#that’s what I’ve been callin this

[artificialcaretaker]

There’s no fucking way I got into school mandated classic lit yaoi again why the fuck does this keep happening……

[Literally praying that we read page 222 in class I need to see everyone’s reaction to that.

Also, Bromden is literally me. Bro will start talkin about his paranoid delusions and how the Shadow Government is controlling him and I’ll be like “ONG TWIN 🫡🫡🫡”

That may or may not have some implications on my current mental health status.

ALSO also, I finally changed my signature. I no longer want to be associated with the same thing I used to mark the yaoi hentai I drew in middle school. That ain’t me. I’m a changed man. Like hell I’ll ever find it again but the important thing is that I’m moving on.

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 1.3k words

fic masterlist pt one next part

i’ve gotten some help with my spanish and have approved/fixed accordingly (if you have any suggestions on the spanish please speak up!); enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; spanish term of endearment ‘chaparrita’ — miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.

Miguel watches as you fiddled with the different tech machines, tapping with a focused gaze. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.

He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.

You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.

He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.

So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.

You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."

Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.

When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.

Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.

"How's ya bloody borin’ shit goin’?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.

"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.

He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."

You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"

Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start callin’ ya boss, and kissin’ ya boots?"

Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."

Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."

Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.

You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.

You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.

Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)

You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"

He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.

He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)

"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.

"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....cuanto me haces arder, cariño. (how much you make me burn inside.) And it’s beyond annoying.”

You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"

"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.

"To prove I'm helpful."

"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"

"Of course."

"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.

"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"

He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then fuck something up."

"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.

You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.

;;

You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.

Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.

'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.

You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.

"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.

Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."

Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."

You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.

"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.

"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.

Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.

You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"

"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"

You nod.

"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."

You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."

He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working here, close by me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."

You eye him. "Like what?"

"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chaparrita."

You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.

i know this is short, but I just wanted to see if any of you guys would be interested in a full fic like this…

also if you would like to be in a taglist for this story — just comment

[lovebugism]

hiii can i pls request shy!reader where eddie teaches her guitar but she keeps getting distracted by her crush on him and then they confess to each other 🥰 idk I'm just obsessed with eddie and guitars in general haha

ty for requesting!! — in which eddie calls his two favorite things sweetheart, his guitar and you (friends to lovers, fluff, 1.7k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Eddie’s bedroom is heavy with an early summer heat. There’s one square window above his bed where the golden hour sun filters through directly. It spotlights the guitar hanging above his dresser, sparkling with bits of swirling dust in the air. 

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” Eddie greets the instrument, as though it were a real thing with feelings. You idle behind him and watch in the mirror as he kisses two of his fingers and presses them to the strings. A crooked smirk sits lazily on his mouth at the graceless sound it makes.

“Is that its name?” you joke in a mousy voice, clammy hands wringing as thoughts of nonbelonging strangle you. You feel utterly out of place here, in this mess of boyish chaos — with heavy metal posters of bands you don’t know and movie prints with references you don’t recognize. 

The boy standing beneath it all turns to face you. He looks at you with the smile he always looks at you with — distant, pink, and quiet — like he doesn’t even know it��s there. And you feel at home all over again.

“Huh?” Eddie chuckles.

“Sweetheart,” you add.

“Sure,” he shrugs, scratching at the wild curls coiled at the nape of his neck. Another laugh sputters from his smiling mouth. “Might as well be, I guess. I’ve been callin’ her that since I got her.”

“Oh… It’s a she now, too?”

There’s a foreign twinkle in your sheepish gaze. A mischievous sort of glint Eddie only gets to see when you’re feeling brave enough to show it to him — comfortable enough, anyway. It makes his chest warm with pride, knowing he’s cracking away at the shell you so often hide behind.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie cajoles, nodding as he scrunches the bridge of his nose. With his hands on his leans hips, he walks the short distance to you. His sneakers sound heavy on the worn carpet. “She’s got all the features of a beautiful woman, too, you know? Strong but delicate. Easy to understand when you get to know her, but always slightly complicated in her own way.”

You forget to blink until he’s looming over you. Until his towering form blocks the flow of the tiny fan whirring on his desk. Until you can smell the pine of his cologne and the mint of his aftershave with every trembling inhale.

The petaled smirk on his rosy mouth makes your breath catch. His dark eyes are round like buttons, and they glimmer like melted chocolate as he peers down at you — like he’s talking to you directly. 

You feel utterly see-through beneath his unwavering stare. With your heart in your throat, you turn away. “Well, you’d know better than me, I guess,” you falter, voice trembling as you force a breathy laugh. 

Eddie doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by the proximity. His eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “Wanna learn how to play?”

You flash him a wide-eyed stare in response. A distant smile wavers at the edges of your mouth ‘cause you figure he must be joking. Eddie only grins in response, raising his brows in an expectant look, and you cower all over again.

“Oh, I… I don’t… I don’t know,” you stammer hopelessly and twist your anxious hands into a knot. “I don’t think I have, you know, the— the deftness for it or whatever…”

Eddie scoffs a faint laugh and steps back from you. He plucks the instrument from the wall in a few short steps. “Well, how about we just pretend I know what that word means while I teach you?” he jokes with the guitar cradled in an expert hand. 

His rings match the silver strings and the metal dials you don’t recognize. The black paint pairs well with his leather jacket, and the cracked scarlet pattern with his Hellfire tee. It looks like it was crafted with only him in mind. 

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he plops along the edge of it.

You shift on your feet in front of him, visibly unsure. “I don’t wanna break it,” you fret.

“You’re not gonna break it,” Eddie laughs with a smile that reveals all his teeth. He tosses his chin back to shake wild curls from his face, then squints solemnly at you. “Unless you’ve got, like, some kinda super-strength I don’t know about… You’re not a superhero, are you?”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder in a sheepish look. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” you answer in a sarcastic murmur.

“Hm. That’s exactly what a superhero would say…” he teases, just to make you laugh, then smiles as he pats the bed beside him. “Here. C’mon. Sit down.”

Despite your better judgment, you sit in the spare spot next to him. The mattress is hard beneath you, worsened by your inability to get comfortable with Eddie’s body so close to yours. It makes you tense, so aware of yourself and him and this moment.

You keep a couple measured inches between you, which Eddie closes with little effort. His thigh presses to your thigh as he ushers the guitar into your lap. He maneuvers himself behind you, with an arm wormed around your back, so he’s got your left hand in his. His chest is flush against your shoulder. His wild curls tickle your neck. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Put your hands… like this…” Eddie mumbles as he guides your fingers over the neck of the guitar. When he’s set them in a stair-step pattern over the strings, he ducks his head to look at you. His wide eyes dart over your face. “That feel good?”

You nod wordlessly, skin buzzing under his touch.

“Good. Now, all you have to do is strum.”

You lift your wrist and hope he doesn’t notice how your hand shakes. Your fingers brush the steel strings. A quiet, distorted noise fills the quiet bedroom. 

Eddie grins wide despite your feeble attempt. “See? You’ve already got the hardest part down,” he beams. When you don’t laugh at his futile effort to make you laugh, his smile wavers. “Hey… You can relax, you know? Sweetheart’s not gonna bite you.”

“No, I know,” you waver, then remember to breathe.

“Then why’s it feel like I’m sittin’ next to a rock?”

“‘Cause this is, like, your most prized possession,” you laugh. “And I’m… the clumsiest person on the earth, and you’re letting me touch it anyway.”

“‘Cause you’re my second most prized possession,” Eddie quips.

You meet his smile with a knowing squint. “You don’t own me, Eds.”

His eyes narrow similarly. “Don’t act like you’re not flattered.” 

His breath fans across your cheek at the proximity. A dizzying concoction of nicotine and spearmint gum. Your eyes flit to his lips, for a flicker of a moment, and you realize he’s close now enough to kiss. 

Something about it makes you panic. Words spill from your mouth in stumbled rambles accordingly. “I just— I know I’m not gonna be any good at it, and it’s just gonna be a huge waste of time for both of us, so—”

Eddie scoffs. “If you don’t wanna spend time with me, you coulda just said.”

The mattress squeaks when he starts to shift away from you. His chest moves off your shoulder and leaves you cold, even in the suffocating humidity. Your heart wrenches. “It’s not that— don’t go,” you plead in a tiny voice.

Eddie, who hadn’t really wanted to leave in the first place, gravitates to you again with little effort. “So you do wanna spend time with me?” he wonders, equal parts teasing and searching for assurance.

You swallow hard, then nod.

“Just, maybe, without the guitar?” Eddie presses.

“I think we’d both be better off if I just watched you play it, honestly.”

“Ooh,” the boy croons, brows bouncing beneath his fluffy bangs. “So you like to watch, huh?”

Your eyes roll. “Don’t be daft.”

Eddie laughs and presses himself against you again — chest against your back, arm against your arm. “Here. C’mon. Just try again, alright? For me.” You let him guide your hand back to the neck of the guitar. His warm, ringed fingers cradle your own. “Put your fingers like— there you go. Look at that, you’re a pro already.”

He tries to bite back a smile at the look you give him. He fails.

“Alright, now…” he trails off, shifting impossibly closer until he’s flush with the right side of your body. “Try not to be so scared, alright? Sweetheart can sense fear, so just… Act natural.”

You exhale a wavering breath. When Eddie feels you relax against him, he tells you, “Now strum again…”

You twist your wrist and bring your fingers down in a motion that feels more natural this time. The sound that fills the bedroom, then, is much more pleasant than the one that came before it.

“At this rate, you’ll be better than me within the year,” Eddie muses.

You squint and try not to smile. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m serious!” he argues, laughing despite himself. “You’re a fast learner! With some proper lessons, you could do my Master of Puppets solo in no time— with your eyes closed.”

“Lessons?” you echo, brows pinched.

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs and tries to play it cool. “I mean… You might have to come over from time to time. You know, so I can show you the ropes and everything, but… After a few months together, I’m sure you’ll be a total professional.”

You know exactly what he’s playing at. The notion makes your heart thrum hard against your ribcage.

“Well, what about after a few months?” you tease with a quiet smile. “What then?”

Eddie’s eyes flit to the ceiling for a moment as he ponders the question. “I don’t know… You keep coming around, I guess? And I make you the best damn guitarist this side of Indiana’s ever seen?”

A beam blossoms on your lips despite your attempts to keep it hidden. “Then I guess I’ll stick around.”

“Good,” Eddie grins.

“Good,” you parrot.

It takes you a second too long to realize he’s leaning in to kiss you. By the time you notice, his eyes are already fluttering shut and the tip of his nose is nearing yours. Your eyes widen. Your breath catches. You lick your lips in anticipation. 

You forget yourself too quickly, though, and your hand falls lazily against the strings of the guitar in your lap. You can feel the funny, distorted sound in your chest. Your heart lurches at the sudden noise, and you flinch back from the boy in front of you.

You sigh a second later, mourning the missed moment. 

Eddie chuckles to himself, cheeks flushed. “Told ya she could sense fear.”

[phant0mth1ef]

the feeling that i’m losing her, forever.

bakugou katsuki x childhood friend hcs! pt 2

- you’d both met in kindergarten when you had complimented his quirk which had just manifested, and in return, he asked to see yours.

- your quirk wasn’t anything too flashy, you could manipulate the terrain beneath you, or anything that was considered part of earth for that matter. (think of toph from atla).

- he straight up told you that your quirk sucked and so you hit him in the head with a rock. he got set to the infirmary and you had a lengthy chat with your principal about why you shouldn’t use quirks on other students.

- sought you out after that encounter because he liked that you weren’t scared or took what he said to heart because you knew you were good.

- even as a kid he was a cocky little shit so you consistently kept him in his place whenever he started his “forward march and here we go!” chant.

- over time, you two simply just stuck by each other because you were almost always in the same class, so you never really had any reason to ignore the boy, and he found himself not completely hating the feeling of having you right by his side.

- in middle school he found out that you put shiketsu instead of ua down as your top school and he threw a fit because he didn’t want to lose one of the things in his life that was consistent and stable, but got over it when you told him that you’d come visit.

- when he got into ua and you got into shiketsu, your parents joined together and had a celebratory dinner for you both, and he could swear he had never been happier than that moment.

- when your family had to move so you could go to shiketsu, the boy went over and pretended he wasn’t about to cry because truth be told, you were his best friend.

- at first, you’d both called each other almost every night to gain daily updates on how your new lives were treating you, and it was something bakugou had looked forward to after having to deal with those extras all day.

- the first time you guys didn’t check up on each other was the same night that the usj had been attacked by the league of villains, something that you had seen on the news as you immediately dialed up your friend, who texted you that he was just too tired to talk right now.

- the second time was after ua’s sports’ festival, when you called to congratulate him and he just completely ignored the call, no explanation as to why, just instantly getting sent to voicemail.

- you pretended like you didn’t care, obviously you knew he was busy and that he probably just didn’t have the time in between classes and trainings, but then again, you were doing the same things and making time for him, why couldn’t he do the same for you.

one time he accidentally butt dialed you before class had started and when you picked up you could hear the bustling nature and conversations going on in his classroom, the sound of the boy pulling out his seat and sitting down was heard.

“hello? katsuki?” no response.

you recognized izuku’s voice coming into earshot.

“kacchan, i’ve been meaning to ask. how’s y/n doing?” the boys positive attitude even conveyed itself through the phone as you waited to hear how bakugou would respond, because truth be told, you had a major crush on your best friend.

“i dunno.” and you could hear him taking a bite of something, like an apple or something crunchy.

“y/n?! if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you had a girlfriend bakugou!” an unrecognizable voice boomed through your headphones.

“s’not the case. she’s just a friend. i don’t like her like that. always callin’ me and shit, gets annoyin’ y’know?” he grunted as the sound of your bell ringing had filled your ears, you quickly hung up and turned off your phone. pretending that what just happened didn’t sting a bit.

