bcs come on! pretty, tall, hits the gym regularly, and is also very obviously interested bcs she was never at all subtle when staring at your ass while you walk around the house?? yujinnie was basically asking you to seduce her.. and that you did! coming down from the stairs wearing the nastiest pair of booty shorts and a thin tank top that you owned and having to hold back a triumphant smirk when you spotted yujin physically perking up at the sight of you… like a puppy that was eyeing her newest toy 🤭

gosh you did every cliche seducing tactics in that living room it was almost embarrassing 😭 bending over at the right angle for yujin to stare at your ass while you take the remote control from the coffee table, making sure that you have to walk in front of her before sitting down on the empty spot beside her, letting one strap of your tank top to fall down your arm and making sure your top was loose enough for yujin to see the slightest bit of your tits… well, suffice to say you were successful! and you knew bcs yujin immediately put a pillow on her lap to cover up her crotch as soon as she felt her jeans tightening up 🫣🫣 you would’ve loved to tease her more since it felt so so good being the one who was doing the tormenting for once but you were just a girl! you needed your holes filled and yujin had the right tool for that!

she was hogging a bowl of popcorn allll the way to her other side so you had to reach over just to steal a few, and ofc you didn’t miss the way yujin’s eyes flickered down from you lips to your breasts,, she immediately looks away though! swallowing hard and pretending like she’s not at all bothered 🤭 on a normal day where you weren’t dressed like a common whore she would actually argue with you over getting your own damn bowl of popcorn but not today! she was now thinking with her dick and you couldn’t fucking wait to make fun of her about it 😝 tomorrow. after she’s done breeding you tonight 😋

“being called a slut in campus not good enough for you? you have to look like this at home too?” yujin asks just to get some sort of control over the situation but it was too late 🥺🥺 sitting closer, blinking your eyes with faux innocence and saying, “seems like you like it though. don’t you, unnie?” well fuck! you never call yujin ‘unnie’ unless you’re talking with your parents and in this situation, there was nothing pure about the way you said it so yujin was just a fucking mess 😭 she doesn’t know what to do with herself! you almost pitied her—you just knew that her poor cock was begging to be free from her jeans… and ofc you promised your dad that you would be a good stepsister to your yujin-unnie and you wouldn’t dare break that promise! 🫢 putting the bowl of popcorn away and having to rip off that damn pillow from her lap, you straddled yujin and… well, the rest, as they say, is history! 🫣

one minute the two of you were messily making out and touching each other everywhere with clumsy hands and the next she has completely (and literally) ripped your tank top and pulled your shorts off, pinning you down the couch and what surprised you was how yujin didn’t even bother to take your panties off… she decided that the pair looked way too good on your skin so she merely pulled it to the side before ramming her cock inside you, and now both of you were thinking about nothing but each other! 🤗💕 thank goodness your parents were not home and your neighbors on either side as well as across were away bcs the two of you were so fucking loud and the curtains were not at all closed!! like fuck, it’s almost as if the two of you jumped straight out of a porn video 😭

one would think that people who hate each other as much as the two of you did would be cursing the other even at this moment where you were fucking like rabid animals but nope! both of you were too lost in pleasure to have anything that ain’t moans leave your mouths 🤭 it only drove yujin even more crazy when you wrapped your legs around her waist, encouraging her to fuck your harder… the wet noises of skin slapping against skin pushing you closer and closer to your climax… yujinnie’s bites and little whines making you fucking wish that your parents get home late bcs fuck, you need to hear more of her like this! 🥴

it doesn’t take long for either of you to cum.. but what bothrred you is that yujin fucking pulled out! however, she does notice your annoyance… way after she has spilled every drop of her cum on your stomach and thighs.. “later.. in my room… i have condoms.” poor baby was too tired to even speak! 🥺 “no, idiot. don’t wrap it up. fucking cum inside me.” you demanded 😭 ofc yujinnie folds bcs who was she to deny a pretty girl of her seed, yk!? “fine! but don’t fucking cry to me if you get pregnant.” oh she was pissed at being pushed around but literally the next second she rests her head on your chest and snuggles into you for warmth ☹️💞💞

when your parents came home, they spotted the two of you cocooned into a warm blanket in the couch as you watched a fun movie together, cuddling like the sweet ‘sisters’ they always saw the two of you as 🫢 but as soon as they busied themselves in the kitchen, your hand slides inside yujin’s boxers and her own cups your ass… nothing innocent about the two of you at all 😭

[kivino]

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.  

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

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[hanasnx]

❝ one more night. ❞

── ex-bf!anakin skywalker x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 4k SUMMARY: anakin can’t accept the fact that you and him split, so he shows up at your door in the middle of the night. NOTES: repost. WARNINGS: prompt | angst but its not like super painful its like an argument | anakin being fucking toxic <3 | and reader also being pretty toxic too <3 | anal fingering | vaginal fingering | a lil brat taming | p in v | degradation | unprotected sex | lil bit of double penetration.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER can’t sleep. Eyes wide open, staring emotionless into the ceiling. Blindly, he reaches for his com-link, rifling around discarded trash and dirty laundry to find it in the pocket of some pants he wore earlier. There’s nothing for him, no messages. He checks the time, and raises himself to sit on the edge of the mattress. 

You aren’t having the best of luck with sleep either, laying on your side, your hands tucked underneath your pillow. Until you hear a banging on your door. Not a knock, a barrage. It alerts you, jumping out of bed onto your feet so you can check your Ring camera. A familiar face greeting your sights, and his intense, furrowed gaze looks into the lense as if he can sense you’ve noticed him. You hurry over, wrapping yourself in a robe to conceal your coincidentally skimpy pajamas. 

A million things run through your mind: What could he want? Why is he here? What if it’s an emergency? 

As soon as your doors slide open, he barges in. Electricity is in the air, you can feel it prickle your skin until your hairs stand on end. 

“Anakin? What the hell? It’s three in the morning!” You’re upset with his sudden appearance, the way he passes you like he’s looking for something, how belligerent he’s acting. 

“I came for my stuff.” he responds, tossing the statement at you like you should’ve known, like he shouldn’t have to explain himself. Always the same Anakin, pretending the galaxy revolves around him. 

“Your stuff?” you parrot incredulously, hounding him as he invites himself further into your home. “At this hour? Do you have no common courtesy?” Another aspect about him you didn’t miss. 

After he, seemingly, can’t find what he’s searching for, he rounds on you and you narrowly avoid bumping into him. Inches apart, his glare bores into you, “Where is it?” 

“The box?” You gaze up at him through raised brows in disbelief, “You mean the box of your shit I told you to come pick up weeks ago? The last box of all your crap you left here that I was sick of looking at? I threw it the fuck out, Anakin, what do you think?” 

This anger coming off of him, had to be artificial. Exacerbated by his own overthinking, instead of any valid, naturally occurring emotion. Jedi aren’t allowed “attachments” including belongings, so what difference does it make if some of his things were discarded? He should’ve come when he was summoned, you were more than patient. Besides, there was nothing actually valuable in that box, he’d already moved out for the most part. It was all the standard staying-over paraphernalia. Yellow toothbrush, medical derm shampoo, a few pairs of his sleepwear… a necklace he made for you. It’s not like you were going to continue wearing it! 

Your former lover does not seem to care for your reply at all, eyes widening, flying into a rage, jabbing his finger into the space between you two. “You had no right—!”

“Shut up!” you laugh, hopelessly wry, dropping the act, “You don’t actually care about something like that, you’re just looking for an excuse to fight!” As usual. 

“That was my stuff, and you trash it?” He juts his chin, towering over you. “Fuck off.” 

It shouldn’t have, but you’re taken aback by the seething words. So much so you don’t register him bumping your shoulder when he side-steps you. 

The sound of disheveling snaps you out of your stupor, witnessing Anakin snatching up whatever’s in reach to throw it to the floor. 

“Anakin!” 

“Let’s see how you like it!” he sneers, tugging books off shelves to fall to the floor haphazardly, bending pages and creasing spines. Any trinkets that get caught in the crossfire, hit the ground and are kicked out of his way as he moves. 

“You are such a fucking asshole! Stop!” 

Ignoring you, he shoves a drawer stack of recorded sound bytes, your music. The drawers lay ajar, spilling the contents out, and you have to step over them to get to Anakin. 

