#time to hunt wallpapers

[ebitenpura]

[femboyishcharm]

yesterday & today are the birthdays of two villagers on my island AND the 14th is another one !!!

[maxipad33]

in brazil we went hunting

it was hard finding time to draw while i was in korea but i finally finished this beast on the plane! max verstappen brazil 2024 you are so special to me

also feel free to use as a wallpaper!

alt versions under the cut

[taro-bae]

Twisted Wonderland - Third Years

Summary: reacting to you falling asleep in their room

Characters: Third Years

CW/Notes: gn!reader, fluff, Slight Book 7 Spoilers! (Malleus's part), mostly written as platonic but its up to the reader

Trey Clover

Trey makes it to his dorm room after a hustling day of classes and vice-warden duties. He's ready to just sit down and relax his muscles for the afternoon. As soon as he steps inside his room, he recognises a familiar figure lying in his spacious bed on his clover plush. Trey smirks a little amused by your choice of sleeping space. He makes sure the lights are off making his way towards you. He shifts your body to put the blanket covers over you.

Trey is like the older brother of Heartslabyul. He has younger siblings and knows how to take responsibility for others. Taking off his dorm Uniform hat and jacket, he settles at a respectful distance away from you, just resting his eyes with a hand behind his head. He watches you as you stir awake. "Sleep well, sleepyhead?" Trey says with a teasing smirk looking at your slightly dishevelled appearance.

Cater Diamond

After the unbirthday party, Cater returns, eyes locked on his phone as he edits and goes through all the photos he has taken during the day. He walks into the room, still looking down at his phone until he notices a silhouette hugging his smily plushie. Cater immediately goes to his camera, tip toeing towards the bed.

He takes multiple photos thinking just how cute you look with your cheek flushed and soft against the pillow. Cater hovers over you to snap different angles and profiles. "Aww, such a cutie~" Their cheeks look so soft, " He thinks in his head, trying not to wake you up. He reaches over to poke your cheek, snapping a picture at the same time. Minutes later, you are on Magicam for everyone to see, and Cater has no shame. There are plenty hashtags describing just how cute he thinks you like #sleepingbeauty #cutiepatootie #sweetcheeks

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is not pleased. Leona did sense you before even making it into his room by your scent. He scowls, seeing the person lying in his bed. "Stupid herbivore" His tail swishing behind him in annoyance. "Oi, wake up" Leona says bluntly, standing over you. When you refuse to get out and won't budge he lets out a frustrated sigh. "Move over. Now".

Leona slumps over on the bed, spreding his limbs out. He doesn't care at this point. He shifts over, pulling you into his body. "Since ya not gonna listen, you'll be my pillow," He says in a gruff voice. His tail is thumping against the mattress, but he likes how comfortable this is. He will never admit it, though. Leona has a sense of pride that you're not afraid to be near him, let alone dare fall asleep in his room. "Not a word or ya out. I need my nap". He's out within seconds.

Rook Hunt

Rook already knew you were in his room. Most likely, it was his works doing, a set up to get you into his room. Being a hunter, he knows exactly what's happening were and he keeps his diligent eyes on you. Rook returns to his room, where you sleep with an adoring look on his face. "Such a darling, Mon ange ♡" He's absolutely mesmerised by your beauty and peaceful, vulnerable state. He sees beauty in everything. To him, you're like a work of art in itself.

Rook watches over your sleeping face and body. The way your body rises with each breath to the small movement of your face. He takes in every detail. At some point, he takes out his phone to snap a few photos of you. He's so stealthy you'll never know he did. Just be warned you'll end up on his secret wall behind the wallpaper in his room. He's a questionable one.

Vil Schoenheit

The last thing Vil expects is to find someone in his room when he returns. Let alone finding someone in his bed, that's just unacceptable. He lets out a small cough before he speaks, "Wake up this instant." Vil makes his way across the room. "You mustn't sleep in such attire, and sevens forbid in my bed. One must always wear clean pyjamas and do a proper skin and hair routine prior. Which you clearly have not done."

Vil would scold you and point out your eyebags or tired look, warning about the consequences of overworking yourself. You have no choice but to follow through with his routine as he applies beauty products on your face and hair. If you complied well, he might just let you stay and rest up. "Very well...I'll permit you to stay. But don't make a habit out of this. " His voice is authorative, but without a bite to it. Vil actually secretly enjoys pampering you with some self-care and sharing his knowledge.

Idia Shroud

What was he doing out of his room in the first place? Who knows. When Idia comes back, it's an instant panic and internal turmoil. He nearly yelled but slapped his hands over his mouth. "What are they doing here! This can't be happening IRL! What do I do? They'll be mad if I wake them up!" He is slouched over, fiddling with his hoodie string, trying to decide what to do. His heart is pounding in his chest, the phrase "why me? Why my room?" Running through his head at a hundred miles per hour.

He can't help but stare at you, a small smile tugging at his blue lips. "No, stop! That's creepy. Cringe behaviour. They'll think you are a creep!" Idia snaps himself out of the trance but can't bring himself to wake you up. He huddles over near his desk, distracting himself with a game occasionally glancing at you sleeping with the ends of his hair pink.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is surprised to find anyone in his room. He appears looming over the sleeping form eyes slightly widened as he observes your state. Malleus is rather glad that you're here, making his room seem less lonely. He is pleased that you are not afraid of him and comfortable enough to sleep not only in his room but remain asleep in his presence.

Malleus ensures the room suits your comfort, moving the blankets over you. "You're an interesting cause, child of man. A truly endearing sight." Malleus watches over you, ensuring you only have pleasing dreams and a deserved rest. After a short passing of time, He starts humming a melody. A lullaby.

"My eyes are watching over you still, let’s be together. With no fear, even if we wake from this dream"

His low voice echoes through the room, sensing you into a deeper sleep. That guaranteed would be the best sleep of your life.

Lilia Vanrouge

His room is a mess stuffed with artefacts and the most random things. Lilia finds you tired and fast asleep in his room. He sees this as a perfect opportunity to give you a little scare. Hanging off the ceiling, he yells out a "boo!" Causing you to wake up. "Khee hee," he plays it off by acting cute. "Fu-fu~ look at you all worn out, little one." Lilia doesn't miss a chance to tease you.

His red eyes sparkle with mischief. "Oh, I'm just messing around. Go back to sleep, I'll watch over you~" Says the man who just woke you up for giggles. Once you're off to sleep again, Lilias caring side steps in. He ensures you are safe and well rested, letting you sleep in his room, even on him, as he pats your head affectionately. Lilia is very parental and will guard your sleep from any nightmares.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

“Show, Don’t Tell”…But This Time Someone Explains It

If you’ve ever been on the hunt for writing advice, you've definitely seen the phrase “Show, Don’t Tell.”

Writeblr coughs up these three words on the daily; it’s often considered the “Golden Rule” of writing. However, many posts don't provide an in-depth explanation about what this "Golden Rule" means (This is most likely to save time, and under the assumption that viewers are already informed).

More dangerously, some posts fail to explain that “Show, Don’t Tell” occasionally doesn’t apply in certain contexts, toeing a dangerous line by issuing a blanket statement to every writing situation. 

The thing to take away from this is: “Show, Don’t Tell” is an essential tool for more immersive writing, but don't feel like a bad writer if you can’t make it work in every scenario (or if you can’t get the hang of it!)

1. What Does "Show, Don't Tell" Even Mean?

“Show, Don’t Tell” is a writing technique in which the narrative or a character’s feelings are related through sensory details rather than exposition. Instead of telling the reader what is happening, the reader infers what is happening due to the clues they’ve been shown.

EXAMPLE 1:

Telling: The room was very cold. Showing: She shivered as she stepped into the room, her breath steaming in the air.

EXAMPLE 2:

Telling: He was furious. Showing: He grabbed the nearest book and hurled it against the wall, his teeth bared and his eyes blazing.

EXAMPLE 3 ("SHOW, DON'T TELL" DOESN'T HAVE TO MEAN "WRITE A LOT MORE")

Telling: The room hadn't been lived in for a very long time. Showing: She shoved the door open with a spray of dust.

Although the “showing” sentences don’t explicitly state how the characters felt, you as the reader use context clues to form an interpretation; it provides information in an indirect way, rather than a direct one.

Because of this, “Show, Don’t Tell” is an incredibly immersive way to write; readers formulate conclusions alongside the characters, as if they were experiencing the story for themselves instead of spectating. 

As you have probably guessed, “showing” can require a lot more words (as well as patience and effort). It’s a skill that has to be practiced and improved, so don’t feel discouraged if you have trouble getting it on the first try!

2. How Do I Use “Show, Don’t Tell” ?

There are no foolproof parameters about where you “show” and not “tell" or vice versa; it’s more of a writing habit that you develop rather than something that you selectively decide to employ.

In actuality, most stories are a blend of both showing and telling, and more experienced writers instinctively switch between one and another to cater to their narrative needs. You need to find a good balance of both in order to create a narrative that is both immersive and engaging.

i. Help When Your Writing Feels Bare-Bones/Soulless/Boring

Your writing is just not what you’ve pictured in your head, no matter how much you do it over. Conversations are stilted. The characters are flat. The sentences don’t flow as well as they do in the books you've read. What’s missing?

It’s possibly because you’ve been “telling” your audience everything and not “showing”! If a reader's mind is not exercised (i.e. they're being "spoon-fed" all of the details), your writing may feel boring or uninspired!

Instead of saying that a room was old and dingy, maybe describe the peeling wallpaper. The cobwebs in the corners. The smell of dust and old mothballs. Write down what you see in your mind's eye, and allow your audience to formulate their own interpretations from that. (Scroll for a more in-depth explanation on HOW to develop this skill!)

ii. Add More Depth and Emotion to Your Scenes

Because "Show, Don't Tell" is a more immersive way of writing, a reader is going to feel the narrative beats of your story a lot more deeply when this rule is utilized.

Describing how a character has fallen to their knees sobbing and tearing our their hair is going to strike a reader's heart more than saying: "They were devastated."

Describing blood trickling through a character's fingers and staining their clothes will seem more dire than saying: "They were gravely wounded."

iii. Understand that Sometimes Telling Can Fit Your Story Better

Telling can be a great way to show your characters' personalities, especially when it comes to first-person or narrator-driven stories. Below, I've listed a few examples; however, this list isn't exclusive or comprehensive!

Initial Impressions and Character Opinions

If a character describes someone's outfit as "gaudy" or a room as "absolutely disgusting," it can pack more of a punch about their initial impression, rather than describing the way that they react (and can save you some words!). In addition, it can provide some interesting juxtaposition (i.e. when a character describes a dog as "hideous" despite telling their friend it looks cute).

2. Tone and Reader Opinions

Piggybacking off of the first point, you can "tell, not show" when you want to be certain about how a reader is supposed to feel about something. "Showing" revolves around readers drawing their own conclusions, so if you want to make sure that every reader draws the same conclusion, "telling" can be more useful! For example, if you describe a character's outfit as being a turquoise jacket with zebra-patterned pants, some readers may be like "Ok yeah a 2010 Justice-core girlie is slaying!" But if you want the outfit to come across as badly arranged, using a "telling" word like "ridiculous" or "gaudy" can help set the stage.

3. Pacing

"Show, don't tell" can often take more words; after all, describing a character's reaction is more complicated than stating how they're feeling. If your story calls for readers to be focused more on the action than the details, such as a fight or chase scene, sometimes "telling" can serve you better than "showing." A lot of writers have dedicated themselves to the rule "tell action, show emotion," but don't feel like you have to restrict yourself to one or the other.

iv. ABOVE ALL ELSE: Getting Words on the Page is More Important!

If you’re stuck on a section of your story and just can’t find it in yourself to write poetic, flowing prose, getting words on the paper is more important than writing something that’s “good.” If you want to be able to come back and fix it later, put your writing in brackets that you can Ctrl + F later.

Keeping your momentum is the hardest part of writing. Don't sacrifice your inspiration in favor of following rules!

3. How Can I Get Better at “Show, Don’t Tell”?

i. Use the Five Senses, and Immerse Yourself!

Imagine you’re the protagonist, standing in the scene that you have just created. Think of the setting. What are things about the space that you’d notice, if you were the one in your character’s shoes?

Smell? Hear? See? Touch? Taste?

Sight and sound are the senses that writers most often use, but don’t discount the importance of smell and taste! Smell is the most evocative sense, triggering memories and emotions the moment someone walks into the room and has registered what is going on inside—don’t take it for granted. And even if your character isn’t eating, there are some things that can be “tasted” in the air.