- from there you stopped calling him so much, figuring that if he wanted to talk, he’d call you up first.

- eventually you stopped talking altogether because you stopped starting the conversations, refusing to make him feel as if he had to talk to you.

- bakugou of course was unfortunately a firm believer of “the phone works both ways,” so he never decided to start a conversation up either. matter of fact he refused to ever think of hovering his finger over your contact, instead opting to just tell kirishima about his thoughts.

- when ua moved into the dorms, bakugou had a bulletin board filled up with a variety of different things that seemed so out of character for him, like pictures of him as a kid, pictures of his family, newspaper clippings from the sports’ festival, and a few select pictures of you both through the years.

- the first time kirishima was let into the blonde boy’s room, it was like the first thing his eyes locked onto as he sat down at bakugou’s desk, seeing a genuine smile on his friends face.

“who’s that?” his voiced laced with curiosity as he unpinned the picture, taking it down to show his friend.

“eh? friend of mine.” his reply was short and concise, as if he didn’t want to talk about it. so kirishima just pinned the photo back up, and looked at the rest that littered his wall.

a picture of you both at your kindergarten graduation, a few candid pictures from grade school, and a picture of just you from middle school graduation, but you can tell bakugou took it because a tuft of the spiky blonde hair hung in front of the camera lens and left only half your face visible.

kirishima had to stifle his laugh when he saw a childhood picture of you and bakugou playing in a sandbox, the boy getting sand thrown into his face, and on the back of the photo read “katsuki’s first friend!” clearly something mitsuki had done for him.

- he felt his breath getting separated from his body when he saw you stepping off the bus at the provisional licensing exam, your shiketsu cap taunting him, teasing what could’ve been.

- of course he didn’t miss how your second year classmates all walked with you huddled between them, they’d known of your foul relationship with someone from ua, and as the one of the only first years that were attending the exam from shiketsu, they felt as if they had to protect you.

“oh, look kacchan! she’s here.” midoriya was excited, because after all, you were his friend as much as you were bakugou’s.

“i know.” and that was all he said before angrily walking off, he saw your phone in your hand, he knew it still worked.

he was acting as if he didn’t miss you. and even if his eyes lit up as you essentially dominated the piece of earth terrain, he’d never admit that he wanted his best friend back by his side.

“seiji was eliminated? no way!” you spoke to inasa after the first part of the exam, true disappointment in your voice as you found out bakugou had eliminated your classmate.

“he likes you, y’know.” inasa’s voice was naturally loud, so you weren’t shocked when people’s heads begun to turn at the sound of romance in the air.

“who?”

“shishikura.” all inasa wanted was for his friend to gain the girl he’d been pining for since the first day of school, even if his friend was a certified dick to some people.

katsuki hadn’t once bothered to look your way since you’d gotten to the exam site, but his knuckles were turning white as they gripped the table in front of him.

he didn’t realize it, but he had lost you a long time ago back when he had called you annoying.

[svuguru]

Incest! Minors and antis dni, I’m not responsible for the content you do or do not consume :3 the time gap between these asks makes me feel so bad sorry I’ve been struggling to find motivation 😭

“Sweet girl’s so tight…” Toji whispers as he sinks his cock into your tiny cunt, feeling you pulse and clench around him. You gasp at his sheer size, grasping the pink bedsheets underneath you. “Are you a virgin, sweetheart?” He asks casually, as if any uncle would ask this of his niece… but also no sane uncle would even think of doing this with his niece.

“Mm… yeah…” you mumble shyly, which makes uncle Toji laugh.

“Shit, really? Didn’t know you were such a good girl…” his hand gently caresses your cheek, looking down at you with loving eyes.

“Daddy doesn’t like when I go out and party with guys,” you explain and Toji laughs at how you refer to your father.

“Still callin that old man daddy? Dumb girl.” Toji shakes his head playfully. “‘M gonna move now, Kay?” And you nod, preparing yourself for his thick dick.

At first, Toji’s hips start off slow and gentle, but they gradually build up. However, he doesn’t plan on being too mean to his precious girl, it’s her first time, after all.

“Can’t believe no guy’s ever felt such a warm pussy before,” Toji teases, fucking his cock into your tight cunt, feeling your walls squeeze him. “Gonna keep it that way? You should. Keep this pussy nice and tight for me, yeah?” He jokes casually, like he wasn’t in the middle of fucking his pretty girl.

“Mm, okay, Toji…!” You squirm, hiding your face in your hands out of embarrassment.

“What are you so embarrassed for, baby?” Toji asks, his hand reaching for one of your wrists to pull your hand away from your face.

“‘S embarrassing… I’ve never done this before…” you whimper into your hand, lower lip trembling nervously. Even after voicing your worries, Toji doesn’t still his hips, all he does is caress your wrist and lean into you to plant kisses all over your pretty face.

“Aw, I know, princess,” he pouts in feigned sympathy, shifting the tone of his voice to make it sound like he was helping a dumb girl on a complicated math question. Toji thrusts his girth in and out of your tight cunt, your walls clamping down on him. Your breath is uneven, eyes darting down to where you and him connect and your breath hitches.

“Ahh, ‘s too much.. please, T-Toji, don’t, my parents are gonna kill me…!” You plead, but it’s almost half assed. You’re drooling all over his cock, gasping at the feeling of him slowly pushing into you deeper and deeper with every push of his hips.

“Calm down, princess, you’re okay,” Toji leans down to press yet another kiss to your cheek in a comforting manner. “That’s why they don’t need to know, baby, so let’s keep it a secret, yeah?” He whispers against your skin, and you hesitantly nod in response.

“O-okay…” you hiccup, tears gathering in your eyes because you’re so nervous and everything feels so intense. Proudly, Toji pats your cheek, a smug grin gracing his scarred lips.

“Attagirl,” he praises in a low but praising tone, “so you can take it, hm? Take it for me, that’s my girl…”

[zepskies]

The Old-Fashioned Way

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution? [Soulmate AU]

AN: Happy Valentine's Day! ❣️ Welcome back to the Never Say Goodbye-verse, my first ever Soulmate AU! Feels appropriate to celebrate today with some soulmates lol.

Honestly, I have really missed these two. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I wrote this series! And I’ve been wanting to find a way to come back to it, so when I recently got this request, I couldn't resist:

The reader finds out she is pregnant and Dean’s reaction.

But of course, I couldn’t make it that simple… This story takes place five years after the Bonus Tracks (3-part sequel).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship (marriage). Soulmates, angst, issues in pregnancy, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied smut.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Today marked five years that Dean had been an officer of the Sioux Falls Police Department.

After twenty-eight odd years of committing felonies of varying degrees…mostly for the greater good, he still found it strange sometimes.

He’d been partnered with his father-in-law, Jack, and by now, Dean had finally lost his sense of “imposter syndrome.”

Jody bought him a pie to commemorate the occasion, and while a little embarrassed, he wasn’t mad about it. The precinct employees now shared the dessert on paper plates from their respective desks and cubicles.

Dean sat in the bullpen with Jack (who was on a call), Jody, and even Jessie Deluca, the boy he’d once arrested for stealing candy and groceries from a gas station.

Well, Jessie wasn’t such a kid anymore. He was now their 18-year-old intern.

“How’s the boysenberry?” Jody asked Dean. Her lips curved upward when he turned to her with a crumb-covered smile. 

“Real good,” he said.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I can’t with this. Come ‘ere.”

She grabbed a napkin and leaned over to wipe at his mouth the way a mother would her errant child. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he snipped.

“You look like my five-year-old son after a round of SpaghettiOs,” she said.

“Makes you wonder how his wife deals with him,” Jessie muttered under his breath while he entered expense reports into his computer. Never mind that he had a purple berry stain around the corner of his mouth.

Dean shot him a wry look, along with his crumpled napkin.

“I don’t wanna hear that from a punk like you,” he teased. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since…what, junior prom?”

Jessie fended off the stained napkin with a grimace. But he also smarted at the dig. His arms crossed defensively as he leaned back in his chair.

“As a matter a fact, I’ve got a date on Friday,” he sniffed. “And no, I’m not telling you her name.”

Dean and Jody shared an amused look.

“Aww, look at him, pretending he’s got a date,” Dean said. He fought a deeper grin when Jessie threw the disgusting napkin back at him.

“Fine! Her name’s Annie. You happy now?” Jessie said.

Dean shared another look with Jody.

“Aww, he’s actually got a date,” said Dean. He smirked at the kid next. “Lemme know if you need to borrow some cologne. Chicks dig that.”

“Ugh,” Jessie groaned. He leaned his elbows on his desk and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He knew he’d be catching flack on this for the rest of the week.

Dean chuckled, but before he had a chance to tease their intern some more, his cell phone rang. It was you, and he felt his good mood continue as he answered.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, how’s the day going?” you asked.

“Good,” he replied. “We’re on lunch break. Jody got me a pie for my five-year mark at the PD.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet…literally. She knows you too well,” you laughed.

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she really does.”

“Tell her and everyone else I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said with a smile. “You just callin’ to check up on me?”

“Well, that, and…when are you getting home tonight?” you asked. The smooth, leading note of your voice had Dean’s lips curving into a smirk.

“Ah, well…” He pushed away from his desk and stepped away from the bullpen for a little privacy in the hall. “That depends. What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say…I have an idea,” you replied. It had Dean’s brows raising. You’d been having a lot of ideas for the past year, and he’d been more than ready and willing for most of them.

“Oh, yeah?” he intoned. While he leaned against the wall in the main hallway of the precinct, his arm crossed under his elbow as he continued holding the phone to his ear. “What’d you have in mind?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” you said.

It only took his brain about a moment and a half to compute.

“All right. In that case, I’ll try to be home promptly at six, barring there’s no shootouts at the 7-Eleven,” he quipped.

“Ugh, please, don’t even joke about that,” you said, your tone sobering.

Dean realized, without even having to read his soulmate’s thoughts, that you were reminded of the last time an explosive incident happened at the local gas station, just two weeks before their wedding day. He dimmed as well. 

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he said, swiping a hand over his mouth. “Uh…okay. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“Okay, be careful,” you said. You always said it—in the morning, whenever he left for work, whenever you two managed to talk during the day. It was routine, but it also wasn’t. 

And you still wished him a good rest of his day before you hung up. Dean pocketed his phone and returned to the bullpen, where Jody was putting away the rest of the pie. He eyed her just to know exactly where she was setting it down in the kitchen, for future reference.

Jessie peered up from his computer and asked if that was you on the phone.

“Yeah, she says hi,” Dean replied.

Jessie smirked. “‘Course she does. I’m her favorite.”

Dean shot him a look, knowing the kid liked you probably even more than he liked Dean. You’d become like a big sister to Jessie…but it didn’t stop Dean from occasionally being annoyed. 

“Shut up and eat your pie.”

Dean arrived that night, more or less on time, to find that you’d cooked up a feast. It was laid out across the dining table: steak, scalloped potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and even freshly baked cornbread with butter. 

“Is it my birthday again?” he asked, despite it already being February. 

He ventured into the kitchen where you were getting two bottles of beer. You looked up at him with a smile when he came over and held you from behind. You enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against your back, while his hands found your hips.

“I cook all the time, Dean,” you pointed out. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head in greeting.

“Hmm. Yeah, but now my spidey senses are tingling,” he said.

You set down the beer before turning in his embrace and twining your arms around his neck. Already he could feel your anticipation through the soul bond, but that was all you were letting him sense. You were keeping your walls up a bit, to stop him from hearing your thoughts. In this case, it felt like a tease.

You tilted your head, a smile playing across your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Oh, yeah.”

You laughed and let him greet you properly with a kiss. You returned it, affectionately caressing his cheek, but you stopped him before he could start pressing you harder into the counter. You held up a placating hand against his chest.

“Wait, wait, the food’s gonna get cold,” you said. And all too quickly, you’d extricated yourself from his arms and went to finish placing the silverware on the table. Dean begrudgingly followed suit by helping you with the glasses and plates.

Dinner was delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a steak that good; you two had been scrounging and saving to get out of this apartment and buy a house, along with other things you and Dean had been planning for your future.

By the time the leftovers were put away and the dishes were put in the dishwasher, he started to sense that you were ready to come around with the real reason you’d called him at work today, let alone made such a nice and expensive meal. You went over to where he stood at the kitchen sink and rubbed his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Dean tried to stifle his knowing smile. “Yeah?”

But when he looked over at you, he realized you seemed nervous, not flirtatious. You were serious, and now, he was concerned.

“What?” he asked.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment. Then you went over to a nearby drawer and got some rubber gloves you always kept at work and at home—the kind doctors wore.

You went for your large work bag that normally stored your laptop and files, and instead, you pulled out an old book. Dean’s brows raised of their own accord, considering the last time you accidentally trifled with a book like that.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, with some trepidation. You laid the book out on the kitchen counter.

“It’s a journal of some kind, written in Latin, dating back from the late 1500s. Can you believe that?” Your head raised from where you were examining the cover and spine, but Dean was incredulous.

“What’re you doing with that?” he asked. Your lips pursed, and he felt a tendril of your guilt.

Most likely, you’d taken it from the museum where you worked without permission. You were in charge of the growing library of ancient texts that were stored there, and most of them were too old and valuable for exhibition, even behind glass. He doubted you were even allowed to open this book, let alone “borrow” it from the museum.

You sighed and held up a placating hand. “Okay, Dean, just hear me out.”

You opened the book to a page you’d placed a strip of paper in for bookmarking purposes. You pointed at a page filled with scrawled words that Dean didn’t really understand. Sam was always better at reading Latin.

“That is a fertility spell,” you said.

The weight of that fell between you for a moment, rendering Dean speechless. It took a few seconds for his brain to register what you were saying, followed quickly by a sad, contemplative frown as he stared back at you. You were serious about this, even hopeful. 