“You’re having a fucking temper tantrum like a fucking toddler! I’m talking to you!” You latch onto his bicep, attempting to yank his hand off your belongings. It’s successful for a second, but he slips that arm from your grasp to squeeze your wrist, catching your other one to hold them both in his one hand. His other continues the work, knocking around to disturb anything it touches. Helpless to his iron grip, you’re pulled with him when he goes to your collection of rare, empty, glass perfume bottles. Spindly, frail, and beautiful, they are far too special to mess around with. 

“Anakin. Anakin, I’m warning you.” Your tone shifts to plead, even if disguised as a threat. 

For the first time since he began this rampage, he glances at you, and you see the grave sincerity in his eyes. It sends a chill right down your spine, and you tug away from him uselessly. You watch as he unlatches the framing, and your heart beats harder. 

“You used to make me keep an eye out for these things.” he muses with contempt. You remain eerily still, worried that if you jostle him too much, the likeness of a bull-in-a-china-shop will become your immediate reality. “I’d check storefronts, thrifts, and individual sales anywhere I went.” 

His hand reaches in, delicately plucking the thin and brittle bottle from its place. 

“This one. I got you this one.” he tells you. You swallow, overwhelmed. Gingerly, his fist encloses over it, engulfing more than half in his large palm. All he has to do is squeeze, and it’d crack. 

“Look, look,” you murmur, conceding. “I’m sorry, okay? I get it now. You’re right.” Even though you had a violent, childish, dramatic way of showing it.

“I gave this to you, how come you didn’t get rid of this too?” 

“I shouldn’t have thrown out your stuff, I understand the feeling. That’s what you were trying to tell me, right?” 

Your gaze travels across the room, your stuff strewn about the floor, but nothing is actually damaged. Just messy. Nothing is lost. Unlike his carelessly dumped box. A guilt weighs down your chest at the realization. 

His hold softens on both the bottle and your wrists. When you meet his eyes, you notice how he hasn’t stopped looking at you. “I apologize, again. I did it because I was mad at you.” you add, stronger this time. Your confession is accepted, and without wavering from you, he replaces the bottle inside the casing, shutting it gently. From the heat of the moment, you’re panting, and your robe had fallen off your shoulder, revealing a strap of your pink top. He regards it with interest, drawing you to him by your wrists. A finger from his metal hand comes up— and you follow it curiously— to burrow underneath the strap, snapping it against you. 

“Ow,” you emit, glaring at him, but it softens as soon as you register the thick tension between you two. How the two of you take turns glancing at each other’s lips. 

“I was mad at you too.” he admits under his breath. You flash a confused frown, only because kissing him is solely on your mind. “I didn’t come pick it up because I was mad at you. Felt like,” he sighs, that finger tracing up the column of your neck, to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, and toying with the shell of it. “like if I got it, then it’d really be over. Us.” 

You tilt your head, slumping in place. “But we are over, Ani.” 

He flinches at the sound of that exclusive nickname rolling off your tongue as easy as it used to. “Don’t say that. Don’t say it.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “Makes it real.” 

“Take a look around.” you command, and he does as you say. Your home in disarray because of him. “This is what we do to each other. It’s not good, we’re not good for each other.” 

There’s something in his eyes, a glimmer of hope to hear that could be your only reason for ending things. “You miss me.” 

Your lips press into a thin line, but you cannot lie to him, and nod. “I do.”

A shift, a magnetism. Like he’s flipped a switch, a charm you couldn’t resist then and can’t resist now. Every time you’re in the same room with him, he instills his every move with a sensuality and passion you want to rip apart. 

He pulls you to him by your wrists that have remained in his custody, the air hitching in your throat. “You want me.” 

“I do,” you breathe, and you both meet in the middle, lips colliding and opening instantly to meld tongues. As if no time had passed. He releases your limbs, and you use them to wrap around his neck, pressing yourself to him faithfully. Swallowing your sounds as he draws your hips to his, close enough to feel his half hard length hanging underneath the thin material of his clothes. 

It’s unceremonious, it’s discordant, but somehow feels so right, so good, so unapologetically Anakin. The unarticulated traits you loved about him. A power between the two of you that you both fight to take, devouring each other, sloppily fucking mouths with tongues and sucking on the slimy muscle. He’s gross about how much he demands from you using no words at all, sticking his tongue practically down your throat, and palming the back of your head to make sure you can’t escape. 

His other hand slides to get a handful of ass, before plunging in between to massage your asshole with his fingers. A slow build up was never Anakin’s strongest suit, but this time you didn’t mind it. Already slick in your shorts. 

“One more night.” Anakin speaks against your lips, a beg. “I’ll do anything you want, for one more night with you.”

You don’t need to be convinced, confirming hastily, “One more night.”

He stoops, and without skipping a beat you obey, jumping into his arms so he can pick you up. Wrapped around him as he’s inbound to the nearest surface. 

You cup his face in your hands, cold nimble fingers on his heated skin as you suck on his plump lower lip. Dragging it out to let it bob back, you lick at it like a signature, and he opens his mouth to allow you back in, lapping at him like you need to taste every corner of him. His hand on the wall trails to guide him, avoiding bumping into anything before he reaches the counter of your kitchen bar. He sets you down, your bare thighs against the marble so you hiss. 

Unperturbed, he snaps your robe apart and down. Your sweet little silken matching set. Pink pajamas, cropped, short and thin enough to see your erect nipples poking through. Anakin moistens his lips, eating you alive with his gaze. “I gave these to you too.” he muses in pleasant surprise, he had his suspicions before only seeing a glimpse of them but now it’s undeniable. “Didn’t wanna get rid of these either? S’almost like you don’t wanna let go. I give you the best gifts, don’t I?” His confidence annoyed you and you pushed at his chest. He snickers, a sick sense of superiority overtaking him. “I’ve got another gift for you right here, baby.” 

Cut off before you could speak, a moan spills from your mouth as his hand contacts the heat between your legs, dulling that ache for a sweet second. He undulates his digits, his hand finding its home, where it belongs: on your sex, dampening your little shorts with your generous slick. His head dips down, nuzzling your tits through the soft material. Loose from a bra, he lets them fall over his face, and you cup them around him. He hums in approval, adding fervor in his movements to shake his head in between your breasts, nipping your buds, and rubbing your clit. The way his sandy curls bob, his content smile against you, makes you stifle a snicker to yourself. This playful side of him, his lack of self awareness when around you is what you missed. 

Your arousal grows more painful by the second though, and you rush. “Anakin, get my shorts off,” 

He emits a noise in response, biting down on the side of your tit as if to take your flesh with him as he pulls back. 

Focused on his task, he directs you, manhandling you to lean back over the cliff of the counter, picking your sides up one by one to slide the shorts off and down. You kick them off your ankles, the coolness meeting your hot sex, fogging up the surface. No time to dwell on it, two of Anakin’s fingers explore your entrance. Dipping the pads to gather pre-cum, using it to glide around your folds. You jump, sensitive from all of these colliding feelings, worsening when he stimulates your bare clit. Bracing on the counter edge behind you. 

“Have you had anybody else since we split?” he asks, as if this is a great time to interrogate you on the flavors you’ve tried since breaking up with Anakin. Ever the selfish man, but like a fool you oblige him. 

“It’s none of your business—“ You interrupt yourself, yelping as he pinches your clit, rolling it between the tips of his flesh digits. 

“Oh, yeah? I’m the one about to fuck you, and it’s none of my business?” 

He seeks to tame you, and since you crave him more than anything else you bend to his will. “Look,” you stumble, your most vulnerable part susceptible to anything he sees fit. The thought thrilled you. “yes, okay? I did. I tried to screw you out of my system.” 

A depraved smile stretches onto his face, and to reward you for your honesty he circles your bud soothingly. “I see it didn’t work. Take your top off.” 

Like his bitch, you do as he says. 

“Play with them for me, princess, I love seeing those pretty tits.” 

Your countenance twists, cupping your chest, pinching your nipples in between the webs of your fingers. Abruptly, he plunges his two fingers inside, but you accept them with little to no effort. 

Usually, he’d take his time edging you, but judging by the strain in his pants, he doesn’t want to wait too long. Digits railing and curling inside you, showing you how loyal he is to making you cum. How he never forgot exactly how to finger you, touch all those spots you can never reach. Ones that nobody else can seem to find. 

