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cathnospam · 4 months ago

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Posttimeskip/Canon!Bakugo Katsuki NSFW Alphabet

Thanks for 100 follows :-P

(((Black girlfriend reader mentioned a few times, if you are not black or a girl you can obviously ignore it.)))

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You were his first everything so with that you wanted to teach him just a few things like aftercare. However, Bakugo already had to down to a science. He didn’t like sleeping in sweat and cum so he’d offer you to take a shower while he puts new sheets on the bed and he joins you a little later. He noticed how thirsty you get after so he’d bring a water bottle and some juice/tea, maybe even a sweet snack if you don’t fall asleep too soon. A lot of this stuff was common sense except the cuddle part. It’s not like he didn’t want to hold you after it was just awkward for him. He just had you cross eye’d and crying on his dick now you him to be held and babied? But after some reassurance that you definitely do and you also wanted to make sure if you did good. “Of course you did dumbass you always do.” Is what he could huff out hearing such nonsense.

Post nut clarity Bakugo is softer, more touchier somehow and quiet. He’d much rather hear your yapping and he just responds with “Yeah.” “Of course” “No. dumbass” with a lot of kissing in between of course

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Yeah we all know he loves ass. He does, shamelessly so, smacking it while eating you out, smacking it when your back is faced him, patting it while you lay on his lap . But he loves your lips just as much. They’re like pillows, bouncy, and incredibly soft. It’s like a sweet flavor as well knowing you always have different types of lipgloss to wear.

I don’t think he is very particular of any part of his body, but since dating you, you love to talk about his back and arms, the way you hug him from behind or grab onto his arm walking through a crowd. More importantly how you scratch his back when he’s inside you and claw his shoulders when he keeps overstimulating you. It’s become partial motivation to his workout now.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Bakugo actually practices safe sex 90% of the time. He isn’t prepared to have any children yet and he doesn’t want any scares so he does at least buy the ULTRA thin condoms. However. The day you finally let him w/o a condom for his birthday he almost came faster than usual which actually made him upset LMAOO.

“What the—F-FFUCK!”

“Y-Y’ok—“

“I AM!…just…fuck this feel good.”

So he will cum in you or on your ass, and smack it with his dick because he seems clean but he’s such a dirty bastard at heart.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t keep many secrets from you but the few are really only justified. The first one was that when you both were making out for the first time you grinded against his semi hard dick and he let out a soft moan in your mouth. You never pointed it out but it sounded so hot and it almost threw him off because he never made that noise before. After that, for the next few months before you both finally had sex he thought of that feeling alone to get off when masturbating. Not his finest moment but he couldn’t help it.

He likes when you pull his hair but you only did it once and he’ll be damned if he asks you to do it again. Do it again

Another one would be when you and him were just talking and not having sex yet he used to only watch porn where the people looked similar to you. So he’d sometimes type up Asian guy x black girl or some shit. He was actually using it to mentally prepare himself for when he does fuck you and it’s something he isn’t ready to ever tell you because he knows getting sex advice from porn is absolutely terrible.

Speaking of getting prepared he also asked Kiri for some advice on how to eat you out. Bakugo used to watch a lot of oral sex videos and honestly he really was most nervous about that part, he’s aware he wasn’t the best kisser at first and the last thing he wanted to do was bite you or something so he simply asked his best friend that loss his virginity before him the question: “Where is the clit?”

He swore Kiri to secrecy to never speak of that conversation again after that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A virgin up until he dated you. Like I said you’re his first everything so teaching him was actually something you were expected to do, however his pride always got the best of him so when you corrected him he’d always get pissy.

“My clit is here—“

“I fucking know that.”

So instead of verbally telling him what to do you you showed him with your body, moaning louder when he hits or licks the right spot, praising him when he uses the right move. He caught onto this quick and by the time it was the 2nd round he was damn near perfect

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

A lot of people say backshots but I personally think Lotus and honorable mention is missionary Hear me out: Bakugo gives vanilla. He just does he doesn’t need all the special positions and areas to fuck he just wants you, him, and a comfortable surface preferably a bed or couch. He doesn’t want to be perceived as some sex freak or anything he is very simple when it comes to sex. Mostly because he’s so shy but won’t admit it.

The Lotus Position is something that actually overwhelms him in the best way possible. Your foreheads touching, your breast pushed up against his as he assist your push to keep grinding and bouncing against him, FUCK does he love the noises you make in his ear when you’re close too, biting him as you cum. He kisses you a lot too to swallow some of your sounds. How your hands creep onto his neck moaning his name. Plus he is squeezing your ass as you both move in sync. He loves it.

Missionary is almost a ties in because he feels he has the most control. Yeah he can be soft but he still loves to be in charge. He likes the intimacy that comes with these positions so best believe it’s a go to.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Unintentionally. He has always been so funny to you, but he likes it believe he is serious during sex. Yet you can’t help but giggle when he makes a comment about blaming you for making him get so close to cumming.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has a visible happy trail. Doesn’t grow much so he never needs to trim it, he was going to cut it off the day after you had sex with him the first time and you were able to stop him. Bakugo wanted to make his pelvic area smooth for you because he was worried his hair was itchy to you, once you explained it felt good to feel it on your pussy when he fucked you he haven’t touched it since.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Well….he can try. You can tell when he tries but bless his heart he is so damn aggressive on accident. He once tried to give you a massage but his own sweat mixed with the oil cause his hand to slip so much to the point he got mad and pop a small explosion on your lower back.

You still have the small burn mark and laugh at it from time to time. He doesn’t laugh though he regrets it a lot.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates…often. He has for years and even after graduating high school he only did it every other day or week when he was really tense or couldn’t sleep. But ever since he got with you it stopped.

Because you do it for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’d tell you he doesn’t have any. Which is half true.

He is pretty vanilla, BUT from the last few times you tried something new you noticed he enjoyed a couple things:

Overstimulation is always fun, he used to do it on accident. Now, it’s almost expected to happen after oral or penetrative sex. Something about that second orgasm really puts him in a whole ‘ other cloud 9 he can’t even explain. It’s the rarest times he’s ever selfish with you sexually.

Praise Kink 100000%. It’s so funny to see the frustrated look on his face of focusing to not cum when you’re in his ear telling him how amazing he is and how nobody else could make you feel this way. Gets him hard every time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He does enjoy the bed, but he has a huge couch in his dorm, he ate you out a few times during a movie and it led to you on top riding him. It felt so cozy falling asleep after that now 90% of the movie nights y’all have in his dorm leads to something not so wholesome.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You.

Your reactions, your twitches, your moans, the way you say his name it all drives him more to keep going and practicing to get better for you. He absolutely loses his MIND the way you cry out for him too.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will not ever do anything like humiliation or too much violence like slapping your face. He knows he can be abrasive as it is on accident and even the thought of going to far and harming you would possibly cause him to take a pause on sex no matter how much he loves it

I am 50/50 on somno. I believe he wants you alert to what he’s doing to you for his own peace of mind. But he wouldn’t be opposed to him waking up to YOU touching him.

He’s not a big fan of “daddy”, he won’t stop what he’s doing but he’d rather hear his name or “baby” or even a nickname you made out of his name.

You will not peg him. He is very sensitive about his ass.

No threesomes or anybody watching. Call him selfish, but your body is his in his mind so he’d prefer if nobody sees what you have only blessed him with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

LOVES giving. Way more than he will admit, there has been days where he’d finish sparring with someone and to release the stress he had from Deku almost beating his ass again he came to your dorm and offered to lay between your thighs as you studied.

You didn’t get much studying done.

He’s improved on his skill too. However he’s constantly messy, it’s not just kitten licks with this man he sucks and fingers and even nibbles on you like he’ll never eat you again. It’s almost selfish.

He loves the feel of your pussy against his tongue, he doesn’t taste much. If you were to ask him what you taste like he would say nothing, really but the warm, slimy slick just does something to him. If he could he’d eat you for hours

Now that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love seeing you gag and swallow his dick absolutely not. When you both started getting more physical you actually sucked his dick quite often (since he was afraid to eat you out at the time) he would actually anticipate on it whenever you both were alone so he’d keep his sweats incredibly low to his waist on purpose

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bakugo an intense guy so he starts off slow and his touches gradually turn more focused towards your reactions. He’s consistently looking into your eyes with every noise you make, each thrust is deep and nearly knocks the wind out of you. It’s not until he’s close he begins to chase that high, breathing into your mouth, circling your clit w his fingers, and going faster with slightly shallow thrusts.

He’s a big kisser btw so be prepared for little to no air because if he’s not kissing your low lips he’s kissing your upper lips with each thrust swallowing your cries

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hates em.

The idea is always fun to him but when he realizes he has to stop right when he’s getting started he hates it. He wants to take his time. He probably enjoys foreplay the most which is why he can’t stand having to make it short.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bakugo is pretty stubborn and doesn’t like too much change but if you’re willing to reassure him about what you want he may consider. It can’t be any of the no though.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Man can last a while. He can even if he’s sensitive, but he can last EVEN LONGER in between breaks. Just as long as you cock warm him. An average night of sex with him is usually 30-35 minutes, but including foreplay is actually an all day thing. Foreplay can start from the moment you wake up and he’s kissing you good morning all the way to that evening when you both are showering together and his fingers are creeping between your thighs

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t understand toys but if you’re willing pick like a vibrator he wouldn’t mind it. You just can’t use it too much, he has read those things can fuck up your sensitivity and he’ll be DAMNED if he loses to a TOY

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Bakugo actually wasn’t that much of a teaser until you brought it out of him. When he went down on your once he kept kissing and biting your thighs for WAY too long that you began to whine his name. Once he heard that pretty little “please” slip through your tongue something just snapped. He loves to hear you beg now so occasionally he’ll edge you or tease you a bit before giving you what you want.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not that loud. A few mumbles of your name and a couple groans is the most you’ll get because he wants to hear you more. When he’s close he’ll begin to say a few “cum with me” “cum for me’s” which is so hot to hear since his voice breaks when he’s cumming

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He learned sign language through out the years after finding out his hearing was becoming worse and he taught you as well. Now you both communicate in public through SL, and a few times he said the nastiest shit to you across the room during a lecture.

Bonus: He’s a big Pokémon nerd. Loves Gengar, Charizard, and Growlithe.

Bonus two: He has a secret tattoo he got when he turned 21

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bakugo is a more length than girth guy. He’s a shower and cut. About 7.8ish inches and it curves to the left. He also had a beauty mark on the left side of his shaft and pelvic area.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Y’all have sex about 4-5 times a week. If yall miss a week spike it up to 6 because he needs to release some stress

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You fall asleep before him so after taking care of you and cleaning you up he usually waits until you’re sleep and follows suit. Sometimes when you’re still yapping and he’s ready to go to bed he’ll gently fan your eyelids to close with his fingers. Somehow it works everytime and you slowly stop talking a dm cuddle in his chest.

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

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Chapter 6 - Everything I Do

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, light angst, love confession, smut (handjob, fingering, p in v sex), Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: The Mark reaches a breaking point. Usual Warnings, little angst, lotta smut.

Author's Note: I am of the firm belief Rowena would’ve said cunt religiously if the CW wasn’t full of a bunch of pussies.

Chapter title from Video Games by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.7k

Read on A03!

Chapter 5

Dean can breathe. Not easily, but he can. He can feel the weight of something airy and thin wrapped around him, stuck to his skin and far too heavy. There’s a hand on his brow, and it’s not the right one. Dean’s not sure what the right one would even be, but he knows it’s not this one. This one feels a little wrinkled, and the nails are too long, and it doesn’t satiate the betterlust. It’s just there, pressed to his skin like it’s looking for something and not all too pleased with what it finds.

The longer it’s there, the more the betterlust pounds and stabs and scrapes at him. Rots his guts and carves open his skull and rips through his chest. It’s searching for something that’s not there, and Dean’s head is too clouded with pain and ache and sickness to figure out where he should even be looking. Not in the hand. Not in the thing around him like a shroud–hot and clinging to him like a plague—but maybe somewhere close. Because wherever Dean is—he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have enough of a brain to guess right now—it’s unfamiliar, but feels right. He’s lying on something soft, and it smells good, and when his fingers flex, they’re tracing over an impression left on the area next to him. An indent left on the space by something that could curve and press into Dean exactly like he wants. Craves. Needs.

The betterlust starts to flare and bellow, almost drowning out the low voices around him, and Dean knows he might die if he doesn’t find what fits into that impression and take it.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I’m not sure, a few hours?”

“Well can you try to be sure, Samuel?”

“I got here the same time you did, how am I supposed to be sure-“

“Ask our resident Dean Expert, the poor girl has been stuck with him all week-“

“No, I’m not going to make her do more. And, uh,” there’s a long sigh, and Dean still isn’t really sure what’s going on, or who these people are, or why they’re talking about him. “I don’t think it’s safe for her right now. To be around him. He said he didn’t want her-“

“He obviously lied, you idiotic boy-“

“He didn’t want her to know, Rowena. And it’s not my place to tell her-“

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive a little bit of emotions.”