“Sweetheart, we don’t need that,” he said, shaking his head. Your expression firmed, though it became touched with melancholy.

“It’s been a year, Dean,” you said. “We’ve been trying for a year, and I’m still not pregnant.”

He blew out a breath. “The doctor said—”

“We’ve done everything the doctor said,” you snapped. “Fertility treatments are either going to take too long or are too expensive, and they still carry risks.”

“And this isn’t a risk?” Dean shot back, gesturing at the book. “You don’t know if this will work, or what the hell it’ll really do to you.”

Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t back down. You held your hands to your hips.

“Uncle Bobby said it’s legit,” you said. Dean blinked in surprise. He shifted back on his heels and crossed his arms.

“You ran this by Bobby before me?” he said. You could feel the small lance of his upset, as well as see it across his face.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I just wanted to make sure!”

Dean took in a deep breath. He mentally counted to five.

“What exactly did he say?” he asked.

You paused at that. “…Well, he said it was a real spell.”

His brows rose. “And?”

“And…that magic is unpredictable and we should talk about it first. But that’s why we’re talking now!” you reasoned. 

Your husband’s gaze lifted heavenward as he threw up his hands in aggravation.

“Dean—” you tried, but it didn’t stop him from snatching up the book. Despite your protests, he took it with him into the master bedroom you shared and shoved the book into his nightstand. You had followed him this far, but you stopped short when he turned around to face you.

“I will check this out,” he said, and his tone boded no argument. “But for the record, I’m against this. Magic is unpredictable at best, and not for nothing, it always comes at a price. I’ll be damned if you’re gonna pay it again.”

You paused. Hearing the vehemence in his tone, feeling the force of emotion behind his words, and your own circling memories of being possessed by a magic-wielding goddess…it had you nodding in agreement, even as tears welled up in your eyes.

Dean faltered a little inside. Always the damn tears. He gathered you into his arms and held you close in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise,” he said.

You tried to believe him.

Late that night, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

Once you were sure Dean was asleep beside you, hearing his deep, even breaths, you made your move. Dressed in just an old college shirt and some pajama shorts, you slid out of bed and tiptoed over to his nightstand to get the book.

You took it into the kitchen and started assembling the ingredients Bobby had reluctantly helped you translate. (He didn’t know that you had taken a couple of items from his house for the spell.) 

You prepared them in a bowl. The resulting liquid looked brown and disgusting. You mixed it around, grimacing at the smell, and carefully poured it into a glass. The last thing the spell required was a few drops of your blood, and then you were supposed to drink it. 

God, this is terrible, you thought. Part of you couldn’t believe you were going through with this, but…you grabbed a kitchen knife in order to make a shallow cut on your palm. 

The steel was poised against your hand. You took a fortifying breath, but before you could cut into your skin, Dean grabbed your wrist with a strong grip, startling a gasp out of you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he said, or more like shouted. He was irate, his voice bounding off the walls of the apartment.

You knew he had every right to be, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. Shock had stifled you into silence.

Dean let go of you and took the glass next. He peered in disgust at the concoction inside, but he quickly dumped it into the sink and ignored your protests. He threatened to burn the damn book next.

“Dean, stop! Please,” you said tearfully as you stilled his hands on the book. “If there’s some kind of price to the spell, I’ll pay it!”

“What’re you talking about! Are you crazy?” he asked, through furrowed brows. You squeezed his hands.

“Believe me, I love what we have. I love our life, my job, all of it,” you said. “But I want a family, and I want it with you.”

Dean started to soften at that, when you met his eyes. You paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It should be simple, but it’s not," you said. "I just can’t understand why it’s so impossible. Why…why there’s something wrong with me.”

Dean’s anger broke down, bit by bit the more you spoke. He let go of the book and reached for you. He held you against his chest, rubbing your back as you quietly wept. You tried to stifle it, but that just made your body tremble even more. He did his best to steady you, rocking you back and forth. His eyes closed for a moment.

You both knew that the expensive fertility doctor hadn’t found anything wrong with either of you, even after a month of testing.

“In certain cases, it just takes longer for some couples,” she’d said. But clearly, you had just been blaming yourself. Dean couldn’t abide that.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “Believe me, I want that too. But I also want to make sure you’re safe.”

Emotion clogged in his throat when he thought about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped you. And in turn, you sobered even more when you managed to pick up on his thoughts.

“If something would’ve happened, and I was too late to stop it,” he said, clearing his throat. “…I just can’t, okay?”

After a moment, you nodded. You allowed yourself to rest against his chest and try to calm the racing of your heart. All the while, you tried your best not to resent him for stopping you.

The next day was a Saturday. You slept in because your body needed it, after the stress of last night. When you woke up, Dean wasn’t beside you. His keys and the Impala were gone, but he’d left you a text: he’d gone to your uncle Bobby’s place. 

And you saw that he’d taken the book as well. Predictable. 

You felt bad for how you tried to go behind your husband’s back, but if you were honest with yourself, you were still upset at him for stopping you, even if you understood why he did it. 

You sat on the edge of your bed. Not for the first time since you and Dean were separated by miles of roads and his family’s mission to find the thing that killed his mother, you found yourself praying. 

Please, God…or if there’s even anyone up there…please help me.

For a while, there was silence in the room. 

But even if your eyes were open, you wouldn’t have seen the being that was standing in front of you. He stared down at you with a tilted head, finding himself a bit too curious. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out and touched your forehead. 

You didn’t completely register the feeling that washed over you. It was like the tingling of a breeze across your skin. You took it for a chill in the room as you shivered a little. Then you opened your eyes, and resigned yourself to starting your day. 

Castiel left the room with but a thought and a flutter of wings. 

He knew he was only supposed to observe Michael’s vessel, not his soulmate. And yet, with one touch, he had sensed the rare genetic defect your doctor had missed.

Your mother had unknowingly suffered the condition as well. Your father never told you this, but she’d nearly lost you in the early stages of her pregnancy. It had been a miracle that you were born at all. 

Castiel fixed the problem. 

He knew what Uriel, or even Naomi would say. Perhaps they didn’t need to know, in this case. They were both far too busy for worldly trifles. Even so, Castiel knew he wasn’t authorized to heal you.

Still, it felt…right. And so, he did it. 

It confused him.

…Maybe it isn’t something to be closely examined, he thought.

With that agreement within himself, he resolved to leave that decision behind him, and continue watching from afar. Those were his orders, after all.

Visiting Bobby Singer wasn’t as productive as Dean wanted it to be. The men had been arguing in Bobby’s living room for close to an hour.

Dean was upset with him for translating that goddamn spell for you, but the old man didn’t have a good answer. They both knew you were like a daughter to him.

“She came in hot, all damn stubborn and sass up to here,” Bobby said, holding a hand up to his forehead. “But you try sayin’ no when the waterworks starts.”

…Dean could concede that, but he rubbed his face in frustration. 

“What do I do here, Bobby?” he asked, holding up the spell book in question. Apparently, it was more like a journal; it was rumored to have belonged to a sixteenth-century witch named Rowena. “I don’t trust this thing. Deep in my gut, I know it.”

Bobby considered him for a moment. In fact, he gave Dean a long-suffering look that made him really see Bobby’s age. 

“Then trust your gut, son,” was all he said. 

Dean returned home with a peace offering: some apple crumble pie. You were lying on the sofa watching mindless TV, still in your pajamas. Your mental walls were down, so Dean could both see and feel how miserable you were. 

He took out the pie from the small bag of groceries he carried and held it up so you could see.

“I come bearing sugar,” he said. He also set down a bottle of wine on the dining table. You were focused on the pie, however.

“Who’s that for, me or you?” you dryly remarked. 

“I got ice cream too,” he said, shaking the grocery bag. 

You smiled a little, but he could feel through the bond that you were still sour at him. He sighed and went over to you. He set down the bribery on the coffee table and settled a hand on your pajama-clad thigh. 

“Sweetheart, I am sorry.” 

Sighing, you turned off the TV and sat up against the other end of the couch. You eyed him with a frown.

“You’re not sorry about chucking the spell,” you accused. Or for stealing the book you’d eventually have to bring back to work, lest your boss notice something amiss in the inventory.

“No, I’m not,” said Dean. “It was dangerous. I felt it. And that gut feeling? That’s what’s saved me more times than I can damn count.” 

You were still upset, you couldn’t deny…but you understood his point. When he beckoned you over, you were more willing to go to him. After you scooted closer, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Look, I’ll go to whatever doctors you want, try whatever treatments, however long it takes,” he said.

You sighed, but you eventually agreed with a teary nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Even with that, Dean wasn’t convinced that he was getting through to you. He was picking up on a thread of hopelessness that you were trying to hide.

He’d just have to change that.

“But…” He earned your attention by squeezing your side. His lips formed a grin. “I still think we can do this the old-fashioned way.”

He slowly rubbed a hand up and down your back. With the other hand, he reached for your face, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. You smiled slightly at his teasing. Part of you wanted to heed the suggestion in his eyes, and the familiar warmth and promise in his touch. The other, more vulnerable part of you hesitated.

When you caught sight of something over his shoulder, you had to smile a little more.

“I see you got a bottle of Merlot,” you said. A notable upgrade from beer. You couldn’t remember the last time Dean had willingly bought some “bougie-ass” wine.

“A little pie, a little booze…” you noted.

Dean grinned. “I’m thinking we have a not-so-quiet night in.”

Your brows rose, and you hummed in surprise. “Is my husband trying to butter me up?”

“Nah,” he said, tilting your face back up to his. “Your husband’s trying to seduce you.”  

You giggled at that…at first. But it seemed he was serious.

You accepted his passionate kiss. Closing your eyes, you reached blindly for his shirt and held on while his lips moved ardently against yours. Through the bond, you felt his desire like it was your own.

In the five years you’d been married, and the years you were together even before, there were often moments where it was impossible to discern what was him and what was you. 

The beautiful thing about it was, that part didn’t matter too much. Especially not when you and Dean became a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue on the couch. He ridded you of your threadbare pajamas, and you helped him halfway out of his shirt and jeans before he yanked the rest of it off himself.

And all while he drew lusty moans and sighs and pleasure from your body in the comfort of your living room, the ice cream slowly melted in its container on the coffee table—completely forgotten, along with the pie.

That night, you lied awake in his arms for a while. Round one on the couch had migrated to rounds two and three in the bedroom, and you were almost too exhausted to sleep. 

It had been months since you and Dean had sex without thinking of calendars and timing, optimal positions and ovulation.

This felt right, you thought, as you stroked his arm that was wrapped around your waist. Even though your skin was sticking to his under the sheets and your frizzy hair was probably tickling his neck, he didn’t seem to mind.

Dean? you tried through the bond, seeing if he was awake. He felt like he was still in-between wakefulness and sleep. At your prodding though, he slipped back into the former. 

“Hmm?” he replied. You let out a sigh in the dark. 

“I’m sorry I kind of tried to take matters into my own hands, with the spell.”

He hmphed in response. “Kinda?”

Your lips twitched upwards. 

“This is a ‘together’ thing,” you said. “I made it all about me.”

Dean shook his head at that. He responded through the bond. No, you didn’t.

I did, you insisted. You were right to stop me. I didn’t care about the consequences…but that’s not fair to you. To either of us.

He took that in with a deep sigh of his own.

“It’s okay. We want the same thing,” he said. “And we’ll get there, baby. Don’t you worry.”

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“…I don’t know. I just am.”

You closed your eyes, and once again, you tried to believe him. You let his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep. 

Nine weeks later…

You were alone in the bathroom at seven in the morning. After almost a month late on your period, you were also staring at two positive lines on your last pregnancy test. 

Ho…ly…shit.

Dean was already at work. This wasn’t something you wanted to tell him over the phone, however. 

How the hell am I supposed to keep this from him all day? you thought.

But then again, maybe this was a good thing. You had time to make sure.

So you called out of work for a personal day, and you immediately called your doctor on your way out to the closest pharmacy. You were going to need a few more tests. 

When Dean eventually got home that evening, there were two pizzas waiting for him. The smell was already making his mouth water. He peeked under the hood of each box and rubbed his hands together. 

“Ooh, awesome.” Pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese. His favorite.

You appeared then from the kitchen with a strange smile on your face. 

“Hey!” you chirped, but you seemed a bit distracted as you pulled out a sheet pan of cookies from the oven. You nearly dropped them when the corner of the pan banged against the oven. 

Something was off with you. Dean knew it intuitively. He went over and tried to steady you with a hand on the small of your back. He could see that you were frazzled, but he realized, with a frown, that you had your walls up again. He couldn’t pick up on what you were thinking.

“You okay?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Uh…well, something,” you nodded and wiped your hands after you peeled the oven mitts off. “And I need to tell you about it before I bake everything in the house, including the expired bran muffins.”

Dean was growing more concerned by the moment. He knew for a fact he’d hidden that bran muffin mix deep in the pantry, so you wouldn’t force him to eat a “healthy dessert.”

“Okay, what?” he asked.

You paused, steeling yourself with a breath.

You then took his hand and led him to the bedroom, into the adjoining bathroom. Across the entire counter were no less than seven pregnancy tests. 

All positive.

Dean’s breath caught in his lungs. Slowly he turned back to you with his widened eyes.

“Surprise?” you smiled, a little nervously. 

Dean grasped the counter and had to sit down hard on the closed toilet seat. 

“Yeah, I did that too,” you said. You couldn’t help but giggle as you caressed his face. He grabbed your hip, both to bring you closer and for added stability. You two had been trying to make this happen for over a year, but the gravity of this being real was finally hitting him. 

He stared up at your face with a growing smile. “This is happening.” 

You nodded, smiling through your burgeoning tears. 

“Yeah. It is,” you replied. “Dean, you’re gonna be a dad.”