Your orgasm didn’t need much else, crashing over you as soon as that coil in your belly snapped, making a mess on your nice counter. That high lingers, while Anakin undresses. As disgusting as it is, he gathers up some of your finish to lube himself up, recycling fluids and not bothering with a condom. He’s had you bareback countlessly before, why should this time be any different? You can barely hold it together, scooting closer to him, parting your legs further, presenting yourself to him like the greedy slut you are. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you, angel, you have no fucking idea. You know how many times I’ve fucked my fist to you? Fucked girls pretending they were you? Can’t even fool myself, no one’s got a tighter pussy than you.” 

His words make your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you stroke his ego in a whine while he aims, pumping his hard length in his hand, nudging your hole a couple times. “Nobody fucks me like you can, Anakin. Nobody.” His head pushes inside, and sinks further in, both of you groaning in unison. Perfectly filled, and perfectly sheathed. A lock and key, and he basks in the moment. 

“Fuck, baby,” 

His dick has always been formidable, but you wonder if the months you’ve spent apart has made your pussy forget how to accommodate him as comfortable as you used to. 

Like a ragdoll, you adhere to his every whim. Naked chest to chest, his thick arms pin you close, hugging you around your torso, while yours lay lazily around his neck. Hooded, lustful gazes meeting each other, his hand fisting in your hair to command the maintaining of your eye contact, while he slowly thrusts inside you. 

“Nobody’s my little fucktoy like you are.” His intense eyes are all you’re lost in when he spits such filthy words at you. You can only moan in response as he rolls his herculean body, curling up to hit your g-spot every time. 

“I don’t care what I am.” you say without thinking, your pussy slurping him up, taking whatever he gives you. “As long as I’m with you.” 

This obsessive, toxic necessity for each other, makes Anakin’s dick twitch, and he increases his pace, desperate for more from you. Hearing those devoted words while you look into his dilated eyes, it’s like a binding spell. He prays it works. 

Tangled in each other, he manages to bring his fingers up from your torso to his mouth, sucking two of them in to coat them in saliva. An image you don’t get tired of, entranced, as he looks deep into you, mouthing his own digits. He uses them to traverse your tailbone, dipping down into the crevice to find your bare asshole, circling it. Involuntarily, you clench down on his member, and he grins. “Bet you didn’t admit you like this to the other guys you’ve fucked.” 

He’s right, you’ve never been as sexually adventurous with anyone as you are with Anakin. He brings out such a disgusting side of you. Things that normally shame you, such as your own pleasure and fantasies, lose their distressing power as soon as Anakin’s in the picture. Having such a strong personality next to you, it inspires you, makes you feel safer when admitting your most base desires. “What? Anal?” The words punctuated with a gasp as the rim of your asshole reaches his knuckles. 

“No,” he laughs at you, like you’ve fallen into a trap, “your ex-boyfriend fucking you stupid. So bad you let him do anything he wants to you.” 

It’s true. You can hardly comment on it though, as he drills into both your holes, thrusting in tandem, until his bottoms out in both, until you swear the tips of his fingers and cock are grazing each other through your insides. Limp, you lull, swaying like waves of water pass around you. The sensation of bleak emptiness after each pulling out, only to be rudely awakened with each meeting of your bodies. Both of your holes loosen from lust to welcome in as much as possible. Anakin loves your perfect, little asshole— and shows it by fucking it raw with whatever he’s got. 

“Getting soaked.” The noise of it overwhelming your senses, your entire being just a mass of tingles, heat, and want. “Taking me so good, angel,” he praises, his fist in your hair tightening to sting, reminding you to force your eyes open, to hold his gaze while he abuses your holes. 

The position suffices, holding each other close, intimately, until he needs more room. Effortlessly, he lifts you up, biceps swelling while he hooks underneath your thigh and stabilizes you by your waist. He pins you up onto the wall, no space between the two of you as he buries his face into your neck, scraping his teeth against your flesh, panting through his nose as he fucks you. 

Senseless sounds tumble out of you, pleasure coursing through you like blood in your veins. Whenever you and Anakin fuck it’s like you’re revitalized, nothing else matters, it falls away. Nothing compared to the way he makes you feel when he’s inside you. Sucking on your earlobe, you hear how he grunts, the noise of your conjoined bodies flooding the rest of the room. 

A desperation instills within him, chasing his finish, which means his grip digs into you like you’ll run away if he doesn’t keep you here. The back of your head bumps against the wall, and you fix it there while he rails you. Your nails raking down his corded back. His muscle strains against you, spasming from the effort of holding you up, but this angle is too good for either of you to pass up. Besides, you love the way he looks when he’s showing off like this. 

“You feel so good, you feel so fucking good.” 

“Are you gonna cum in me? I want you to. Please? Please, fuck—“

“Still a slut for my cum.” he scoffs. 

You reach in between the heat and the sweat of your bodies, so you can rub your clit, chasing your own high, near tears from waiting. 

“Look at me, angel, I want you to look at me when you do it.” he tells you, backing up so he can see your face when you orgasm. Your brows upturn, whining in frustration. 

The dam breaks, and your walls flutter from the stimulation. Like a good girl, you fight to keep your eyes open, trembling as your core tightens instinctually around him. Euphoria conquers you, and it makes quick work of Anakin, hot spurts of his finish coating your insides with milky white, oozing around his length out of you. 

You slump, as he carefully lets you slide down onto your feet, but he’s the one keeping you upright. Breathing hard together, he rests his forehead onto your shoulder, planting leisured kisses where he can reach. 

“Maybe this can be a regular thing.” he murmurs against you, and you side eye him. “I make a shitty boyfriend, but I’m a hell of a lay.”

Early next morning, Anakin awakes to the sound of your shower running, and your awful singing. It puts an amused smile on his face. He plans to join you, but since he hasn’t eaten since yesterday, his stomach growls. It alerts him to rifle through your fridge for breakfast. In the kitchen, he steps over his discarded clothes, and no sooner had he picked out a bottle of protein yogurt from the shelf, had your doorbell rang. 

He gulps down some drink, but sets it down so he can pick up his pants, slipping them on. They’re black, thin, and hang low on his hips. It does the trick, trekking the cold floor with his bare feet to slide open the front door. 

A confused face greets him, and he waits for the stranger to speak first. 

“Uh… hello. Sorry to bother you, I didn’t realize she had…” He clears his throat, while Anakin stands unyielding to allow him inside. He looks Anakin up and down, avoiding his glare, “… roommates. Can you get her? I want to ask her to brunch.” 

“She’s not coming.” Anakin responds, and closes the door to the stranger’s protest. A friend of yours, perhaps. A special friend that you no longer need. 

If Anakin knows anything about the company you keep, they’re like him: obsessive. So he abandons his hunger, to invite himself to your shower. To distract you from that guy’s incessant knocking, or countless ringing tele-calls intending to interrogate you. 

Anakin keeps you to himself in the shower, for a little while longer, somehow convincing you to let him fuck you “just one more time.” 

[cobragardens]

The 3 Falls of Anthony J Crowley

So far, Crowley has told three different stories to three different audiences about why he Fell, and there's some important information that can be inferred from them. Let's get nerdy.

(Nb. C. 25% of this is from a previous post I made about Crowley's memory problems.)

Here's Crowley's 1st story (gifs courtesy of Fuck Yeah Good Omens), in 1867:

In Book Omens this line is narration about Crowley, and means that Crowley didn't embrace evil and side with Hell so much as he just wasn't into the whole Heaven shindig.

In Show Omens, this phrase becomes a little more fraught, because Crowley says it about himself, and he says it to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale has just disagreed with Crowley's assertion that the two of them have a lot in common. Az thinks Crowley means their origins as angels, and demurs, "I don't know. We may have both started off as angels, but you are fallen."

But what Crowley means, as we find out in pretty much every other scene the two of them share in S1 and S2, is that that he and Aziraphale have a lot in common now, in their current positions. He wants Aziraphale to see him as a friend--and to be his friend--so he elides the difference his Fallenness makes to Aziraphale, all "Ehhh, it wasn't really a fall kind of Fall, it wasn't that bad."

Also, given the conversation they have in the Final Fifteen, I feel like his phrasing is kind of important here, because falling is not voluntary, but sauntering is. In saying this Crowley is claiming that to some degree he chose to reject Heaven.