EXAMPLE:

TELLING: She walked into the room and felt disgusted. It smelled, and it was dirty and slightly creepy. She wished she could leave. SHOWING: She shuffled into the room, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a suspicious stain on the carpet. The blankets on the bed were moth-bitten and yellowed, and the flowery wallpaper had peeled in places to reveal a layer of blood-red paint beneath…like torn cuticles. The stench of cigarettes and mildew permeated the air. “How long are we staying here again?” she asked, flinching as the door squealed shut. 

The “showing” excerpt gives more of an idea about how the room looks, and how the protagonist perceives it. However, something briefer may be more suited for writers who are not looking to break the momentum in their story. (I.e. if the character was CHASED into this room and doesn’t have time to take in the details.)

ii. Study Movies and TV Shows: Think like a Storyteller, Not Just a Writer

Movies and TV shows quite literally HAVE TO "show, and not tell." This is because there is often no inner monologue or narrator telling the viewers what's happening. As a filmmaker, you need to use your limited time wisely, and make sure that the audience is engaged.

Think about how boring it would be if a movie consisted solely of a character monologuing about what they think and feel, rather than having the actor ACT what they feel.

(Tangent, but there’s also been controversy that this exposition/“telling” mindset in current screenwriting marks a downfall of media literacy. Examples include the new Percy Jackson and Avatar: The Last Airbender remakes that have been criticized for info-dumping dialogue instead of “showing.”)

If you find it easy to envision things in your head, imagine how your scene would look in a movie. What is the lighting like? What are the subtle expressions flitting across the actors' faces, letting you know just how they're feeling? Is there any droning background noise that sets the tone-- like traffic outside, rain, or an air conditioner?

How do the actors convey things that can't be experienced through a screen, like smell and taste?

Write exactly what you see in your mind's eye, instead of explaining it with a degree of separation to your readers.

iii. Listen to Music

I find that because music evokes emotion, it helps you write with more passion—feelings instead of facts! It’s also slightly distracting, so if you’re writing while caught up in the music, it might free you from the rigid boundaries you’ve put in place for yourself.

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental writing playlists!

iv. Practice, Practice, Practice! And Take Inspiration from Others!

“Show Don’t Tell” is the core of an immersive scene, and requires tons of writing skills cultivated through repeated exposure. Like I said before, more experienced writers instinctively switch between showing and telling as they write— but it’s a muscle that needs to be constantly exercised!

If I haven’t written in a while and need to get back into the flow of things, I take a look at a writing prompt, and try cultivating a scene that is as immersive as possible! Working on your “Show, Don’t Tell” skills by practicing writing short, fun one-shots can be much less restrictive than a lengthier work.

In addition, get some inspiration and study from reading the works of others, whether it be a fanfiction or published novel!

If you need some extra help, feel free to check out my Master List of Writing Tips and Advice, which features links to all of my best posts, each of them categorized !

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Eyes on you. (18+)

Pairings: Soulless!SamWinchester X Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: Sam has been… off lately. But that’s to be expected from a man who just came back from hell, right?

Word count: 5.9k

Tags: Soulless Sam Winchester x reader, hunting with Sam and Dean, Soulless Sam, Sam Winchester smut, dubcon(?) , PiV, no protection (wrap it up kids), creampie, breath play, choking, pinning, fingering, degradation, rough, dom sam, Dean mentioned but not involved, dacryphilia, reader has female anatomy, no use of y/n

Notes: wooo! sorry for the long hiatus, school has been fucking me missionary. anyway, starting off Kinktober strong with dubcon

Requests are open.

There was something terribly wrong with Sam.

You knew it from the moment he got back. Hell, everyone knew it.

Though of course when these concerns were raised to Dean, he, in his self-imposed naïveté, ignored it.

But you knew he felt it too.

During the few times you’ve tagged along on the brothers hunts these last few months, you’ve picked up on a few things. The way Dean would hold eye contact with Sam for only thirty seconds at a time, never a moment longer. Or how he would shift away from his own brother if he got too close. It was subtle. But you knew.

You couldn’t blame Dean for wanting to pretend everything was all right. Sam was his brother after all. And after everything they'd been through, if you were in his position, you'd do the same. You've only known the boys for some odd years now, and still you find yourself from time to time, pretending that the sweet, bookish, too-tall-for-his-own-good Sam you met is the same thing that came out of hell.

That is how you would survive this hunt.

You’ve always wondered how humans could feel someone's eyes on them. Since becoming a hunter that sense has sharpened.

You tear your gaze away from the view out of the backseat of the Impala and lock eyes with Sam in the rearview mirror. His once soft gaze was now stoic and calculating.

He looks away.

You linger.

You couldn't help but have the feeling that, in fact, there was nothing wrong with Sam at all.

This simply wasn't Sam. This was just some creature doing a poor emulation of him.

Without realizing, your hand had slid down your leg to the lifted fabric in the side of your boot. Your fingertips grazed the hilt of your dagger.

Correction, this is how you’d survive this hunt.

—-

When you finally arrived at the dilapidated manor, Dean was first to survey the scene.

“Alright.” He said in his usual gruff voice, clasping his hands together. “We got alotta ground to cover so, ladies first, take your pick.” Dean said, gesturing to you.

You were hoping Sam would pick first so that at the very least, you could choose the place furthest from the shiver down your spine.

“I’ll take upstairs,” you said. That feeling again, eyes on you.

Dean nods. You spin on your heels and race up the winding staircase without waiting to hear what each chose.

—-

Mildew and rotting wood lace the air. It’s a shame really, you thought. You face the expansive landing before you, pausing as your calf muscles burn from climbing the stairs two at a time.

High ceilings, eleven feet at least. Tall windows with dusty wine curtains spilling onto the floor shielding the amber of the setting sun. Most of the furniture was missing –evidence of squatters and raids– what remained was broken and covered in suspicious stains, much like what was left of the deep brown hardwood flooring. The most noticeable part of the room was the wallpaper, a rich red with delicate Chrysanthemums scattered across it, almost looking hand-painted on.

The wooden boards groan beneath your feet, causing you to question if they threatened to give out. You had a job to do, so you trudge down the dark hall.

Around 10 minutes pass and you knew no more information than when you first walked in. Not too long after you first got upstairs, you heard the ghostly moan of the front door shutting – one of the boys had opted to search the grounds. Meanwhile you tore through almost a dozen rooms only to find phallic graffiti and more rotting wood.

It was dark through the house now, the setting sun long gone, leaving you in the cold, dim space. The only light provided was the one functional bulb of the broken chandelier above- set to perpetually swing until its last chain broke.

The actual goal of this job was rather vague. All you knew was a bunch of kids had narrowly escaped death after a night of pure dumbassery in this house. So now here you were, swiping your EMF reader abstractly through the air and as Dean so eloquently put it, “keepin’ your eyes peeled for anything ghost-y or weird.”

Yeah, real helpful.

So you continue on down the hall with only a few rooms left to search. Then, something sounds from ahead.

Creeeeeak

You stalk toward the sound.

Nothing.

Creeeeeak.

The sound seems to come from behind this time. That feeling again, eyes on you.

You whip your head around. “Who's there!” You shout, your confident voice a stark contrast to the pit hanging in your stomach.

This time you manage to catch a glimpse of something slipping around the corner. You steel yourself, pocket the EMF reader, pull your dagger from your boot and start toward the creature.

You walk out into the landing, your steps cautious and dagger ready. Your eyes roll through the room. It was as if the creature had disappeared.

Creeeeak.

Or maybe not.

“That's cute.” It chuckles.

The voice was low and terrible, sending shivers down your spine

Yet still, it was almost familiar.

It elicited this hair raising feeling you can only imagine is similar to what homosapien felt looking at neanderthal.

“Come on out!” you shout, voice beginning to waver.

“That little kitchen knife you have, it's cute.”

Your stomach drops. Gears begin to turn in your head.

“But y’know, It doesn't matter how good you are with it.”

Sam, the real Sam, had been trying for years to get you to use a gun. But you had your knives and were good with them no doubt, so what was the point? He would always return your refusals with that crooked smile and pleas of how it “would make him feel so much better.”

Creeeeak.

The hall, it had to be coming from there. You force yourself to move.

“If your opponent is faster.”

Creeeeak.

No it was from behind, you were sure of it.

You spin on your heels and race toward the landing once more.

“Sam, come out. This isn't fucking funny!”

Just as you turn the corner, one strong hand seizes both of your wrists in a single swift motion. In an instant you're slammed up against something hard. The knife drops from your hands. Sam kicks it away. You open your eyes.

Chrysanthemums.

Fuck.

Sam leans down, his hot breath brushing against your neck. “Should’ve let me teach you how to shoot.”

There's a pause, the moment breathing and the air pulsing.

“Sam...” You exhale finally. Your voice comes out smaller than you would’ve liked.

“You’re too easily overpowered.” he raises his head for his lips to meet your ear. “Didn’t take much for me to get you like this; to hunt you down.” Sam’s grip tightens on your wrists.

His voice was low and gravely. You fought back against your aching lungs' desire to quicken their pace.

“That's what you’re calling this?” You remark. “Hunting me down?”

You had to play this smart.

There was a small knife, pocket sized, really, concealed just past the waistband of your jeans. With your hands to your back, if you could maneuver your fingers just right-

“Well I did, didn't I?” He squeezes your wrists once more, sending pain shooting down your arm and causing your fingers to splay out.

“Okay!” You gasp. “You've proved your point!” You say through gritted teeth.

Your index and middle finger slip past the waistband.

His grip loosens and he pulls away. You exhale. The tip of the handle brushes against your fingertip. So close.

Then, Sam jerks your wrists downward, your chance of escape literally slips between your fingers.

“I don't think I have.”

He looks down on you, this you can see from the corner of your eye. The rest, you feel.

His gaze is mechanical, inspecting, taking in and processing data. Some synapse fire causes his lips to tug upward in a smirk.

“Fuck.”

His long fingers tuck into the waist of your jeans.

“What are you-” You jut your hips in a desperate attempt to move free. Sam silently presses his knee against the back of your own, stopping all movement. There was no anger in his motions, annoyance at best. You let out a ragged breath.

He pulls the blade out, slowly and deliberately.

“Sam.”

He ignores your plea. Sam drags the knife from you, taking great care to ensure that the blade runs along your spine and that the tip drags up the hem of your shirt.

A shiver of a different kind rolls through your every vertebrae.

He brings the dagger to your chin, forcing you to look up. Sam all but closes the gap between the two of you, the point of his nose ghosting against your cheek. The warmth of his body swarms around you; the rotting wood smell drowned out by his deep woodsy scent. For a small singular blip of a moment you allow yourself to believe that this thing that looked and smelled like Sam, was truly Sam.

“Scream.”

But this isn't Sam, you knew that.

His voice quickly serves to pull you from your sanctity.

“What?” You breathe, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“You could’ve, by now. Dean would hear too, and you know that- you’re not stupid.”

“I-” You stammer. He was right. The thought had played in the back of your mind but some louder part of you, the part that hadn't been next to a warm body in months objected.

“So why don’t you?” Sam continues, his voice like velvet sending vibrations rippling across your skin.

“Go on, scream.”

Nothing.

He smirks.

Sam drops the knife. There goes your lifeline.

His lips meet your jaw in a hungry kiss. You let out an involuntary groan. His teeth clash against the bone, threatening to leave a mark.

Maybe this wasn't Sam, but it still looked like him, still felt like him, and still touched like him. Maybe pretending couldn't hurt.

He continues down your neck, every hot, open-mouthed kiss causing another groan to escape you. Deep down you felt some gross shame; the fraction of yourself that hasn't succumbed to the wants of your flesh racking against your ribcage. All at once his teeth clamp down on your shoulder. “Agh.”

Yeah pretending couldn’t hurt. But good god did you hope it would.

You hiss, sucking in a breath and trying to pull away.

“Tell me to stop.” Sam breaths in between rough kisses.

He flattens himself against you, the strain in his jeans pressing into your ass. Against better judgment, you let out a sweet moan and you feel the bulge in his pants grow. This was wrong, so so wrong. There was something off about Sam, you shouldn’t be sleeping with him.

“Sto-hmfg” You’re cut off by the sounds of your own pleasure as Sam sucks on the part of your neck he had just bit. The juxtaposition of pleasure and pain confuses your mind and body. Heat spreads between your thighs and your mind swirls.

Knowing and feeling something are two entirely different things. Sure, in your head you could protest the current situation. You could attempt to be as logical as you wanted, but that didn’t change the aching desire within you. 