That realization had him nodding, swallowing hard and blinking past a sting in his eyes. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his knees. You threaded your fingers through his hair, and his head came to rest against your stomach. He pressed a kiss there, over your shirt. 

After a moment to gather himself, he rocked back onto his feet. Then he enveloped you in a secure and warm embrace. He kissed the side of your head, and you felt his smile there.

“We did it, baby,” he said.  

“And that was the easy part,” you quipped, making him laugh. Yet the holy shit of it all hit him in a new wave—one you felt through the bond. You had to take a deep breath to steady yourself as well.

“Oh my God, this is happening,” he repeated.

You uttered a tearful laugh. “Uh, yeah, Dean.”

He was still smiling, but it started to dim a little. 

“We’re ready, right?” he asked.

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. “We better be.”

Dean nodded and pulled back enough to see your face. You met his gaze. Maybe you’d just had more time than him to process it all, but you finally felt a sense of peace.

“Together, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Together.”

Dean let out a deep breath. “Shit, I gotta tell Sam.”

Your smile brightened and you squeezed his arms.

“Let’s call him!" you said. "Hopefully Eileen’s there too.”

The two had moved in together a couple of years ago, after Eileen officially retired from hunting. But she often had long shifts at her job, just like Sam did at the law firm he started working for after he graduated from law school, near the top of his class.  

While you and Dean went into the bedroom to call Sam together, an angel watched from a distance, unseen by human eyes.

He found himself smiling.

AN: Ahh I'm soft. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy this as much as I had fun diving back into Never Say Goodbye.

And I won't say that I'll never come back to it in the future...for obvious reasons. 😉

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Series + Dean Tag List (Part 1):

I did my best to get everyone who was tagged in the original run of the series first, then my normal Dean tag list.

@curlycarley @chubby-teddybear @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @deans-spinster-witch @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1

@icequeen1371 @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @shadowcrowsworld @thespnlover @this-is-me19 @stevenknightmarc @leigh70 @syrma-sensei @brain-has-left

@hobby27 @ashbatz @saranghaey @jori21 @lillyrob @adoringanakin @agirlwithdemonblood @mimaria420 @nephil-with-a-gun @writethrough @iamsapphine @definitelymentallyderanged @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Nicknames you call naruto boys ──☆*:・ﾟ

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋, choji🍥,gaara⏳, kankuro🪆

Bold is them~

Fem!reader

Naruto🦊-*

You mostly call him darling or handsome, but sometimes you call him foxy just to tease LOL. At first he was flustered by darling n stuff but soon got use to it, but he never expected the name “foxy” to appear farther along into your relationship

“Y/nnnn! How does my hair look?? I’m trying something new do you like?” “I think you look great foxy!” He stopped for a solid 10 seconds before responding “ah…. Heh… are you making fun of mee?” “No I’m callin you foxy cuz your a fox!” “Literally?” “No I’m calling you hot, foxy means attractive silly” Again he paused trying to understand what is happening. “SHE THINKS IM HOT!” He hopes he said that in his head

Sasuke🗡️-*

You call him literally any meaningful name he will either be like “whatever” or about to cry, just depends what you call him. You can call him babe/sweetie/honey or whatever and he wouldn’t react but he will break if you call him “baby boy” he has issues but you can fill that void for him.

“Sasuke, let’s go to bed” “I mustn’t y/n. I’m far too busy, I will be in bed in three hours. Promise” you grab his hand stopping him from walking out the door “baby boy please. I worry about you… let’s go to bed” you can feel his hand twitch in yours, he turns to meet your eyes. His face visibly softens almost to a sad expression. “Yes, darling. Ok…”

Kiba🐺-*

Love, baby, good boy and puppy. Puppy for obvious reasons, I’ve said it before when he gets tired he wants your attention 100%. he wants to cuddle and talk literally anything as long as he has your attention, and the cherry on top is when you call him puppy. Throughout the day you call him nicknames like “Kiba baby, can you hand me my bag” or “love your going to be latee!” but puppy is only for special moments

He was irritated over god knows what and all he wanted was to cuddle so that’s what he gets! “I’d be irritated too Kiba now come hereee” “thank god! I just need some private time with you..” instantly climbed into your lap to sprawl out “of course! We can cuddle all you need puppy” you can see the dumb smirk growing in his face as he giggles like an idiot while growing red

Shikamaru🀄️-*

You guys share the same nicknames with each other so you call him things like dear and sweetie. He’s very chill with nicknames but he does find them adorable especially when they come from you.

“Shika?….Shikamaru??? sweetie?… DEAR!!!?” “WHAAAAAAATTTT” “DONT SASS ME IM TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION!” “SORRY….what?” “I love you~” “god your such a pain… love you too”

Shino🪲-*

Bug boy LOL. Yes bug boy but also sweetheart mostly! He barely reacts to things you do but every now and then you can catch a little smile on his cute face~

“Sweetheart~” “yes love bug?” “Have I ever told you how cute you are?” “Ah…uhm..no you haven’t, thank you” you giggle “I can see the smile!” he quickly tucks into his shirt once he realized he has been caught

Neji🎋-*

Let’s be honest. He’s pretty. So the name must  acknowledge his prettiness pretty boy! He always thought the name was silly “why not handsome boy?” “Because your pretty? I mean you are handsome but pretty boy is cuter!”

“Where you headin pretty boy?” “Out for a walk, care to join?…again with the silly name y/n?” “Sure I’ll join, and yes again with the silly name I’ll never stop until you love it!” He stopped responding just to talk to himself “little do you know I do…” he whispered

Lee🥋-*

He’s chooses the nicknames honestly. He’s just a ball of excitement when it come to your relationship. He’s on top of communication so nicknames were talked about at the beginning.

“Oooo can my nickname be honey bun!!! OH or maybe perfect, loving, amazing, handsome boyfriend!” “Well that’s to long for a pet name uhm.. how about just handsome, honey and love?” “AH PERFECT!” He reacts clapping his hands together

Choji🍥-*

You are very very special to him so you are the only one he lets call him big boy, because he knows that you NEVER mean it in a insulting way. In fact you mostly use it as a flirt~ along with sweetie or buds!

“God I could just eat you up big boy~” or “sweetie pie your lookin handsome today!” He is very anxious and insecure sometimes so you gotta make him feel like the hottest man in your eyes~ some times he just lays on your chest listening to all your praises and compliments

Gaara⏳-*

He doesn’t care what you call him he just appreciates you no matter what. But you decided rose would be perfect~ not just because his hair is red but you also find him as beautiful and perfect as a budding rose

“Rose can you hand me my water” “am…I rose?” You giggle “yes Gaara!” “Oh. Thank you y/n!” He flashes a smile “Aw I love you Gaara~” “I love you too..”

Kankuro🪆-*

He doesn’t care what you call him but he does find it a little hot if you call him a “bad boy” but that rarely ever happens, mostly it’s just darling, sexy or handsome (he likes compliments ok)

You can observe him applying his makeup so you can chime in “your a handsome one arent ya?” “I know right~” “ok bad boy, calm down with your cockiness-” “Mmmm call me that again~” “ok I’m leaving moment ruined.” He’s so annoying and cocky but we love him

[enchantedflameandflower]

Perhaps you could write something? It’s my birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten. Maybe you could write Billy finding out it’s the readers birthday coming up and she’s crying because she doesn’t have family or friends and she’s alone, so be make sure she has a great day. (Fluff or smut, idk)

Yes! Happy belated birthday!!! I really wanted to get this ask out before everything else I’m working on because I know this feeling and it totally sucks. Billy would absolutely kiss it all better. Hope you all enjoy! (And happy birthday again anon! Thank you so much for the ask!)

Billy x you

You’d made it to nearly 7pm before the first tear finally slipped down your cheek, leaving a cold, wet trail in its wake.

Fuck it. You were proud of yourself for making it this long. You didn’t even bother to wipe it away. Another birthday, come and almost gone, without even a text. Yeah you had a few friends but it wasn’t worth it to truly open up to anyone anymore. Not really. But the older you got the harder it was to spend another birthday alone.

You were just about to go for the cheap liquor in the cabinet so you could take a sleeping pill and just drink until you passed out when there was a knock at your door. You almost thought of just ignoring it but what the fuck. You didn’t even care at this point if you were murdered by some psycho.

You opened the door and nearly dropped the bottle of vodka from the surprise. It was definitely a crazy person but not one that was going to kill you. At least not on purpose.

“Billy…” you managed to stammer out. “Uh…what…”

You’d been helping him out for awhile now when he needed information, you’d let him buy you a few drinks in payment now and again and you’d had the hottest fucking make out session at his office late one night a few weeks ago - until you’d been interrupted and decided it was probably for the best. He’d never come by your place before though and you knew it was ridiculous to be surprised he knew where you lived.

“Can a poor bloke come in, or ya gonna make me get on my knees and beg, doll?” he grinned.

Your stomach flip flopped wildly but you stepped aside, still at a loss for words, and - you couldn’t help it - quite intrigued.

“What are you…?”

“Came by to take ya out. Ya want to change? Nothin’ fancy or anythin’, just a dive I like down the street.”

“Take me out?” God you sounded so stupid but it’d been an awful day and you just couldn’t process anything and all of a sudden he looked so fucking good standing in your living room, and even though it was for the best you could not help thinking about all the dirty thoughts you’d had about him since that night. All of them included him naked and ravaging you, making you come until you couldn’t move anymore.

He grinned then, his dimple showing, and you wondered if he could tell what you were thinking. “Happy Birthday, doll. I meant to be here sooner but I got stuck with work.”

“How do you know when my birthday is?” you asked, shocked and looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Ya said somethin’ about no one callin’ you last year and I didn’t know if ya had anyone else this year either. Ya shouldn’t have to be alone if ya don’t want. And I’ve wanted to take ya out anyway.”

Tears stung at the back of your eyes again, this was almost impossible to believe, but you took a breath and pushed them down. “Yeah,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll change, it’ll just be a minute.”

~*~*~

You threw on your favorite pair of jeans, some boots and a nice tank top and Billy took your hand as he led you down the street. It was a dark, weathered looking bar but you didn’t mind. He sat you down in a booth in the back corner and went to the bar to order. “They have the best chips…er, fries,” he amended as he sat down across from you. “Loaded, you’ll love ‘em.”

One of the waiters brought the plate of loaded fries over along with two drinks. Billy ordered your favorite and you felt all your depression over this stupid day start to melt away.

“Thank you,” you murmured taking a drink and humming. It was good.

“Aw it’s nothin’,” he waved his hand in the air. But you could tell he knew how much this meant to you.

The fries were even better. You’d barely eaten all day and they were amazing. When you moaned out lout at how good they were, licking your fingers, he gave you a cheeky, knowing grin, clearly pleased with himself. You knew exactly what he was thinking and it felt really fucking good. God, you needed this.

The two of you shared the fries and just talked about everything. You made a joke about some ridiculous C-level supe and he laughed out loud, a deep rich, sound with a real smile. The whole thing nearly made you climb on his lap right there in front of everyone. You remembered exactly how he had felt when he’d kissed you weeks ago, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you against his swelling cock, his tongue plundering your mouth while his beard rubbed against your sensitive skin. Fuck you wanted him so badly.

The bar wasn’t too crowded but there was a group of girls at a table in the middle, laughing and having a good time. At one point some old rock song came on the jukebox and they got up, dancing around. You couldn’t help smiling, watching them. You hadn’t done anything like that in forever. Maybe sometimes it was worth it to get out, just let go and have fun.

Billy was watching you while you watched them and you caught his gaze as you turned back. There was a glint in his dark hazel eyes and it made your stomach flutter hotly. It was the first time you let yourself believe maybe there was more to this than him just being nice because he felt he had to.

At some point you got up to go to the restroom and when you returned, Billy had fresh drinks. He scooted against the wall as he watched you walk toward him. His gaze slid over you, head to toe then he was nodding for you to sit beside him instead of on the other side of the table.

You eagerly slide into the booth, pressing against his side as he lifted his arm for you to cuddle up close.

“You’re too good for me, love. But I’m starting to think I don’t give a fuck.”

You hummed happily and took a long drink of your alcohol. It was just enough to lighten your mood and make you just a bit tipsy, not too much.

His warm fingers brushed over your arm, his thumb rubbing your shoulder and you let you own hand fall to thigh under the table. It was firm and hot and you must have made some kind of stupid sound because the next you knew Billy gave a low chuckle.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” you murmured softly. You truly had not felt this good in a very long time “I never - Just thanks. I owe you one.”

You felt Billy lean over to kiss the top of your head. “Ya don’t owe me nothin’, love, though if you have somethin’ in mind, I certainly won’t argue…” His voice had dipped a little low and a shiver went through you at the implication.

One more big gulp and you were finished with your drink. “Walk me home?” you asked, turning to look up at him.

The look on his face said it all.

This time he had his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body as he walked you back.

When you paused to unlock the front door of the building, he rubbed his hand back and forth over your hip and you fumbled the key twice before you got it in.

By the time you got to your own door you were almost shaking, you were aching for him so badly. And fuck, he seemed to know exactly what was happening because he spun you around before you could even try and get the key in again.

His eyes were dark and full of heated desire and you moaned out loud as he wound his strong arms around you and pulled you against him.

“Do ya want me to stay?” His big hand was sliding down and groping your ass, pulling you up and into him before he’d even finished the question.

“Fuck yes, Billy…” You were so hot and slick for him already you wouldn’t care if he took you right here in the hallway and you’d already decided this was absolutely the best birthday you’d ever had.

~*~*~

I didn’t want it to get crazy long but if y’all want a part two of birthday night with Billy I would looooove to write it, I have a bunch of ideas, let me know!