It's entirely possible that Crowley may have been lying to Aziraphale in 1867--he is, as he says, a demon, and he's lied to him before to make something bad seem less bad--but maybe not. Remember what the Metatron says about Crowley:

And this is another interesting point: The Metatron knew Crowley as an angel. The Metatron. The being who, after shepherding Aziraphale out of the bookshop, turned back and looked at Crowley with hate.

(And tense music playing, in case you weren't sure.)

So maybe that's it. Maybe Crowley just chose to be on his own side.

But in 2019, and addressing God, Crowley's story of his Fall is slightly different:

I think we can take this as Crowley's sincere belief. It's unlikely that he would lie when speaking to God, because that is Aziraphale's job because he doesn't have any reason to do so: God hasn't been listening to Crowley for 6,000 years at this point, and if She were listening, lying would not work. So Crowley probably believes he's telling the truth here with this story: Crowley believes one reason he Fell is that he asked questions.

But is he right?

Another line from the Metatron:

The Metatron seems to speak of Crowley's habit of asking questions as though he finds it obnoxious rather than damning, so maybe the questions weren't the problem. Then again we know that the Metatron is a lying piece of shit and an authoritarian who doesn't want his regime questioned, willing to erase memories and destroy lives to cover up the 'institutional problem' that Heaven doesn't know what the Plan is and is run by a handful of warmongers who want everyone dead or indentured.

Either way, this is the third time in the series someone has talked about the problem of Crowley asking questions, so my guess is his questions were probably a salient feature of his Fall.

Onward!

Before we look at the 3rd story, remember that we have strong evidence now that Crowley has had his memories erased by Heaven.

But we also know Furfur, another demon, still has his memories. Inference: Heaven don't erase the memories of every angel who Falls. This suggests that Heaven erased Crowley's memories because he had knowledge in those memories Heaven didn't want him to have anymore.

This may not be specific knowledge. We know Crowley has a high security clearance in Heaven and therefore must have been a high-ranking angel, and we know he created a nebula with Saraqael, so presumably there was a lot of stuff in his head Heaven wanted stripped out.

But I think there was something specific, and here's why. Firstly, there's no reason to assume that importance in Heaven is a guarantee of importance in Hell. Furfur could have been a high-ranking angel too before ending up an admin in Hell. (Hell does not seem to be any more of a meritocracy than Heaven does.)

Secondly, it's clear that Crowley doesn't know his memories have been erased. If he knew, then when Furfur says "We were in the same Legion? Just before the Fall? Doing dubious battle on the Plains of Heaven? Remember?" he'd say something like "Don't be stupid, of course I don't remember, Heaven erased my memories."

Instead he says,

Now, maybe Crowley is just being a dick here. Certainly we're supposed to take it that way until he goes up to Heaven with Muriel and doesn't remember Saraqael either.

But what if he's being truthful? If Crowley is being honest (and a dick), that would mean the Fash didn't erase all of Crowley's memories of his time in Heaven. We know this because Furfur says he and Crowley fought together "on the Plains of Heaven," and "just before the Fall" [emphasis added].

This suggests that Maybe Heaven didn't erase time from Crowley's memory. Maybe they erased people.

Okay, now here's Crowley's 3rd story about how he Fell:

It's a cute line, but what if it's not just a throwaway joke referencing what people say about kids who go down the wrong path and become criminals?

Crowley mutters this 3rd story to himself, so we can be confident Crowley believes this to be true. But Crowley doesn't know who the wrong people are. He doesn't know whose company got him thrown out of Heaven, because his memories of all those people have been taken from him.

And taken together, these three stories and Crowley's stolen memories suggest a bigger, more disturbing inference: Crowley doesn't know why he Fell. (Or sauntered vaguely downwards.)

Like Crowley, Job was once a favorite of God. But he has fallen out of that favor and been delivered to demons for reasons God refuses to tell him.

We the audience are meant to draw a parallel between Job and Crowley. We know this not just because of the speech Crowley cathartically gives Job's goats, in which everything he says to the goats can be just as easily applied to Job or himself, but from two other indications. Here's one:

Job is wearing Crowley's color.

The other is the minisode title, "A Companion to Owls." This phrase comes from the Book of Job, specifically Job 30:29. Job, lamenting what has happened to him, says,

 I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls.

In Biblical symbolism, dragon=serpent=snake=demon. And in some Mesopotamian beliefs--one of them Judaism--owls were associated with demons as well:

and

and

So the Job of the Bible is saying in this verse the same thing the Job of Good Omens says: God has forsaken me and delivered me to demons. Or even: God has forsaken me and I am now being treated like demons are treated.

And he's also saying something else. In the Bible, owls symbolize loneliness, desolation, and solitude. They're consistently depicted as living in barren, abandoned, isolated places. Seriously. Go search owl(s) in a Biblical concordance and read all 30 entries: it comes up a lot. If you're a companion to owls, you're alone (except for the owls) in the wilderness. You're forsaken.

WHOMST do we know whose signal color is yellow, who's a brother of demons, and who admits at the end of the episode that being alone and forsaken in the wilderness is lonely?

So. Job, a character whose claim to fame is that God punished him and he didn't know why, is a mirror character to Crowley. This on its own isn't enough to say definitely that Crowley doesn't know why he Fell, but combined with the three different stories he tells about his Fall, I think there's enough textual evidence to conclude that Crowley isn't entirely sure why he fell; he only has educated guesses. Either he knew and the memory was erased, or he was never told at all.

My question about Crowley's Fall is this: Who pushed him?

Was Crowley's Fall an act of God Herself, or was it an act of Heaven? What did the fucking Metatron have to do with it? What was Crowley's crime? When Aziraphale takes charge of Heaven and the Second Coming, will he read Crowley's file?

[malereadermaniac]

Ego ~ Blue Oak x GN Reader

Blue's tired of losing to Red, so when he sees you blush and play with your fingers around the stoic man, Blue acts for the sake of his Ego No pronouns are used - any reader welcome! word count: 1.2k

Blue, you, and Red had been friends and rivals since you were young kids - you had watched the two of them conquer the pokemon league and the three of you were constantly having battles and eventually hanging out after Blue became less salty about his loses

However, becoming less bitter does't mean in any way shape or form that Blue's ego is any less big, or that he doesn't still see himself as the best of the best; despite his losses!

The main reason to him putting his ego aside and making friends with Red was also less about him moving on and more about trying to win you over...

Blue had developed a crush on you pretty quickly, after starting off your journey amongst the two boys with a cute little Eevee, you and the arrogant man decided to stick together - Blue claiming that you'd die out in wild Kanto with pokemon weaker than his

Initially, Blue just wanted a battle partner and someone to show off to - and he wasn't going to ask Red after losing to him after receiving his starter...

But after hearing your cheers for him in the crowd for 3 gyms in a row, Blue had started to notice how his heart skipped a beat whenever he was near you (which was a lot.)

But the young man kept it to himself all the way into adulthood, swallowing his pride by tolerating Red in order to continue being near you

And Blue had started to really try now! With his intense league journey behind him, the man had fully realised his massive crush on you, and he wasn't going to lose this time, mark his words!

So on the daily, Blue would go out of his way to try and flirt with you - the man constantly near you, showing off his strength by doing things for you, challenging you to battles just to hear your compliments to his skill, and once the man built up enough courage gifts had become a common courtesy!

The tall trainer had made many efforts to ensure you two could hangout one-on-one at least once a week - those days being his favourite, prime time to show off and to enjoy your presence

Your group trip to Alola was where the heat started to get cranked up though - revealing clothing, the hot sun making all of you sweat and slightly delirious, constant adrenaline from battling new trainers, and a whole lotta alcohol in your systems

The subtle flirting between you and Blue had continued throughout the trip via playful banter and gifting souvenirs, and the fact that the slim yet muscular man was wearing his shirt fully open all the time was definitely winning him some bonus points! Blue would catch you staring every so often, stroking the attractive man's ego so nicely~

But a wrench was thrown into Blue's delicate work when he noticed your subtle staring was starting to redirect from him... onto the worst possible person; Red

He'd notice you try to include the quiet man into your conversations, trying to get him to speak or laugh; an obvious blush on your face when the champion spoke a few words with his deep voice

It really fucking pissed Blue off.