“One word and I will.” Sam groans as he presses his hips into you. 

The feeling of his hardness so close to your needy core ceases any rational thought you could’ve given.

He releases your bruised wrists. Finally, a moment to think properly. Without warning, his arm wraps around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides and pulling you away from the wall and into him. You were sure at this point that your cheek had a chrysanthemum imprint on it. 

Sam looks down at you before him. So helpless and ready to be fucked dumb. He watches as you wince, your body in pain from the new position. His cock twitches. 

You feel his muscles, strong and heaving against your back, his arm flexing as he holds you close. His free hand slides over to the collar of your shirt. His long fingers delicately trace your collar bones, staring down at them as if he wants to sink his teeth in. The air leaves your lungs. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands sliding down your torso, then sliding up your shirt. Oh how badly you wanted to cry out. To beg him to touch your needy pussy. But something told you he wouldn't oblige. 

Sam watches your face intently. As hard as you tried not to give anything away, he could tell every single thing you were feeling. The light twitch of your eyebrow as he slid his hands up your shirt instead of down your pants sent satisfaction surging through him. He didn't have to feel you to know you were soaking wet. He slides his index and middle fingers under your bra and begins to massage the soft skin of your breasts. His thumbs hold your sides and his ring and pinky fingers dig into the gaps between your ribs. You were so much more fragile than he ever imagined. God, he can't wait to break you. 

Small, soft moans pour out of you like music to his ears. His fingers pinch your nipples harshly, causing you to make a squeak-like whimper. You try to pull away from him in sudden shock at the pain but there was nowhere to run. 

“Sam, please.” You whine.

“Please what?” He replies while rolling your now firm nipples between his fingers.

Your voice comes out small, pathetic, he thought. “Agh- it hurts.”

He pinches harder. “You can take it.”

Before you can protest, he returns to that sweet spot on your neck that he had bit earlier. He flicks his tongue across the bruise before kissing it again and again. Your head lolls and your mind goes blank. 

Sam continues to pinch and twist your nipples, watching your face and relishing in the effect he has on you. Almost makes him wonder if you’ve ever been fucked right in your life. 

All those nights he knew you were in the next motel room getting fucked by some idiot you met at a bar. Every morning he had to see you with your hair messy and makeup smudged. All those times he wished it was him who was making you moan, just for you to be squirming like a virgin right now? 

Sam angles himself so that his bulge is pressed directly against your cunt. The friction makes you moan and he can't stop the spread of a smirk across his lips. 

“Look what you did to me.” He breathes against your ear. “You’re such a slut.” 

“N-no I'm not.” You gasp between moans. That wasn’t true. Sure you had a few one night stands but no more than either of the boys.

“Really?” Sam grins and for some reason that was so much worse than if he had outright called you a whore. 

Shame overwhelms you.

He suddenly rips his hands from your tits. The sudden motion and lack of warmth makes you gasp.

Exactly what he wanted. Sam finds the button on your jeans and pops it free in an instant. 

The room felt like a maelstrom of hot desire. You never imagined that you’d tolerate being called a slut, let alone dignify the accusation by trying to defend yourself against it, and you certainly, most definitely, never thought it'd be Sam making the accusation.

Sam roughly shoves his hand into your jeans and you feel your heart speed up, partiality in fear, partially in excitement. Sadly, he doesn't go another layer further. His fingers dance across the cotton of your panties, teasing. 

“Not a slut?” He whispers in your ear. His fingers find your entrance and press against it. The soft fabric was warm and sticky, practically soaked with your arousal. You whine as his fingers threaten to enter, you were so embarrassed yet your body begged for more.

“Then why are you so wet, hm?” Sam didn’t have to say it, you both knew it as his fingers sent the message before his mouth did but still, but he received such a deep satisfaction seeing your cheeks flush at his words. 

 You weren't going to dignify him with a response. 

Sam’s middle and ring finger press against your entrance once more. You attempt to keep your face straight as you internally curse the fabric separating him and your pleasure.

“Such a fucking slut.”

At this, Your pussy clenches around the tips of his fingers.

You feel Sam's chest vibrate against your back as a wry laugh echoes through him.   “You like that?” 

You set your gaze on your shoes, biting back words. 

 He grabs your jaw and forces you to look up at him. “Answer me, slut.” 

Your pussy pathetically clenches around him again. You release your bottom lip, red with blood circulation. “Y–Yes.” You didn’t have to respond, but for some reason you wanted to see his face as you said it. To know if he was as turned on as you were. 

Sam rewards you with a mocking smile. “Wow… who knew you were such a dirty whore.”

Before you could even think of a response, Sam finds your clit. The second he touches you, you feel your mind begin to go blank, your mouth falls open with only a whimper to show for the last of your coherent thoughts. Even through your panties, his touch was electric

His lips find that beautifully bruised sweet spot on your shoulder and pepper it with kisses. His hand drops from your neck, leaving your head to loll as you shudder with breathy moans. 

The fabric of your panties was now throughly saturated as it slid across your folds. You grind against Sam’s hand, desperate for more friction. You tried so hard not to give in but it was clear at this point you had lost. Sam takes in the sight: your lips fallen apart in gasping moans, your eyes fluttering shut and brows knitted. The curvature of your neck, your head thrown back like a dead girl and your hips pathetically rocking back and forth, too proud to beg.

“You want more, baby?” Sam asks, amusement evident in his tone.

You bite down on your bottom lip, clinging to the last bits of your dignity.

All those nights he had to hear your headboard banging against the wall you weren't so reserved. 

“Fine then.” Stoically, Sam simply begins to pull away. 

Without thinking, your hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. You look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and boring into his skull. “Please.” 

Now that is what he liked to see. He wets his lips as he looks over your face. 

“Good girl.” 

You weren't quite sure what took over you and you don't know if you hated yourself for it or were thankful. Regardless, you begin to lead his hand back toward your jeans. Suddenly, he stops.

Celertitly, Sam turns you around and pins you back to the wall. If he was going to have you, it would be wholly and completely. He was going to ravage you and tear you apart at the seams.

He undresses you like an autopsy, delicately peeling away layer after layer. His thumbs hook into your pants and he squats as he slides them down. His fingers trace the rim of your panties before he slowly pulls them down your legs. Sam looks up at you: thighs pressed together and hands balled at your sides. While your body language conveyed a certain conservative nature, your teeth sunken into your red bottom lip and eyes staring straight down at him anticipating his next move told a different story. It was almost funny the way you tried to remain taciturn, as if you hadn’t just proved a thousand times over what a slut you are. 

Sam’s large hands practically engulf your hips as he takes hold. For a moment he considers licking your cunt, but then again, it would be so much more fun to see you squirm beneath him. He rises to his feet, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses you as leverage, lips ghosting against your torso. His narrowed eyes never leave you for a moment. 

You search Sam’s eyes for anything familiar, anything that would make you feel less awful about this. While his eyes still contained that stunning hazel hue, there was no emotion behind them. Lust, sure. Before you could thoroughly discern your emotions, you feel Sam pulling up your shirt. 

“Wait.” You say, pushing the fabric down. “Dean… He’s just outside. What if he comes up?” 

“So?” Sam asks flatly. He tries to pull off your shirt again, but you stop him.

“So? I won’t have time to get dressed. I’d rather your brother not se-“ 

His lips press against yours as though he were starved. Fastest way to get you to shut the fuck up. 

Your mind and every thought in it slips out like a gust of wind. He pulls away only for a quick moment.  “Guess we’ll have to be quick then, hm?” He breathes. You nod dumbly, lips puffy and saliva coating them.  With that he forcibly rips off your top and tosses it to the ground. Finally, he thought. 

Your bra ends up on the ground as well. 

Sam roughly grabs you by the hair and pulls you back into the kiss. Of all the times you’ve imagined being with Sam, not once did you think it would be like this, unfeeling, and rough. But if you could pretend, that would make it all okay. 

And so you did. You let your mind go blank and only focus on the pleasure ‘real’ Sam was giving you. 

 Your hands slide up his shoulders and rest on the nape of his neck. You moan as you sink into the kiss and as Sam's long fingers come to circle your clit and you don’t bother to maintain a shred of composure.

He breaks the kiss, panting, forehead pressed against yours and looks down at your body, and all the bruises on you. All of the ways he’s marked and claimed you caused a low growl to ripple through his chest. Sam pulls his fingers from your pussy and you have half a mind to grab his wrist again. He watches as your slick stretches and runs down his fingers. You pretend that his thoughts and words were something more of love than lust. 

“Fuck.” “Beautiful.” He says in a breathy murmur. 

As Sam's fingers prod at the entrance of your puffy cunt, you cringe at the lewd squelching noise that ensues. He looks up from his work to watch your face. It was so satisfying to see you like this, so needy and pathetic. At once, his fingers sink deep inside you. You moan, his fingers leaving you so full. You hardly have a moment to gather your thoughts before he's thrusting in and out of you, a satisfied look on his face at watching you unravel.  

Every single moan you make is loud, drawn, out and practically pornographic and in all honesty, you couldn't care less. He pulls you in via a rough grip on your hair and smashes his lips against yours. You let yourself believe the kiss was more fervent than greedy. His tongue, much like his fingers, treats the inside of your body more like an exploration or experiment — trying to figure out what makes you tick. Sam runs his tongue along the inside of your teeth and at the same time you feel him grinning against your lips. Suddenly you can’t get enough air in your lungs, his fingers curl and press right against your g-spot. You tear yourself away from him in a gasping moan, your palms flat against his muscular chest as your world spins. 

“mfgh- fuck, S-Sammy,” You cry.  

And just as soon as he started, he stopped. 

“What did you call me?” Sam pulls away, his eyes narrowed and dark. It doesn’t matter if his touch was ever loving, the lack of it now leaves you feeling cold and embarrassed.

“Samm-“

Sam’s lips curl into a frown. You stop speaking. 

 It seems everyone— including you, wanted little ‘Sammy’ back. It didn’t matter that he was right there, they missed that weak part of him still burning in hell. 

Slowly but promptly, his hand creeps up your collarbone and wraps around your throat. He sets his jaw and it hits you— what you felt around Sam before this, it wasn’t fear, something more than discomfort but far less than being afraid; this however, this was fear. 

As it seems, you’ve gotten yourself too lost in pretending. 

“Sammy,” he says sharply in a voice you were unaware Sam was even capable of producing. “Is Dean’s dumbass little brother…  Sammy jerked off to you every night but never had the balls to ask you out. Sammy is a little bitch. So, if you want me to fuck you dumb, it’s Sam.”

Speechless, you breathe a reply before your brain has a chance to catch up. “I- yes sir.” 

“Yeah, that too.” Sam replies in a dark voice. 

He squeezes your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that he could if he wanted to. 

And for some goddamned reason, it turns you on. 

Pretending never does quite work, does it?

It was wrong, you thought as Sam’s hand dropped from your throat. Even after what just happened, you felt yourself growing hotter at the image that wormed its way into your head. Sam’s nimble fingers wrapped around his cock, chest heaving as he stoked himself. Instead of returning to you, he began to undo his belt. Sam’s pumps growing jagged and needy as he brought himself closer. He starts to pull down his pants and boxers, a bit of hasty anger in his movements. Sam’s eyes wrenching shut, or perhaps rolling back. Breathless repetitions of your name floating in the air. Thick globs of revering white emulsion spilling over his fist out of the very same cock before you. You gasp as he enters.

Sam’s cock feels as though it’s ripping you apart. His length and girth are far more than you’ve ever taken and by the looks of it, he's never had something quite like you either. 

“Fffuck you’re tight.” He groans, fingers digging into your ass as he thrusts in and out. He wishes he didn’t have to worry about these damn clothes, he could've made you cum on his tongue by now if it weren't for the damn pants around your ankles. He also wishes he didn't have to worry about time constraints, he could've given you several short orgasms by now instead of aiming for a single earth-shattering one.. Honestly, he couldn’t give less of a shit if Dean saw the two of you, but you probably wouldn't sleep with him again if that happened and  he was planning to use your tight little pussy this entire weekend. Hell, he might ‘accidentaly’ fuck up the hunt so you would have to stay in town longer.

“So good for me baby.” Sam says in a groan. His eyes remain locked on your expression and your tits bouncing with every thrust. Your warm cunt fits around him so nicely. He didn't have to, and he knew you surely couldn't take it but he loved to see you gasp and squirm– so pretty beneath him, every time he bottomed out.

���Mnghh, wa-agh!” You whine, high pitched and pleading. You press your palms against his chest, hoping to send the message of telling him to slow down as your mouth has been rendered absolutely useless save for whimpers and moans. Maybe he didn’t understand, or maybe it was that he didn’t want to, in the end, Sam continued fucking you with reckless abandon.