If you have also put in requests or are waiting for the next part to glimmer please know I will ABSOLUTELY write your request as soon as I’m able. I LOVE all the requests I’ve gotten so much! For my long Billy fic, I am very close to being done with the next part! ❤️ (OH MY GOSH I JUST REMEMBERED WHAT THAT CRAZY UNEXPLAINED NOTE IN MY BILLY NOTES WAS FOR WOOOOOO)

karl urban masterlist

[wreckedandpolemic]

6,98,99. Sorry for the multiple numbers, they just work so well together.

Also love your work!💜

my kink is karma - matty healy

(mdni) in which your ex wants to give you a birthday treat. too bad for your boyfriend. 2099 words.

warnings: cheating, semi-public sex, daddy kink

Firstly, you’d like to say that you’re not a spiteful person, thank you very much. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good to run into your ex drinking alone while celebrating your birthday with your friends and your shiny, new boyfriend. Matty salutes you with his glass when you spot him, and you ignore him pointedly. He won’t fucking leave it alone, though — that’s always been his problem.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, she walks into mine,” says Matty, low in your ear as you go to order yourself another drink at the bar. You hope he doesn’t notice the shudder that runs through you at the sound of his voice. “Whatever she’s having on my tab, yeah?” he adds smoothly, and you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll have a bottle of the most expensive champagne you’ve got,” you grin. What? He’s got the money for it, and you aren’t going to turn down a free drink on your birthday, of all days. Matty shrugs when the bartender looks at him to confirm, and she hands you the bottle in a cooler.

You turn to leave, go back to your friends, but Matty takes hold of your wrist, gentle enough that you could break out of it. Something stops you, though. “Happy birthday,” he mutters. “Thought about callin’, but…” he blows out a breath. “The way we left things, I didn’t know if you’d wanna hear from me.”

Feigning casualness, you shrug, pretending like the reminder of your heart-wrenching breakup doesn’t tear at you all over again. “Yeah… Well, you’re here now,” you say matter-of-factly. “How’ve you been?” you ask, despite knowing the answer. Over the last six months, you’ve taken some kind of twisted pleasure in keeping tabs on him, in watching his life fall apart.

The two of you split in April, leaving you forced to move out of the apartment you loved that was in his name, nine days after you’d paid your half of the rent. June, he got arrested in a drunken bar fight; July crashed his car, the car he loved more than almost anything, leaving it completely written off; August, the girl he’d been seeing since suspiciously soon after your breakup left him with no warning. Meanwhile, you’ve had a promotion, gotten into the perfect relationship and everything is falling neatly into place.

Your reaction to him being around is involuntary, you tell yourself, fucking Pavlovian. You were together for three fucking years, of course your body still responds to him. It’s still learning what it’s like to live without him. Matty sighs, and you jolt out of your reverie as you remember you asked him a question. “Not great,” he admits. “Drinkin’ alone on a Friday night not tip you off?” he says, bitterness tracing his tone. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been great,” you say blithely. “I’m making great money, I’m in love, properly this time,” you can’t resist adding. “And you just bought me a bottle of champagne and told me everything sucks for you! What more could a girl want on her birthday?”

Matty scoffs. “You’re still the same,” he says coolly. “Bratty when you’re not getting fucked right, huh?” he adds, your stomach swooping at his words.

You don’t know what makes you admit it, some heady combination of mixed drinks and Matty’s presence for the first time in months overcoming all sense, but you murmur, “M’not. He’s not as good as you. S’the only thing I miss.” You try to weaken the admission.

Matty’s eyes light up, and you groan internally. “Is that so?” His grip tightens on your wrist and you stumble towards him when he tugs on it, a sickening pulse of arousal dripping down your spine. “Got everything you want, huh? Even down to your perfect little boyfriend. But you think about me when he’s fucking you, don’t you?” he breathes, something hard and dangerous in his tone, your heart thudding traitorously as he leans closer. 

“I… That’s not true.” you say, but the wavering of your voice betrays you, and he smirks wickedly.

“You can’t lie to me, baby. I know you too well.” The statement lodges in your throat like you’ve dry-swallowed a pill, the truth ringing disgustingly clear. “What do you say? You want one last good fuck, for old times’ sake?”

You should pull away. You need to pull away. You have to pull away. But you can’t. “Once a cheater, always a cheater,” you say. Matty’s eyes darken, but you know he took note of the most crucial element first: it wasn’t a refusal.

“I never cheated on you,” Matty says seriously. “I did a lot of other shit, I know I did, but not that. Never that.”

You swallow hard. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“One more time. One more fuck. I need you out of my system,” you breathe, and you could almost cum from the filthy look on his face. Guiltily, you slink to the bathroom, casting furtive glances around and praying nobody spots you trailing after Matty and slipping behind a locked door.

Matty slams you against the door the second it shuts, devouring you in a harsh kiss, teeth and tongue sliding together almost violently. Having his hands on you again feels horrifyingly good, nauseatingly familiar. He’s hard, you can feel as he presses his body against yours, and you whimper pathetically into his mouth. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Matty groans, like he can’t help himself. “Makes me sick. Been fuckin’ dying for you, baby.”

“So hurry up,” you snap. “I know you’re here alone, but I have people who care, and not much time before one of them notices I’m missing.”

“Such a brat,” Matty teases. “Need a good fuck to shut you up, yeah? S’alright, baby. Daddy’s here now. Gonna give you what you need.” The bottom falls out of your stomach and his words, a helpless, strangled moan escaping you. “Oh, missed your Daddy, have you, darling? Not given your little boyfriend my name, right?”

“N-no,” you stammer. “He… he wouldn’t understand. You’re my Daddy, couldn’t replace you.” Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your mind dizzy with desire, the words spilling from your lips without permission.

You’d forgotten how it feels with him, how Matty gets you sick with lust, thick and palpable in the air of the small room. “Good girl,” he croons. “Bend over for Daddy, yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

You obey, the sight of your reflection sickening. You look fucked-out already, flushed red and panting. Matty’s hands come to rest on your hips, stroking appreciatively over the curve of your ass and pushing your too-short dress up around your hips. Torturously slow, he pulls your panties off, motioning for you to step out of them when they hit the floor. “I’m keeping these,” he says, slipping the scrap of lace into his pocket. “Something to remember you by, yeah?”

Wrapped up in his touch as you were, the reminder that this is a one-time thing shocks you like you’ve been doused with ice water. Right now, you don’t have a fucking clue why you even broke up, not when his fingers are so achingly close to your dripping core. “God, Matty, please!” you choke out, widening your legs desperately. 

“Give me a minute, baby. Missed this pretty cunt so much. Gotta make sure I don’t forget a thing, if this is the last time m’gonna get to have you.” He brushes his fingers through your folds, your body jolting at the barest touch over your swollen clit. Meeting your gaze in the dingy mirror, Matty wraps his lips around his wet fingers, moaning exaggeratedly as he sucks them clean. “God, missed the way you taste, darling. Sweetest fucking girl I’ve ever had,” he promises, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

You squirm, cold porcelain biting into your thighs. You hear the sound of a foil wrapper tearing open, and before you can process, Matty slides into you, your knees buckling at the sudden fullness. “F-fuck,” you whimper, the feeling of being wholly surrounded by him familiar as he thrusts deep into you, pleasure cascading over your bones.

“God, you feel so fucking good, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Daddy’s gonna fuck you until the only word you remember is my name,” Matty promises, shushing you soothingly as you whimper. His hips slam against yours, ecstasy flooding your veins as your thighs bash against the sink. He fists a hand in your hair, dragging you up to meet your own gaze in the mirror. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how gorgeous you are, falling apart on my dick. Right where you should be, hm?” he murmurs, heat flooding your belly as you watch yourself take his cock over and over. “He could never fuck you like this, huh? Whose girl are you, really?”

“M’yours, Daddy. Yours, still yours, all yours,” you babble, cunt clenching wantonly around him as his smirk grows and his pace speeds. You moan horrifyingly loud when he hits that spot inside of you, too dizzy with desire to control your noises.

“Shh, baby, shh. Try not to be so noisy, yeah? Can’t let anyone know what we’re doin’ in here, that this lying fucking bastard has you split open and begging on his cock.” He throws your words from your final fight back in your face, pinching your clit meanly and fucking you deep. You can’t hold back another whimpering scream, and he scoffs. “Needy little whore can’t keep quiet, huh?” he murmurs, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth. Eagerly, you suck on them, your moans muffled as saliva pools under your tongue.

Heat scorches through you, every thrust of Matty’s hips and grunt that falls from his lips sending an illicit spark of pure pleasure racing up your spine. You can’t think, can barely breathe, choked in desperate lust that drips out of you and soaks him. He’s right, you can’t remember anything but him, his name circling your head, denting your brain out of shape. Nothing but Matty, Matty, Matty. “This fuckin’ pussy drives me insane, baby. Always so wet for me, so wet for your Daddy. Could have this all the time, if you wanted.”

His words cut through the fog in your mind as Matty slides his fingers free from your mouth to let you answer. “What do you mean?” you stammer, your disloyal heart skipping a beat.

“We had issues, yeah. But we were good together,” Matty murmurs, rubbing distracting circles into your clit, training you into giving the right response. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last six months. About us.” He slams his hips against yours on the final word, pleasure roiling in your stomach, every muscle in your body stringing taut. “I want another try. I know it would be better this time. I’d be better,” he promises, nails digging possessively into your hips.

“Matty, I–” You’re at a loss for words. His face crumples almost imperceptibly; if you weren’t so attuned to him, you wouldn’t have known.

“S’okay, baby. Fucked you too dumb to answer, I get it. You wanna be a good girl and cum for Daddy?” You nod wildly, his circles over your clit getting tighter and faster and you whimper helplessly, but you don’t miss how he’s stopped meeting your eyes.

Ecstasy winds around your veins, sticky, hot desire pinning you still as Matty fucks into you. “Fuck, Daddy, m’gonna–” you gasp out, the tension in your body finally breaking, stars going supernova behind your eyelids. Your legs tremble, your entire body going limp as waves of pleasure swirl in your stomach and buffet your organs.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Matty murmurs soothingly. “Daddy’s got you. Whenever you want, I’ll be here,” he promises, and a split-second later you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, the feeling of his cum spilling in your cunt sorely missing.

It takes a few moments before your legs have stopped shaking enough for you to stand, Matty supporting your waist as you clutch your abused muscles. “We should… I should get back out there,” you say, raking your fingers through your hair in an effort to tame it. You both look well-fucked, the question of how you’re going to explain your absence rattling around your mind. Matty meets your eyes one last time, looking over his shoulder as he unlocks the door.

“When you get bored of him, call me. I’ll be waiting.”

[dxysxxk]

Poker Face

Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Rating: 18+ only. Explicit content. Length: 2500 words Location: Clemens Point Time of Day: Late night Content: Vaginal fingering, Vaginal sex, Public sex & Rough sex Description: Sitting on Arthur's lap, you watched him play poker with the boys. Feeling naughty, you decided to tease him. Soon enough, his focus was on you instead of the game. Note: Everything won't be accurate. Use your imagination.

"Hah! Hah hah hah!" Arthur guffawed as he pulled the poker chips closer to him. "I thought you said you were good at this!" A large smile plastered on his face, rubbing in his win. "You callin' me a liar, you old goat?" John Marston retorted. "If anyone's lying, it's you. You're damn good at bluffing!" John's voice rose higher than Arthur's, making a few gang members look over their shoulders, wondering what the commotion was.

You were sat on Arthur's lap, chuckling at their antics as you watched them play. You knew both men could be stubborn and childish when it came to competition and sure enough, it was fun to watch. "Alright, alright..." Bill interjected, "Stop the bickering now." He gathered the cards up and began shuffling them for another round. "How about we change the game? No more poker. We don't want John getting too heated." He said while giving John a knowing glance. John glared at Bill, scoffing before taking a drink.

"What do you suggest?" Said Arthur as he took a sip of his beer.

Bill thought for a moment. "Well... I’ve heard of a game called 'Suck and Blow'..." He said as he continued shuffling. The other gang members gave him a puzzled look. "What the hell are you on about Bill?" Arthur asked.

Bill then began explaining the game to the group as he held up one card in his hand, "The point is to get a card to the next player using only your mouth. You can't touch it with your hands."

"I ain't playing that! God only knows where y'all mouths have been!" John exclaimed. You couldn't help but laugh at his response.

"Yeah, I ain't too keen on playing that either." Arthur butted in.

"Back to poker, it is then..." Bill grumbled as he shuffled the cards.

"Well. Now is your chance to beat Arthur, John." You smiled and settled yourself on Arthur's lap.

A few drinks later, the game was back on. You sat and watched John finally win a few rounds, but ultimately, Arthur was still the better bluffer and won the majority. As you watched the men play, you decided to be cheeky and tease Arthur by leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "I'm sorry you haven't had me to yourself in a few of days..." You purred and gripped his thigh. 

Arthur cleared his throat as he tried to focus on the game and ignore your advances, but he lost the hand and cursed at his bad luck. "Looks like my luck's turning around." John smirked as he pulled the winnings closer to him.

You leaned closer purposely, giving Arthur a clear view of your cleavage. He was unable to keep his posture as you whispered something else in his ear. His breath caught in his throat as he quickly shifted in his seat. 

John and Bill were none the wiser of your antics. They were just relieved they could win something for a change.

Arthur grew tired of your relentless teasing. He moved his hand to your inner thigh, gripping it tightly, then whispered in your ear, "Don't make me punish you." His eyes watched his fellow gang members as they continued their game. 

He tried not to be too obvious with his sudden change of position in the chair, keeping you steady as he spoke in your ear. "If you keep this up, I'll bend you over the table and take you right here." He hissed then let go of your thigh, taking a swig of his beer. You knew he wasn't entirely serious, but his words sent a shock to your lower abdomen. Tempted to test his patience, you decided to continue teasing him. 