“He’d, he’d fucking kill me-“

“And he will kill himself if he does not accept what he needs! It’s quite honestly a miracle he was a stubborn enough arse to resist the Mark’s demands this long.”

Dean’s really fucking confused. There are two voices, one that sounds a little like his and one that very much doesn’t, and they’re both talking about him like he’s important. He doesn’t feel important. He mostly just feels tired, and bad, and sick. Sweaty and hungry and desperate for something he can’t name, but they say he needs to name or he’ll die, and he doesn’t even really know what names are right now-

“If I tell her, this becomes her responsibility-“

“Well, Dearie, I wasn’t aware you were stupid and blind-“

“Hey-“

“You cannot look me in the eyes and say that she would not welcome the responsibility, boy. She is so pathetically obsessed with him it makes me feel ill.”

Dean felt his mouth try to frown—he can’t figure out how to move, so it more of a twisted grimace—as he racked his mush of a brain to figure out who they could possibly be referring to. He couldn’t remember names, but he could remember presences. Remember that the voice like his was good, and he was supposed to protect it. The voice that wasn’t like his was bad, and kind of a bitch, but helpful when they ran out of options. There wasn’t a third voice, but there was a smell that he really liked. Loved. Craved. Needed-

That was the imprint. And it wasn’t here right now, but the betterlust and already spiraling around it and constricting his lungs as he tried to find it. He needed it, and it didn’t need him, and he was going to die-

“I know,” the familiar voice sighed. “Believe me, I know, but I can’t ask that of her-“

“She’ll shred your sorry arse apart if you don’t-“

“And Dean will put a bullet through my brain if I do!”

“He will die before he gets the chance. Have I not made it clear that, unless Dean receives the help our lovely, pretty, lovesick-“

Then the voice that wasn’t like Dean’s said a name, and the betterlust exploded inside him. He knew that name. He’d die and kill and cut himself to pieces for that name. He wanted it. He couldn’t have it. He needed it, more than he needs air or water or food or music. The betterlust demanded it, and was shredding apart his insides because he refused to take it, but was also lending him the strength to find it. To find Her. Dean needed to fucking find Her, or nothing would ever be good again-

His eyes fly open, and for a long movement everything is only a blinding blur of color. There’s noise around him—both voices shouting words that sound like they’re for him but he can’t understand—and Dean’s brain kicks into a vigilant, borderline feral function as he hauls himself up, something pushes him back down, and the betterlust grew feral.

“Rowena, grab the other arm-“

“I am not meant for brute labor, Samuel-“

“Are you fucking kidding me-“

Dean roars Her name clawing and grabbing at the air to try and go, try to get to Her, because he was going to fucking die, and the betterlust told him She could fix this, make this better, make Dean better-

“Oh for- Fine.”

The voice not like Dean’s says something he can’t understand, his whole body tightens. Like a weight has been dropped on his chest, and ropes have been wrapped around his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a noise that might have been a whine.

“Dean.” Rowena appears in his vision, her face drawn in annoyance. “Blink twice if you understand me.”

Dean scowls, but blinked twice.

“Good. Are you going to try and kill us again?”

Dean glowers at Rowena, keeping his eyes wide open in a gesture of no, and she sighs.

“Good boy. I’ll let you up, but if you ever try and grab my hair again, I’ll make you regret having hands, aye?”

The tension vanishes from Dean’s body, and he sits up slowly, pinch the bridge of his nose to try and curb the pounding ache behind his eyes, taking deep, mechanical breathes to get some fucking control over his body. Over the betterlust. Over himself.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?“

Sam looks worried. He’s frowning and scanning over Dean with concern, like there will be wound on his skin they can patch up to fix this.

But only one thing can fix this. And Dean still isn’t strong enough to not know where She is, not when all he can remember is dragging himself to Her room, and hearing her voice, and seeing her pretty face before it all went dark.

Dean mutters Her name, his voice low and gruff, and Sam and Rowena freeze. “Where is she.”

“She’s eating.” Sam mutters, bracing his hands on his hips. “I told her to get some rest. You freaked her out, dude, she-“ Sam shakes his head, giving Dean a look he doesn’t understand, and doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher. “She was really shaken, when we got back. She needs-“

“She needs you.” Rowena interrupts Sam, and he shoots her a venomous glare. “You’re too much of a meat-headed dolt to see it, but that darling girl looked as if she’d been devastated over you.”

“Rowena.” Sam hisses. “We agreed-“

“You agreed. I made no promises-“

Dean raises his hands—they both need to shut up, or his skin will fly off his body—and their argument stutters off.

“How bad is it.” He looks to Rowena, the moment alone an act of labor. “And don’t try to lie or sugarcoat it. How long I got.”

Rowena sighs. “If you insist on keeping your head up your own arse, a day. Maybe two.”

“But we’re going to try to reverse it.” Sam jumps in, his voice desperate. “And Rowena gave you something to keep you going-“

“But, as I told your brother,” Rowena’s words are harsh, and Dean appreciates it. This really isn’t the fucking time for dancing around anything. “It is a very temporary solution, and the reversal will take time you no longer have. There is an obvious fix to your little problem-“

Dean lets out a dry chuckled. “My problem? Last I checked, Rowena, you were the one who fucked this up-“

“I did not fuck anything up, you petulant man child-“

“Rowena-“

“No!” Rowena cuts off Sam with sharp words, holding Dean’s glare. “I did my job, Dean Winchester, but you are too much of an arrogant, brooding little cunt to do yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Watch it, bitch-“

“I did not have to help you,” Rowena hisses. “But that poor, desperate, lovesick woman begged me to. You know exactly what you need, and you are too cruel and stupid to do it.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists on the sheets. “I said fucking watch it-“

“She’s right.” Sam mutters, and Dean’s gaze whips to him, his mouth falling open at Sam’s pitying, exhausted expression.

“I’m sorry, I must be going insane, because there’s no fucking way you just sided with Rowena-“

“I didn’t side with her.” Sam snaps, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get you to think for five seconds. I’m trying not to lose my brother because he can’t see what’s right in front of him-“

Dean scoffs. “There’s nothing in front of me, Sam. Rowena botched the spell, and now I can’t do anything but-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, a stab of pain twisting over his ribs, and Sam throws his hands in the air.

“For crying out loud, Dean, you’re dying because of this self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit you always pull! Rowena didn’t botch the spell, you’re just refusing to give the Mark what it wants, and until you do-“

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Dean roars, slamming a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck, Sam, I’m not going to force myself onto her just because-“

“Because you think she’ll say no?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t be stupid enough to really believe that-“

Dean scowls. They don’t fucking get it. Sam and Rowena don’t know Her like Dean does. They don’t understand that She would say yes, but she wouldn’t really want it, and Dean would stain and mark Her in a way that they’d never come back from. She’d never smile at him the same, and he’d have to die alone in the dirt when she finally got the memo that he wasn’t worth helping. When She left him, her soul more tainted than when she’d found him. When his poison sunk into Her skin, and she would still be so pretty and amazing, but ruined and marred from Dean’s touch. From how weak and pathetic and toxic he was.

He couldn’t do that. He’d rather fucking die.

“Just drop it, Sammy.” Dean mutters, his gaze falling to that imprint of Her on the bed. Her bed. Dean was finally in Her bed, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. “It’s not happening. And you’re not going to convince me, so either fix this, or let me die without goddamn yelling at me.”

There’s a moment of wired silence, Rowena silent in the corner of the room as Sam and Dean glare at each other, and Sam shakes his head like he can’t believe Dean’s nerve. Like Dean isn’t saving the only good thing they both have. Protecting the only person that’s stayed with them, that they both love, even if Dean’s love is made of undying, animalistic, grime and dirt covered devotion, and Sam’s is purer, softer affection that could never cut and scar Her like Dean’s.

“She was crying.” Sam finally says, his tone colder than Dean’s heard it in a long time. “When we got back, she was sobbing, Dean. Have you ever seen her cry? Ever?”

He hasn’t. Dean has seen Her grit her teeth and bite back sounds of agony from injuries, seen Her scream and flail when they’ve lost people, and seen Her so angry it scared him a little, but he’s never seen Her cry. She didn’t cry. Her eyes got glossy, and her voice grew tight and choked, but she didn’t cry. Sam has to be lying, and he doesn’t look or sound like he is, but he has to be. She doesn’t cry, so why the hell would that be the truth? But why would Sam lie, and why has She stayed this long, and fuck, everything hurts and Dean’s too damn tired to figure out what the hell Sam is trying to tell him but the betterlust is scratching at his heart to know-

“Sam,” Dean swallows, watching his brother carefully. “I-“

There’s a knock at the door, and everything in Dean flies to the sound. It’s Her. Before Sam’s hand is even on the doorknob, Dean somehow knows it’s Her. Here. Maybe for him, maybe not, but the betterlust doesn’t seem to care because it’s Her-

She looks horrible. Still so fucking pretty, but horrible. There’s a slump to Her posture as she stands in the door—hair tangled and shirt wrinkled—and Her gorgeous face is slightly puffed. Her lips pouting. Her eyes lined with red.

Like She’s been crying.

Sam says Her name in question, and when She speaks her voice is hoarse.

“Look, I know you to told me to rest, but-“ Her mouth falls open as her eyes land on Dean, and Her sharp inhale feels like it shoots adrenaline right into his blood.

He tries to offer Her a winning, I’d be happy to see me too smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face. It feels too vulnerable, where it’s always been like a shield. It feels like it’s a lie, or trick, or act of cruelty when Dean’s rarely met a woman who doesn’t flush and giggle under that attention. It’s supposed to make him feel good from their happy, hopeful eyes. It’s supposed to make them feel good from Dean’s well-crafted, carefully wielded charm.

But right now he still just feels like shit. Bottom of the gutter, horrible, flea-ridden and matted shit. A fucking piece of shit that might have made Her cry, and isn’t even smart enough to know why.

He tries again, making the smile wider, adding his most casual drawl. “Hey, Sweetheart-“

She makes a strangled sound—loud and pained, making the betterlust start to snap at Dean’s brittle spine—and all but runs to the bed, almost falling to Dean’s side as Her hands begin to grab at his face and run over his skin. Angling him for Her to examine with frantic eyes and words, igniting little paths of insatiable fire wherever She touches.

“Are you okay?!” She turns his head to the side, her fingers tracing his jaw and cheek like boils or scars might have just appeared. “Your fever is gone,” the back of Her hand presses to his brow, flipping to touch it with Her palm. “But shit, you’re covered in sweat-“ Her glare whips around to Sam, Her grip still tight on Dean’s face. He doesn’t really mind. The betterlust is still trying to climb out of his throat, but he can fight it—for Her—and this can be enough. It’s all he’ll get before he’s gone anyway. Her touch, and loud almost furious shout at Sam. “Why didn’t you change the sheets like I told you to-“

“He was dead weight,” Sam says Her name, his voice a hell of a lot kinder than when he’d been talking to Dean. “And you also told us to make sure he got some rest. Rowena said the fever broke, and he’s lucid again-“

“But this is gross Sam, and you could’ve moved him if you tried-“

“Moved him where? He started freaking whimpering when we took away your comforter-“

Dean scowls. “Can you guys stop talkin’ about me like I’m not right fucking here-“

Her gaze turns back to Dean, the odd, aggressively mind-numbing panic and care returning to her eyes as she begins to examine him once more.

“You seem better, but you’re redder than you should be, and, shit, was that scar always there-“

Her finger’s trial over Dean’s chin, dangerously close to his mouth, and he has to bite down a groan as he says Her name. “That’s been there at least a decade-“

“What about this one-“

“Three years, you were there when I got it-“

“Fuck, you’re right.” She shakes her head, Her eyes suddenly boaring into Dean’s and settling warmth in his gut. “Well, are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt, or feel sick, or feel numb-“

“Sweetheart.” He catches Her hand, and she falls silent with wide eyes. “I’m-“

“And,” She moves his gaze onto Her’s, and fuck She’s always so pretty. Even when She’s pissed at him. Especially when She’s pissed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Winchester, I’ll stab you-“

He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, but maybe the realest sound he’s made since he woke up. “I don’t doubt that, Sweetheart.” He drawls, and she lets his guide Her hands away from his face. “But I promise, I’m feelin’ better.”

She nods slowly, and Dean pretends he can’t see Sam’s eye roll in the background.

“Oh. Okay.” She turns at Sam and Rowena, her voice slightly unsteady and weak. “Have you, um, have you both been in here? The whole time I was eating?”

Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” She swallows, and Dean notices Her body go slightly rigid. Sam must notice too, because he tilts his head and frowns at her.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just…” She trails off, staring at her nails as her voice drop to a mumble. “There’s a lot of people in here. Makes me nervous.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam says Her name, his voice apologetic. “Didn’t know that. We can go, if you want.”

There’s a long moment where She’s just staring at Sam, Her mouth slightly open, and her body curled in on itself like she’d been punched. Sam repeats Her name, his voice cautious, and when She snaps out of it, her voice is still soft and anxious.