The way you'd play with the hem of your shirt or your fingers when talking to Red, a light blush on your face and airy chuckles escaping past your lips - Blue adored it when you'd do those things for him... But the fact that they were aimed towards his rival? The man who crushed his dreams of being the best in Kanto? Blue could hear the scratch of his teeth gritting together at that

It also didn't help that Red took notice of your actions, clearly wearing his shirt unbuttoned like Blue on purpose!

Blue had, had enough

He'd already lost his championship to Red, almost every battle with him had resulted in a loss on the arrogant man's behalf, his own grandfather had congratulated Red but not Blue; his ego had already been shattered to pieces, he wasn't going let Red take you too

So, as you and Red were enjoying the warm Alolan beach, Blue had made his way to you both - his face concealing his frustration pretty effectively, but Blue had never been one to wear his true emotions on his sleeve

You wave the handsome man a 'hi' but had been interrupted when asking him if he was alright; Blue's rough hand wrapping perfectly around your wrist and pulling you away from Red

You barely even had time to protest against Blue's actions before you had been pulled into a changing cabin on the beach, Red still standing on the beach in shock

With your back up a against a wall, Blue had tapped you beneath him - his muscular arms trapping you between the wall and the trainer's muscular, sweaty, warm body - one of his arms above your head and the other grasping your shoulder

"Do you like him?!" Blue demands, his face now clearly upset, his grip on your shoulder decently tight yet his hand was clearly trembling

"Huh? What're you on about, Blue?" you question, half of your face squinting in a quizzical manner

"Do you like, Red?" Blue asks, taking in a deep breath, preparing himself for your answer

"I mean he's attractive, sure-" shit... Blue's face had already lost all emotion, those words like a knife stabbing into him

"-but I'd never date him!"

New light had sparked in Blue's eyes, a smile just barely visible on his soft looking lips

"Are you joking? I love him and all but that man gets out like.. 3 words an hour! I need a talker haha~" You chuckle, feeling more at ease when Blue's grip on your shoulder softens and his face sports that classic smirk he always has on around you

"Heh.. Yeah... you need someone to yap with" Blue jokes, his heart rate slowly lowering as he calms down, knowing that he still has you - both emotionally and physically, his body ever so close to yours

"Why though? All the dramatics are usual for you but... were you jealoussss?~~" You tease your handsome friend, a smirk on your lips as you tilt your head in a way that's so fuckin cute to Blue

"F-Fuck off! And what if I was?!" Blue shouts, his arms darting away from trapping you and crossing against his chest - his face flushing in a cute way

"I dunno... Maybe I'd like that" You carry on, pushing a finger against the taller man's muscular chest and dragging it across his warm skin, your eyes looking up into Blue's as you do this

And my god did that make the usually arrogant and cool man malfunction

The two of you spent a good half hour in that changing shack, flirting back and forth, you doing your best to stroke and sooth Blue's fragile ego before having to go back and see Red for the rest of your trip

And for that sole half hour, Blue had felt happier than ever - more happy than when he was briefly crowned as champion

Because in that moment, he didn't have you there; but now he does

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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[dairy-farmer]

HEAR ME OUT!! I've been thinking about this prompt for a while, and I figured you were the best one to show it to!!!

Picture this~ Tim only dresses in baggy clothes and his suit has about five layers of armor because of Bruce's nagging. And even in team showers, he tries to avoid going with them at the same time, and even if he does, it's normally common courtesy to stare straight ahead and avoid eye contact.

Only Alfred and Leslie have seen Tim's real body, and everyone else kinda just sees him as a sad wet cat because of his eternally drowning in clothes look.

So when Bruce decides to throw a huge pool party bash for all the heroes, new and old, everyone expecting Tim to show up in some swim shorts, maybe even a swim shirt because they thought he was insecure about his body.

So imagine their surprise when Tim walks out in the TINIEST red gingham bikini, with matching heels and heart sunglasses to go along with the outfit.

They're SHOOK.

That day, everyone comes to a conclusion: they need to be the first one to get their hands on Tim's tight virgin pussy.

Some bets are even made on who he's more likely to get with.

Bonus points☆��� he's already been fucking someone the whole time.

also, how do yoy feel about people writing some of the anonymous prompts you've been sent?? Bc some of these r actually rlly inspiring!!

i LOVE the fact that tim canonically has really punkish, grunge and "bad" fashion sense. he's what old fashioned parents get exasperated over their kids wearing. big 2-4x bigger cargo pants and shirts that hang over him and drown him, very loose fitting and tim LOVES. big clothes are comfortable and roomy and when its hot out tim's clothes don't stick to the sweat of his body and he can trap a nice breeze in his big shirts. with big clothes tim doesn't feel restrained and he feels chill and so people treat him as such too. if tim wore tight clothes or trendy things people would bother him more but they don't. also tim just LIKES it, big clothes are stylish to him and he likes how he looks in them because they make his body seem taller and wider, which, with his frame is nice because he's teeny. his armor as robin makes him look thicker and more muscular which he enjoys but as a civilian he doesn't have 5ish layers of armor to bulk up so the clothes are a nice substitute!!

that being said when tim hears there's going to be a pool party he gets excited! its been so long since tim got to do something like lounge at the pool but now not only is he invited to relax for a day, he's being encouraged to.

but just because tim's family doesn't understand his street and civilian wear it doesn't mean tim doesn't make up for it other ways. tim has fond memories of going to the beach with his family as a kid. his mom in ruffled bikinis, wearing designer sunglasses, and crossing her heeled slide sandal-wearing ankles while watching tim play in the pool of the hotel because the ocean was "dirty".

tim's mom said going to the pool was an 'event'. she did her hair, painted her nails, applied pretty shimmering gloss to her lips and applied light dusting of powder to her cheeks to make them pink. she did because she said all the other mommies at the pool would be looking at her and judging her and they'd think she was a bad mommy if she looked anything less than her best. she also said it was important that all the daddies see how pretty she was so that they'd respect tim's daddy more. tim didn't understand it then and even now that he was older he still didn't. but he remembered how much fun it was to watch his mom get ready because it meant tim would be able to go swimming soon, which as a kid was all he thought about!!!

so tim is careful when shopping for a bikini. tim's tits are small so he usually does for the small tops, the ones that are more small triangles to cover him. then bottoms where he can tie them closed into a pretty bow on each hip. for the heels tim takes his time, picking out pretty heeled sandals that he can slide his foot into and then a pair of heart shaped sunglasses to match.

the day of the pool part tim can feel eyes on him as he picks one of the pool chair under and umbrella. there are bottles of sunscreen in small buckets all around as well as aloe vera gel that bruce provided for everyone.

tim gets at least six offers for people to apply sunscreen to his back when he reaches for one of the bottles.

its almost funny the way people tim has known for years stumble over themselves and stutter while talking to him.

tim had gone all out, he'd even gone for a pedicure to get pretty french tip nails which had been his mom's favorite and the one she said were the "only nails worth getting".

maybe tim's a little nostalgic for thinking back on his mom and those days by the pool.

but for a first impression among all the new heroes being added to teams around the country as well as the JL roster- tim thinks he does pretty well.

even if he's not privy to the hushed conversations about who among them will take tim's virginity.

---

for the prompts i think a lot of the people who sent them would be ecstatic if people were inspired by their ideas and wrote more about them!!!! i know a few people who sent prompts are working on fics about prompts they sent but i think they'd also love to see people's take on their ideas-i say go for it! maybe even share the fic to the inbox so that they can see and read it as well!!!

[mrsparrasblog]

SAUNA SOAP🌞

You hated your job. Working in the SPA of a 5-star hotel was not as luxurious as people made it out to be. The therapist got tipped while you needed to do the infusions, clean around the mess the guests left, deal with touchy customers, and worst of all, tell guests all over again that they can't fuck in the sauna, pool, or whatever. Well, at least you got paid 1pound above the minimum wage.

So you spent another day standing at the front desk of the SPA and trying to look useful. Nothing ordinary happened until a handsome Adonis walked into the spa. Fuck, he came up the elevator wearing only a towel around his hips, not hiding his perfect sculpted abs; he looked like an Adonis; his biceps was probably bigger than your head; and you looked up to see his beautiful face. His face had some badass scars, wrinkles, and the most gorgeous set of eyes you ever saw in your life.

"Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?" you said, trying to hide your enormous blush from him. You were used to naked people in front of you, but this man was different; he made your legs press together behind the corner, like a horney slut.

"Awright bonny, a'm 'ere fur th' sauna cuid ye shaw me th' wey" You hated yourself for not understanding him, but his voice was already the cause of your wet dreams for the next few months.