Tears began to prickle in the corners of your eyes. “Sam- agh s’too.. mmuch.” You sobbed. 

“Shh, you’re taking me so well,” Sam coos. He cups your jaw in a surprisingly tenderder fashion and wipes your streaming tears with his thumb. You wince.

He has always wondered how you liked it. How you really liked it, every dirty fantasy you had in the dead of night and every deleted search.

“H-mgh, h-hurts.” You  squeak out as he rams into you once more.

 Now, it was glaringly obvious. With a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes, he wraps a hand around your throat once more and then, he squeezes. 

Of course Sam has choked a girl in bed before, but choking you was especially euphoric. The slight hint of fear in your eyes was enough to make him cum right now. 

You felt suddenly very aware of your body. The pain on your shoulder and down your finger-dug in arms and hips. Your drooping eyelids, tears down your chin, the thoughtless moans spilling out of you as you unthinkingly tipped your head back, exposing your throat to give Sam a better grip. 

Every breath gave a slight resistance you couldn’t help but want. Fog filled your head until you were left with a one point perspective of Sam. It hurt so good. Your arms lazily drape over his shoulders and you find yourself begging for more of him; your hips rock in tandem with this thrusts and through moans, a single word falls from your lips. 

“Harder.” 

Sam quickly obliges, his pelvis meets yours with every thrust and his tip touches your cervix. You throw your head back in a shuddering moan and feel yourself losing oxygen. 

He couldn’t believe he didn’t realize sooner what a pain slut you were. Your pussy begins to tighten around his cock in uneven flutters. First your fingers, curling into Sam’s hair. Then your chest, shallow breaths growing shallower. Your legs follow soon after, the muscles tensing and feeling as though they could give away at any moment. Finally your abdomen, growing taut by the second. Your brows press together as your mouth falls open. 

“S-ssoo close.” You slur. 

“Hold it baby, just a little more.” Sam groans. His breath filled in the hot inch of space between your bodies. His thrusts became shorter but more rapid, his heart following suit. He clenches his teeth. Fuck, you looked pretty with his hand around your throat but damn if he didn’t need to cum inside your cunt. 

Tears begin streaming down your cheeks as you try to hold back the waves of pleasure ripping through you. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam stops choking you and turns all his attention on your pussy. Your moans come out in pathetic cries, your body feeling wet and mushy but tense and begging for release all at the same time. Your head was a mess too jumbled to decipher and all you wanted was to cum. 

“Ssam.. please.” You cry as he pounds into you like a rag doll.

“So needy.” He teases back in a ragged breath. “You can do it. Be a good slut and hold it.”

 Just as you go to beg he meets your yes in a stern glare. “Do not fucking cum until I say so.” 

You give a reluctant nod. 

And just then, you hear a door shut. 

Shit. 

With wide eyes, you snap out of your trance. 

Sam on the other hand, didn’t plan on stopping. 

His hand quickly flies up to your mouth and his body completely presses yours to the wall. 

“Not a sound.” He whispers against your ear.  

As hard as you try to fight it, you find yourself slipping back. This time, with each thrust you slide up the chrysanthemum wall and he could feel your heart beating against his chest 

Sam’s cock twitches inside of you. He moves his hand and replaces it with his lips, trapping you in a sloppy kiss while he lifts your legs, bringing your knees to almost wrap around his hips. He palms your ass while his forearms support your thighs and his elbows your knees. Damn these clothes. Though still, at this angle he could get so much deeper and bring himself so much closer. 

White hot pleasure surges through his every synapse. 

“Guys! Where are you?” Dean calls from downstairs and damn if the adrenaline rush from that didn’t turn you on. 

Sam feels you clench around his cock and he groans into your mouth. 

“Almost there.” Sam whispers. You were too out of it to reply. 

“Need- mgh.. to.” You whisper. A tingling sensation has taken over your whole body, starting at your core and spreading outward. You felt like a ticking time bomb and just when you felt you were about to explode.

“Cum.”

With that you let go. You feel Sam’s hand slide between your and his lips as your orgasm rolls through you. His head falls forward and rests against the wall as he shudders through an orgasm of his own. The tingling feeling turns your muscles to jello but Sam does his best to keep you in his grasp. 

“No hits outside.” Dean calls. 

The only sound that mattered to either of you though were each other's dark trembling exhales, yours leaving through your nostrils and onto his knuckles and Sam’s through his parted lips and onto your bare shoulder. 

Small twitches and spurts from Sam’s length persist inside of you as he reaches the last of his orgasm. Meanwhile your entrance flutters as you recover from your ecstasy. Your heart pounded in your ears and you were left in a high. 

“…The hell? If you two got taken by a ghost or some shit I swear.” Dean grumbles. And then his footsteps start toward the stairs. Fuck.

Sam though, he takes his sweet time letting you down. 

Creeaak, Groans one step. 

Sam begins to pull out, forcing you to watch his cock glistens with your wetness and his cum seeps out of you. 

Creeeak. 

You were unsteady on your feet but managed to pull your pants and panties up.

Creeeak.

Shit, where’s your bra?

“Guys!” Dean yells, his voice closer than ever. His footsteps pick up the pace.

He reaches the top of the stairs to find Sam inspecting his EMF reader and you, placing a dagger back in your boot, fully dressed. 

“Oh hey, Dean.” Sam says with a casualness that left you feeling that if his cum were not leaking out of you right now, you would question if anything had actually happened. 

“What the hell? Damn near gave me a heart attack.” 

“Sorry,” Sam shrugs. “Thought we found something.” 

“Uh huh.” Dean replies, unconvinced. He glances at you, then back to Sam, and then to you again. “So, you find anything?”

“No.” You say without meeting his eyes. You frown and pretend to check out some of the grafiti. 

“Right.” Dean says.

You give him a small nod and quickly slip behind him and down the stairs. 

Once he hears the front door shut, Dean turns to Sam with a quirked brow. 

Sam looks up from the EMF reader and at Dean cooley. “Maybe there’s an attic or a back room we haven’t found?”

“Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a little messed up?”

“No, tons of old houses have cellars and hidden rooms.”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Sam.” Dean raises your pocket knife Sam hadn’t realized he picked up. He’s known you long enough to know where you stash your amo. “She doesn’t know, does she?” He frowns. 

His poker face falters and returns to a room-temperature smugness. “Is that what this is about? Me not having a soul?” Sam steps forward. “Or are you just mad that I fucked her first?” 

Tag list: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @n0va25 @figurantedefilme @wowzabowza69

Dm to be added/removed

[yorshie]

sees your requests open and slides in like a penguin on ice 🧊

possibly showing off a new swimsuit in front of the turtles in hopes it gets Raph's attention because every other hint you've dropped has gone wayyyy over his head (...or so you assume) 👀

showers you in love and sparkles!!! ✨️💕🫂

Kkkkkeeeeeiiiiisssshhhhhhaaaaaaa. *clings to you like a wet noodle*

I scrolled all the way down to the bottom of my requests and gasped when I saw your name. >:3. I gladly shower in the love and sparkles, and hope you forgive me for the amount of silent pining I’m about to shove down everyone’s throat. lol.

Bay Raph x fem reader (I think the only gendered terms are two pieces bathing suit but idk does that count in 2025? Question mark? Idk I’m tired)

SFW

Ok. Breathe. You can do this.

The mid-morning sun cut through the lacy curtains and across the tiny vanity surrounding the sink. The bathroom you were holed up in was better suited for the sixties, with the chair rail topped with faded, flowered wallpaper and the worn floor that couldn’t quite hide the handmade nails driven in to hold the boards in place. You knew plans had been made and then discarded over and over concerning updating it, but no one could quite agree on how to update it, and hardly anyone came up to use the little bathroom cooped up at the end of the hallway to be reminded about it.

Which was precisely why you were holed up in it now. Even though the door hadn’t locked for years, it was the safest place to hype yourself up.

You were failing miserably.

“You got this,” You told your reflection for what felt like the hundredth time, gaze flicking down below your chin before resolutely jerking back up to your face.

A second ruled by your thundering heartbeat, before you gave in. “Nope. I can’t do this.”

It’s just a bathing suit. You reasoned with yourself. Just a bathing suit, modest even for two piece standards if you were being honest but…

God, it….. it was so red.

The exact same shade of red as Raph’s bandana.

You’d hunted for that exact shade of color, of course. You practically had it tattooed to the back of your eyelids, had lost countless hours imagining what the feel of that bandana would be like under your fingers if you were only brave enough to reach out.

You’d contemplated it, once, when leaning against the back of the couch while bantering with Raphael. Had thought about just… reaching out, twirling the nearest loop of fabric about your fingers and wrist like it was something commonplace, something you were allowed to do-

But your bravery had deserted you the moment Raph had looked over his shoulder at you, eyes crinkled soft in silent laughter, relaxed and carefree in the conversation. Something you had thought impossible when you had first met him.

You couldn’t have handled it if that soft look had disappeared, if the armored walls he had slowly lowered during the time you’d known him snapped back into place.

You stared at the red bathing suit again, tugging on it gently in the hopes it might cover up more perceived flaws, like it might answer your unspoken questions, like it might give insight on whether or not this would work.

None of the other things you’d chanced to show Raph how you’d felt had worked, after all.

You wanted… You just wanted to show him…

You let out a pained, warbling curse, head dropping to rest in your hands as you contemplated sneaking back to the room you were sharing with April and pretending you were too sick to go downstairs.

A heavy knock sounded on the door, a muffled voice quickly to follow. “Hey, princess, ready to go?”

You startled, badly, tripping on the worn, warm rug laid out in front of the claw footed tub and having to catch yourself to keep from going completely ass over tea kettle into the cold porcelain.

It hurt, no matter what, slipping on the rim and sliding into the hollow, swim suit bottom riding up painfully on the descent.

Raph called your name out in question while you internally panicked, staring at the door while dread coiled oily and dark beneath your sternum.

”I’m- fine!” You called back, wincing internally when your voice cracked in a lie between the two words.

Evidently Raph heard the tell as well. “uh, huh. Yeah, sure. Try that again, peaches. You good?” There came a testing rattle of the doorknob, and your heart leapt. “You didn’t fall, right?”

“Don’t-“ you struggled to get back on your feet, hands and hip slipping on the tub with a loud squeak when your skin stuck to the cold surface. “Don’t open the door!”

The testing jiggle of the doorknob stopped, and you could feel the stare Raph was leveling at the door through his pointed silence. “You did fall.”

Accusing. You flinched at the sound, stumbling towards the door and leaning both hands against it like that might succeed in keeping him out if he decided otherwise.

“I promise I’m fine!” You hurriedly looked around for your T-shirt, anything, a towel for god’s sake, to wrap yourself in. A helpful thought flitted through your mind that you had left your clothes on your borrowed bed to avoid the exact scenario of trying to hide the bathing suit, and your head thunked against the door in internal shame.

Raph shifted on the other side, feet scuffing slightly. You could hear the sound of stiff fabric rubbing against scales, and realized he must have been on his way out to the pond when he came to check on you, the stiff sound of swim shorts unmistakable.

“Ok…. Well, I got a towel for ya, if you want it, so you don’t have to sit on the grass when we’re done swimming. You ready to go?” It was a lot, you knew, for him to give up the line of questioning. It made the answer you were about to give him sour all the more.

You gripped the door knob tight, your other hand clenching tight enough to drive your nails into your skin as you waffled. “I- I don’t think I can.”

A pointed silence. Then: “What? Why?”

It was your turn to shift, weighing each word. “I’m uncomfortable.”

Raph turned that over for a moment in silence, before you heard another rustle of cloth. “Here- open up.”

You gripped the doorknob tighter, parroting him in words and tone without meaning to. “What? Why?”

“S’ my shirt,” The door opened despite you clinging to it, just a smidge, just enough for him to wedge the article of clothing through the crack. “You can cover up with it, so you can still have fun.”

You took the shirt automatically, staring at it like it was a foreign thing while Raph shut the door once more with a soft click.

It was worn, likely years old, the seams frayed and a number of small holes dotting along the neckline. It would likely swallow you whole, take several rubber bands to hold to your frame, but…

It was red. A more muted color than your bathing suit, but-

You swallowed, hard, setting the shirt on the sink and laying a hand on it for comfort, before steeling your spine.

You heard Raph take a preemptive step when you turned the knob, backing up out of the way, but your eyes were fixed somewhere on his midriff as you stepped out into the hallway next to him.