“That would be good.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

Sam nods. “No problem. Me and Rowena,” he shoots the witch a glare, and she rolls her eyes. “Are gonna go try to fix this. Text me if you need anything, either of you.”

She hums an acknowledgment, Her attention never leaving Dean as Sam and Rowena close the door, and Dean’s whole existence begins to curve into only the feeling of Her as her fingers trace over the back of his hand.

After a long moment of silence—only the sound of Dean’s heart in his ears and the shifting of blankets under their bodies—she swallows, her voice barely a breath. “They can’t fix it, can they.”

He blinks at Her. “They’re gonna get it-“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” She gives him a soft smile that makes her look like she’s already grieving, and something in him lights up and withers away in the same second. “Please.”

He swallows. He is really tired of lying to Her. And he can say something closer to the truth and still hold his ground. He’s not quite that weak. Not yet.

“It’ll be close.” He grunts. “But I’ve survived worse. I just gotta pull through-“

“You don’t, though.” She whispers. “Rowena said you just have to-“

“Rowena can eat me.” Dean mutters, glaring at the door. “I’m not doin’ whatever the hell the Mark tells me to, that was the fucking point of this.”

“The point was to help you, Dean.” She sounds so freaking sad, and it’s pulling Dean apart. His will and mind all being reduced to Her. Too good and pretty to be sad. And it’s just Dean. She shouldn’t be this sad over only Dean.

“Sweetheart-“

“I don’t,” She swallows, speaking over Dean with quiet, soft words. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass, Dean. Why can’t you just do what the betterlust wants? Isn’t it what you want-“

“It is.” Dean has to push the words through his teeth, because She so close and it’s not close enough and everything fucking hurts. “But I can’t have it, so we’re dead in the water. But Sammy and Rowena-“

“Dean.”

He can’t look Her in the eyes. Her voice is so gentle and nervous, and he’s not strong enough to look Her in the eyes and see all that worry and pity in them. He can barely even grunt an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Is it me?” She whispers, and Dean’s eyes shoot to Her’s. He can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare at Her and try not to die as he realizes this is it. This is how he loses Her. Forever. This is the last time he gets to look at Her and bask in her beauty and kindness, the last time he gets to drown in the smell of cherries and feel a little more alive under Her touch.

But She doesn’t look afraid, or disgusted. She just looks urgent. Desperate. As confused and hopelessly hopeful as Dean feels.

And he can’t speak, or think, or do anything but stare at Her as she speaks again.

“Dean, do you,” She takes a shaking breath, and Dean needs to touch Her. “Do you love me?”

——————

He’s not saying anything. Dean’s looking at you like you’ve shot him right through his heart, ripped it out, and taken a bite. Gaping like he’s trying to ask you for it back but can’t find the breath to, blinking like he’s trying to test if you’re really there. He reaches a hand up to run over his own face, reaches out to touch you—trace broad, calloused fingers over your cheekbones and jaw, over your chin like he’s wiping something you can’t see away—and jerks back suddenly, like you’d hurt him. Burned him. Branded him.

He’s branded you. You’re never going to forget his voice in your head, sounding like he’s overdosed on something awful, and doesn’t think he’ll come back down. Like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something by whispering words that will either haunt you past the grave or feed you for the rest of your life. Your heart will never forget the way it stopped for only a second before kicking into a pace that was all too fast when Dean’s eyes closed, and your hands will always remember the cold fever of his skin.

“Dean.” You have to make your voice strong. Steady, like you’re demanding something from him and not praying to him. “Please-“

“Why-“ His voice is hoarse, almost strangled, and it makes your every muscle feel a little weaker. “Why would you ask that.”

“I’m, I can’t tell you, just please answer me-“

“Did Sam tell you-“

“Sam?” You frown, shaking your head slightly. “No, I just, this has nothing to do with Sam-“

“Then why the hell are you-“

“What would Sam have told me?”

Dean falls silent, opening and closing his mouth as he goes red, his eyes looking almost feral. He looks like a cornered animal, something starved and needy, unsure if it should bite the hand reaching for it or grab it and never let go.

You want to hold him and never let go. You want him to grab your hand, and hold it, and never think to drop it again. You want to hear him say those words again, and have his voice be certain. You want to touch him, no matter if he’s like this or breaking or furious or—in those rare, priceless moments—happy. And you need to know. Dean’s never owed you anything, and he never will, but if there’s only one thing that he can offer you in universe, it would be really nice if it was this. If Dean ever gives you anything, please, dear God, let it be this.

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to his knee and holding his almost fearful, rabid gaze. “Please answer me. Tell me what Sam-“

“He,” Dean swallows, voice gruff. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything. He fucking swore he’d never-“

“He didn’t.” You repeat, unsure if he’s even understanding the words out of your mouth. “All I’ve talked to Sam about is the spell. But why-“

“Rowena.” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Rowena must’ve open her bitch mouth-“

“I haven’t really talked to Rowena at all-“

“Must’ve been some fucking spell-“

“Dean!” You scream, your nails digging into his leg like you can hold him with you forever. “It was you! You told me you loved me! You had a fever and you told me you loved me, you said my name, and I just,” Your voice cracks, desperation starting to break through your blood, out of your mouth in spit. “I need to know, please, you need to tell me if you meant it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please.” You refuse to look him in the eyes. The moment you look in Dean’s deep, pretty eyes you’ll know what he’s thinking, and you’ll lose him forever. Everything in you is screaming to know, but you’re still not able to just look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, please tell me.”

“Why.”

For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. The question startles you enough to make you look up, and the moment you see him something snaps inside of you. He looks wounded. Nervous. Almost as afraid of you—of your words, and what they might be capable of doing to him if you use them wrong—as you are of him.

“Why would you need to know.” He rasps, staring at his own hands. Flexing in his lap, seemingly against his will. “You’re not- It’s not somethin’ you’re-“ He looks up to you, his eyes almost pleading. “Why would you give a shit about-“

“About you?”

Dean’s throat bobs, his nod short, and you summon more bravery than you’ve ever been capable of before. Enough to reach out, over the space between your bodies that so small—but still feels like miles—and place your hand on his cheek. Keeping his gaze on yours.

“I always care about you. I-” You take a shaking breath, the last words falling off your tongue. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand shoots up to cover yours. To hold you against him, with a grip that tells you he might be trying to sear his skin into yours.

“You-“ His voice is so soft. His hand over yours is like iron, but everything else about him seems to be dreamlike. Hazy and uncertain, both of you watching each other like you’re sure the other will vanish if you look away. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” you try to smile at him, and it’s not charismatic. It’s pleading and tragic and so fucking delicate. “I do. I mean, I have. For a while.”

“How-“

“Four years.“

He blinks at you. “No, I, I meant-“ He swallows, shaking his head. “I meant how. How did that happen.”

It’s your turn to frown at him. “How did that happen?”

“You shouldn’t love me.” He mutters, his hand over yours flexing. Like he’s trying to pull it away but doesn’t know how. “It’ll get you hurt.”

You raise your brows slightly, running your thumb over his cheek. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I-“

“Are you?”

“Of course not, I’d never-“

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why-“

“It does.” You whisper, folding your legs under you to rise on your knees, dropping your brow to his. Holding his gaze the whole time. “It matters to me, Dean.“

He makes a choked sound, but doesn’t move away. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You whisper. “And it would be really cool if you loved me.”

Dean’s only staring at you, his eyes flicking between your own, slightly blurred gaze that can still see him so well, and your lips.

“And it happened,” you push on, your voice growing a little weak when he still doesn’t respond. “Because it’s really easy to love you, Dean Winchester. You’re a good man.” You offer him a smile, and his own mouth falls open just a little. “And even if you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have you any other-“

Something in Dean’s eyes flickers, and he moves before you’re sure what’s happening. Yanking you into his lap with his hand—fingers now tangled in yours—catching you with an arm around your waist, and kissing you.

Kissing you. Dean’s kissing you.

Your body sparks into action—even as your brain becomes fogged with a hazy, Dean-shaped lust—and you fist a hand into his shirt, pulling him as close as the world will allow. He’s holding you so carefully, leaning down in a slight dip, and there could be a storm raging around you instead of the soft, romantic rain this feels like it belongs to, but you wouldn’t know. Because this is a kiss people wage wars over.

It’s louder than music in your ears and electric in your blood, but sparks isn’t a strong enough word. It’s like lightning. Shooting through your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body to Dean. Soft lips molding perfectly into yours, warm and calloused hands skillfully mapping over your skin, a groan down your throat that you can feel settle in your lower gut and start a wildfire. You’ve been hungry and you’ve never dared to eat, but Dean is here now and you’ll either be starved for the rest of your life or never want for anything again.

When Dean tries to pull away, you just follow him. Chase after his lips with yours, trying to get just a little more before this all comes tumbling down. Before the thought can even dare to cross Dean’s mind—that he’s not good for you, and he should go—because this is all you’ve ever wanted and you’ll be damned if you don’t cling to it for as long as he’ll allow. You’ll fall all the way down, until your body is only supported by Dean below you, and you’ll forsake oxygen until your body demands it. Maybe a little while after, too.

And Dean doesn’t seem to care to let you go. Every time he tries to pull back it’s a jerked movement, and every time you collide again he grows more and more feral. His groans turn into deep, animalistic growls, and his touch on your skin becomes rough. Not painful, never painful, but urgent. Uncontrolled. Pulling at your skin like he’s trying to meld it into his, kissing you with bruising force, bucking up into you with his hard cock brushing your inner thighs.

You grind down onto him once—when he hits closer to where you’re beginning to ache for him, and your own need grows stronger than you’re desire to let Dean control this—and he bites you. Dean catches your lip between his teeth, sucks in into his mouth, and grins like he’s won a prize when you whine a plea of his name.

“Holy shit,” he mutters your name, pressing his brow to yours as you both catch your breath, grabbing your waist to stop the next roll of your hips. “I’m not- I can’t do this to you-“

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you whisper. “I love you. I want this.”

Dean catches your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles and staring at the movement, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “Say you’re lying.”

You blink at him, and shake your head. “No.”

His eyes flash, shooting back to yours as he grunts your name. “You need to say you’re lyin’ right now, or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” You lower your face back down, until you’re sharing Dean’s every breath. “Fuck me? Actually say you want me?”

His throat bobs, voice rough with lust. “You, I can’t fucking control it, sweetheart, if you’re fuckin’ with me you need to take it back now-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hand, forcing his darkened gaze back to yours. “Answer my fucking question.”

He shakes his head weakly. “You don’t-“

“I love you.” You hiss. You need to make sure he feels it, in the slightly spit on his face, that still tastes a little like him because it’s pushed through lips that are swollen from Dean, and Dean alone. You glide a hand down his chest, the kiss apparently fueling something bold inside you that hadn’t been there before. Your fingers trace down, over his abdomen—hardened from work but still soft in all the best places—and Dean takes in a sharp breath, his hands on your hips tightening enough to leave a mark, and you lean back. Just enough to open space between your bodies, just enough for you to palm him through his sweatpants.

He’s huge, and twitching under your careful, light fingers, and God, you need him inside of you in any fucking way—between your hands or filling your mouth or buried deep into your cunt—but Dean’s still just staring at you. His chest heaving, eyes so dark and wanting you might cum just from his attention, and nostrils flaring as you move your hand up, resting right over the hem of his pants.

“I love you, Dean,” you whisper, the rush of confidence barreling down as you wait for him to do anything. “And you need to tell me now that you don’t love me, or-“ you take a long breath, dragging up the last bit of your nerve. “You need to say you love me, and do something about it.”

Something shatters in Dean’s gaze for the last time, and whatever war he’s been waging with himself reaches a brutal end as he surges back up, kissing you with all spit and bloody need. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever dared to have on his tongue, and he might be trying to chew off a bit of you to keep.

He won’t need to. He has you. He’s had you for a while, and when he leans back to watch you with glazed, hungry eyes, his words seal some deep, fragile part of you to him forever.

“I love you,” Dean grunts your name, scanning over your face like he’s afraid the words will yank you from his hands. They won’t. “I need you. I gotta have you, but I’m- I’m not in control of it right now-“

“I can take it.” You push your hand into Dean’s sweats, taking his cock in your hand. He groans, eyelids fluttering, and when you run your thumb over the head of him—pressing into the weeping slit and squeezing just so lightly—he hisses your name like a prayer. “Please, Dean. I want it. Please.”

You pull down his pants with your free hand, taking his boxers with them, and start to slowly pump your hand up and down his impressive length. There will be bruising marks of Dean’s hands of your hips for a while, but you’ll survive. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel below you, to see Dean’s pretty eyes grow glazed with lust for you, feel his dick throb and hips jerk under your touch, hear his low growls and grunts as his jaw clenches and he doesn’t pull you away.

“God,” he moans your name, and you start to squirm above him, desperate for a bit of your own relief. “I wanna- Wanna taste you. Fuck you. Ruin you-“

“So do it,” you slip your other hand down—trusting Dean’s hold to keep you upright—and squeeze his balls. “You say you love me, Dean, but you haven’t proved it-“

The words do exactly what you’d wanted them to. Dean yanks your hand from around him, crashes his lips into yours with a fervor that might have been dangerous if it didn’t taste and sound and feel like Dean, and lets go.