"I'm not called Bonny" was the only response you could gather to say and point to your nametag.

He chuckled, "Sorry, lass, I'm used to people understanding my accent. Could you show me the way to the sauna, please?"

"Of course, sir, please follow me." You walked out behind your reception, guiding him the way through the almost empty SPA.

"No need to call me, sir; I'm not much older than you," he said, throwing you a cheeky smile.

"We're here" He went into the sauna and thanked you. And you hated yourself for not being able to flirt with this man. This was a one-time chance to meet a man who was able to be on the new season of the bachelor of your county, and you failed.

After a few hours, you prepared an infusion smelling like amber and peppermint, so you went to the sauna. To your disappointment, your new customer crush wasn't there. You started with your usual show, throwing towels around and then leaving the sauna. Leaning against a wall, panting after being in the 90-degree sauna.

And there it was again, a man approaching you without a towel wrapped around his hips as if it weren't common courtesy to hide your own, oh god, erect cock. You tried your hardest to look into his eyes, but that ugly dick of his was like a car accident earthquake and a fire at the same time.

"If it's too hot for you, I wouldn't mind seeing you less clothed; you must be sweating in this tight and long uniform," he said, tucking your hair behind your ears.

You were more than disgusted by this behavior, but it was nothing new for you. "Sir, I feel uncomfortable with this situation."

"Come on, little bird, you girls take these things so seriously. I was just flirting a bit."

"And I want you to stop flirting," you said, sounding confident and not showing an ounce of your fear. You knew there wasn't much staff around anymore.

"Come on, Birdy, I paid so much for my stay; there should be something in it for me." He started to put his hand on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You were so ready to fight him off, but before your knee could make contact with his crotch, the Adonis men was behind you, towering over you.

"She said no, you better leave now or I'll help you leave bastard." You fell behind in his massive frame after the man pulled away from your hip.

"Sorry, mate," he said, walking out of the spa to his hotel room with a hint of embarrassment. Asshole was afraid of Adonis.

You turned around to face him, blushing at how close you were. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, lass, call me Johnny, not this Sir nonsense," he smirked at you, and you felt like you melted on the ground immediately.

"Okay, thank you, Johnny. You can have a drink on the house; just grab something from the bar." This would be the least you could do.

"When urr ye off, a'm waantin' tae keep edgy fur ye nae that that bastard comes back." You felt the butterflies in your stomach when he said he wanted to protect you.

"Johnny I'm a big girl; you don't need to ruin your vacation by looking out for a stranger."

"Beautiful stranger." You blushed at his compliment and thanked him. You worked for the next three hours and then started to clean everything so you could close. When you locked the door, only you and Johnny were there. You approached him, but he still sat in the sauna. His marvelous body was glistering with sweat, just like his weird but funny hair. You noticed how he sat there with his legs wide open without a towel, so you had a perfect view of his manhood.

"Aye, sorry, I didn't notice ye" he said, hiding his manhood from you.

"Don't worry, I see them every day."

"Och, ye dinnae ken how tae flatter a lad," he said, acting fake hurt, which gifted him a slight chuckle from you. "Ye kin at least admit a'm a het lad."

"You're a hot lad, Johnny. Happy?" Your eyes wandered down his abs.

"Take a picture; it lasts longer."

"Uhm, sorry, I just think you're very handsome. I like your biceps."

"Do you want to touch it, hen?"

You nodded, slightly embarrassed; this is still your workplace after all.

Johnny's breath hitched slightly as you touched him, his muscles tensing. "Feel that, sweetheart? That's pure Scottish strength. It's also quite sensitive... If you know how to handle it properly."

"You work out a lot?" You asked already knowing the answer.

Smirking, Johnny leaned in close, whispering in your ear. His stubbles touched your neck as he did this.

"Aye, lassie. I work out every chance I get. And believe me, it's more than just to maintain my looks." Soap grinned, flexing his bicep slightly for you. "Feel that again, lass. You can't deny the pure muscle you're touching. And don't even get me started on these abs. I've been told they're quite impressive." He was pretty arrogant, but you couldn't deny that he was allowed to be arrogant after looking like this.

"They are. I'm sorry I'm acting unprofessional." You remembered your minimum wage job.

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, don't apologize, hen. Unprofessional behavior can be quite endearing. Besides, I'm not one to judge." He leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper.

As your gaze dropped lower to his prominent V line and his thick happy trail, Soap caught the subtle hint of curiosity in your eyes. Leaning back slightly, he ran his free hand teasingly over his toned abs before continuing. "You seem quite interested in this area, don't ya?"

You blushed immediately. "I'm so sorry."

Johnny chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Sorry for what? For being a horny wee lassie? There's nothing wrong with that." He reached down, his fingers tracing the outline of his hardened member through his towel. "See this?"

"Oh, Johnny," it was thicker than anything you had in your life and will have.

With a devilish grin, Soap pressed his thick shaft against your stomach, causing you to gasp. "Want a taste?" he asked softly.

"I work in this Spa and you are a customer Johnny I can't just blow you in the Sauna"

Johnny chuckled again, pulling his cock back from you. "Didn't say you had to blow me?" he replied with a wink. "Though I wouldn't mind that." You couldn't stop laughing at his comment.

Soap smirked at your laughter, taking it as a good sign. "Listen, hen," he started, his voice now low and rough with desire. "I've had my fair share of women throwing themselves at me, but you're not throwing yourself at me. You subtle, I like that, and I never had sex in a sauna, and you're one hell of a looker, the most beautiful girl I've seen in ages."

"I never had sex in a sauna too."

"So" He unwrapped the towel around his waist, making sure you got a good look at his hard cock pointing at you. "How about we fuck in the sauna?"

"That's pretty forward, Johnny."

He chuckled warmly at your comment. "Aye, lass, I'm forward when I want something," he replied confidently, taking a step closer to you. "And I really want this."

As you watched in anticipation, Soap slowly unbuttoned your uniform, revealing more of your delectable body with each button that flew open. His eyes roamed hungrily over your curves, taking in every detail. "Yer sae bonny"

Once your pants were off, Soap gently pushed you onto the bench in the sauna, his eyes locked onto your clothed sex. He took one of his thick fingers and started to circle your clit with it. You couldn't help but moan; he was doing it better than any man before. He didn't treat you like a scratcher; he knew what he did, which made you feel insecure. Of course, men like him would have more experience than you do.

"You look and sound like an angel; can I—my little man can't wait any longer?" You laughed at his words and just nodded.

He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance before slowly pushing inside.

"God, that's fast." You whined as he split you in half with his thick cock.

Johnny grunted in pleasure as he felt you tighten around him. "Fuck, lass," he groaned, starting to thrust slowly inside of you. His hands found their way to your tits, squeezing them roughly as he took his time fucking you.

Johnny picked up the pace, slamming his hips against yours as he fucked you hard in the sauna. The sound of your flesh slapping together filled the small room, echoing off the walls.

His cock throbbed inside of you, reaching deeper with each thrust. Your body glistened with sweat in the hot sauna. Johnny growled low in his throat, his face contorting with pleasure as he continued to pound into you. Sweat dripped from his body onto yours.

"Fuck, you're so tight." You scratched his back, gripping hard on his biceps. You needed to hold back and not cum too fast so you couldn't embarrass yourself in front of him.

Johnny hissed in pleasure at the scratches down his back, leaning into the bite and scratch marks on his neck as he felt you grip his biceps. His hips picked up speed, slamming harder into you as he reached around to pinch and twist your nipples.

Feeling you close to orgasm, Johnny moved a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit firmly as he continued to pound into you. His fingers circled your swollen bud, teasing it until you cried out incoherently. "Johnny"

Johnny groaned, feeling himself getting closer as well. He picked up the pace even more, slamming into you harder as he leaned forward to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting gently.

He growled low in his throat as you wrapped your legs around him, taking him deeper inside of you. He moaned into your skin, his teeth grazing lightly as he nipped at your other nipple. "Fuck," he panted, "I'm going to cum."

"Mhm, you can cum inside; I'm on the pill." It was foolish of you to let a stranger cum inside of you, but you were too fucked out to properly think.

Hearing your enthusiastic agreement, Johnny let out a groan of relief as he felt his climax building. With one last hard thrust, he erupted inside of you, his cock pulsing as he shot his hot cum deep inside your wet cunt.