”You…” His words trailed off, sounding a bit higher pitched than you were used to, and you chanced a look up at his face.

Green eyed wide, he stared at you, gaze tracking down over your torso before he seemed to remember himself and his eyes snapped back to your face. The finer scales around his beak and cheeks mottled, turning a more muted color, as blood rushed to his face. “You -ah, s’… nice-”

He snapped a hand up to his face like that might stop the train crash of words leaving his mouth, and you felt the first warm ember creep alive in your chest, that oily feeling lessening.

Silence, for a long moment, as you both considered each other. Sunlight streamed through the far window across the opened space beyond the bannister, backlighting the side of Raph’s shell and his face a golden color. Somewhere below, you could hear Donnie humming a song.

“I… liked the color.” You told him softly, finally, wrapping one arm around yourself and leaning against the door jam, breaking the stand off.

Raph made a low noise, muffled, behind the meat of his hand, and your gaze dropped in time to see his other fist clench tight before tracking back up the scutes covering his chest.

”You good?” You asked him with that same, quiet voice, feeling that beat of self consciousness grow the longer he stayed silent. Chancing another glance up at him, you found a deep look settling over his face, thoughts flashing like rapid fire hits as microexpressions twisted the features around his fist with an alarming rate.

’Yeah,” he finally breathed, hand dropping to clench at his side with the other. “Yea, m’fine. You uh- you ready, then?”

He still had that slightly hunted look, barely stepping to the side as you nodded slowly and moved past. Your elbow grazed the hard plating of his plastron as you stepped past him, and you heard him suck in a sharp breath at the sensation.

Goosebumps erupted down your spine as you felt him move to shadow your steps down the hall, but when you turned to look over your shoulder his gaze wasn’t on you, that still rather thoughtful scrunch between his eyes. “Your shirt?” You reminded him, gesturing back down the hall.

Narrowed green gaze considered you for a moment, not looking back towards the still lit bathroom. They tracked down your form for a moment, and you felt that kernel of warmth once more.

”Leave it… unless you need it?” The second part was intoned like a revelation, half turning like he’d go back for it.

Your hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. ‘No,” You squeezed, and felt the muscle ripple in response. ‘I don’t.”

[married-to-google-translater]

Swapping bodies with your bf Rook Hunt

Waking up one day in your boyfriend's body was not something you had planned.

But it would still happen.

Probably the side effects of the previous day's Alchemy lab accident.

You wouldn't be excited about this...

You woke up really confused.

First you had to call Rook.

You really didn't want him to do anything weird in your body.

Poor merfolk, fae and beastman people you've befriended and who don't know about this.

At the same time, you needed help with him skincare routine.

You really didn't remember all the steps.

At least you would get an answer to the question of what photos Rook has in his room.

( The ones hidden under the wallpaper)

You could also try archery...

Maybe getting into Rook's body would magically make you good at it.

You were disappointed when it wasn't true.

On the other hand, this would be Rook's dream come true.

Rook thinks this would be a good way to get to know you better.

He would spend the day in your room studying it.

Rook would get a lot of gift ideas.

The second thing he would get would be a call in the morning where he would promise not to do anything weird in your body.

Rook would definitely try to find a skin care routine that suits you.

Now when he would have some time.

He wished that this day would never end.

[merakiui]

wait wait wait wait gimme a sec……big bad wolf Jade and Red Riding Hood reader 😳 going to visit your granny but ending up banged and stuffed by this big wolf guy (maybe even +hunter Floyd)

AAAAAAA OTL OTL down tremendously bad for wolf Jade,,,, so scummy…… such a silver-tongued wolf, trying to tempt and stray you from your path to grandmother’s house. >_< he’s so hungry, you see. :< won’t you find some kindness in your heart to stop and lend him something sweet from your basket? That jar of homemade strawberry marmalade looks particularly delicious. :) but you rip it away from his clawed hands and insist that you must be on your way, for your grandmother is expecting you. He smiles like he understands and he doesn’t follow you, but you can’t stop looking over your shoulder the rest of the way.

Can you truly blame a ravenous wolf for making a meal out of your grandmother? You make it to her small cottage to find a smattering of blood soaking the walls of her bedroom, staining the wallpaper, the linen sheets, everything in sight. And who should be waiting for you, licking that same blood from his fingers, but that terrible wolf!!!! It truly is a shame, he tells you, for if you had just shown him an ounce of pity he’d have left perfectly satisfied. Alas, he’s still craving something sweet and you smell very appetizing, even more so when you try to flee. <3

Maybe you’re a virgin,,, the village sweetheart praised for being so pure and kindhearted. You don’t quite look like one anymore, though, with your tear-streaked expression and the way your lips have been bitten and bruised from so many hungry kisses. orz he could be merciful and kill you here, but then he wouldn’t have the chance to savor this sweet treat.

Thick wolf cock bullying its way into your tight pussy….. claws scraping at the pudgy flesh of your hips and inner thighs, drawing pinpricks of blood that make you wince and cry out. His thumb grinding harshly against your clit,, a slobbering, bloodstained mouth at your throat, whether to taste your pulse or rip out your jugular with those sharp teeth of his. And such big, calloused hands—big enough to grab you and slam you back down on his knot when you try to escape, pinning you there so you can take all of him inside.

It’s just too much for your little womb to handle, but it satisfies the wolf and his big, bad appetite for fragile things like you. You’re lucky enough to escape with your life, but you can’t say the same for the rest of you. :( you’re only given the opportunity to escape because he allows it—and there’s some lesson to be learned about being kind and generous to those less fortunate, or whatever he’s pretending to be—because he expects to cross paths with you again, and surely then he’ll take what he believes to be his.

And hunter Floyd….. maybe he’s also a wolf, but he likes living amongst humans in this quaint village, so he’s taken to disguising himself. Hiding his ears under a hat or hooded cloak. Stuffing his bushy tail away so no one sees it. Taking care not to show off his teeth so much, or else overly suspicious townsfolk might start crying wolf. Hunting the other beasts in the forest is no problem for him, and the villagers absolutely adore him and his silly, boyish charms.

But Floyd only has eyes for Little Red, and ever since you returned to the village a right mess, tattered, crimson cloak barely covering anything, and looking like you’ve just tussled (and lost) with quite the formidable monster it’s given him an opening to cozy up to you. He’ll hunt the beast who slaughtered your grandmother! You needn’t fear.

Unfortunately, Floyd isn’t the strongest man wolf, and it’s getting harder to do everything the human way when the wolf way is so much easier, if not particularly brutal. But he’ll endure and he’ll be patient because when he takes down that beast you’ll appreciate his efforts and sheer loyalty, and maybe then you’ll stop scoffing every time he tries to strike up flirty conversation with you. Maybe you’ll finally take him seriously and see him as a man wolf worthy of your love.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Who would be the first to confess? Or the first to realize their feelings?

I’m of two minds on this. In my experience, the more common concept is “Shadow falls first, Amy falls harder.” This Twitter thread sums up the trope very well:

[Image ID: a screenshot of a tweet by user absolutesilly on April 17th, 2023 that reads, “it’s important to me that the “A fell first, B fell harder” trope ISN’T about B loving A more. it’s about A spending a long time just getting used to having this (seemingly) hopeless pining going on in the background 24/7, while B is just. hit by a truck with it all of a sudden.

fell first: been suppressing their emotions for so long that it’s like white noise to them. always there but mostly manageable. a bruise that only hurts when you press on it

fell harder: if We Don’t Get Married Tomorrow I’m Gonna Start Biting People” /.End ID]

And I don’t think I even have to clarify which one’s which. Shadow’s love is quiet and intense. He’s loyal and devoted. His affection is usually of the slow-burn variety. He hasn’t had any canonical crushes so far, but you can see it in his familial/platonic love for those he cares about. It’s natural to assume romance would be the same way.

And falling hard and fast is what Amy does. Need I mention Sonic? And her desire for marriage?

“Shadow has a crush on Amy for months/years until he suddenly sweeps her off her feet” is common for a reason. I’ve written plenty of it myself, including multiple WIPs. It was how I saw these two for a very long time, and there’s no denying that it’s compelling and in-character. If I were writing a shadamy-esque relationship in a movie, I’d write them that way.

HOWEVER...

I don’t think game canon is following that trajectory.

Under the cut: lots of ranting and images/hints, both old and new. You’ll recognize a lot of this if you’ve read my meta analysis posts, particularly why I ship them, how they’d resolve their arguments, and my feelings on TMOSTH. There’s a tl;dr and relevant headcanon at the end.

In my opinion, “Amy falls for Shadow later” doesn’t quite jive with canon because I think there’s ample evidence to suggest she already has a crush on him. It’s not as strong or obvious as the one she has on Sonic yet, but it’s there, just a little. To make a long story short:

She doesn’t look at someone like this...

[Shadow the Hedgehog 2005]

unless she has a crush on them:

[Sonic CD]

She doesn’t go out of her way to seek someone out this fervently...

[Sonic Battle]

...unless she has a crush on them:

[Sonic X]

She doesn’t insist on bringing someone along like this...

[The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog]

unless she has a crush on them:

Wallpaper posted on Sonic Channel 2/22/21. Art by Yuji Uekawa

One fun aspect of all of this is that the social media team seems to agree with me and keeps noticeably leaning into it. The Twitter Takeovers obviously aren’t canon and I’m not putting those in the “evidence” pile, but it’s cute how they keep having Amy act flustered about her feelings regarding him, and it’s definitely not something I’m imagining this time. It’s most obvious at 18:14 here:

The gushing, the stuttering...it’s obvious what they’re implying. Cindy Robinson’s very convincing at sounding smitten with him, which isn’t surprising considering her feelings on shadamy:

The question before that one in the Takeover arguably counts, too, and the social media team was primarily in charge of The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog, after all. This is consistent for them. There are plenty of other bits and pieces from them and the not-so-subtle marketing team these days, but I’d be ranting like a conspiracist and hunting down links all day if I got started on those.

^ Me at 2am.

I bring this up not just because it’s fun, but also to prove I’m not the only one who sees it. It’s definitely there, and it always makes me wonder what would’ve happened if she’d met Shadow first instead of Sonic. Would her little crush on Shadow have become the primary one if he’d entered her life first? Would we see this kind of thing all the time if Shadow were the protagonist?

[IDW issue 59]

Yes

We’ll never know, I guess! 🙃

Regardless, she met Sonic first, so her attention is...divided. She’s usually in-tune with her emotions, so even though her outlook on love is tinted somewhat by hero worship, I do think she’d figure out she had feelings for Shadow if her crush on Sonic were sidelined. As she got to know him better, she’d find even more things to love about him, and before long, she’d be hooked.

For Shadow’s part, it’s pretty clear to anyone who’s paying attention that he has a soft spot for her of some kind. In my experience, even non-shadamy fans will usually agree with this if asked. And why wouldn’t they?

1. He let her hug him and see him cry in SA2, then saved the world because she asked him to. There’s a reason fans hate it whenever Amy’s elevator speech at the end of SA2 is put in someone else’s mouth. It’s just not believable that he’d save the world for anyone else--not Sonic, not Chris Thorndyke--because the gentleness isn’t there for anyone but her. That had to be built and proven.

2. She inspired yet another heel-turn of his in the conspicuously-named “Miracle of Love” route in ShTH where “bad boy” Shadow ditches Black Doom to help her, resulting in a hero classification.

I think we undersell how big of a deal this is. For those who aren’t too familiar with Shadow the Hedgehog (2005), that story route starts out with Shadow ignoring Sonic and...*checks notes*...defeating fifty G.U.N. soldiers? The mission says “defeat,” not “kill.” But Black Doom says “finish off those soldiers,” “destroy them all,” “exterminate,” and “annihilate.” In a game where you’re explicitly encouraged to use firearms. On human soldiers. So this Shadow quite possibly has a significant body count by the end of the level, and then he immediately snubs Rouge to destroy Earth’s digital highway system. There’s a reason he can’t get a hero ending past that point if he doesn’t help Amy. Just like in SA2, she’s the only one left who can turn him into a hero. She speedruns his redemption with one jaunt through a haunted castle. This is the sequence:

[Source]

The way he trails off at, “I didn’t have any reason to help her, but since I was looking for the doctor anyway, I figured...” stands out, like he’d forgotten how good of a person he can be.

This brief Twitter thread summarizes the events in a much funnier way than I can:

3. The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog is the most recent and blatant example. Goes to a party. Dresses up in a silly outfit. Embarrasses himself to get her a thoughtful gift. Agrees to go to a concert for a band he can’t stand just to make her happy. I don’t think I even need to explain this one, but if you want to see me do so anyway, here’s that link again.