His every movement is rough and uncontrolled, because his tether over every bit of will that had seemed to keep him restrained is gone, and in its wake is only the Mark. All its lust and fury and hunger, primal and focused on you. On taking what it wants.

And you’d give it to him, even if it left a few marks on your skin and bruising on your heart, but you realize that the Mark doesn’t seem to just want to use you. If it did, Dean wouldn’t be sucking on your neck and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while tracing big, warms hands around your body to palm your breasts. He wouldn’t allow you to grind onto him, or whimper his name, or scratch at his skin as he pulls you apart with barely anything at all. When he flips your over without any effort—only a low grunt and flex of his muscles—you feel like the most priceless bag of flour in the word. Perfect to be tossed around like that forever, but worth more to him—more the Mark—than just another body.

And you can’t see him anymore, but you don’t need to. You hear the sounds of him shuffling behind you, the muffled noise of his shirt being tossed onto the floor, and then his voice. Low and feral and saying your name in a way that makes your knees weak.

“Up.” He grunts, and you whine when he angles your hips up and pulls down your shorts, you already wet cunt being hit by the cold air. “So fuckin’ pretty, gonna ruin you, baby. You’re never gonna even think about a cock that’s not mine again-“

You nod a little stupidly, wiggling your ass back into him and moaning when his still-clothed erection presses right into you. “Fuck, Dean, please-“

He spanks your pussy—just once the stinging pleasure shooing up your spine—and you bury your face in the sheets to stifles your desperate moan.

“Need ya’ to listen.” He mutters. “You’re gonna have to talk to me, baby, lemme know what feels good, what you’re likin’, what you need more of-“

“You,” you gasp, and Dean chuckles, running a taunting finger between your folds. “God, I need you, Dean, need you so bad-“

“You need me?” He pushes the finger into your cunt, his body moving to covers yours as he whispers in your ear. “Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you scream? Goddamn prove you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I’ve always wanted you-“

“Yes.” You nod frantically, grinding your ass up into him. “Show me, please show me-“

Dean moves your head to the side, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, and hums in satisfaction when he crooks that finger right up against that deep, sensitive spot inside of you, and your hands start to claw at the sheets.

Then he’s gone. Without warning Dean draws back, yanks his finger out without warning, spanks your pussy again—chuckling at the high, needy sound that escapes your lips—and presses one hand to your lower back to still your writhing as he shuffles behind you

“Tell me whatcha want, baby.” He mutters, moving his hand to rub up and down your thigh. “And I’ll get it for ‘ya. But you have,“ He slaps your pussy one last time for emphasis, and you can only moan. “To say what you-“

“Your cock.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider for his to see. To look at your wet pussy—need dripping down to your knee—and take whatever the Mark is asking of him. “Want your cock Dean. Want you to fuck me, no holding back, please-“

He slams into you without warning. Burying himself at the hilt in one brutal movement, groaning above you as you go limp under him, trying only to twist and touch him, only to push back and somehow get him deeper. You feel so full, so fucking high on the stretch of Dean inside you, but it’s not enough-

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” Dean starts to massage your ass, with one hand, the other holding you up in the air for him to use. “Better than I dreamed, feel like heaven, gonna fuck you so good like you deserve-“

“Dean, fuck-” you clench around him, the praise feeding right into your cockdrunk daze of Dean, and he groans.

“Don’t do that,” he grunts your name, and it sounds like an order. “I ain’t gonna last if you-“ He moans as you squeeze around his massive cock again, and pulls all the way out before slamming back into you with a growl.

Your mouth falls open, a sound like a mewl escaping your mouth, and Dean starts to fuck you. Really, properly fuck you into the mattress, with low groans and an unforgiving pace, bumping your cervix and snaking a hand around your stomach to pull you up to his chest, rubbing your clit until you’re wrecked and seeing stars, thrusting up into you like a jackhammer and keeping you so blissfully pleasured and warm.

“So fuckin’ good,” he growls your name in your ear, and you squeak. “Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well, all warm and tight, made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me-“

Dean’s thumb and fore finger roll your clit in a tight circle, and you cum with a scream. Light and color lining your vision, the far-off sound of Dean’s filthy praise making your orgasm ride out and out and out until you’re sure you’ve reached something like heaven. Your vision is still blurred when the satisfaction has washed fully through you, and you realize Dean’s stopped moving.

His hand tangles in your hair, angling your face back for him to see, and fuck he’s so handsome. Breathing heavy in your ear, lips puffed from sucking and kiss your skin, eyes glazed but still focused on you.

You must look like an idiot. Your expression is slack and needy, your eyes glazed a lips parted, but Dean looks at you like you’re a diamond and his cock twitches inside you as your eyes meet.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You gotta say somethin’-“

“That-“ You let out another moan, your pussy still fluttering around him. “Good.”

He chuckles, kiss the very corner of your mouth with a smirk. “You got full words, Sweetheart?”

You swallow, the full feeling of Dean—throbbing inside you, still rock hard, pushing against that heavenly spot but with just too little pressure to send you over once more—crashing into you, and you say the only thing you can think of.

“Keep going?”

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I- I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself-“

“Want you to use me.” You’re practically whining, and you’d be more embarrassed if the words didn’t make Dean jerk up into you. “Please-“

He groans your name, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not- you’re-“

“I said don’t hold back.” You whisper, rolling your hips against him and feeling pride glow in your chest at his moan. “Fuck me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And there it is again. You say the exact right thing, the thing you knew would work, and Dean gives in. He shoves you down, flips you onto your back—pulling out for only a second as he adjusts you under him—and starts to fuck you like an animal. Rutting into you at a near inhuman speed, hitting your cervix with every thrust, every word a low growl that coils release tighter and tighter in your lower gut.

“So fuckin’ greedy,” he grunts, slamming a little rougher. “Wantin’ more, begging me to fuck you, so fucking pretty comin’ apart on my cock, tell me how good it feels, baby-“

“Good,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as the bed creaks around you, your whole body overwhelmed with pleasure. “Feel so full, Dean, feels so good, you’re so fucking big-“

He groans, and you start to babble. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, because every word feels like it’s spilling from your mouth. But every inch of your brain trapped in Dean’s skin slapping against yours, his muscles flexing around you, the low and primal sounds rumbling out of his chest as his movements grow sloppy and his cock starts to throb inside of you, and you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried.

“You feel so good, Dean, please don’t stop, want you to cum, I-“ You gasp as he starts to kill up your neck, your hands shooting into his hair. “Fuck, Dean, please, so good, God, I love you-“

His mouth slams into yours, and your orgasm rushes through you like a tidal wave. Longer and powerful, leaving you so fucked out you can only whine under Dean’s body, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy flutters around him.

Dean pulls out, keeping one hand gently on your knee as he pumps himself with an almost blurring fist, and cums over your abdomen and thighs. It’s hot and sticky, and part of you wishes you’d had enough of a brain to ask him to let you taste it, but you’re so completely spent that when Dean collapses over you—a heavy, comfortable weight you’re more than happy to be trapped beneath—your brain wipes every other thought but Dean away, and you decide to just stay here. Where Dean’s face in buried in your neck, and your sore from all of it but there will never be a better pain to experience.

“I-“ Dean breaks the silence, words muffled in your skin. “I feel better.”

“Oh.” You huff a soft laugh. “Good.”

“What, uh, what should we tell Sammy?”

You tug on his hair, just enough to move his gaze back to yours. “That we had sex?”

“No,” Dean groans your name, a smile pulling at his lips. “About the Mark. But we should tell him that-“

You make a mock, dramatic gasp. “Dean Winchester, are you going to brag about sex to your brother-“

“It’s sex with you, Sweetheart.” He winks, rolling you both over and caging you comfortably against his chest. “And Sammy’ll be thrilled to hear it, he’s been on my ass for years-“

“Years?” You squeak. “How many years?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, all of them?”

“All of them?! What do you mean all of them-“

“I mean since I met you.” Dean starts to rub soothing circles on your back, his mouth curling in smug amusement. “Deep breathes, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You flush, still not really use to the baby thing. Or Dean’s hands on your skin, every touch lingering like an imprint that will never even try to fade. “Shut up-“

He shakes his head. “Nah. You love it.” A boyish, wide smile splits over his face. “You love me.”

You might die. You might explode into a million, tiny pieces of confetti and shimmering glass, because Dean looks so happy. There are no ghosts in his beautiful eyes, no loathing or dread stained over his perfect face. He’s happy, here, with you, and you’re not cruel enough to stop yourself from crawling up his chest and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I do love you,” you mumble against him, straddling his torso as you push yourself up flat palms. “But I’m still gonna tell you to shut up.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling and humming right into your blood. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean reaches up to tuck a little hair behind your ears, and freezes, his eyes trained on his forearm. On the Mark.

“We, uh,” he clears his throat, watching you carefully. “We do need to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “We do. But I, I think-“

You cut yourself off, taking his hand in yours and running light fingers over the Mark in thought. Dean stares up at you with a slight awe in his gaze that makes you feel almost important, and your words fall to a soft breath.

“If you want.” You whisper. “We can turn it back-“

“No.” He shakes his head, sounding almost panicked. “I’m not goin’ back to that shit, not now-“

“Dean.” Your fingers still on his arm. “Was it me? That the Mark wanted?”

He swallows, but nods, and you sigh.

“We’re going to have separate sometimes. And we can figure out the bloodlust-“

“We should have to figure it out though, you don’t gotta put up with that-“

“I know.” You smile at him, and it’s not hard. Smiling at Dean is never hard. “But I will.”

“Do you-“ He stares at you, tangling his fingers in yours. “Do you not want me to keep the betterlust? You can tell me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, for me-“

“God, no.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I’m just, I’m worried about what might happen when the betterlust decides I’m not enough. Or when this, um, when you-“

Dean says your name, slow and firm, and you swallow. “This is it for me. It’s you, and the Mark knows that. You’re gonna be more than enough, hell, you’re more than I deserve-“

“That’s not true.” You mumble. “You deserve the world.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “It’s adorable that you really believe that, baby, but-“

You scowl at him. “It’s the truth, Dean. You’re a good man, I meant what I said-“

“I know you did.” His charming, cowboy grins falters slightly. Not falling, but twisting into one you’ve never seen before. Still roguish, still well designed and stealing your breath, but with a slight crack that allows you to see deeper. To see the lonely part of him, that really thinks you don’t belong here with him. That’s trying to drag you into him, because he’s certain you’ll start running if he doesn’t. “But this,” he nods to the Mark. “Is still gonna be a problem. I’m still gonna be a problem-“

“You’re not a problem-“

He says your name, the word careful and tender and holy from his lips. It’s the best way you’ve ever heard it. The only way you want to hear it again. “Do you want me to keep the betterlust.”

You purse your lips, and nod.

“Words, baby-“

“Yes.” You whisper. “But I need you to promise me that if it stops working-“

“It won’t.” He shrugs, his voice flat, as if he’s speaking in fact. “And we’re gonna keep looking for a way to get this son of a bitch off. But we’re doin’ it together.” He pauses, scanning over your open features. “If that’s what you-“

You lean down, silencing him with a long, easy kiss. It’s not desperate anymore, but careful. Like you’re making art, or starting to spin a web that could unravel with a single tug, but neither of you will let it. You’ll never let this—whatever this becomes—fall apart. You’ll put your whole life into keeping Dean, fighting for him and helping him and reminding him that he’s not really a burden. Letting him remind you that he really does want you, and he’s never going to allow you to doubt that again.

“Together.” You speak against his lips, letting your content breath fall into his mouth. “I’d like to stay together.”

He nods, mouth curving into a grin. “Alright then. Together.”

End Note: Thank you so so much for reading!!! I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm so happy y'all have as well! I hope to see some of you soon for the next one, and if not, thank you. no matter what!!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @spacecowgirl126 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @lovewolfspirit

@lordofthunderthr @nightxcreature @underground-secrets @amberlthomas @kamisobsessed

@tcedenslash

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cindol · 3 months ago

Note

can you do brat reader x bodyguard mikasa w smut 🌚

brat taming with mika’ . . ݁𖦹₊ ⊹ ♱

mikasa Ackerman x black fem reader

cw + — mikasa is a bodyguard (obviously), reader is a pop star, brat taming, smut, modern au, pet names(sweetheart, princess), half baked bad plot kinda, consent given before hand, reader is cocky and witty,

wc : no idea because i decided to say fuck it and write on here instead of google docs .

a / n : just a warning 😭! there’s like six dividers/ time breaks because i fucking yap sometimes. also cliff hanger because im not the best at smut srry 😕

mikasa usually is just your good natured protective bodyguard, always making sure you safely get into your pink honda safely after being at some bustling club with paparazzi surrounding the area. She listens to your complaints about some asshole paparazzi getting too close for her liking and is quick to shove them back but a shove that won’t make them have some major injury.

mikasa’s always at your beck and call, feeding into your bratty popstar personality of wanting any and everything but she doesn’t tolerate disrespect. In any videos you’ve posted on tiktok she fed into the silliness of you wanting to be carried and she even tended to you orally on her own liberty. But don’t be mistaken, mikasa didn’t appreciate disrespect.

anybody who personally knew mikasa knew that she could only be so sweet and serene before she had enough of the bullshit and you learned that on a particular night.

it was a usual sunday night for you at your favorite night club, mikasa at your side in your private section with you as you partied with your girls and poured shots of tequila with the bottle and shot glasses you were given.

it really only took three shots of tequila like usual to get you tispy but bolder than usual tonight. Dancing on tables and singing, then getting some real audacity to sass at her. Mikasa only smiled at her first and brushed it off as you having more fun than usual.

but again, her patience only went so far, even for a pop princess like yourself.

once it was eleven pm the clubs was getting emptier and emptier and mikasa knew you’d soon be tired. You were so tipsy still, just giggling now sitting down with your two girlfriends now that the other three had left. In your section you noticed mikasa getting up and grabbing your pink shoulder club purse.