You slightly shifted yourself so your ass was directly on his crotch. Making sure no one was looking, you rubbed your ass over his lap. After a moment, you felt Arthur's free hand grip your hip, guiding your movements back and forth. You could tell he was growing restless by the way he gripped his cards.

You heard Arthur try to stifle a moan as you continued your movements. His now-growing bulge rubbing into your backside. No one seemed to notice the sinful action you were partaking in. They were too focused on the game itself. You began to feel how wet your core was becoming, aching for more than friction. 

Maybe it was the beer you drank, but you felt like being taken in front of everyone. Right on the table where the men were playing poker. Your heart beat rapidly at the thought of the danger the exhibitionism posed, but you knew better.

As you rubbed Arthur's crotch, you turned your head and kissed his neck, nipping lightly. Arthur held back a moan and bit his lip. His face started to look flushed over time.

John gave him a questionable look, "You alright there, Arthur?"

Arthur's mind was too focused on the friction your ass was giving him. He felt himself grow harder by the minute. "Just fine." Arthur managed to get out. He couldn't let John know what was happening right under his nose. 

John drank the last few drops of his beer, then spoke, "I'm gonna go get another beer."

"I'm coming with yah..." Bill added as John got up.

Now was his chance. As soon as John and Bill were out of sight, Arthur grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You let out a gasp, not expecting him to be so rough. He moved his lips to your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on your flesh. 

He then moved a hand from your hip to your chest and began massaging your breast through the fabric of your dress. You let out a whimper and arched into his touch. "This what you wanted?" He whispered. You were about to respond, but he suddenly squeezed your breast, earning a squeak. "You're a real tease, you know that?" Arthur's voice was low and husky. 

He moved his other hand down your belly, then underneath your skirt. He cupped your mound and felt the wetness that was leaking from you. "Damn." He breathed onto your neck. "Wet already…"

He then began rubbing you over the damp fabric of your underwear, circling your clit. You couldn't help but buck into his touch, seeking more. He continued kissing your neck, the shortness of his beard ticked your skin.

With every kiss, you shivered. Arthur then pushed your panties aside and slipped his fingers into your hole. As your walls clenched around him, he let out a low groan, then nibbled on your neck. He murmured against your skin, "You're so damn wet..." You gasped and clutched his thigh as he began to curl his fingers. 

Hearing John and Bill approach, he pulled his hand from underneath your dress and then brought his fingers to your lips. He forced you to taste your juices. "Suck it." He whispered, his breath hot on your neck. You did as you were told and took his fingers into your mouth. Arthur groaned, watching you lick his fingers clean, lapping over his thick digits. As John and Bill came into view, he pulled his hand away and then rested it on your thigh.

You sat there, feeling Arthur's hard cock pressing against you. You were both aroused beyond words. The tension was thick, and the heat between you was only growing. Arthur placed his hands on the table and pushed his hips forward, grinding his erection into your backside. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as his breathing became heavy.

Without warning his fingers were moving towards your heat again, creeping slowly up your thigh. The anticipation was killing you, but you knew that any noise from you would surely give you away. Wanting nothing more than to feel them slip inside you, you sat silently, feeling his warm fingers on your soft skin.

Your heart pounded with anticipation. Then you felt them. Arthur's fingers slowly slipped between your legs. He pulled your panties to the side and then caressed your slick folds. You let out a shaky breath as his fingers were rubbing up and down your slit. Your pussy throbbed, aching for him.

Your mind was racing. What would people think if they knew what was going on right now? The thought excited you. The risk of getting caught was driving you wild. You couldn't help but rock your hips into his touch. You were desperate for more. 

You could feel his cock twitching against your ass as he rubbed you. "Shit, Arthur..." You breathed as he began rubbing circles around your clit. Your cheeks burned as you realized the others might hear your pleasured noises if he kept this up. He then dipped his fingers inside, stretching you.

Arthur was enjoying the way your body reacted to his touch. His thumb started rubbing your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. John spoke, "What happened to that winning streak Arthur?" He smiled as he pulled the chips closer to him. "I guess I just don't have it anymore." Arthur shrugged as he continued moving his fingers inside you. He wasn't paying any attention to the game anymore, he was focused on you. Your breathing grew more rapid and it was hard to keep a straight face. He moved his fingers faster, feeling you clench around him.

Arthur leaned in to whisper in your ear, "That's it. Cum around my fingers." His voice was low and gravelly. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that were threatening to escape. Your breathing was ragged as you approached your climax. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbed it in tight circles. "I'm going to fill that pretty little hole of yours for teasing me so much," He spoke in a whisper. After hearing his husky voice in your ear, you couldn't hold back.

You came undone, your whole body trembling as you did. Your hands gripped the edge of the table as you tried to steady yourself. Your toes curled and your legs shook. You rode out your orgasm, continuing to feel Arthur's fingers move inside you. You felt like your bottom lip was going to draw blood from how hard you were biting them, all in the effort to stifle your moans.

Arthur withdrew his fingers from you then rested his hand on your thigh again. “That’s my good girl.” He spoke into your ear once more. You were still reeling from your orgasm when you heard Bill speak. "I'm done for the night fellers." He stood and left the table.

John chimed in, "I think I bled you dry Morgan. I'm ready to turn in myself." John heard Arthur grumble as he walked away. Thinking it was funny, he let out a short laugh.

With both of them gone, you turned to face Arthur. You ran your fingers through his hair as he placed his hands on your hips. You could feel his hard cock pressing against you as you shuffled yourself to straddle his lap. He took your mouth in a slow deep kiss, feeling his tongue explore every inch of your mouth

He groaned into the kiss as you reached down and stroked him through his pants. He broke away then spoke in a husky voice. "You remembered what I said?"

You looked into his deep multicolored eyes, "What was it?"

"To fill you." He placed his hands on your thighs, "For teasing me so much." He began guiding your skirt up so he could get better access. "You're going to regret teasing me like that." 

A grin spread across your lips as your pussy tingled at his threat. "Am I?" You challenged, running your hand down to his crotch. His eyes never left yours as a growl escaped his throat. You could tell he was trying to stay in control. The way he was looking at you was intense. He grabbed you by the hips and lifted you onto the table, making you sit at the edge.

"I won't say it again." You watched as his fingers worked to unbutton his pants. The bulge was straining hard against the fabric. He was eager to be freed. "Get off the table and bend over."

You did as he said, resting your palms flat on the wood as you did. You heard Arthur step closer. He put his hand on the back of your head, pushing your face down. His other hand lifted the back of your dress. "You better be quiet." He whispered as he pushed his length into you, filling you.

He gave you no time to adjust, pounding into you immediately. He grabbed your neck from behind and pulled you, "You think it's okay playing with me?" You couldn't form words, but a moan escaped your throat. His free hand found its way to your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “...Hm?”

"Arthur!" Your back arched, your knees growing weak as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Arthur pulled out of you suddenly, "What did I say about being quiet?" He spoke harshly. Arthur grabbed a fist full of your hair and thrust his cock into you once more. His hips snapped into your ass hard and fast. You could feel the warmth of your climax building as you tried to stifle your moans.

Using the grip on your hair to steady himself, he pounded into you harder. "Good. Stay quiet," he spoke through gritted teeth. He pulled your head back, forcing you to arch your back as he pounded into you. Your moans were growing louder and harder to control. He tightened his grip on your hair, causing you to cry out. "Oh fuck." You moaned, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

He moved his hand from your hair to your mouth. His calloused palm covered your lips as his thrusts grew erratic. You could feel him pulse inside you as he neared his own climax. Your legs shook, threatening to give out. His other hand snaked under your dress and rubbed your clit in circles. 

Your muffled cries became screams as you came. Arthur pulled out immediately, spilling his release on to the ground beneath him. He groaned low and deep as his free hand slipped from your mouth. 

After a moment, he pulled your dress down, covering your backside. Both of you were panting, coming down from the high you both felt. You then turned and stood up to face him. Arthur was still out of breath, his face red as he placed his hands on your hips. 

"You alright?"

"I'm good." You smiled, leaning in and placing a kiss on his jaw.

"Good." He smiled, looking around as he tucked himself in his pants. “Let’s get to bed. It’s getting late.” With that, you walked with him to his cot.

[whore-4-drewstarkey]

Lips of An Angel- Drew Starkey x Fem!Reader

summary: based on the song Lips Of An Angel by Hinder. (take a listen! i recommend it!!) Y/N drunkenly calls up her ex boyfriend drew, to confess her love she still has for him and all her regrets from their past relationship.

warnings: odessa…., alcohol consumption, emotional cheating (if you even call it that), angst, a tad of fluff if you squint, slight mentions of physical/mental/emotional abuse (not from drew), lmk if i forgot anything bc i’m sure i did lol.

a/n: for starters…. i’ve been waiting to write this one and i was gonna do it for rafe first but it just felt more right to do drew lol. also please don’t come at me for the way i put odessa in this. (personal opinion: i don’t think they’re really a thing irl but whatever). for the sake of this fic i had to put her in it to work as she’s the only prominent female in his life besides his sisters so bare with me please. (personally not a fan of her for my own reasons and things i’ve read) hope you all enjoy this one!

revised and edited by the one and only @slut4drudy ilyyyyy

as drew had just put the last of the champagne glasses into the sink from his and odessa’s small get together with friends, he could hear his phone ringing that all too familiar ringtone… the ringtone he had set for only her. he thought to himself… how strange it’d be for her to call him at such an absurd hour after not talking to one another in two years.

him and Y/N had began to date their senior year of college at western carolina university, and just like every college couple, they eventually broke it off a few years later. it had been a mutual agreement when he got cast on netflix’s show, outer banks, as she didn’t want to hold him back any longer from achieving all the goals she knew he would. the two however kept in contact regularly until none at all just two years ago when she’d started dating her now boyfriend maverick. and from what Y/N seen drew had also moved on… to his costar odessa.

“hey, uh drew your phone is ringing. do you want me to get it?” odessa asked drew as he finished washing the champagne flutes, drying his hands hurriedly with the towel next to the sink.

“uh, nah, um i’ll go answer it. it might be my mom. you know her and not being able to sleep and missing her kids. i’m just gonna go in the reading room and take the call. i’ll be back out in twenty. sound good?” he asked warily.

“yeah yeah take your time. tell her i said hi for me” she smiled as his towering figure walked past her frame and into the living room, picking his phone up. his large thumb moved nimbly against his phones screen to answer the call from Y/N as he entered the reading room, plopping on the couch.

“h-honey, why you callin me so late? it’s kinda hard to talk right now” he stuttered out her pet name he hadn’t called her in years. all he received in return were her soft sobs from the other line. those little soft sobs shattered his heart. the last time he’d heard them was because of him. because he had spoke the idea of maybe they should break up. because he didn’t know if he could do the long distance relationship, and Y/N had just agreed. no hesitation because she wanted whatever would make him happy. and if that meant breaking up with her and breaking her heart, then so be it. she wanted what was best for him because she loved him.

“honey, why are you crying? is everything okay?” drew whispered out through the phone to his broken ex in an uneasy tone, as his jaw clenched. he hated the idea of her being sad. he always had.

“w-why are you whispering?” she sighed as more tears streamed down her face.

drew bit his lip, exhaling a huff of hot air he hadn’t known he was holding before speaking, “i gotta whisper because i can’t be too loud.”

“why? i-im sorry. i shouldn’t have called. this was so fucking stupid” Y/N slurred out into her end of the phone, catching drew’s attention.

“oh, well, my girls in the next room” he spoke as he paused to let her speak.

“like i-i said… this was st-stupid of me” she slurred out again before continuing, “you’re moved on. i get it”

“honey, Y/N, it’s not like that. i swear. s-shes not even my girlfriend” he tried to elaborate before she cut him off.

“then why’d you call her your girl?”she challenged.

“baby, you’re drunk. i can tell by the way you’re slurring your words. what’s wrong? why’d you call?” drew tried to deflect the question and ask the more important questions; why she’d called and why she’d been crying.

“answer my questions first please” she hiccuped through her phone and into his ear.

“we haven’t put a label on it. in all seriousness i don’t even know what i want. i don’t even think she knows what she wants. it’s more of a friends with benefits kind of deal” he sighed out as his left index finger and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed once more, contemplating to speak what he’d been thinking for awhile now. “but honey, if i’m being serious, sometimes i wish she was you”

“i wish i was her too” Y/N whimpered out as she took a gulp of the vodka from the bottle she’d been coddling in her arms, sitting on the bathroom floor, hiding from maverick.

“i guess we never really moved on… did we?” he chuckled out, causing Y/N to smile at the sweet sound of his chuckle. it was bliss to her ears. she’d missed that sound so much in the last two years.

“now answer my question honey, what’s wrong? why’re you calling so later? isn’t it like after 1am there back home in charlotte. right?” he asked Y/N in a concerned tone, face scrunching up in worry as well, though she couldn’t see it.

“u-um. drew it doesn’t matter. forget i called you. okay?” Y/N tried to deflect his concerning questions he’d been shooting her way since the call had started.

“Y/N, honey. i’m not hanging up until you tell me what’s got you so bent out of shape that you’re drunk off your ass, drunk calling me at 1 am your time all while sobbing. i just won’t” he huffed out, losing his patience in the girl on the other line.

“joseph” she began to slur, sternly, “i said it doesn’t matter. go back to your girl or whatever the fuck she is to you” she hiccuped yet again.

“fuck, i cant believe i’m about to say this right now, but it’s really good to hear your voice sayin’ my name. it sounds so sweet” drew smiled to himself as he softly giggled. maybe it was from the champagne he’d had earlier or maybe it was the blissfulness from just hearing Y/N oh so sweet voice saying his name again.

“i love you” Y/N slurred out once more as she started to cry again. “i’ve never stopped” she continued. “i thought i could and would move on but i cant and it hurts me that we aren’t a thing anymore” she continued to weep.