4. In Team Sonic Racing, he’s sweet to her when they’re on the same team...

...and he’s borderline flirtatious when they’re on opposing teams. ;)

His lines are delivered in a snarky, teasing way, especially when he calls her cute, and she’s matching that competitive banter.

[Source: this Twitter thread by MeliCross22:

Absolutely worth a read, and it includes links to the lines so you can actually hear them.]

The question is whether his soft spot is romantic in nature, and as biased as I am...I don’t buy it. In the first two, she’s just reminding him of who he is by calling to mind his memories of Maria, and “Miracle of Love” isn’t meant in a romantic way. Likewise, in TMOSTH, it’s extremely sweet of him and he wouldn’t do that for anyone else, but it’s still not inherently romantic. TSR is less cut-and-dried. It could be flirtation, but it could also just be the race stoking their competitive spirits. It’s also just a side game, and while it’s still canon, I don’t know if Sega would put that kind of dynamic between them in the main series. It could be a case of the TSR writers being secret shadamy fans who are tossing us crumbs, but it could also just be them mixing it up so there isn’t yet another instance of Amy saying variations of “Sorry, but I’m in it to win it!” every time she hits someone with an item. Trust me, it gets old.

Canonically, I don’t see Shadow as being romantically interested in anyone to a significant extent at the moment, Amy included. He’s been too focused on his past, his identity crisis, the alien invasion, etc. I don’t think there’ll really be room for romance in his life until he fully makes peace with his trauma. This moment at the end of his game...

...just doesn’t do that. Shadow Dark Beginnings has made it abundantly clear that he hasn’t moved on.

And this is where Amy comes in, because I think she’s the ideal person for the job.

Sega seems to pivot back and forth between “Shadow has no friends” and “Shadow has two friends, but he even keeps them at a distance sometimes.” Without people in his life who are willing to reach out, he withdraws, and it’s really not good for him. A lot of fans feel he’s hesitant to bond with others because no one else is immortal and he knows how painful loss is. It’s not explicitly stated, but it’s consistent with his behavior. Isolating himself is easy. It’s safe. It’s something he can control.

But it’s not sustainable.

He needs love. He needs it so much. It’s his very purpose, in the most literal sense. Maria said it best in episode 2 of Dark Beginnings:

“You have a big heart! It may be difficult for you to express it, but I know that deep down you really do care. About me. About everyone! What you do is what defines you. I know you’re having a hard time finding answers, but I’m certain you will one day. Then, you’ll find even more people you can trust.”

^ This is what I mean when I say Maria would love Amy. Amy’s the only other character who feels love as deeply as Shadow does, the only one who could fully understand, and she just so happens to be a clingy girl who’ll reach out to anyone, even people who think they want to be left alone. It’s baffling that Sega basically hasn’t let them interact for two decades because she absolutely would insist on befriending him.

Shadow hides, but Amy chases. She loves a challenge and doesn’t shy away if she feels she belongs with someone, even if that person runs. If she decided Sonic wasn’t right for her, I think it’s only natural that she’d pursue Shadow given her obvious fondness for him. The only difference is that when someone chases Shadow, he doesn’t run. He clings. He clung to Maria, he clung to Team Dark, and he’d cling to her, too, and I don’t think he’d stand a chance against her charm from there. He’s a romantic in his own way, and that soft spot of his would turn rose-tinted in a heartbeat. If there’s anyone who could convince him that love is worth it, it’d be her; I highly doubt she’d regret her past love of Sonic, and if he thought about it, I don’t think he’d regret his attachment to Maria, either. Amy told him the people of Earth deserved a chance to be happy. Now he lives on Earth with her. Couldn’t she convince him that he deserves that chance, too?

And if he hesitated and tried to ignore his feelings for Amy, I could see Rouge stepping in to kick him in the right direction. It wouldn’t be the first time she talked some sense into him for the sake of his own happiness:

[IDW issue 36]

tl;dr: Amy already likes Shadow. If she spent more time with him, those feelings would grow, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be pursuing him in earnest. With her talent for breaking down barriers and his existing soft spot for her, it wouldn’t be a very long chase.

This headcanon is the one that I think portrays it best. I don’t think I’ll ever fully stop writing Shadow Falls First, Amy Falls Harder because it’s so damn compelling, but I love this interpretation, too, and it lines up too well with canon to ignore.

[dulcescorderitas]

hiiiii! i hope you’re doing great 🩷 i was wondering if u could write about dean and/or winchester (it could be romantic or platonically), and reader, despite being a highly skilled hunter as them, she/he/them have a extensive skincare routine 🧖🏿‍♀️ and tons of products and also has candles 🕯️ to aromatize whatever hotel room they’re staying in? maybe i’m a little biased bc it’s something i would def do lol 💅🏿 of course it’s up to u to write it or not xx

author's note: hope you like it!

the tiny hotel room buzzed with its usual chaos—sam hammering at his laptop, dean fiddling with the radio until static gave way to a gravelly classic rock station. you, meanwhile, had claimed the bed nearest the window, methodically unpacking your arsenal of serums, creams, and candles from a sleek black case. the clash of your indulgent habits with the winchesters’ bare-bones lifestyle was a contradiction you’d long since stopped noticing, but tonight, it seemed to hold their attention.

“are we setting up a séance, or did bath & body works have a blowout sale?” dean asked, smirking as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his leather jacket.

sam glanced up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow but wisely staying silent.

“keep it up,” you deadpanned, lighting a lavender candle with a practiced flick of your lighter. “i can always start charging you both for the free aromatherapy.”

the soft glow spilled across the scratched furniture and faded wallpaper, the soothing scent instantly cutting through the motel musk. dean’s smirk lingered, though his nose wrinkled faintly when you spritzed rose water over your face.

“you’re telling me you haul this crap around on every hunt?” he asked, waving at the array of tiny jars and bottles now lined up on the nightstand.

“it’s called self-care, dean,” you replied without missing a beat. “you should try it sometime. your skin looks like it’s fighting for its life.”

“she’s not wrong,” sam chimed in, earning a glare from his brother. “and for the record, the room already smells better.”

“traitor,” dean muttered, but his eyes drifted back to the candle, then the jade roller you’d just pulled out. “what the hell is that thing?”

“a jade roller,” you said, voice deliberately sweet. “it helps with lymphatic drainage.”

“sounds fake,” he grumbled, though his gaze didn’t waver.

you took your time, smoothing a honey-oat cleansing balm over your skin with deliberate, indulgent motions. sam watched with barely-concealed interest, while dean lounged on the bed’s edge, boots off but still visibly torn between curiosity and skepticism.

“so what, all this actually works?” dean asked, the words reluctant but edged with intrigue.

“why? you want to try?” you baited, not looking up.

“hell no,” he said immediately, but his resolve was already cracking. sam, ever the voice of reason, set his laptop aside.

“i mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? maybe we wouldn’t look like we’ve been living out of a car for a decade.”

dean groaned, but he didn’t argue when you tossed a washcloth at him. “fine,” you said, grinning as sam caught the second one. “sit your asses down, and let me show you how it’s done.”

sam caved first, obediently following your instructions as you handed him a bottle of cleanser. dean stayed where he was, arms crossed, until you pointedly ignored him in favor of complimenting sam’s technique.

“all right, fine,” he huffed, shuffling over. “hit me with your witch potions or whatever. but if i break out, you’re paying for it.”

“deal,” you said, fighting back a laugh as you handed him the balm. “start with this. rub it in—don’t forget your neck.”

watching dean winchester awkwardly smear product across his face was a moment you’d treasure forever. sam, already mid-toner, stifled a laugh. “you’re doing great, dean.”

“shut up,” dean muttered, his tone lacking any real heat. the faint twitch of a smile betrayed him.

by the time you broke out the sheet masks, all three of you were seated on the beds, faces glistening under the candlelight. the room smelled like lavender and chamomile, its usual harshness replaced with warmth and calm. dean grumbled about how “fucking weird” the mask felt, but he didn’t take it off. sam, predictably, leaned into the experience, asking questions about ingredients until dean threw a pillow at him.

“admit it,” you teased, leaning back with a smug grin. “you feel better.”

neither of them answered, but the way dean’s shoulders relaxed and sam’s lips curved into a rare, soft smile told you everything you needed to know.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[the-froschamethyst4]

No Need To Cry

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Ghost x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, protective Simon, Pregnant Reader, hormonal reader, married couple, doctors appointment, more use of Simon,

𖤐Summary: During a doctor appointment Y/n gets a bit emotional thinking Simon wouldn’t want a little girl and was nervous to tell him only for him to love the child either way

————

————

Y/n was sitting in the waiting room of her usual doctors office, her foot bouncing up and down impatiently, she was here on time for her appointment, what's taking so long?

Y/n had looked down at her phone looking at the wallpaper of her and her husband Simon. The photo was of them two at their wedding, the photo was of Simon giving his vows to Y/n and Y/n not being able to hold back tears.

"Y/n?" She looks up at the nurse that came in, she gets up and walks with the nurse, she was behind the nurse rubbing her showing belly, today she was learning the gender of her baby.

Simon couldn't make it because of work but he'll be home later tonight and they can celebrate the gender tonight.

She sits on the small table waiting for her doctor.

But thought kept running through Y/n's mind. Simon had mention how he wanted a boy, a boy so he could teach him things, like fishing, hunting, and even see if his son will be interested in the Military like him.

He's never once brought up what if it was a girl? Will he still be in her life if the baby was a girl and not a boy like he wanted. Y/n has also seen on social media of dads getting mad that the baby is a girl and not a boy. She doesn't want that to be Simon if he's serious about having a boy more than a girl.

"Hi, Miss Y/n, no husband today?" Her doctor asked coming in.

"No, not today, he had work and couldn't get off."

"Well, are you ready to learn the gender?"

"Yes," she sounded nervous.

"Don't worry, it's a big deal. Were you two going to do a gender reveal?" The doctor asked getting everything ready for Y/n.

"No, Simon doesn't want a big party, so we're going to celebrate just us."

"Ah! I see, I understand too, my wife and I didn't do a big party," he says. "Alright lift your shirt," she did and waits for the worse part the ice cold gel the doctor squirts on her stomach.

"Okay..." He says.

Y/n's nerves were at this point shot, she just wants to know, Y/n didn't care on gender she was going to love her child the same way boy or girl.

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

Y/n's appointment was done and she held the envelop in her hands holding the gender of the baby, she looks at it in her hands and was just scared to even open it.

Does she wait for Simon?

Should she open it now?

Should she wait till she's home and not in the parking lot of the doctors office?

She puts it in the passenger seat and starts to drive home the anticipation was killing her.

Getting home she puts the envelop on the counter in the kitchen, she pulls a stool out and sits at the counter, head in her hands as she looks at the unopen envelop.

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

Simon came home, he unlocks the front door kicks his dirty boots off at the front door and places his keys on the keyholder by the front door. He comes around the corner seeing Y/n, at the kitchen counter, head in her hands, looking down at an unopened envelop.

"Love?"

"Simon," he comes up to her kissing her temple.

"How was the appointment?"

"Good."

"So...what's the verdict?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"Huh, what do you mean? You didn't look?"

"I was contemplating opening it, and then I wanted to wait for you, and then I started to get nervous and then just didn't open it, and you're home now, so...maybe we should open it together," she says.

"Sure, love, we can...how long have you been at the counter?" She looks at the clock on the stove.

"5 hours."

"Love."

"I was nervous."

He takes the envelop off the counter and opens it, he starts unfolding the paper and starts reading it, he reads.

Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Riley, you are having...a baby girl.

He sets the paper down and pushes it to Y/n, she reads it and looks up at Simon, he held a smile on his face and held Y/n bring her into a tight hug and resting his big hand on her stomach.

"A baby girl," he says, bending down and kissed Y/n's belly.

Y/n didn't know how to feel, Simon wanted a boy, but he's happy for a girl? Hot tears filled her eyes and her knuckles pushed against her eyes.

Simon hears sniffling, he looks up and sees Y/n's semi red face.

"Love? What's wrong?" He stood up holding Y/n's face and wiping tears from her cheeks.

"I'm happy we're having a girl...but I didn't know how'd you react...you talked about h-how you wanted a boy...and I was scared t-that you'd be d-disappointed that it w-wasn't," she hiccups.

"Love, I married you because I knew you were the one for me, you kept me in my place and you comforting me during my lows. I would never leave you just because we're having a girl. I just talked about how nice it would be if the baby was a boy, but deep down I wanted a little girl. Seeing a mini you run around the house would make my years even better. I would never just walk out that door because we weren't having a boy, that's ridiculous..." he announced while holding Y/n's head against his chest.