“whatcha’ grabbing my purse for?”

mikasa just made a simple smile at you.“well i think it’s about time to head out isn’t it? You’ve got a date with a vanity interview tomorrow and i’m sure you wanna be early and awake for that, so cmon.” she lent her hand out for you expecting you to take it like usual but you did the opposite.

instead you giggled and just put both your feet on your section’s table.“hmm, how’s bout nah? I think me and my girl’s can handle just one night without some curfew.”

“not curfew, just a appropriate time that you’ve set for yourself to not be grouchy when morning time comes, sweetheart.”

there were some giggling from your two friends at the petname she used and it made you laugh along too.“sweetheart isn’t making me leave this here seat till it hits midnight, mika and i don’t think you’ll make me even get up from here.” you stating that really just invited mikasa to teach you a lesson with her nerves being pushed with how cocky you sounded.

and thats exactly what broke her.

everything moved so fast, one minute you were giggling and teasing your bodyguard then the next in your bedroom with your clothes discarded and mikasa’s security suit done the same in the corner of your room. The only thing mikasa had on was some grey boxers and a white long sleeved blouse while her palm slapped onto your bottom again and again with you spread on her lap.

this time you had a different tone than your teasing one, now just making out whines and moans at the sensation of her hand against your bottom.

when mikasa had enough of berating your ass she smiled and soothed your cheeks with her hand then pulled your black lace wig to see your usual smiley face have a pout with your mascara running down your face.

“it makes me sad to see your pretty face so sad but you’ve brought me to this point but i have to sweetheart.”

you scoffed with a cheshire cat like smile.“at least it’ll teach you not to be such a softie, mika.”

mikasa let out a breath of air and brushed one hand through her hair at you saying that.“then i guess my work isn’t done if the bratty popstar is still mouthing off even when i spank her.”

abruptly she shoved you off her lap and onto your bed on your stomach before she went to search in your closet where you stored all your toys.

you turned your head to see her searching.“what? Finally decided to get rid of that bad medieval fashion taste and pick something of mine up?”

“if your taste mean a glittery pink dildo with a strap? then i guess pink is the new white for me, princess.” she turned around to show the dildo’s seven inch glory, ready to attach it to her waist, humming just looking at the seven inch silicone dick attached onto her.“but if it teaches you how to behave and not be so mean to the woman who protects you, i guess i’m okay with the sparkly dick.”

you were giggling still, but mikasa was gonna completely rock your shit.

by this time your glossy smirk was gone from your face, instead your eyes were rolled back with your mouth wide and drool seeping from it and moans pouring out.

On the other end of you, mikasa was repeatedly thrusting into you, her right hand holding both your wrists in one and her left hand on your hip to steady herself from the rippling effect your brown ass had at her thrusting.

“mm-mmph! too rough mika!” your hands attempted to break free and slow her rampant thrusting against your sweet spot. That only encouraged her and made her groan with a grin, smacking your flailing hands and continuing to thrusts deeper and deeper and bending her neck down to whisper in your ear and grab a hold of your hands.

“i think not even a minute ago someone was telling me i should toughen up, so i don’t wanna hear any complaints. i’m sure you somehow planned this in your little pink sparkly decorated head to rile me.” she gave a sharp thrust making you gasp out to keep you wide and alert.“so don’t give out just yet, pop princess.“

just to keep you wide awake mikasa made a shift of positioning you and turned so you were now on your back with one leg down and the other laid on her shoulder. Both of you face to face with you seeing mikasa’s pale face have a slight blush and damp here while she had the sight of seeing your face with smudged makeup and a black jet lace wig that just refused to let go from your head.

mikasa had a rare beaming wide toothed grin at that as she looked at your wide eyes and wider mouth while continuing to feed your sopping cunt more thrusts.“whatever hairstylist you paid must’ve used some life binding glue for it to stay this long.”

“guess i should send her another text if it’s being well received then.”

mikasa just hummed.“i think i can sweat it off in half a hour from here.”

mikasa would prove herself right, even if you doubted that with a small eye roll. She knew what made your body tick and your weaknesses. It didn’t take her eons to find what the female g-spot was again and again, with how she repeatedly thrusts into your woman hood she would have your climax coming early.

and she wasn’t hesitating to stop there either.

#mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa x y/n #mikasa x female reader #mikasa x you #mikasa x reader #mikasa smut #mikasa ackerman #aot mikasa #mikasa x black reader #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #x black fem reader #smut anime #mikasa aot #anime smut

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merrybloomwrites · 4 months ago

Text

Safe and Sound

Summary: Being an online personality on a well known Youtube channel comes with it's fair amount of attention. But when one fan starts to get too close for comfort, Spencer is there to keep you safe.

Word Count: 2.6K

CW: stalker, getting drugged

AN: Another story for Whumptober! This has been in my mind for awhile so I'm happy to share this protective Spencer story with you all! It's a bit of a heavier story again so please make sure to note the content warning and please don't read if those topics make you uncomfortable or trigger you in any way.

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You always knew that there are people on the internet that are creeps. Or are just plain weird. Getting a job as a cast member as Smosh only confirmed that fact.

It doesn’t happen every time you're in a video, but you’ll occasionally see some odd comments about you. People who hate you, people who love you a bit too much, people who notice the tiniest, most random things about you. It’s a bit off-putting, but not enough to really concern you. They’re just randos on the internet you will never interact with in real life.

But then you start to get this weird feeling whenever you leave your apartment. You figure you’re just being paranoid, but still, it’s uncomfortable. Almost as though you’re being watched.

It’s disconcerting, but temporary, and by the time you arrive at work, or the grocery store, or the local bar to hang with friends, you’ve forgotten all about it.

And then the letters start. Letters sent to your apartment with no return address. They’re typed, even your address isn’t handwritten but rather stamped on.

As though the anonymity wasn’t bad enough, the content of the letters had your anxiety spiking. The person was clearly unwell, and obsessed with you. Sentences like, “I need to have you,” and “you will be mine” are all too common in their writing.

You bring the letters to the police and explain what your job is to give context of how this stalker probably found you. They say they’ll look into it, but there’s not much they can do.

Disheartened, you try to protect yourself as much as you can. You get extra locks for your doors and windows, as well as install cameras to catch anyone who may get close to your home. It’s not much, but at least you can feel a bit safer when you’re at your apartment.

You tell Ian and Anthony as well as a couple other higher ups at Smosh to make them aware of the situation. They ask if you want to take a step back from appearing in videos for the time being, but you want to continue on like usual. Whoever this person is, you refuse to let them force you to change things about your life.

The letters continue, roughly one a week for a few months. You bring all of them to the police, trying to help get to the bottom of this, but you have nothing else to go on.

Then one day as you leave for work, you have that feeling of being watched once again. You scan the area and notice a person sitting on a bench in the park across the street. Which wouldn’t be weird, except this man seems to be looking directly at you. It could be a coincidence, but something has you feeling like it may be something more sinister. You take out your phone and try to discreetly take a video of this person.

You debate over sending the video to the police officer you’ve been in contact with, but since the person isn’t doing anything obviously nefarious, it would probably be a waste of everyone’s time. You do show it to Ian when you get to the office. You’re not sure why you share it, maybe you want him to validate you that it’s weird, or maybe you want him to tell you it’s totally normal and everything is fine.

What you don’t realize is that it isn’t just you and Ian in the kitchen, but that Spencer has overheard the conversation as well.

“Wait, what’s going on?” he says, walking over to you, a confused look on his face.

“I, uhm, well I kind of seem to have a stalker,” you state.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? Are you safe?” he asks worriedly.

“Yea. I mean, I think so. Mostly it’s just letters getting mailed to my house. But I’ve been having this weird feeling like I’m being watched. And there was this guy looking at me from the park this morning, but I think that’s just a coincidence.”

“Y/N, that’s-” he stands there at a loss for words. “That sounds dangerous, like bad news waiting to happen.”

“I’ve gone to the police,” you explain. “They have all the information I have. But there’s nothing they can do, at least not yet.”

“You mean not until something bad happens. I hate that.”

“I’ve done everything I can to protect my home so I feel safe there. If I didn’t then I wouldn’t stay.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But if you ever don’t feel safe, you can come stay with me,” Spencer says.

“Or me,” Ian adds.

“Thanks guys. I promise that if it gets worse then I’ll take one of you up on that offer.”

It’s nice to know that they have your back, that you have places you can go if anything were to happen. Because while you try to stay positive, you can’t lie. You’re scared. You’re scared that whoever this person is will do something more serious. And as terrifying as that is, you’re less anxious knowing you have people you can turn to.

More weeks pass, and the letters continue. You see the same man twice more at the park, taking videos each time. After the third, you do send all of them to the police, since there now seems to be a pattern. The officer you speak with assures you that they’re looking into it, trying to identify the man. She also asks you to call them if he shows up again.

The following Friday a group of your friends decide to hang at a local bar to celebrate the end of a long filming week. You have a drink, dance with some friends, and for a moment, you forget about your problems.

But the feeling of being watched comes back. This time it’s worse than ever, your skin prickling with anxiety. Scanning the room, you notice a man whose eyes are locked on you. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t place where you might know him from.

Brushing it off, you go up to the bar to order another drink. It’s a busy night, and the bar is crowded so it takes a few minutes for you to get served. You scan the room, trying to find that guy again but you’ve lost him amongst the sea of people.

When you look back at the bar your cocktail is waiting for you so you place down your cash, grab your drink, and head back to your friends. You dance with them again, taking sips of your drink and just letting loose.

After a little while you start to feel a bit dizzy and figure that the cocktail must be pretty strong. You slow down, drinking less and trying to take deep breaths to combat the lightheadedness. It doesn’t seem to be helping, and you start to feel a bit nauseous, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You walk to the hallway on unsteady legs, and miraculously are able to use the restroom. You slowly wash your hands, concentrating deeply on the task.

On your way back to your friends you get confused, taking a wrong turn and going down the wrong hallway. It’s dark back here, and if you were more coherent you’d realize that customers aren’t supposed to be here, and the only door leads to a storage room.

Turning around you find that you’re suddenly not alone. A tall man is there smiling at you. It’s not someone you recognize but you have a vague sense that you should know him. He steps closer and you start to feel anxious, not liking the situation you’ve found yourself in.

“Excuse me,” you try to say, but your mouth feels almost numb, and you’re not sure the words actually came out.

“I’m glad I found you Y/N,” he says. You stare at him, trying to figure out how you know him. “It’s time to get going, sweetheart.”

He starts to lead you away and you follow, unable to come up with a reason to stay. The music gets louder, lights are flashing in your eyes, and you’re becoming more and more disoriented.

The next thing you know, a group of your friends are frantically speaking to you, the man nowhere to be found. You desperately try to focus on any one thing, but it’s chaos all around you. Hands cup your face and you flinch before meeting the eyes of the person who placed them there so gently.

“Spencer?” you ask, needing confirmation that your muddled mind has at least one thing correct.

“Yea, it’s Spencer,” he replies as he moves his hands off of you, relieved that he now has your attention. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You shake your head no.

“Do you know who that man is?” Spencer asks.

Again you just shake your head.

You sway on your feet and Spencer quickly steps in and helps you sit on the floor. You lean your head back against the wall, but you find that makes the dizziness worse, so you rest it on your knees instead. You’re turned to look at Spencer, needing to focus on something safe right now.

There’s more commotion, and you watch as Spencer speaks with a couple of people in uniform. He places a calming hand on your back and tries asking you more questions, but everything is too murky for you to understand.

You’re so drowsy, and you stop fighting your heavy eyelids, letting them close as the world around you finally goes quiet.

You’re not out for long, waking up a short while later in the ambulance. Spencer is still there, now holding onto your hand.

At the hospital a lovely doctor checks you over to make sure you’re not injured. She takes blood and gives you some IV hydration. By the time you’re discharged, the world has stopped spinning and you’re able to understand and answer the questions you’re being asked.

Two of the police officers come to the hospital to speak with you now that you’re more coherent, and you tell them about the man. One of the officers is the woman you’d been in contact with regarding the letters and the stranger at the park and she pulls up the pictures you had taken as well as a still from the security footage from the bar.