“honey don’t say that. please” he frowned as his heart cracked yet again over his ex girlfriend and her words. more like over her admittance of missing him so much still even after all these years.

“why not, drew? it’s the truth” she sniffled as she wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of his old college sweatshirt she’d still kept after all these year even after their breakup. she picked the bottle of vodka back up and took another swig of it.

“those words…. fuck. they’re coming from the lips of an angel baby. and hearing those words, it’s makes me so fucking weak. because as much as i want to be with you… i cant” he sighed as a single tear streamed down his stubbled cheek, not even bothering to wipe it away. he soon continued, “i never want to say goodbye, honey. and it’s so fucking hard to admit that. but, girl, you make it hard to be faithful with the lips of an angel” he dryly chuckled as the memories of their kisses ran through his brain. it still felt so real. the longing to be near her was still there. and the butterflies. and the desire to make her happy. and the want to make her feel safe and loved.

“drew, you’re the one who just said you guys aren’t even a thing so why would you even say that?” Y/N croaked out as she wiped more of her tears away.

“it’s complicated honey. i feel obligated to be faithful even if her and i aren’t really officially a thing. now please for the love of god, baby, why are you crying? what’s wrong? what happened?” drew exerted his concern as his eyebrows scrunched together in worry.

“i- uh, drew you cant do anything about it, so it doesn’t matter” she whimpered in a whisper, reaching for the bathroom door knob to make sure it was in fact locked. she squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she heard mavericks yells from their kitchen.

“you know, it’s funny that you called me tonight, Y/N/N, because we had some friends over and the whole time i was just thinking of you and how you’ve been. i haven’t heard from you in two years, hunny” drew whispered, his voice strained from the way his heart clenched in pain at the lack of communication between the two when they had both promised to keep in contact.

“maybe that’s why i dream of you. you know what they say, if you dream of someone that means they’re thinking of you. do you dream of me too?” she spoke shakily, as her jaw began to quiver, biting back yet another sob.

“what about maverick? and yes i’ve dreamt of you too, love. i do often” he confessed as he thought back to his dream he had of her from the other night. the two of them had gone on a picnic in the mountains back in their home state of north carolina, enjoying the scenery and all it had to offer, that was until he was awoken by odessa’s loud alarm blaring throughout his bedroom. drew’s lips parted once more as he spoke again, “and does he know you’re talking to me? will it start a fight?”

“th-that’s why i-i uh called. he… uh he got mad again and s-started to throw some things around the kitchen. h-he said some things which isn’t out of the ordinary with him” her frail voice cracked as she finally admitted to him why she had called him so late in the first place. tears once again started pouring out of her once bright eyes which have now been filled with void. “he drinks… a lot. and when he does… he gets kinda aggressive. he will do things to me and say horrible things as well. i-i called you tonight because i’m drunk and i miss you and i know you’d never do this shit to me and because you listen. so well. you always have” she began to cry again for what felt like the twelfth time that night.

“honey, what are you talking about? has he hit you? do you have a place to go?” drew shot up at the mention of mavericks behavior coming from Y/N. he was on high alert and wanted nothing more than to protect her at that instant.

“i shouldn’t have even called. does odessa even know you’re on the phone with me? i don’t want her to get mad at you. i shouldn’t have even called” Y/N stumbled over her words due to the excessive amounts of alcohol she’d been drinking and maybe even a mix of anxiety.

“no, i don’t think she has a clue. i told her it was probably my mom, but, i knew it was you. i still have your number saved to my phone… with your ringtone too. couldn’t get myself to delete it, even after all these years” he confessed as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair. he bit his lip in frustration before speaking sternly this time around, “Y/N, honey, tell me…. has he fucking hit you?”

“y-yes. but he didn’t mean to” she tried to excuse her boyfriends actions, though deep down she knew it was a lie. “and yeah if i have to i can go to my brothers but i don’t need anyone’s fucking help or pity” she blurted a little loud.

“fuck, Y/N” he sighed as fresh tears broke his waterline of his azul eyes, his jaw clenched tight.

“it’s okay, drew, i promise. i’m not your problem anymore. i haven’t been for four years now.” she expressed as she drank the last bit of the vodka that was left in the bottle.

“Y/N can you do one thing for m-“ drew was cut off by a soft knock on the reading rooms door, notifying him that someone ,odessa, was on the other side.

“hey, uh you almost done? it’s getting late and i wanna go to bed” she complained to drew as he’d pulled his phone away from his attentive ears.

“u-uh yeah. let me tell my mom goodnight real quick” he stuttered nervously, worried she’d been ease dropping on part of the private conversation he’d been having on the phone with Y/N. and with that odessa nodded her head as she left the room, shutting the door as she went.

“what is it that you want me to promise you?” Y/N sniffled.

“call me if it gets bad again. i’ll fly out there immediately”

“i promise.”

“i never wanna say goodbye” he admitted to her after her promise.

“i don’t either, but you have to” she spoke flatly as she’d just heard Odessa moments before. she opened her mouth, speaking one last line, “i love you drew”

“i-i love you too honey” drew spoke the words he’d been bottling up since the day the two broke up, as fresh tears streamed down his stubbled cheeks. during the moment he spoke those words all he could hear were mavericks yells and bangs onto the bathroom door through his phone, before the call ended all together.

taglist: @slut4drudy @runningfrom2am @maybankslover

[kiwixlime]

Quiet and Confident

X is for Xennial 

You really love this old man.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader Notes: I haven’t died! I have just been through so much since I last updated anything and as much as I told myself I could do things, I just wasn’t in the right headspace. In these two years, I’ve fallen in and out of love, dealt with natural disasters, ups and lows of my emotions, and a boring list of other things. But I’ve been going down the rabbit hole lately, replaying my games, and I’ve been missing my boys so badly. And for the first time in forever, I have the inspiration to pick up where I left off. Who knows how long this will last. But right now, it feels right. I feel happy and ready to move on. So I present this. I felt it was the easiest way to ease back into writing. A simple and short one shot that of course includes our favorite dilf.  Warnings because we need those: Just some fluff and some suggestive conversation. Age gap, obviously. I love old man Joel. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything interesting so I’m not ready to dive right back into the smut yet haha. Soon, though! Soon. Anyway, this is short and sweet because it’s been a roadblock in my drafts and I have better things planned and I just want to get this out of the way. Definitely not my best work, but I promise better things are ahead. 

“Ha, Xennial.” 

“Somethin’ funny to you?” 

“Nope, nothing.” 

“You’re askin’ for it.” 

“Asking for what, grandpa?” 

Joel groans and mutters something to himself. You can’t help but laugh, sitting up in your bed, bringing your arms out in front of you to stretch yourself awake. The sun barely seeps through the curtains of your bedroom, but there’s enough of a glow for you to take in the markings that embellish your wrists. You smile, tucking your hands into your lap. 

“We should be more careful,” you express, catching his attention again. 

Curious, he enters your room, closing the bathroom door behind him. His sculpted figure makes its way to the edge of your bed. You stare in awe as he stands tall over you. He's old, but he's Godly. So fucking Godly. With a concerned pout, he holds his hands out, urging you to show him your wounds. 

When you comply, revealing the reddening marks and deepening bruises, he frowns. In the moment, he loves being rough with you. There's nothing better than listening to you beg and plead and whimper like a desperate little bitch. But once the lust wears out, he feels a little bad for treating you so...dirty. 

“Sorry, princess,” he hums and brings your wrists to his lips. His warm breath hits your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms and warmth throughout your belly. “Grandpa just can’t help himself.” 

“Oh, ew,” you whine, yanking yourself away from him. You fall back onto the bed, pulling the sheet up with you to cover your grossed-out face. You started it, but ew. “You ruined it.” 

“Hey,” he chuckles, lowering himself onto the mattress with you. “You started it. Callin’ me old 'n' shit.” 

“I’m sorry!” You giggle, exposing your face to him as he slowly pulls the white cotton fabric off your body. He's barely listening as he takes in the sight of you, gorgeous and innocent, just for him. “I just can’t get over it. Xennial.” 

“Why is that so fuckin’ funny to you?” He asks with a smile, his focus back on your face, finding you absolutely adorable with your cheeky smile and glistening eyes. 

Last night, before heading home, you guys were out with your sister and his brother and a few others, just shooting the shit and having a drink. Tommy referred to Joel as an Xennial and for some reason, you just lost it. It was the funniest thing you'd heard. 

“It’s just another way of calling you old,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I like it.” 

“Yeah, well,” he huffs, feigning annoyance. “You weren’t thinkin’ I was too old for you last night, tied to the bed and beggin' to be--.” 

You grunt, slapping his arm. He’s not wrong. And he knows you’re joking. You like the fact that Joel is so much older than you. It’s not some weird kink thing, even though it seems that way and you happily play along to the roles. But there’s maturity in him, wisdom, and he doesn’t play games with your emotions. He’s straightforward and too old for bullshit. He lets you know what he wants and you love that you don’t have to guess. 

Plus, you feel comfortable with him. He’s strong and tough and sometimes a little scary, but he makes you feel safe. More than that, he teaches you how to hold your own; he teaches you how to protect yourself. You appreciate that. He’s delicate with your feelings and serious about your well-being. 

“Speaking of,” you say, the tone change in your voice is not lost on the older man. “You’re getting careless in public, you have to be careful or my sister will find out.” 

Thickness fills the air around you, leaving Joel with an uneasy feeling in his gut. You can feel the tension raying off of him and practically suffocating you. "Right," he says. 

Recalling the night prior, you can’t count the number of times Joel almost slipped up in front of everyone. It was either an intimate look that lasted a few seconds too long, a touch that was borderline indecent, or just his overall demeanor showing that he was way too close to you. Luckily, no one noticed as they were either occupied or intoxicated, but one of these days you won’t be so lucky. And your sister will lose her shit. 

“Is it the age thing?” He asks with a frown, his spirit darkening a bit. In all seriousness, his age is a bit of a sore subject between you two. He made sure a thousand and one times that you were okay with the large gap that existed between you two, and you were - you are. But sometimes it still gets to him. 

The last thing he wants is for someone, your sister especially, to think he has ill intentions towards you. And he doesn’t want people thinking badly of you, either. Even at the end of the world, the town loves their gossip. 

You’re young, but you’re not naive, you’re not stupid or careless, you know what you’re getting yourself into.  

“That and you know…” You trail off when you notice he’s lost in thought. 

“What?” He asks, dumbly, and you laugh. You stare at him, waiting for his brain to catch up, and when it finally clicks he lets out a small “oh.” 

“She wanted you first,” you finish, watching his face fall. He looks uncomfortable, squirming a bit under your gaze. It’s not something he likes remembering, mostly because it brings his tired brain back to the age thing again and leaves him with a sour feeling in his stomach. He’s not a creep. He’s not. Right? 

“And I wanted you,” he says softly, shyly almost. He doesn’t have to say much for you to know what’s going on in his gorgeous head. It’s painfully obvious. 

“And I wanted you,” you reply. “I know there’s something, deep down in your gut, telling you that this is bad, but I’m telling you to ignore it. I’m an adult, Joel. I’ve been an adult for years.” 

“I know that,” he sighs. “It’s just--” 

“It’s nothing,” you say firmly. “Look around, love. Look at the world we’re living in. If we find love, if we find comfort, who are we to deny it?” 

“I like what you’re sayin’,” he admits with a handsome grin, his hand finding yours, counting your fingers as he presses soft kisses to each one. He brings your palm to his cheek, resting against it and looking at you with such adoration. “You have me wrapped around your finger, you know that?” 

You hum, eyes fluttering closed, loving what he’s saying and how he says it. His naked body relaxes against yours as he climbs on top of you. Warm lips find your neck, sending your sensitive body and mind into a spell. You could stay here forever, getting lost within him, making yourself at home in his embrace. God, your sister would be so disappointed for so many reasons. 

“Everyone always says I’m just the younger version of her,” you whisper, killing the mood as Joel’s lips falter against your skin. He pulls away, brows furrowed in confusion and a little disappointment. “Sorry,” you squeak. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks with concern. 

Sighing, you sit up, Joel grumbling in disappointment as he sits up with you. “I don’t question whether or not I want to be with you,” you tell him with certainty. “But she is the one person who scares me with this. She already thinks I’ve become a different person since coming to Jackson. And I keep going over last night. One of these days, we’re going to slip. And she’s going to kill you. I’ve always been told I’m just the mini version of her. So if she finds out, she’s going to think the worst of you. She’s going to think you’re the worst kind of pervert.” 

The rambling is doing your head in, but you can’t stop. Your inside thoughts are out there now and you can’t get them back on their leash. It’s been a while since you’ve panicked like this and you really don’t care for it. 

“Because I didn’t want her?” He scoffs, standing from the bed and grabbing his clothes from the floor. He slips his boxers on and then his jeans, feeling awkward being exposed during this kind of conversation. “You’re not a mini version of her,” he insists, sitting back beside you. “You look alike, sure, but that’s where the similarities end, darlin’. I promise.” 

It’s nice to hear, and it’s something you want to believe. But his words can’t erase years of everyone you know telling you how alike you and Lexie are. Maybe that’s why you’ve changed so much. It wasn’t the world ending, it was the newfound freedom. Here, you aren’t Lexie’s little sister. Here, you are your own being. And no one knows otherwise. 

“Listen,” Joel starts before your mind can spiral again. He grabs your hand, holding it tightly to keep you grounded. “Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I just don’t know Lexie well enough. But your sister, to me, seems like the type who is always tryin’ to impress everyone. I get the feelin’ she has the need to be liked; to fit herself into whatever shape someone asks of her.” 

Part of you wants to jump into your sister’s defense and tell Joel she's not like that. But you can’t seem to find your voice. And you’re not sure if you’d be lying or telling the truth. 