"So-"

"I'm not leaving," he says, kissing the top of her head. "Why would I? You're such a beautiful, gorgeous and attractive woman, and you're fucking carrying my child," he says. "No need to cry, my love, I'm not going anywhere and we're going to be the best parents we can be to this baby girl."

He placed his hand on her stomach once more. "I love you," he tells her.

"I love you too, Si." He bends down to her and kissed her lips.

"Now...let's dry those tears of yours, and celebrate."

"What are we going to do? I can't drink."

"I know...I bought you some sparkling apple juice," he says, showing off the bottle that mimicked a wine bottle. "I'll be having this," showing off his usual bourbon drink.

Y/n giggles at her husband and pulls him into another warm hug. "Thank you for being the best husband, I could ask for," she says.

"Of course, my love."

[midnightdahlias]

Sparks of the Apocalypse

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

summery - you decide to go visit Bobby but are suprised by a certain stranger word count - 1.7K cws - fem!reader, pure fluff, mentions of violence (if you squint) lmk if i missed anything a/n - hope you enjoy this, sammy my beloved. I apologise for any mistakes, english isn't my first language. BUT I hope you like it either way and again any feedback is appreciated ! as are rebloggs and comments. happy reading !

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Being a hunter sucked sometimes. Scratch that, it sucked most of the time. You were always on the road, bouncing between crappy motels with peeling wallpaper and water pressure so bad you wondered why you even bothered showering. It wasn’t glamorous. But after a long day of getting tossed into walls and dodging claws or teeth, you’d sleep on the hood of your car if it came to that.

Still, there were moments. Rare ones. Like now. When you’d get a break long enough to drive to the only place that ever really felt like home. Bobby’s house.

Bobby Singer was, to put it mildly, a godsend.

Bobby had a reputation among hunters as the go-to guy. Need lore? Call Bobby. Fake supervisor for a cover story? Bobby’s your man. Need someone to vent to? Bobby would listen, grumbling all the while. Over the years, you’d grown close to him. He’d known your parents before you, and when they were busy chasing monsters, he’d looked after you. Bobby was more than just a friend, he was family. You always thought he’d have made a damn good dad. Though in many ways, he already was one.

After a particularly grueling hunt, you decided to head to Bobby’s, you needed more than a beer and a chat. Ever since the apocalypse started, it felt like every supernatural creature had lost its mind. Things were kicking into high gear, leading to longer nights and more close calls in a week than in your entire career. Oddly enough, you thrived under the pressure. Sure, the extra cuts and bruises were annoying, but it was the apocalypse, it was never going to be margaritas on a beach.

As you pulled into Bobby’s driveway, a sense of comfort and relief washed over you. The place always felt safe and welcoming, though you weren’t sure if that was because of the house itself or the man who lived there.

A black Chevrolet Impala sat parked outside, a car you didn’t recognize. Wonder who that belongs to, you thought, but you didn’t dwell on it. All you wanted was to kick your feet up and crack open a cold one.

Knocking on the door, you expected Bobby’s usual grumpy greeting, but today the door creaked open to reveal… definitely not Bobby.

Stood in the doorway was a younger man. The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was, towering over your smaller frame. His soft hazel eyes caught your attention next, followed by his sharp but delicate features and the semi-long hair brushing just below his jaw. There was no denying it, he was handsome. For a moment, you stood frozen, your words caught in your throat. “Uh, hi. Who are you?” he asked, blinking down at you like he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

You cleared your throat, trying not to stare. “Hey. Is Bobby home?” Not answering his question. ome would call it paranoia, you called it precaution but as good-looking as this stranger was, you weren’t about to share your name with someone you didn’t know.

He tilted his head, clearly debating whether or not to let you in. Before he could answer, Bobby’s familiar grumble echoed from somewhere inside.

“What’s takin’ so long? Who’s at the—oh.” Bobby wheeled into view, his grumpy expression softening when he saw you. “Well, I’ll be damned. Kid, get in here.”

You smiled, stepping inside to hug him. “Miss me?”

“Not really,” Bobby deadpanned, but you caught the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I would’ve called ahead,” you said with a smirk, “but since I never do, I figured why start now?”

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. “Smartass.’’

Behind him, the tall guy was still standing there, looking amused. And at somepoint during your greating with Bobby, a second guy had appeared. He was shorter than the other, he also had green eyes and a cocky smirk. Great, you thought. Who are these guys?

“Who’s this?” the newcomer asked.

“This,” Bobby said, gesturing to you, “is one of the best damn hunters I know. And a lot more sensible than you two idjits, I’ll tell ya that much. Sam, shut the door before we all catch pneumonia.”

Sam.

You’d heard that name tossed around a lot lately, along with his brother’s. Hunters and monsters alike seemed to have plenty to say about the Winchester brothers, especially Sam, none of it good. But standing here now, looking at Sam, he didn’t seem dangerous or evil, just tired. Hurt, even. But as your eyes caught his, there was something else there aswell, something you couldn’t quite place.

Bobby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Sit down, kid. Beer’s in the fridge. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“Feels like it, too,” you muttered, plopping down on the couch.

Over beers in Bobby’s living room, the four of you swapped stories. Dean was charismatic, cracking jokes as he recounted close calls from past hunts. Sam, though quieter, was kind and insightful. You caught yourself glancing at him more often than you intended, and each time, you found his eyes already on you.

When Bobby suggested ordering food, you volunteered to cook instead. It was rare to get the chance to make a proper meal, and you weren’t about to pass it up. Bobby’s kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked, so a quick trip to the store had been necessary, but you didn’t mind so much, you liked cooking, it gave you a sense of calm.

You were halfway through chopping vegetables when you heard a soft voice behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You turned to see Sam hovering in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, a small smile tugging at his lips, looking almost… shy?

“Sure,” you said, handing him a knife and some vegetables.

You worked side by side, exchanging small talk to fill the silence. Normally, you were confident around men, but something about Sam made you nervous, in a good way. A different kind of nervous than the one you’d expect to feel around someone who’d let Lucifer out of his cage. His presence was calming, his smile disarming.

When your hands brushed as he passed you the cutting board, you froze. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you like static electricity. Your breath hitched as a faint blush crept over your cheeks, but you quickly turned back to the stove, hoping to shake the feeling. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, trying to push it all down. You weren’t usually this affected by anyone, let alone someone you’d just met.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam was just as affected. Behind you, he stood just as still, his heart thudding in his chest, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

From the moment he opened the door, he’d felt drawn to you. The way you spoke, the warmth in your laugh—it all felt oddly familiar, like you belonged here.

In the next room, Dean leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show. He nudged Bobby with a grin. Not even trying to hide his amusement.

“You seeing this?” he whispered, nodding toward the kitchen.

Bobby shot him a lookover his glass of whiskey. “They’re like a couple of deer caught in headlights,” he muttered. “Painful.”

Dean chuckled under his breath. “Think we should do something? You know, give ’em a little push?”

“Hell no,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had in weeks.

Back in the kitchen, you worked in tense silence, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Sam’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced up, there he was, watching you with an intensity that sent another wave of warmth crawling up your neck.

Normally, being stared at like that would’ve set you on edge, but Sam’s gaze wasn’t threatening. There was something soft about it, it was sweet, and that made it so much worse.

He cleared his throat suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Uh…anything else you need help with?”

His voice was low, gentle, and it only made your heart trip over itself again. You turned to him, forcing a casual smile despite the fluttering in your chest. “Nope, I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks, though.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

It was such a small, awkward exchange, but it left you rattled. You found yourself hyperaware of every move he made, the way he leaned against the counter, the way his hair fell in his eyes when he glanced down.

And Sam? He wasn’t faring any better. The sound of your voice, the way your lips curved when you smiled, it was like you’d bewitched him without even trying. Though he wasn’t about to start complaining

In the next room, Bobby and Dean exchanged another knowing look.

“Think they’ll figure it out on their own?” Dean asked.

Bobby took a long sip of his drink before answering. “Doubt it. But watching ’em try sure is entertaining.”

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

masterlist

[hiding-under-the-willow]

ENAMOURED by your ghosts au I would love details on what happened to etho 👀 from my understanding it was hels??? Very obssessed with that art btw it's so cool

Yeah yeah yeah I've worked out a little more of the detail for this whole backstory in my head since I last talked about it so I can actually get into it sure :]

So while the property that Grian and Joel end up in during the main plot of the au is large, it's mostly taken up by like the giant ass manor that's on it and the grounds around that. Which is why they've got such a plethora of ghosts, there have been thousands of people living there over thousands of years. Etho's property however, which he bought for cheap maybe ten years before the main story of the au, is almost entirely undeveloped, and has very rarely been a place people lived, hence why he's got like 3 ghosts total. There's a single cabin on the property, one that hasn't been used since around the 1890s when the property was used as a hunting grounds, which was promptly abandoned after the hunting accident that led to Gem's death. Hels had, up until Gem's death and subsequent residence on the property as a ghost, been the only one haunting the property for about 500 years.

He was generally unpleasant in his life, but 500 years on his own building resentment and anger in his loneliness in his unchanging world as he watches Wels across the fence seemingly finding companionship in his afterlife hadn't exactly made him any better. He was stubborn, and unfriendly, and averse to change, and extremely quick to anger. He had lost the deft touch of control that most knights wield over their acts of violence. Lacking his sword in death and unable to leave any touch on the world other than the occasional scratch from the sharp talon like ends of his gauntlets' fingers, he has taken to leaving long, animal like scratches in his environment when he cannot ignore that call to violence in his anger. The cabin looks like it's been ransacked by a bear, claw dug grooves in doors and tables, old dusty furniture with fabric tears revealing rotted insides, wallpaper that peels in unnatural places and forms. The trees around the property are often similarly marked. The only thing seemingly left fully intact, is a dark sword mounted above the fireplace.

Gem, being the strong-willed individual that she is, manages to mellow him out a bit in the 100 or so years they spend alone together on the property. She herself is strange and unusual in a way that seems to throw him off enough to manage to endear her to him in the time he spends too confused to be angry. And so he remains this kind of sulking, possessive, angry thing, but they share the house, and having as sharp a tongue as she does, Gem starts to turn him towards more verbal sparing than enacting any physical violence on their surroundings.

And so that 100 years of joint solitude passes by, Cub dies on the property and haunts his respective corner, seemingly uninterested in sharing the little cabin with Gem and Hels, and so Hels remains comfortable in his unchanging world.

And then Etho buys the property.

And it isn't exactly strange that someone has bought the property, it had probably passed through a dozen hands in the time since Hels had been stuck there, but no one had ever really moved in. It had been used as a hunting estate and as a scout's meeting place and as a garden, but never had anyone looked at the little cabin he had claimed as his own and decided they were going to live there. And the assumption had been that with the state it was in, no one would. Until Etho came along.

He comes in, all on his own, and starts fixing things in the little cabin, pulling out old furniture, cleaning dusty floors and struggling through plumbing work and tearing out old wallpaper. The only other person around in this time is XB, who he seems to have hired to handle the grounds while he handles the house. By the time the house is even slightly livable he's moved in.

This, obviously, does not make Hels very happy. Gem is happy to see the house get an update, and is intrigued by this weird lonesome guy who has moved onto their property, and this only seems to upset Hels more. He starts acting out I little ways, tearing Etho's clothes, scratching new furnature he brings in, messing up repair work.

Etho isn't oblivious to this, and isn't exactly a skeptic when it comes to the supernatural, so he starts talking to whatever entity he imagines to be antagonizing him throuout the day, and decides to antagonize him right back, much to Gem's entertainment and Hels' increasing agitation.

It is the day when Etho finally decides to take down the old sword above the fireplace that things go wrong.

Etho probably should've known not to touch the sword when he watched a set of scratch marks appear in the stones of the mantle beside him as he prepared to take it down. But he kept going. And maybe when a second set raked across his brand new dining room table as he pulled the sword down he should've thought to just put it back. Instead he continues to verbally antagonize Hels as he brings the thing down. Maybe he gets a little too on the nose, connecting the sword to his antagonizing spector, either way he says just the wrong thing to set the ghost off. Hels, used to interacting with Gem, who he can touch but can't injure, attempts to grab at Etho in a moment of anger, instead managing to claw the shit out of the side of his face. In the panic of realizing what he had done he attempts to catch him by the arm as he stumbles back and does the exact same thing to his arm. Queue panic and blood and such. XB hears the commotion from wherever he is outside and is the one who calls an ambulance and such. I imagine Etho gets his first shaky glimpse of Hels right as he's passing out from the blood loss.