Your blood runs cold as you realize that it is absolutely the same person. Just a moment ago you were reeling from the fact that you had been roofied. And now you find out that it wasn’t just some random guy that did it, but instead one who has been stalking you for months. You weren’t drugged on some whim. This had to have been planned, thought out for who knows how long.

You keep it together until the police officers leave and then you turn to Spencer, eyes wide and filling with tears.

After taking a deep breath you say, “Thank you so much for finding me. I can’t imagine what he would have done if you hadn’t come looking for me.”

“I would never have been able to forgive myself if anything happened to you,” is his reply.

You can’t think of anything to say in reply, so you choose to lean into his side instead. He wraps an arm around you, and it might be your imagination, but you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

“C’mon. The guys dropped my car off, let’s get you home,” Spencer says.

“No!” You quickly shout. “He knows where I live. He’ll find me there.”

“Y/N, they have him down at the police station. But I actually didn’t mean your home. I meant mine, if you’re alright with that.”

“Oh. Yes, please, I’m good with that.”

Spencer keeps his arm around your waist as he leads you out of the hospital and to his car in the nearby lot. He opens the passenger door and pulls out a sweatshirt. He helps you pull it over your head before you sit in the seat. You struggle a moment with the seatbelt, and he leans in to click it for you. It’s embarrassing, him having to do all of this because you’re still so shaky, but he doesn’t see it that way.

He talks the whole way to his place, and you’re grateful for the random stories that fill the silence. It keeps your mind from slipping into the dark fearful thoughts that keep trying to pop up.

Once at his apartment he asks if you want to take a shower or get some sleep.

“Shower first, if that’s okay?” you answer.

“Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need,” he replies. “I’ll get some breakfast ready as well. Anything particular you want?”

Your stomach is still unsettled so you ask if it’s possible to just have toast.

“I think I can handle toast,” he says with a smile, causing you to giggle. “I’ll make you a smoothie too, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

Spencer leads you to the bathroom where he starts the shower and shows you how to change the temperature of the water. He steps out for a moment and comes back with a stack of clean clothes for you to wear.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” he says before he leaves the room.

You shower as quickly as you can, wanting to get back to Spencer. Being alone is the last thing you want right now, but you also need to wash last night off of you so you can feel clean.

It feels amazing to slip into Spencer’s cozy sweats, his old, worn t-shirt, and soft hoodie.

He’s in the kitchen and you watch as he butters toast and pours the smoothie into two cups. Breakfast is quiet as you focus on eating slowly so as to not upset your stomach. You finish as much as you can before the exhaustion really sets in.

“C’mon, you need to sleep,” he says. The polite part of you wants to help clear the dishes as a thank you, but he’s right. You can barely stay upright on the way to his room. He closes the blinds and tucks you in, and you fall asleep almost immediately.

You’re not sure how long you sleep before a nightmare has you jolting awake, screaming.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks as he runs into the room.

He sits on the bed beside you and you try to explain the dream you’d just had in which Spencer hadn’t saved the day and you’d ended up with that man. But as you go to speak nothing comes out except a shattered sob.

Without hesitation he pulls you to him and holds you close. He gently rocks you as he tells you, “You’re safe, you got away, he can’t get you,” over and over until the message sinks in.

You don’t say anything, but slowly your tears fade away and your eyes start to feel heavy once again. You want to lay back down and rest some more, but you don’t want Spencer to leave again.

“Stay. Please.”

It’s all you get out before you fall back to sleep.

You wake up hours later with Spencer still holding you, and for the first time in months, you know that you’re safe, and that everything is going to be okay.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I only have one or two more Spencer story ideas so lmk if you have any requests!

#spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader #smosh fanfiction

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coco-loco-nut · 6 months ago

Text

Oblivious

pairing: Pierre x Reader

summary: sometimes it’s nice to hide in plain sight

masterlist requests open

———————

Maybe it paid off to be two of the more overlooked drivers in the paddock. Good enough to get points and renew your contract when it expires, but not the getting stalked by media level.

Truthfully, you and Pierre never tried to hide your relationship, it was just that no one cared to notice. They never paid attention to when you walked a little too close together, or how you looked at each other differently than the other drivers, or how you spend more time together than you should and shared rides at each other’s home races. Everyone simply assumed you were friends, and never thought of it again.

“Je t’aime, Pierre,” you squeeze his hand before letting go. He walked with you from your car to your motorhome, always wanting to be heard you.

“Je t’aime aussi, mon amour,” he smiles, watching you get into the motorhome safely.

It was finally the last race of the season, and both of you were ready for the winter break. After a smooth race, you jetted off with Charles the return home. Maybe not everyone was oblivious. Charles, Yuki, Daniel, and Lewis know, but that’s because they care enough to actually pay attention.

“I will see you in Greece,” Charles hugs both of you, excited for the next time he will be with you again.

“Can’t wait! I’ve been counting down the days,” you look up at Pierre who has an arm wrapped around you, tiredly smiling at you.

“I have too,” he leans down to quickly kiss you. Charles says one last goodbye before leaving the two of you to your drive home.

The time passes quickly and your wedding arrives. It’s a beautiful ceremony, and incredibly intimate, having only invited close friends and family. The reception, however, was wild. The party lasted last when you and Pierre left, but the videos and photos told stories.

You and Pierre didn’t waste time leaving for your honeymoon, you left the next morning for a month on various Greek islands. Simply enjoying each other and the free time before next season was everything to you.

y/username 🤍 end of a season, start of a lifetime 🤍

charles_leclerc so happy for you

y/username best month of my life

lewis_hamilton white is your color 🤍

y/username thanks lew 🤍

y/nfan the white 🥵

yukitsunoda0511 don’t be shy, post the party pics

pierregasly noooooo 😭

danielricciardo yesssss

y/nfan2 what do these men know 🤨

pierregasly a month to remember 🤍

yukitsunoda0511 how much of the first night do you even remember 😅

y/username not as much as he should 😂

danielricciardo pierre gaslllllyyyyyyyy

charles_leclerc an epic month 👊

alpinef1team admin feels like they are missing something, but hope you had a great trip 🤗

pierregasly we did 😊

user we??????

user so many drivers going to the beach during winter break

Of course, you and Pierre noticed that your relationship flies under the radar, so it is fun for both of you to not be as subtle with things.

“Mon Amour, I was thinking,”

“A dangerous thing,” Pierre smiles, his face inches from yours as you cuddle.

“I want to officially take your last name, like change my Super License. I already did legally, but I want everyone to know,” you tell him, but he just looks a little confused. You are getting tired of people not knowing and being shipped with other drivers.

“I don’t think you should change your Super License. Your accomplishments should be your own, and while I obviously am your biggest supporter, people will equate your successes to me because you share my last name,” Pierre disagrees.

“I know, but we are partners in life and everything we do,” you pout, a little sad he isn’t on board.

“I am proud to have you as my wife, but I don’t want people to think less of you for driving under my last name,” Pierre tries to back himself up but you just stay quiet. You get where he is coming from, but you are prideful.

“What about changing my social media?” you try another route.

“That I can agree to,” he moves his head slightly so he can kiss you. You are content to lay all day in his arms, but you are supposed to meet Charles later that night for a couples vacation to a ski resort. After another hour in bed, you drag yourselves out to get ready to travel.

“Look at that newlywed glow,” Alex hugs you when you board Charles’s jet.

“I call it pos-“ you cut Pierre off with a look that threatens divorce.

“Settle in, we will take of shortly,” Charles changes the topic, handing you a water bottle.

“Where’s my water bottle,” Pierre pouts at his best friend, wrapping an arm around your waist to hug you from behind.

“I like Y/n more,” Charles shrugs with a small grin on his face, causing you to laugh.

“Quit flirting with my wife,” Alex gives Charles a weird look, dragging you away from Pierre so the two of you can catch up.

The trip is amazing, you watch the boys wipe out and have fun before testing starts.

You and Alex are pro skiers, but the same can’t be said for Charles or Pierre. Pierre only fell a couple times, but Charles wiped out probably once a day.

On the last night you sit by the fireplace in your shared cabin, snuggled under a blanket with Alex as the guys finish dinner. Well, Charles is making some pasta dish while Pierre keeps the wine flowing to everyone.

“Sometimes I wish that the season never starts,” you rest your head on Alex’s shoulder, watching the fire burn in front of you.

“The peace that comes with the off season is nice,” she hums, understanding your sentiment.

“There is rarely time for things like this during the season, with Pierre and I both being on different teams, and it isn’t always easy to plan trips with you and Charlie,” you sigh. You love your job, and you have no plans of retirement yet, but the constant travel is demanding.

“Screw Pierre, I’ll be your WAG,” Alex squeezes you as the boys bring in dinner and more wine. You stand up to help them out, taking a couple plates from Charles.

“Mon amour,” Pierre lifts the edge of his fuzzy blanket for you to join him. You happily join him, his warmth enveloping you.

“Charles, this is heavenly,” you groan as you eat the dinner.

“When Ferrari signs you, you can have as much as you want,” Charles winks as you scoff.

“Please, Pierre is -as if not more- likely to rejoin Red Bull than for me to sign with a top team,” you shake you head, feeling Pierre lean away from you a little.

“Uncalled for,” Pierre says, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“She has a point,” Alex says and you turn to her, mock offended.

“Are you saying I’m not a good driver,” you gasp, she looks at Charles, unsure what to do.

“Y/n, you are a great driver, you just were in the wrong development program and are doomed to stay on midfield teams. Pierre, you might’ve chosen the wrong words in support of your wife,” Charles steps in, ending the playful fight.

“I’ll do the dishes while you talk shop, it’s my turn anyway,” Alex says, grabbing various plates from the living room and heading to the kitchen.

“Have you told your teams yet?” Charles asks, smiling to himself as he observes you and Pierre cuddling.

y/username hitting the slopes before testing 🎿🤍

alexandrasaintmleux best couples trip 🤍

user couples trip 🤨

danielricciardo where was my invite???

y/username my wifie, my WAG 🥰

charles_leclerc 🤨 MY WAG, you have your own

user alex and y/n skiing while charles and pierre probably kept falling down

charles_leclerc thanks for not posting the pics of me falling 😅

pierregasly thanks for getting my good side 🤍

y/ngasly every side is your good side 😘

landonorris what-

maxverstappen1 hold up, why’d you just change your username?

carlossainz55 i think we missed something…

lewishamilton you are just now realizing that they are together?

yukitsunoda0511 they literally got married???

pierregasly we never tried to hide it…

y/ngasly y’all are just oblivious af

user wait, they are so cute together, the otp we didn’t know we needed

user agreed, but I’m gonna need a timeline of their relationship

danielricciardo they’ve been together since 2018, engaged last season, married shortly after the end of this season

maxverstappen1 did all of our gossip sessions mean nothing to you???

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #charles leclerc

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suzukiblu · 3 months ago

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Day seventeen of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You heckle your own guys?” Kon demands, still laughing. “The hell for?”

“Because Chris Campbell is literally the worst professional quarterback on the East Coast and a total pill, that’s why,” Tim says witheringly, also mostly on reflex. Not that he really watches all that much in the way of sports, just his dad semi-regularly watches football and hockey and sometimes baseball, so sports are usually a safe topic to talk about without having to handle awkward questions like what'd you do last night or how’d you get that bruise? or anything equally inconvenient to answer.

Though really anybody in Gotham who was not a literal shut-in with no internet access or cable would know how freakin’ bad Chris Campbell’s arm sucks, but he digresses.

“Also Robin is an urban legend, because I want to go about my daily life completely unnoticed by anyone who might care about people thinking he wasn’t,” he amends belatedly, and Kon laughs harder.

“Well, he’s an urban legend who can totally pull, for the record,” Kon says matter-of-factly before taking another bite of grilled cheese monstrosity. Tim almost walks into a lamppost. Or a mailbox. Or–something. There was something he almost walked into.

“I cannot even be in the same state as this conversation,” he says maybe a little too feelingly.

“Yeah Batman would definitely be a fucking dick about it,” Kon says agreeably, still snickering a little. Tim decides that is a great excuse and exactly what he’s gonna go with, and then gets distracted by Kon making a show of fluttering his eyelashes at him with a flirty smirk and adding, “And like, obviously you, daddy.”

“I–why would I be a dick about that?” Tim asks, instinctively wary about if he let something slip about Robin and what Kon–

“Oh my god, I mean you’re on my ‘surrounded by hotties’ list, you nerd!” Kon cackles, smacking his back. “Obviously.”