Johnny panted, his heart racing, as he leaned down to kiss your full lips. "That," he whispered against your lips, "was fucking incredible." He pulled out of you slowly, his still-hard cock slipping out of your pussy with a wet pop.

"I usually don't do things like this with strangers, I swear." This was your first nightstand and even in your workplace. What must he think of you?

"Well, I'm glad you made an exception for me." Johnny grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He reached down to stroke his cock a few times, getting it slick with his own precum before pressing the head against your entrance again. "Ready for round two?" This man must be joking, right?

"Another one?"

"You bet your sweet ass I am," Johnny growled, pushing his thick cock back inside of you in one swift motion. He slid in completely this time, his hips meeting yours as he began to thrust into you again, harder and faster than before.

You needed to regain power so you wouldn't come immediately "Mhm, fuck, let me be on top."

"You got it," Johnny grunted, pulling out of you so that you could mount him. He helped guide your hips as you positioned yourself on top of him, his hands sliding down to grab your ass and pull you closer.

You bounced on his dick with so much passion and enthusiasm as he had never seen in a woman; you were so eager to please him and so eager to sleep with him. You weren't like this usual starfish woman; you were perfect.

Johnny moaned, loving the feeling of your wet pussy slamming against his cock as you rode him with all your might. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he watched you in awe. "Fuck me, woman. "Yeah, I'm definitely feeling that." Johnny groaned out, his body arching off the ground as you continued to ride him. He reached up to grab one of your tits, squeezing it gently before rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"A Boob Guy, huh?"

"Well, I'm a man," Johnny chuckled, running his free hand down your back to your ass before squeezing it. "And I definitely appreciate a nice pair of tits." He nipped at your earlobe before biting gently, making you moan loudly. With every movement of your hips, his veiny cock hit your Gspot perfectly, making you whine and moan in pleasure.

"Johnny, I'm close."

He growled, "Come for me then, lass." He held onto your hips, his cock throbbing inside you as he felt you getting closer. Just as you started to tense up, he thrust up into you hard, feeling your pussy clenching around him, milking him as you came undone.

He continued to thrust into you until he couldn't hold back any longer, his cock erupting inside of you with his hot and sticky cum.

Johnny leaned his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he held you close. "One hell of a fuck, wasn't it?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes," you stated monotonously. You screwed up your chance of dating this guy by simply fucking him the first time you saw him.

Johnny chuckled softly before kissing your neck, nibbling gently. "Now then, what's got you all wound up?" He asked curiously, running his hands down your back and ass.

"Was this a one-night thing, or could I get your number? Oh god, it's embarrassing. I never had sex with a random man, and now I'm asking for your number. I'm stupid." You started to ramble while looking into his beautiful eyes.

Johnny smiled at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "A one-night thing? Hardly." He said it teasingly, tracing a finger down your cheek. "I'm not the kind of man who gives up so easily once he has a taste."

"So?"

"So, how about we exchange numbers?" Johnny suggested with a grin. "I mean, unless you're afraid, I might call you at all hours of the night."

"I'll give you my number."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise but quickly took out his phone to enter your number. "Alright then, pretty girl." He said, pressing the buttons on his phone. "You've got mine too. Don't forget it." He gave you some sloppy kisses and helped you put on your clothes again.

Before he left, you screamed to him. "Call me."

"I will," he assured you with a wink, and he left the spa on his way to his hotel room.

A moment later, your phone rang, and you answered. "Hello?"

"I promised to call you, Mo leannan

[gothicflowers]

Can you write Ghost only use reader for her body and she shows that but in love too deep with him. She always begs him to take their relationship seriously but Ghost always replies like "I know you love me, that's why I use you, lovie." That's so cruel but I love that, maybe I need a therapy right now!!!

(MDNI) +18

Ghost x F!Reader

“Just sex” he grumbled as he towers over you.

“Fine” you say with a smirk. Arrogantly thinking you could make him fall for you.

Unfortunately after every roll in the sheets it ended the same way. You offer him food, stay to watch a movie, rub his tired shoulders, but he always leaves right after.

Time after time you tell yourself he’s just putting up a front, and deep down he’s a soft gentle man like you think he is. Wrong again. He’s just a tall, arrogant, selfish jerk who only cares about his job.

Which lead to this conversation between you two in his room.

“You know what, I don’t get it” you fumble with your belt as you frustratedly put it back on. Ghost texted you asking if you wanted to stop by but right before you two were about to lay on the bed you asked him if he felt anything for you. Anything at all. To which he promptly said “talk about it later” which was his way of saying drop it. But of course you persisted as asked if he wanted to get dinner later. And it slowly spiraled into a half clothed argument.

“What” he asks with a slight annoyance in his tone “let me guess… you really did fall for me”.

“Yeah. And for some fucking awful reason I agree to this shitty sex deal thinking it would change things but fuck… you’re just shitty”you slip on your shoes and sigh “You know most people have the common courtesy to at least ask if they need some water or help clean them up”.

His props himself up by his elbows and sighs “we agreed, It’s just sex”.

“Oh fuck off. You knew what you were doing. And even if it’s just sex have some basic human decency. And you’re the one who approached me mother fucker don’t forget that, you desperate horn dog” you sneer at him.

Ghost laughs “Oh don’t call me the horn dog when you were practically chasing me around wanting some”.

“Fuck you, then why on earth did you decide to sleep with me if you knew I’d get attached” your hands rest on your hips as you await his answer.

“Simple, the other two women here have some arrangement with Gaz and Soap. I’m not particularly fond of sharing. And they’re really not my type, and you’re the prettier one of the three”.

You could feel your blood start to boil. A this time you had been trying to convince yourself he was everything you wanted… and he was just using you.

“So all that time I thought you just wanted to get to know me you were just trying to get into my pants” your expression turned ice cold.

“Was rather easy darling” he smirks.

“You’re telling me” you laughed trying to compose yourself “that I thought I was falling for you and put up with some mid grade dick because I was the prettiest”.

Ghost was slightly taken aback when you said mid grade dick. “The fuck does that mean” he asks.

You slowly reach for his door handle “Oh come on ghost… did you really think I was actually cumming from two ish minutes of missionary sex with no forplay”.

His sits up with confusion plaster on his face “you’re lying” he scoffs.

“I mean like you said it’s just sex. You never said you’d make me cum, and this little arrangement where one of us leaves works out pretty well so I can have some quality time with my vibrator” your open the door and walk out grinning. But once you reached your room every ounce of emotion released itself.

You gave yourself one night. One night to mourn the idea of what you wanted with him. One night to be upset over his attitude and behavior. One night to cry and let your heart break.

Ghost sits speechless on the bed. There was no way you would lie about faking an orgasm… right? He picked you because you’re pretty and gullible, but now he feels like the fool.

Ghost slides back into his boxers and slowly paces his room. “She’s a little lying minx” he grumbles to himself. But as much as he tries to reassure himself his mind goes back to every encounter.

He realizes he never did ask you if it was good for you. Did you actually cum? Granted he had to use lube a few times but that’s normal, right? Well maybe he did just kinda rush into the sex, never giving you any proper warm up. Was he actually giving mid grade dick? Impossible. But then again he cant remember you saying once that you did come, nor did he ever remember you cumming. He’d surely remember the expression on your face if he ever did see you cum, Was the one and only Simon Ghost Riley really dishing out mediocre dick?

It’s been about a month since that night. Yours and Ghosts work relationship remains unchanged. Professional. But of course now that Soap and Gaz noticed a change in Ghosts behavior towards hookups, they have been dying to ask you what happened.

“Because you’re the prettiest” Gaz repeated your words.

“That’s so fucked up that he’d prey on you like that” Soap said with a disgusted expression.

You simply shrug “I know, but I think I might have given him a taste of his own medicine”.

“How” Soap asks taking note of your smirk.

You lean back in your seat trying to gather the right words “Well you see… he’s not exactly gifted in the skills department”.

“Oh please do elaborate” Gaz scoots in closer. He’s oh so deeply invested now.

“He’s as vanilla as a cake, can’t find the clit even with assistance, and let’s be honest… a minute and a half isn’t getting most women anywhere when you just shove it in” you look between the two men and a greeted by the look of horror.

Soap was the first to speak “A minute and a half”.