Etho survives, of course, but looses an eye and has some pretty severe damage to his face and arm. Gem is the first of the ghosts he meets when he returns to the property, Hels hiding away when he comes home. He kind of shuts himself away in the house after that. If it seemed like he was running away from something moving to this middle of nowhere empty property before, it certainly seemed like he was hiding now. Xb is the only one he keeps around, and even he's stuck at an arms distance. It takes him a long time to not be terrified of Gem, or of Cub when he meets him. How he and Hels eventually manage to coexist is a whole other story. But either way I've been typing for too long lol I need to wrap this up

Crazy place for this au to have ended up at from 'haha wouldn't it be funny if Etho was Grian and Joel's weird shut-in neighbor that can also see ghosts' but whatever

[daylighted]

oh em gee i was about to go to sleep but i was js thinking about how baby!reader and sam would also be really close i think

and so maybe one night like during a hunt sam finds baby just like upset cause she’s trying to figure out what a lore book or whatever says and she’s frustrated 1. cause she can’t read it and 2. she doesn’t understand why her eyes are suddenly wet and why she’s feeling this way cause she’s never felt this before

and so sam just like teaches her how to read a little maybe and just helps her understand what she’s feeling and why

IDKKK I JS THOUGHT THAT WAS SO CUTIE

(also trust i know baby is a badass i’m just leaving this thought here (LOVEE YOU AND YOUR WRiTING<3333))

STOP THIS MADE ME GO 🥺 LITERALLY OH MY GOD. i hope i can get this to u before u fall asleep so it can be... ironically ... like a bedtime story :')

and i agree baby is a lil badass so so much and part of that is bc girl feels all of her things SO unapologetically :') !!! so i love this and have been meaning to think more on sam n baby's dynamic too so it is PERFECT.

they were always looking at those books, splayed out on whatever shoddy surface the motel room had. sometimes they had tables shoved into corners, or desks pressed so tightly against a wall that the wallpaper cracked behind it, the little space clearly not equipped for every bit of furniture the owners wanted to cram inside of it.

either way, you'd become aware of the winchesters habits, and that was one of them. a worn and faded leather book beneath one of their big hands, skimming the lines like they'd seen what was in the pages a million times, enough to know where in the book to flip to when they wanted something in particular.

dean went on a food and coffee run after begrudgingly admitting to the fact that this one was going to take all night, and sam decided to jump in the shower while he was gone, leaving you at the desk squished between the wall and the tv stand, one of the books open under your hand.

it was nothing special. inky lines and rough sketches across every page, some things crossed out and others underlined. you'd flipped through the entirety of the book to make sure that this really was all there was to it, and sure enough, there wasn't a deviation. every page had scribbly shapes on it, and every other page a scribbled drawing, and it didn't make any sense.

dean sometimes held the book up on its edge, nose pressed in close like he was trying to read in between what was on the pages, so you tried that, too. you were waiting for something big to happen. that was another thing about the winchesters; looking at one of these leathery things full of paper always led to pieces of whatever case to click together.

nothing clicked. nothing made sense. this was another thing that they shared, something programmed into them that was left out when it came to the making of you, and it was devastating.

you try to breathe in, but your chest catches on it, lips parted as you gasp on it. your throat is tight. your eyes have water in them. all of this at once surely must have meant you were dying, right? you'd breathed normally up until now, and your throat didn't feel like it was closing until now, and your eyes weren't supposed to have water coming out of them, streaming down your cheeks in little rivers, pooling on the desk's warbled surface.

you get up, the catch in your chest only getting worse, banging on the room's bathroom door. sam's shower had stopped running a few minutes ago, so you knew he was in there, either half dressed or holding a plastic thing in his mouth with something foamy on his lips. they did that a lot. helped you do it, too, even though you didn't remember the word for it. how were you supposed to think right now? you were dying.

"sammy?" you ask, and your voice even sounds weaker. you hit the door harder, a little whimper in your throat, terror clawing at the lump like it was trying to break through it. "sammy..."

the door tugs open, sam's tall figure looming over you, a look of concern written into his features. "what's wrong?" it clicks a second after the words leave his mouth, concern half giving way to something sympathetic. "baby."

you keep wiping at your eyes but it keeps coming. "there's something in my throat. and my eyes—" you rub your palms into your eyes, trying to shove the rivers back into the sockets. "they're leaking. they're leaking, they're—"

sam melts further, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. he's as warm as the bathroom air, slipping through the gapped door he stood in. "you're crying," he says slowly, gently, palm rubbing down your spine, soothing the choke in your voice, "that's alright. nothing's wrong. people cry, sometimes."

that was reassuring, but how were you supposed to get it under control? sure, you weren't dying, but you were a little out of your league, here.

your lack of answer seems to prompt sam to continue, his chin resting on the crown of your head. "what were you doing?" he asks, taking a step backwards to be able to see your face better. "before you started crying. so i can try and fix it, or help, or anything you need."

you point behind you, to the misplaced desk and the stupid leather thing full of useless pages. "i tried to look at it. like you and dean do."

sam nods in understanding, the concern now fully crumbled through and leaving that sympathetic, glimmery look in his eyes.

"it didn't make any sense. i don't know what is in there. it's all just lines and shapes and..." you throw your hands up in frustration, and what do you know? the tears have stopped, and the very familiar feeling of unwarranted fury sits on your tongue. "it is stupid. that thing is unhappy."

the corner of sam's lips quirk. "it can be unhappy." he steps around you, hand on your elbow to easily brush past you. "it's a book. one of dad's. details about the things we hunt on cases."

"books are unhappy."

there was no getting through to you right now, but sam always tried. dean sometimes just got frustrated along with you, but sam always managed to maintain the gentleness that came with trying to teach you the comings and goings of humanity.

he picks the book up and flips through the pages, and you almost see red, knowing that, in that moment, he was doing the exact thing you couldn't. but then he lifts a hand, motioning you to come closer with his finger. "it's unhappy, but it's not gonna bite," sam says, dropping his hand to tug the chair back for you to sit down. you do, though not without the stubborn reluctance. "look at the line at the top."

"no." a puff of angry breath leaves your mouth along with the words. "i already know i do not see what you and dean see. i do not want to start doing the crying again."

sam laughs this time, finger dropping to the line in reference. "it's a sentence. everything on this page is sentences, made up of words that you read." his nail traces the beginning of the page. "that word? wendigo."

your eye is twitching. "i cannot do the read either." you shove his finger out of the way, lifting the book close up to your face. "it looks like loopies and droopies."

"the loopy is a w," he cages you in from behind, one arm on your right side holding him up, the other's index finger back at the word. "words are made of letters. letters are... yeah, for the most part, loopies and droopies."

it sounds silly in sam's mouth, but, whatever. it made sense to you. "the word i told you? wendigo?" he traces beneath the word as he goes, "w-e-n-d-i-g-o."

you stare at it, each piece of the word and then all at once, mouthing the letters to yourself. very fun first word to learn, but that was only one on the whole page, and that was not enough for you. you wanted to understand everything. you hold the book close to your face, again like dean, as you scan over every sentence and word and letter.

sam is patient behind you, and quiet, as he lets you study. you slam the book down, the spine colliding with the wood echoing in the little room. you point at a word in the middle of the page. "when."

forget the loopy in the middle. you saw wen and knew it.

sam pats your shoulder. "yeah, that says when," he reaches up to the desk to close the book, pushing it closer to the rest of books in their pile, "not a very good starting place for learning to read, so we'll do something else later, how about that?"

he pushes it away, so you grab it, palm flat and possessive over the hardcover. "i want this one. i know two words in it already."

"baby, there are words in that book that even i don't know how to say," sam says, giving you that look that he always tends to when, and you quote, you're being a little too bossy. "we'll start with the hotel keycard. or the tv guide. very much easier, and not as scary of a topic."

"but—"

"you are already overwhelmed." his voice is so gentle. him and dean have this way of bottling up all of your intense feelings and condensing them into something more manageable for all three of you. "i don't think you want to cry again tonight, so we're starting slow. with how you're learning, it won't take long until you're up there with me and dean, reading easy and naturally."

your eyes roll. his brighten with amusement. "i just don't want to feel so different and wrong." you meet his gaze, and the amusement has tampered, replaced with a sadness that must be reflected in your own. "you and dean do things all the time that i can't. i want to."

"we'll get you there." sam's words are a solid promise, hand coming up to ruffle the mess of your hair. "but in the meantime, no more crying. you shouldn't want to be like me and dean. you're fine just like this."

even you knew that sounded cheesy. you're about to tell him as such, but he holds up a finger. "we know all of this as easily as we do because we grew up too fast, and too afraid. you don't ever need to be upset that you didn't go through all that we did." he lifts your hand off of the book, using that gentle grip to yank you out of the seat and away from your dried tears on the desktop. "but it's normal. normal to cry, normal to get upset over things you can't do. baby, if you're worried about not fitting in with us because you don't feel human enough, that just makes you even more like us than you think."

you might have asked him about that part, but it seemed a little too invasive. you had some limitations to the endless array of questions you bombarded them both with. instead, you move to stand in front of the tv, staring at it, trying to will it on.

"take it to the tv guide." you nod toward it, eyes narrowing still in your efforts to peer pressure it on. "i want to learn to read the show dean watches."

sam grabs a little rectangle off of the stand, shaking his head. "no. no, you really don't."

notes. tagging everyone in this one bc i am classifying it as an official part^tm in the babyverse hope u dont mind.

tags. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @couturewinx @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @angelicalm3ss @nperoconelcositoarriba

[eupheme]

fallout masterlist

cooper howard x reader

screenshots: [ghoul] | [cooper howard] | [wallpapers]

— into the fire | series | 21k | complete

“Been a long time since I’ve had mouth as sweet as yours.” His tone then grows sharp, as the metal digs into your skin, “Don’t make me regret it.”

(When you’re captured for a bounty, you make a deal.)

— mine, all mine | request | 4.4k

Cooper doesn’t take kindly to the man you picked up, even if he himself had made the deal to escort him to New Vegas. It has him thinking that he just might have to remind you of a few things. Set you straight. Make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.

— yours, all yours | request | 2.3k

Cooper can’t help the bark of a laugh when he realizes, disbelief woven into the sound that spills from him.

Goddamn. His little wastelander might just be jealous.

— on target | request | 1.8k

Two times the Ghoul tells you to spread your legs, and two times that you listen.

— drinkin’ in sunshine | request | 1.8k

You find yourself having to rethink your strategy, when you’re suddenly struck with feeling for the man you’re supposed to be hunting down.

— he’s a demon, he’s a devil | request | 850 words

the ghoul + cockwarming

— good rocking tonight | request | 1.5k

“You don’t know nothin’, sweetheart.” His eyes burn into yours, “But you can try. Go on, let’s see what you got.” | sub!cooper vibes + riding

cooper howard x lucy maclean

medieval!au | western!au

— keep a knockin’ (but you can’t come in) | 1.1k | ao3

“What did you just say?” It’s snarled out. Not too far from the sounds of the ghouls he just cleared.

“I said you were no Cooper-”

“No Cooper Howard. That’s what I thought,” He snarls, finishing for her - voice as deadly as a bullet, “And what the fuck do you know about him?”

— i can dream, can’t i? | one-shot | 1.4k | ao3

Lucy had grown up dreaming about Cooper Howard. She’s not sure why. How her mind can piece things together. Little snippets that feel real, flickering in the swirl of ordinary dreams. | soulmate!au

— don’t let the stars get in your eyes | one-shot | 3.3k | ao3

Can’t say he ever expected this. He hadn’t been with anyone since before, those memories long tucked away. Old wounds, those faded scars still healing.

And yet here she is, pretty little Lucy MacLean, crawlin’ into his lap & practically begging him to make her come.

john hancock x reader

— whole lotta shakin’ going on | one-shot | 5.8k

It’s a dangerous thing to have feelings for the person you’re traveling with. Too much can go wrong in an instant and yet, here they are. Steadfastly ignoring the something that’s been building, thick enough to taste. 

Luckily, an incoming rad storm might just be the push they need. 

— a good, good neighbor | request | 2.8k

when you come back from a mission, Hancock can’t wait to get his hands on you

— made for me | request | 1.5k

You need him. Not just tonight, but always - and Hancock is all too happy to oblige.

edward deegan x reader

— only you (and you alone) | request | 800 words

an exploration of deegan's feelings towards sole!reader