Tim cannot even begin to imagine what Kon thought was “obvious” about that, but okay. If Kon has awful taste, that’s his prerogative. And if he thinks Robin is hot, theoretically he would also think Tim Drake was, except for how Robin and Tim Drake are two totally different people and also Kon resents Robin and is constantly being a total dick about both listening to him and letting him just run the damn team and has to get the last word in even in active combat situations and Tim Drake is just–Tim Drake is just a nerd, exactly like Kon just said. He’s a photography nerd and a nerd-nerd and he’s not all that interesting or attractive, and he has weird taste in video games and only likes the role-playing games that literally nobody actually plays, and he isn’t even that good at skateboarding! What about either of them could Kon possibly find actually, like–actually consider–

“It’s cute you didn’t realize, though,” Kon adds, and leans over to kiss his cheek with greasy grilled cheese lips. Tim, unfortunately, feels like a squishy melted marshmallow about it. And also greasy and gross. But mostly it’s the marshmallow thing, yeah. “Hey, are you gonna finish those, babe?”

“All yours,” Tim says, and hands over the remaining grilled cheese, deciding to just . . . not do the math on how many of those Kon actually just ate. And also to take him to a buffet next date, maybe. Like–several buffets. Multiple buffects. They could just rotate through a few, maybe Kon’ll be likelier to actually eat ‘til he’s full at an “all you can eat”-style setup if he’s still worried about him overspending on him, Tim figures, which he clearly has not been given how many grilled cheese sandwiches he has put away so far, even if he doesn’t finish the last–

Yeah, Kon definitely hasn’t been eating ‘til he was full, Tim notes as he watches Kon demolish every single remaining sandwich all down to the last bite and then lick his fingers clean.

Alright then. Buffet tour date it is. And also way more snacks and candy in Kon’s future gift bags and maybe, like, he could also just open an Uber Eats account for him and fill it up with as much Uber Cash as they’ll let him and also sign up for the premium or whatever so Kon won’t have to pay delivery fees, assuming he can even get Uber Eats to deliver to Cadmus, but honestly he’s heard about people doing weirder in the gig economy, and also Robin is going to just–Robin is going to goddamn pack the Justice Cave with nonperishable snacks, Tim swears to god. Enough for Bart to need to take a few days to get through, even. And like–Suzie doesn’t need to eat, no, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have the option, and frankly now he’s going to have to be checking everyone’s living situations out a little more thoroughly, so until then–well, he’s just gonna frontload his success, he guesses. Be prepared.

Bruce absolutely cannot complain about him being prepared, he lies to himself, and offers Kon the napkins. Kon grins at him and then wipes his mouth and hands off and misses some crumbs éon his lip, which Tim is very unimpressed with himself for finding cute even more unimpressed with himself for wanting to brush them away for him like they’re in some dumb weird cliché romcom or something. Which they are not, definitely.

“Did I get it all?” Kon asks him.

Tim despairs, but also is only in possession of so much self-control, okay? Reeling back on the supervillain plan is already taking up about seventy percent of his processing power and not jumping Kon outright is at least another twenty-five, so he doesn’t have very much to work with here, okay?

“One sec,” he says, and reaches up to brush away the last couple of crumbs on Kon’s lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Kon immediately turns bright pink, then grins at him way too smugly. Tim decides to just not analyze whatever his own facial expression feels like it’s being right now, for obvious reasons.

Mostly “self-defense”. Mostly “self-defense” is the reason.

Kon ducks in and kisses him again, the gesture all sweet and warm and still a little unfortunately but endearingly greasy. The kissing does not help with Tim’s self-control in any way whatsoever, but definitely does distract him from analyzing anything else that’s going on right now.

“You really know how to skate?” Kon asks him after he leans back from the kiss, back to grinning at him. Tim suddenly understands literally everything Victor Fries has ever done in his life and frankly is surprised he hasn’t done worse. If anyone ever lays a hand on Kon again, he is gonna do so much worse than just go supervillain; he is gonna go Darkseid and he will not be sorry.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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dangerous-yam-fries · 4 months ago

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NSFW Bodyguard! König x Rich Brat!GN Reader - Bodyguard König Headcanons

Asks and Suggestions are open and encouraged!

Warnings: cuckolding, drunk sex, extreme pining, reader kinda has yandere vibes… MINORS GET OUT

König is big and scary looking, has self esteem issues, and is extremely insecure. He’s like an adorable little hamster, the type to quiver under your gaze even though he’s so much taller than you.

So you’d obviously start crushing on him first, since teasing cute little things like him are just so much fun.

You would go on little outings just to spend cutesy romantic time with you. You’d take him to botanical gardens, landmarks, cafes, you’re always buying him gifts, hell, you even took him to a place where the both of you could paint mugs. He thinks that you simply like going places, and he does his best to cater to that.

He’ll make lists of places to go, but he’s initially too shy to share the list with you. But he’s not particularly sneaky about the list, so you’ll eventually force him to show you, and you make sure to take him to all the places on his list. And you should make sure always cling to him, linking arms with him, pretending it’s not awkward because of his height. In fact, it’s cute. Really cute…

His reactions are just too delicious, he can’t hurt you, he won’t yell at you, and he’s always afraid to make you made. So you can pretty much do whatever you want with him and he won’t do anything.

Forced snuggles. Practically sitting on his lap when you’re next to him, using your phone as an excuse by showing him random photos and videos.

Dramatically swooning. You’ll purposefully get into trouble or tussles with other people so that he can scare them off, he still doesn’t know that you’re getting hurt on purpose.

Because of the uniform, König can’t wear his scrim net, so that only adds to his discomfort and embarrassment. But giving him little compliments about his appearance is so worth while, even more so if you say it in a teasing tone.

You’ve essentially made it your mission to sleep with him, but soon after you begin flirting with him, you start to actually fall for him. When you realize this, you start acting meaner, brattier, and more distant. You’ll have him accompany you to bars all so you can get him jealous.

He isn’t sure why you’re acting so coldly, but he wants to make it better. He’ll try to be more social with you, showing more interest in you. But it doesn’t seem to work, in fact, your face goes red with anger (embarrassment), and you shove him away. But for some odd reason, he keeps trying. He wants your happiness, and he thinks it’s because it’s his job to keep you safe, and by extension, happy. And the still wants he first time König notices his true feelings for you, it’s during sex.

Not sex between the two of you, however. Because he’s your bodyguard, he has to accompany you everywhere. And you insisted that he comes to your hotel room to make sure that nothing happened between you and your date.

So he was forced to watch as some other man plowed your ass, kissed you, marked you, and he didn’t even treat you right. He said the filthiest things to you, he was so degrading, but König couldn’t do anything about it, because it was apparently what you wanted.

And you sounded so lewd. Moaning like a pornstar, wet, squelching sounds and skin slapping filling the room.

König’s the kind of guy that’s scared to just watch porn, so watching you have sex right in front of him felt so perverse, especially because he was getting hard. Which he felt guilty about, because of you didn’t want him to get hard, you wanted him here so he could protect you!

You’re frustrated because he hasn’t made a move on you yet, so with enough liquor to power a small village on the outskirts of Norway… You corner him. Even though you have to crane your neck to look up at him, he cowers in front of you, but this time it’s nowhere near as cute as it usually is.

It doesn’t matter where you are, you force him to the nearest hotel, motel, no-ask-only-cash-ramshackle-shack.

He’s nervous as hell, you’ve been on lately, and now you’re drunk, shoving him onto a bed and forcing his clothes off.

He tells you to stop, but he doesn’t use any force. You become frustrated with pleas, and of course you shove your underwear in his mouth. He looks good like that, gagged and drooling beneath you.

You spend the night riding him, taking out all your anger and frustration on his dick. König isn’t sure if he should be happy or upset, he’s had a crush on you for awhile, but you seem so mad at him… So he makes the decision to put a little more effort into the love making session. He takes the gag out of his mouth, and grabs you by the hips, moving so that you’re now in missionary.

Even if you struggle, he’ll keep going, he might even try talking dirty like your other lovers, but it quickly becomes too much for him. Instead he ends up saying that he loves you, right as cums inside of your hole.

You’re surprised. He hasn’t tried to process your relationship at all, and now he says he loves you? But you’re happy, and quickly start to feel guilty about how you’ve treated him the past few weeks.

The aftercare is great, extremely romantic, if not a little awkward. The shower is too small for both you and König, but you both insist on bathing together, you’re a little more insistent of course.

Your relationship doesn’t change much from when he was just your bodyguard. You still take him on lots of dates, cling to him, and compliment him, but now you kiss him, give him copious amounts of hickeys, and make love<3

#male reader #gn reader #konig cod #cod x male reader #cod x reader #konig x reader #konig x male reader #male character x male reader #female reader

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00-jammy-00 · 1 year ago

Note

Hihihihi!!! I js discovered ur account but I'm already in love omg ???!

Yandere! Artist who sends u their nsfw art of u ?! Plus points if he uses different accounts after u blocked the ones from before <33

— 🪼 anon, if possible?

Yan!Artist HC’s

Yan!Artist x GN! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, nsfw mentions, internet stalking, yandere is a creep

A/N - Hey everyone! This is a bit of a two parter as I didn’t want to make it too long, if you’re interested, send an ask in and I’ll make a part two where he actually ends up with you. Btw I’ve updated my master list to make it look nicer xoxo.

——————————————————————————————————

Yan!Artist who first met you through an art competition. Normally all those judges are wrinkly and old, they think his art isn’t good because it isn’t traditional realism. Then he saw you, his heart either stopped beating or was beating too much.

Yan!Artist who through pure charm managed to get your instagram it was under your name on your name badge. He begun to follow you immediately, immersing himself in your culture, your cooking, your art, your pets, your liked videos, your life, you, you, you, you, you!

Yan!Artist who had sent you a few dms about how good your art was, how good you were. You were gorgeous, much like your sculptures and your paintings.

Yan!Artist who realised you were his muse, his everything. He begun to draw, and paint, and sculpt, and collage, anything to capture the beauty he had seen. Eventually that led to some art that some people would find…unsavoury.

Yan!Artist who begun to draw you naked, drawings of your watery eyes as you sucked a dick, close ups of your hole or your pecs/tits, sculptures of your body in some not very safe for work poses.

Yan!Artist who obviously had to share this with you! I mean, you’re his muse, you need some credit. So he begun to send you some dms. Just some, not 209 in two days…

Yan!Artist who simply chuckled when you blocked him. You were always so shy, don’t worry, he can make more accounts. He can make more artworks. What he can’t make is another you. So whether you like it or not, you’re going to be his.

——————————————————————————————————

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

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flemingsfreckles · 10 months ago

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Accident

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: you get hurt while cooking dinner with Jessie because you weren’t paying attention. When she asks what’s on your mind, you accidentally tell her too much. (Fluffy)

Warnings: minor injury, mentions of blood, cursing

WC: 1.9k

A/N: this started as a fic about Jessie being overly concerned and caring if you were to get injured and then it spiraled into whatever this is. For some reason I really like this fic, idk.

“Fuck.” You drop the knife, feeling the sharp pinch in your finger

“What happened?” Jessie spun around, rushing toward your side as you yelled.

“I cut my stupid finger. I’m fine.” You reassure her, your girlfriend always being the first to play nurse when you’re injured.

“Let me see it.” She stands behind you holding out her hands, making a grabbing motion.

“I’m fine.” You weren’t, the knife didn’t do any major damage but it hurt. And on top of the cut, you weren’t fine either, you were stressed, unable to focus, you brain clouded.

That’s what caused you to cut yourself in the first place, you had zoned out, nerves overcoming your brain as you thought through every step of tomorrow.

Wake up, try and get out of bed without waking your girlfriend, make Jessie her favorite breakfast, bring her said breakfast in bed, don’t spill it, you both just washed the sheets, offer up a afternoon date of a picnic, hope she says yes, bring a picnic, a blanket, all of the essentials for your date. Drive to the park, the park you had your first date, your first kiss, that park. Make sure your phone isn’t connected to the car, you don’t need her seeing any texts in the past few days.

Nope, before you leave, go into your sock drawer, into the back of it, grab the box. The box that held the ring you bought.

The engagement ring. Get the engagement ring, put it in your jacket, hopefully it was cool enough to wear a jacket without raising suspicions.

While you’re getting the ring, text Jessie’s sister, make sure she’s ready to be there, make sure she remembers her camera, obviously she’d remember the camera, but still make sure. Make sure the engagement party is set up. Check with Janine, check with Sinc, make sure it’s good, maybe check with her parents? They know you’re proposing, you had asked for their blessing, not permission because you’re girlfriend wasn’t their property but you still wanted to know they supported you joining their family. The party, they said for sure they were going to be safe, make sure they’re good to be at the party.

Hopefully it wasn’t going to rain, you should check the weather again, you’ve checked it six times today but maybe things have changed. If it rained, you’d have to completely change your plan. You should have a better back up plan. Moving to under one of the pavilions could work but Jessie wouldn’t leave the house if it was raining already.

Get the ring, drive to the park, get out of the car, don’t be suspicious. Set up the picnic, eat, or at least try to, who knows with nerves. Don’t act weird, act normal, act like you usually do. Don’t panic, don't accidentally tell her.

Ask her if she wants to recreate the photo the two of you took on your first date, if she says no, then your plan is fucked. If she says no, come up with something else, whatever you have to do. Hope she doesn’t say no. If she doesn’t say no, set up your phone, tell her to go stand so you can set up your phone. Make sure she’s in the frame, make sure she’s going to be in the video.