“When you say just shove it in you mean he wouldn’t ya know…” Gaz tries to say politely unlike Soap who is now mumbling in Gaelic.

“As in quite literally just dropping pants and hitting it in missionary. No warm up”. You can’t help but speak bluntly.

“Fuck that sounds bloody awful” Soap chimes back in.

“It was, but I thought I actually liked him and it was just something I figured I could deal with. thank goodness that’s over though”. You laugh at your own words because it’s the truth. A horrible honest truth.

Granted the actual damage Ghost caused to your confidence and self esteem is greater than you’re willing to admit. Knowing you were used just for your body and beauty was the most gut wrenching experience.

But at least Ghost looks miserable. The man hasn’t tried to hook up with anyone that you’ve noticed. His cocky arrogant attitude has been turned down. Life finally gave him some of the most humbling lesson.

1. Don’t manipulate people for your benefit when they truly care about you.

2. Don’t be a selfish lover.

3. There are videos on how to actually find the clit,

[haztobegood]

Yesterday I made a list of some of my favorite Liam fics for the 28th. There were so many good fics that I had to split this into two parts. Here are more of my favorites featuring Liam.

🦖 A Way So Familiar by yeah_alright @uhoh-but-yeah-alright (T, 2k, Liam/Zayn, established relationship, fluff)

Liam squeezes Zayn’s hand and presses a light kiss to his fingers. He freezes when Zayn stirs, worried he’s woken him. He’s not ready to wake him. He’s enjoying being held as he wades through the memories of that first night he'd held Zayn. Held him so properly and thoroughly that he had fallen asleep still holding him tightly. That night of pizza and beer and unadulterated flirting, when their playfulness had taken on a greater significance. It had felt revelatory. Like it was all finally – fucking finally – happening. --- Liam wakes up in Zayn’s arms and reminisces about some of their “firsts.”

🦖 Highway to the Danger Zone by phdmama @phdmama (E, 2k, trucker!Liam, masturbation)

It’s not easy, the life of a long-distance trucker, but Liam wouldn’t change it for the world. The money’s decent, he’s got his own rig (courtesy of a buddy who’d moved to New Zealand), he’s in charge of his own destiny, and he gets to listen to all the weird podcasts he wants to. He’s also gotten to see some truly amazing things. Sunsets over the mountains. Bison in Montana and moose in Maine. Bald eagles and double rainbows. Beautiful sights, at times even awe-inspiring, but they pale in comparison to the car driving next to him.

🦖 Kill My Mind? by musiclily88 @musiclily (NR, 2k, Liam/Louis, superhero, supervillain)

The superhero and supervillain have, like, a LOT of friends in common, and at this point, it's starting to get annoying.

🦖 From the Depths by FallingLikeThis @fallinglikethis (T, 3k, Liam&Niall, hurt/comfort)

When a new resident moves to town, the creature in the lake is curious. They both may be just what the other needs.

🦖 just the thought of you by disgruntledkittenface @disgruntledkittenface (M, 3k, Liam/Harry, genderswapped, firefighter!Liam)

Harry's been pining after her neighbor for two years. It only takes a small kitchen fire for her to make a move.

🦖 This Time by YesIsAWorld @louandhazaf (E, 4k, Liam/Harry, friends to lovers, rebound sex)

When Harry shows up at Liam door, upset that his relationship has ended, Liam finally gets his chance to act on the crush he's harbored for ages.

🦖 I Heard You Asked About Me by cherrylarry @beelou (T, 5k, Liam/Louis or Liam/Zayn, ice cream)

He comes to a stop in the middle of a residential street, the jingle calling the children over. Surprisingly, there's not just little kids that come running, there's teenagers and some adults as well, probably for nostalgia. Liam gets it. If he wasn’t the one driving the truck, he’d probably be standing in line and waiting to buy some for himself. After the rush of orders gets filled, he continues on to the next neighborhood. This one has more young adults, most likely college students. Girls with pink hair, guys with long hair. Then, Liam sees him.

🦖 It’s a Craving Not a Crush by LetTheMusicMoveYou @letthemusicmoveyou28 (E, 9k, Liam/Louis, fake marriage, post-rehab)

All around him, his coworkers have started pulling out their chosen lunches. And Liam does the same, reaching down to the backpack at his feet and pulling out the Tupperware of leftover spaghetti he’d packed this morning. When he sets it on the table he notices a little neon pink post it note on the lid that he didn’t remember being there before. Written on the note in messy scrawl it says: Have a wonderful day husband! Can’t wait to suck you off when you get home!! XOXO -Lou. Liam feels his face go bright red again as he hastily rips off the note and crumples it in his fist. He glances around the table, but thankfully no one seems to be paying him any attention. They’re all wrapped up in their own food items or listening to whatever their boss is talking about. (Or the one where Liam and Louis are best bros who end up getting married so that Liam has the insurance he needs to go to rehab. Now that he’s sober, they can get divorced. But do they want to?)

🦖 Love Like This by reminiscingintherain @reminiscingintherain (E, 33k, Liam/Louis/Zayn, royalty, RWRB au)

A Zouiam RWRB AU, featuring Louis as the First Son, Liam as the Prince, and Zayn as Liam's friend and equerry. With appearances from Lottie as Louis' helpful sister, Harry as his best friend, and Niall as Liam's golf instructor (or gardener? or something else?).

🦖 leave my life outside (or let me in) by we_are_the_same @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (M, 53k, Liam/Zayn, fantasy, demon)

“You want to what-” he asks, even though he’s heard Louis correctly. Louis shrugs a shoulder, unbothered. “I want to go to a Halloween party.” Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose. “In the human dimension.” He adds, because that’s the part that stresses him out about this. Having a Halloween party in itself sounds like fun, he’s not going to lie. Even if he’s never been particularly fond of parties, hasn’t made many friends beyond Louis. But it’s one thing to attend a party with their classmates, where he can go home the moment he feels like his social battery’s drained. It’s quite another to sneak down to the human world. It makes sense, in a way. Halloween is the one night a year where people won’t look at them and immediately recognize them for who they are. It’s the one night a year where their horns or talons are considered to be part of a costume. Zayn is a 111 year old demon who is trying to decide his future. Liam is a 17 year old human struggling with his own life. Two people from completely different worlds, yet they find a little piece of home in one another. But nothing’s ever quite that simple, is it?

🦖 your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic @lightwoodsmagic (E, 98k, Liam/Zayn, MI5, crime and murder)

“It’s lucky you’re here actually, Malik. They figured out the riddle from the church.” Anthony shuffled papers on his desk as Zayn snapped to attention. “The next victim is a contestant of the upcoming Mr. UK pageant. It’s a great breakthrough, but we have a slight problem.” Zayn looked to Liam for answers, but it was obvious this was the first he’d heard of it too. “Which is?” “We’re going to need someone to go undercover, and it’s going to be you.” Liam’s hand fell to the back of Zayn’s chair with a thump. A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. When Liam makes a tactical call that backfires and almost gets Zayn killed during a raid, he refuses to let Zayn be the one to put himself at risk when all signs point to an upcoming pageant for the serial killer’s next target. While everyone around them seems to be hiding something and they're forced further apart, Liam and Zayn need to find the person responsible, protect each other with everything they have, and figure out why everything suddenly feels different between them.

🦖 Shadow Dancing by Layne Faire (HisDarlin) @laynefaire (E, 176k+ WIP, boxing, firefighter!Liam)

As a small child, Liam Payne dreamed of being a firefighter. He took up boxing to defend himself from school bullies, but never lost sight of his dream. 15 years later, Liam is set to be the youngest brigade watch commander in his district, and his recent boxing win puts him in line for the British national title - if he can learn to get out of his own way. Zayn took his first dance lesson at 5, after watching his sister's tap class. At 18, when an injury derails Zayn's dream of dancing professionally, he sets it aside to attend university, but the lure of dancing proves too great to ignore. He becomes an instructor, and eventually, the owner of a small dance studio, where he encourages other dancers to chase their dreams. When their worlds collide in a cacophony of misunderstandings, Zayn, confronted with his own biases, realizes there’s more to Liam than meets the eye, and offers to help him prepare for his upcoming fight. While Liam learns to dance, Zayn learns the art of compromise, and along the way, they find each other. And when tragedy strikes, Liam finds that Zayn’s love will help him face the shadows of his past, and give him the courage to believe in himself and his dreams for the future.