“But you aren’t like that at all. You don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, and you don’t cater to 'em. You don’t make yourself smaller to make everyone else feel more important. You’re quiet and confident. And I love that about you,” he finishes and you can hardly contain yourself. 

As the words leave his lips, you pounce on him, rolling him onto his back while you crawl on top of him. He lets out a little grunt and winces, grabbing onto your hips tighter than you were anticipating. 

“Oops,” you laugh. “Did I hurt your old back?” 

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart,” he says, gruffly. “I’ll show you how fuckin’ old I am.” 

You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Joel grits his teeth before asking, “When does your sister get home?” 

You shrug. “Not for a couple hours, why?” 

He laughs and pushes himself up, quickly flipping your positions. He reaches for the binds tied to your headboard and grins down at you, fire in his eyes. “I just think you need a reminder,” he says. “of what happens when you talk back to me.” 

[estrellami-1]

Rereading this fic from @steddieas-shegoes and had to do this.

“You boys’d better sit down.” Wayne’s voice comes out quiet, almost hesitant.

“What’s up, old man?” Eddie asks. He sounds jovial, but everyone in attendance knows him. Knows he uses humor as a shield. Knows he’s scared.

Steve takes his hand.

“No easy way t’say it, so here goes.” He takes a deep breath. In, out. “I got cancer.”

Eddie freezes, then starts rambling. “That… that’s okay. I mean, It’s obviously not ideal, but. We’ve got money now. We can- treatment. There’s treatments, right? We can- we can do something?”

Steve squeezes his hand. Looks steadily at Wayne. “How are you feeling?”

“Fuck, good question,” Eddie mutters.

Wayne looks at him. At the look in his eyes. “I’ve been better.” He glances over at Eddie, then back to Steve. They both know he can’t say how he’s really feeling. Eddie’s already hanging by a thread as it is.

“Eds,” Steve murmurs, squeezing his hand with both of his. “Grab the three of us some water?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Y-yeah, of course, I’ll- yeah. Okay.” He stands and walks out, not looking at either of them. They both know he’ll be okay; he just needs to process.

Wayne looks at Steve.

Steve looks at Wayne. Inclines his head.

Wayne sighs. Allows the tremor in his voice when he speaks. “Hurts all over, kid.” Steve nods. “Worst part is I won’t do the treatment.”

Steve frowns at him. “Why not?”

“Experimental. Painful. I’m already up in m’years, boy, I don’t got that many left. It’d be a waste.”

Steve nods, gaze sliding down to his lap. He doesn’t look up when he speaks. “My dad died from cancer.” Wayne stills. “I always thought it was anticlimactic, y’know? He was… God, he was a truly awful person. Just seemed like he deserved something just as awful to finally do him in. Didn’t seem fair that it was something so normal.” He meets Wayne’s gaze. “I’m starting to think he got what he deserved after all.”

Wayne works his jaw. Blinks away wetness. Says roughly, “Goddammit, kid, get me the phone book. I’m callin’ the hospital back.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

[buckychristwrites]

About You | Epilogue | j.t.

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: That's a wrap! Thank you so much for supporting my fanfic for Jamie. I was so nervous to write for him and now i don't wanna stop! Sorry for double posting, i finished this rather quickly. Enjoy!!!

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

6 months later

If he had to pick one, Jamie’s least favourite room at Nelson Road Stadium was the press room. Every time he was in there, surrounded by people who were asking him invasive questions, he felt like a little boy again, getting yelled at for something small he had done. The lights were also incredibly bright, and under certain circumstances, very hot. He had been asked to do the press room today because of how well Richmond had been doing, and, in particular, how well he had been playing. 

In the hall outside of the press room, he paced up and down with his eyes trained on the grey flooring. The game had been a long one, the win narrow, and all he wanted to do was go home for dinner and a cuddle before curling up in bed. 

A ding ding came from the phone inside his pocket. The smile broke through his mouth before he even had a chance to pull it out. He knew who it was from.

Hurry up so we can go home! x

A deep exhale passed his lips. 

“You want me to go in with ya?” Roy asked as he was walking by. Jamie shook his head, finding his confidence again.

“I got it,” He assured his coach, who only nodded in response. 

The cameras started going off as soon as he walked through the door. In the corner stood Rebecca and Keeley, who made it a habit to watch the press conferences. Sure, it was nice to have them there. But they weren’t what was placating him. His phone, illuminated with the text thread he hadn’t closed out of, was still tight in his hand as he took a seat. 

“Yeah, alright,” He mumbled into the microphone, looking around at the sea of unfamiliar faces. “Go ahead with your questions.” 

The room erupted into a chorus of people shouting his name, trying to get his attention. Immediately, he felt overwhelmed, but he tried to push it down as best as he could. He haphazardly pointed at someone in the front. The man stood, introducing himself. Jamie was, in all honesty, only half listening up until the question.

“Richmond had quite the comeback this year and is one of the top teams in the league. What do you think changed?” 

Jamie considered this. Or at least made it look like he was. “Nothin’ changed, really. We just took what Coach Lasso taught us, and continued to get better.” Another journalist, a woman, stood and interrupted.

“But you started to play better without Lasso, do you think there’s a correlation there?” Jamie’s eyebrows went up.

“I think there’s a correlation between me callin’ on someone and them gettin’ their question answered,” He replied, turning away from her instantly. She slowly sunk in her seat as the rest of the room began raising their hands again. He looked at his watch quickly before looking back up at them. “You, go on.” Another lady, with bleach blonde hair, stood this time. 

“Do you care to comment on the rumours of you moving in with your journalist girlfriend?” She asked him, tacking your name in at the end to clarify, as if he had several journalist girlfriends to differentiate from.

“You mean the very same rumours I’ve never commented on before today?” He asked her. “Sure.” Rolling his eyes, he turned to the other journalists. From the corner of his eye, he could see Rebecca throw her head back to stare at the ceiling in complete despair. He wasn’t concerned, though. “You, in the back.” 

Raising off the wooden bench was you, sporting your Tartt cap and notepad in hand. He could feel his posture straighten at the sight of you. He hadn’t even picked you on purpose. You introduced yourself to the room, receiving several shocked looks as they slowly came to realise who you were. The bleach blonde woman in the front turned as red as a tomato as she instantly fell back into her seat.

“The Guardian,” You added in your most professional voice. You cleared your throat. “Mr. Tartt, your fans are dying to know. What TV shows are you watching these days?” He was completely incapable of suppressing the smile on his face.

God, he thought to himself. When did I get so fuckin’ lucky?

“Been watchin’ a lot of Peaky Blinders, if I’m honest,” He admitted. The journalists all stared at him, astonished that of all of the questions he decided to answer without being a prick, it was this one. “A little bit of the American show called New Girl, but that one is against me will, mostly.” You scribbled on the notepad furiously, as if you were taking very serious notes.

“Would your girlfriend agree with that assessment?” In a turn of events, the crowd laughed at this one.

Jamie looked up at the ceiling, still smiling, as he shook his head.

“No,” He admitted. “She’d say I’m a dirty liar, who loves the show more than she does.” 

“Mhmm,” You hummed as you continued to write some more. “Just one more follow up. Care to elaborate on the moving-in rumours?” A beat passed. “For the Guardian.” He gave her a look, one that said that she would pay for this later. His heart picked up in pace. 

The rumours were always just rumours, the press rarely being correct on where he was at in his relationship. But this was different, as the conversation had been one the two of you had been somehow having, while also not really having. You basically had been living at his house for we over a month at this point, only going to your apartment for laundry and things you needed. He kept cracking jokes about how you needed to just move in already, but it seemed that you had been taking them as just jokes and not actual invitations, which had been starting to bother him. He wanted you there, with him, all the time, forever. All that was coming between that was the stupid flat of yours.

After a moment, he shrugged. “I’d love her to,” He said. “If she wants, of course.”

This time, you didn’t pretend to write anything down, instead just staring at him in disbelief. The eyes in the room were going back and forth between the two of you, no one saying a word, and Jamie took this as an opportunity.

“Well, that’s that, ain’t it?” He said, slapping his hands against the arm rests before standing up and walking out. The press tried to stop him as they yelled questions at him while he crossed over to the door. But you did the smart thing, which was slip out the back door to follow him. 

When you caught up, you threw your arms around the back of his neck, jumping and bringing your legs up to his sides. He didn’t even question it as he brought his arms up to hold your thighs, planting a kiss to your cheek in the process. He made carrying you seem so easy. It was as if you were a feather to him.

“So,” You said with a teasing tone. “I heard in the press that I’m moving in.” He jumped up slightly, a squeal forcibly leaving your mouth. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” He said. “You’re movin’ in. Officially.”

He kicked the door open to the changing room, where the rest of the team were gathered. They all waved and greeted the two of you excitedly, not at all fazed by your presence. They’d had a lot of time to get used to it prior to you and Jamie beginning your relationship.

“Lads,” Jamie announced, letting you slide back down to the floor before throwing an arm around your shoulders. “We’re movin’ in together.” They all stared blankly at the pair of you, a few looks exchanged.

“We thought you already had,” Isaac said. 

“I still have a flat with all of my things in it,” You told him. That was met with a lot of Oh’s and agreeable sounds, as if what you said made sense.

“The point is,” Jamie continued. “We’ll need help gettin’ her stuff to me place.” They all began talking over each other excitedly.

“We would be honoured to help you.”

“I can bring pizza!”

“I’ve got a trunk. That would certainly help, I’d think.”

As they all came together to make these plans, you watched, feeling like you were going to cry. Your life had changed so dramatically in the last 6 months, and it was all because of the one work assignment you were given out of spite. Now you have a new job. New relationship. New family. Jamie squeezed your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“Hey,” He mumbled to you, nudging the side of your head with his nose and forehead.

“Hmmm?” You hummed in response, looking up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose before pecking your lips.

“I love ya.” 

You smiled.

“I love you too.”

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Hi friend! I love your writing!! Could you do a headcannon/blurb for Ghost and Price (not poly) with a reader who has trouble opening up emotionally? When they do open up they feel like a burden and feel like they have to “earn back their love” through facts of service? Just angsty fluff :)

Oof I can kinda relate lmaooo

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He’s pretty closed off at first, and he’s quite aware of it, so he won’t push you or force you into opening up if you’re not ready

You’re both waiting for the other to make a move because you’re too nervous to make the first move yourself, so he steps out of his comfort zone and decides to make the first move

You two are laying in bed, watching videos on your phone when he starts talking about his family. (His timing is a little awkward with these things) His heart is beating so hard and fast in his chest, he feels like he’s about to throw up. You’ve shut off your phone and you’re hanging off of every word, tears prickling your eyes, chewing over his words as you contemplate sharing your own

He bit the bullet and so can you. So you do. You share some of the things that have been weighing in your heart, thoughts that have been plaguing your mind, but before you share too much, you bite your tongue and put a tourniquet on your heart before you overstepped your (imagined) boundaries

He was so relieved you saw fit to open up to him that he drifted to sleep for the first time in ages, and it was a peaceful sleep. Morning came and he was woken up by the smell of coffee and breakfast, he groggily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and rolled out of bed

“What’s all this?” He asked walking past you and kissing the top of your head as he grabbed the cup of tea you made for him,

“I just wanted to thank you for listening last night, I hope I didn’t burden you.”

“Burden? Love, you’re jokin’” He held the cup close to his lips but set it down as soon as you said that,

“Well, you’ve got your own stuff to deal with and I’m just adding to it and I feel bad.” You said dismissively as you went back to the eggs in the pan,

“Sweetheart, you’re never a burden.”

“I’ve heard that one before.” You chuckled bitterly with a roll of your eyes,

“You callin’ me a liar?” He turned your head to look at him with just a finger under your chin, and those eyes that you loved so much held nothing but the utmost sincerity

“N-no, it’s just,” the words struggled to form, your arguments suddenly moot as they turned over in your head, “I’m sorry.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead,

“Don’t be. I’m here for you. Always.”

John Price:

I’ve said it time and time again, John is a patient man. He’s also known Ghost for years, so a bit of emotional closed off-ness isn’t foreign to him. He’s dealt with it, he knows how to handle it. He also knows that leading by example tends to work best in those cases.

He can see that you’ve been bottling something up, he can practically hear you chewing your lip in an attempt to keep whatever it is inside, he hates seeing the torment in your eyes so he takes initiative, he sees that you’re almost at your breaking point so he pulls you away from your task and sits you down in the living room, he’s holding your hands, deft fingers massaging the tension away

He recalls a time when struggled, when he was falling apart at the seams but felt obligated to keep it together for the sake of his men. It ate away at him until it manifested into poor self-care, almost to a point of causing permanent harm to himself. Until he’d met you and you welcomed him and all his troubles with open arms.

You argued that what you were dealing with was nothing like that, it was insignificant by comparison and you went on and on without realizing that he had succeeded in getting you to open up to him. And then you realized it and gradually managed to reel it back in. You dried your tears and happily returned his kiss.

“I’ll always be here listen, alright?” You nodded and kissed him again

He’d stepped out to smoke until he was cut short by the incredible and enticing smell of your cooking brought him back inside. He walked over to you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind,

“What’s all this about?”

“Just my way of saying thank you.”

“What for?”

“Well for letting me dump all that on you.”

“Sorry?” Despite pulling away slowly, it felt more like recoiling after being punched in the stomach,

“You’ve got a lot on your shoulders already and here I am adding to it. So I’m just making up for that.” You shrugged, he sighed and put his hands over yours, turning you away from your task at the stove,

“Two things love, one, don’t ever feel the need to thank me for listening, two, nothing you ever do could possibly make you a burden to me. Remember that.”

“But-” a lump formed in your throat and he shook his head, taking the utensils from your hand and gently pushing you to the side. He stepped in front of the stove and leaned over to you to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“No ‘buts’, love. Now, tell me what to do next.”