Set up your phone, make sure it’s recording, go back over to Jessie. Take the “photo” then point something out in the distance, when she’s turned, kneel down. Which knee were you supposed to kneel on? Did it matter? You should Google that. Hold out the ring. Did it matter which hand you held the ring in? Did you hold it with both? You should’ve been practicing this.

Make sure you have the ring, make sure it’s in your pocket. Grab it before you walk over to her. But don’t grab it where it’s obvious.

Open the box, toward her, not yourself, wait for her to turn around. Ask her to marry you, ask her to make you her wife, tell her that she’s the best thing in your life and you can’t imagine being anywhere without her. Tell her how you’re ready to spend every year, every week, every day with her. Tell her you don’t want to be her girlfriend anymore, you want to be her wife.

You had just started running through your speech in your head when you were interrupted by the stabbing in your finger.

“Let me look at it baby, sit.” She pats the countertop and you hop up sticking your hand out to her. “Here let’s run it under the water.” She encourages you. Now feeling overwhelmed from the idea of proposing, on top of injuring yourself, you start panicking inside.

“Jess I’m fine I just wasn’t paying attention.” You try and brush her off, only admitting you weren’t focused brings up concerns for Jessie.

“You’ve been spacing out a lot these past few days, is something bothering you?” Her hand comes to rest on your knees, you can feel her gaze in the side of your head but your eyes are fixated to the side looking down at your finger running under the faucet. You knew she would say yes to your proposal, you two had discussed marriage before, multiple times, you both were ready. But that didn’t make it any less nerve wracking.

“I don’t want you to be your girlfriend.” The words come out of your mouth. Naturally since that was the part of the speech you were practicing and rehearsing, that part of the speech falls out of your mouth.

“What?” She removed her hands from where they had been gently caressing your knees. She takes a few steps back, her face a mix of hurt and confusion, her eyebrows pinched together, a frown across her lips.

You had just told Jessie after five years of dating you didn’t want to be her girlfriend, with seemingly no reason.

“Oh my god.” Now you have no choice. You clasp your hand over your mouth and throw yourself off of the counter, running to your shared bedroom. You don’t even care that you’re bleeding. You rip open your sock drawer throwing socks across the room.

While you’re scrambling Jessie comes into the room, she was confused before but now she's angry. “What the fuck?”

“Hang on!” You shout at her, panic filling your body, digging out more and more socks not caring where they landed in the room, just searching.

“What the fuck are you doing, you say you’re breaking up with me and now you’re making a mess!” The pitch of her voice is up, you can tell she’s unsure of what’s going on, she’s nervous. At least that made two of you.

“No!” You shout as you throw out another pair of socks, finally feeling your fingers close around the wooden box. You grab it and pull it out. You hold it in your hands, looking at it for a second before remembering what you’re supposed to be doing. You kneel down, looking up at Jessie who has a mixed appearance of distress and surprise written across her face.

“Jessie, oh my god I’ve messed this up, I am so sorry” You start, immediately forgetting the speech that you worked on for weeks, the speech you practiced in the car, in the shower, at work, at home when Jessie wasn’t there, forgotten in an instant. So you just made one up.

“I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore because I want to make you my fiancée, and then my wife. I am so in love with you, you are the best thing that has happened to me. You are the kindest soul, my best friend, I have wanted to put a ring on your finger for years, and I want to spend every day with you.” It’s at this point you realize you are just holding a closed box up to your girlfriend. Of course she’s smart and knows what’s happening, you pop the box open mid speech anyway, causing Jessie to let out a giggle.

“I want to have a family with you, I want to travel with you, I want to cook dinner together, and clean the house with you, I want to do everything by your side. So, Jessie Alexandra Fleming, will you give me the honor of being your fiancée, and will you marry me?” You feel your hands shaking as you hold the box out to her.

You realize, despite staring up at Jessie, your vision had practically blacked out while you were speaking, suddenly having no recollection of the past minute. What you do see is your teary eyed girlfriend standing in front of you, nodding, her hand over her mouth. You can tell by her eyes she’s smiling.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you, I love you.” She reaches down her hands coming to your face to pull you to stand, she pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss.

“I love you.” You say when you pull away, tears now in your own eyes.

“I love you.” Jessie whispers against your lips. You kiss her again before pulling back to take the ring out of the box. You hold out your other hand to take Jessie’s palm, gently pushing the ring onto her finger, your own hands still shaking.

She grabs your face, kissing you again. “I’m no longer your girlfriend.” She says when she pulls away, teasing you. You then start to realize that you just proposed. You had just proposed in your bedroom, with socks laying all across the room, you’re in ratty pajama pants and one of Jessie’s shirts, she’s in a pair of shorts and a crewneck. She was beautiful, stunning like always, no matter what she wore, but now you were worried she’d be mad she wasn’t at least a little more dressed up for this moment. You had done this all wrong, there was no picnic, no breakfast, no speech, no photos of the moment.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Jessie. I planned a whole thing, breakfast, the park, tomorrow, a picnic, your sister, our first date, I had a speech, there were going to be photos, I messed it up.”

“You didn’t mess it up, this was perfect.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.” You say hanging your head, you should be celebrating but after your months of work perfecting your proposal idea you managed to blow it the day before.

“I’m not, I don’t lie to you. This,” she gestures between the two of you and around the room, “this is a perfect example of us, this mix of crazy and impulsive, that’s who you are, that’s the version of you that I fell in love with. You’re not a perfectionist, you’re not calculated, and that’s why I love you, I love how you are. The planning, the overthinking, it’s not you baby, this, the socks everywhere, the pajamas, the intimacy and privacy of this, this is you, this is us. I mean that, this is so much better. I can’t wait to get to experience this and you everyday for the rest of my life.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, now let’s get you cleaned up, you’re still bleeding on the floor.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb

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arcaneconfessions · 2 months ago

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I’ll tell you why I dislike Caitlyn more than Ambessa or Silco, it’s because of the character’s subjective morality. By her own morals, Ambessa is doing what she thinks is right, her Noxian upbringing is a reason about why she feels so strongly about mages (they betray that war makes everyone equal hence they are a threat that must be taken out) and why she thinks softness is nothing but a weakness. Her worldview is shaped by the brutalities of war that she’s constantly exposed to (and engages in) which makes her this incredibly ruthless and cut throat character.

Silco is all about the “base violence necessary for change”, his convictions are shown when he invited Vander to join him DESPITE the brutal attempted drowning because he’s motivated by the “greater good”- for Zaun, he emerged a stronger resilient man after the violence done to him. He’s willing to give up shimmer and himself for the sake of Zaun’s freedom (but not Jinx). What I’m getting at is this: you can’t look at people’s actions in isolation because their environment shapes their morality and decisions, Ambessa because she was born in Noxus, Silco is like this because he was born in Zaun, I’m not justifying them but explaining how distorted their worldview is because of their environment, they don’t exist in a vacuum where they do evil things despite knowing better because it’s shown that they are trying to do good.

Cait is different because she was given everything from breathable air, to a safe place to sleep at night, food and even the ability to choose her own path regardless of her parents disapproval- the kids in Zaun are forced to work and steal to survive. HER PRIVILEGES ARENT HER FAULT AT ALL. In s1 we see that despite having it all, she wants things on her own merit and tries to help despite not needing to. She has an incredibly strong moral centre with deep conviction. Like Vi says “she believes what she’s saying” when she disagrees with Ekko saying that enforcers hunt them like animals and she even backs it up- ex reassessing her opinion of Zaun, willing to give up her rifle within that “dangerous place” to save Vi, embracing a shimmer addict (those branded monsters) simply because he was hurting, using her connections to help Vi etc. She tells Ekko to give up the gemstone instead of using it to kill Silco because of the cycle of violence, and I believe her since she showed that she isn’t ignoring his pain but giving him better hopes than bloody revenge.

S2 shows me i was wrong to like the sheltered, sorta prejudiced but kindhearted girl who always strives to be better because her morals are paper thin and just for show. She has direct knowledge of how bad the grey is because Cassandra documents it- shown in the hellfire music video and the fact that Viktor (her brother’s friend) is dying from it even years later. Yet she still uses it on the streets. Gas spreads obviously and chembarons use child labour in their factories (thanks Jayce)- there’s no way to stop third party effects of the grey. Imagine how bad it must be for Zaunites, who breathe in the air that even trees cannot survive in, immediately suffocate and tear up with their eyes turning red? She controls their right to breathe and she immediately uses it against them, all the while calling them animals knowing the truth.

She insists that she wouldn’t have missed her shot (ignoring the fact that she DID just miss her shot when she had a clear go at Jinx’s head and went for her middle finger AND that the hextech weapons were glitching out) and used that as justification for being prejudiced against Vi (“I keep telling myself you are different but you are not, it’s her blood in your veins”) and hitting her where she was stabbed- after taking a calming breath, leaving her and not even looking for her afterward.

And again she ignores the fact that Isha would have been harmed either by being that close to an exploding head (which she knows because she tells Vi to get out the way) or being killed alongside Jinx because their heads were aligned- Vi was not wrong to call her out in the slightest.

She knows the things she’s been told about Zaun are wrong, that they need healing and understanding rather than condemnation but so quickly switches back- using othering language and prejudice, literally calling them animals and Vi one of the good ones until Vi doesn’t do as she wants then saying that she’s no different.

btw she has full right to hate jinx, not saying that she needs to be the bigger person (even if she says that to ekko) but there is NO justification for taking that out on Zaun knowing what she knows or Vi for telling the truth.

So yeah both Ambessa and Silco don’t have the luxury of a kind life, they were both shaped by the brutal realities of their environment and that turns them into brutal people. These guys are villains who do awful things, I hold them at different standards because 1) their role in the story and 2) at the very least they are doing what they think is best rather than knowing better and being evil despite it all. Caitlyn knows better, she has seen Zaun firsthand and has the luxury of having a good life and the ability to recognise that privilege and that allows for a stable moral compass and world view. Jinx is not justification for the grey on Zaun’s streets, or hitting Vi for telling the truth- she knows better and doesn’t care. Even then she gives up because she didn’t have the energy to hate herself for doing these things, not because she got her head out of her ass and saw the impact of what she’s doing. It’s to do with her emotions.

#anti caitlyn kiramman #silco arcane #ambessa medarda #vi arcane #jinx arcane #isha arcane #jayce talis #cassandra kiramman #ekko arcane #viktor arcane #arcane

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tonyboneysblog · 10 months ago

Text

MOTHER HEN: PART THREE

parings: hawks x mother!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: talks of abuse/ trauma!

notes: yall I cooked on this angst chapter (there’s comfort after I swear)

summary: You, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

It’s been maybe a week or two since Fumikage, your precious angel, has spread his wings and joined U.A.

and today is currently your off day! Which isn’t completely rare but you still enjoy them.

Most the time you clean and tidy up the house, checking the fridge to see if you need to get groceries- which is your favorite because you love going to the grocery store and-…it’s full?

inside has a small note in Fumikages hand writing…

“Decide to go shopping for you so you could rest, Love Fumikage & Dark Shadow.”

darn your amazing son.

so now, you don’t have anything to do because your son decided he wanted to helpful.

So what do you do?

watch the news of course.

Nothing interesting is happening today really, maybe today is just a slow day!

those are your least favorite.

but then, your savior came, that one bird guy you saw at the restaurant!

apparently he was doing an interview today on channel 58, and you were only slightly interested in him.

So you switch to the channel obviously, seeing his amazing wings that were much bigger than yours…

you really don’t know how long you watched that interview- then decided to watch a few videos on his quote, “epic saves”.

Maybe it was the wings, they were bright and shiny- maybe it’s just a bird thing.

what’s not a bird thing though is going onto G-bay to find overpriced merch of him.

It’s like starting a really good show and hyper-fixating on the side character instead of the main one.

After about 20 minutes of scrolling, you finally found your holy grail.

a 15 inch hawks plush with metallic wings, now you really liked shiny things- which is why it caught your eye.

Probably just a bird thing.

It was 30 dollars though…well whatever you’ll regret this later.

now all you have to do is wait for your new shiny edition to your nest! and while waiting you don’t mind watching more-

BZZT BZZT BZZT

your phone vibrates, it’s a call from the school?

Fumikage did warn you it would get kind of crazy up at U.A.- did he get hurt?

“Is this Ms.Tokoyami?”

you hesitate, “uhm yes, is something wrong with Fumikage at the school? did he get in a fight?”

Now it was the principals turn to hesitate, “ah, no ma’am, we just need to inform you that the school was attacked by villains-“

what?

“I-is my son okay?!”

“Ma’am, please calm down-“

You immediately snap, “don’t you tell me to fucking calm down- your supposed to be the top hero school and you somehow get infiltrated by some thugs?!”

“Ma’am, please-“

You hang up, you know where Fumikage is.

So you get into your car and drive as fast as the law will let you.

You reach the school and immediately get out of your car looking for Fumikage.

You can see a group of students standing by multiple cops, and you finally spot Fumikage.

You sigh out of relief, he’s safe, he’s here, you’re here.

You start to run towards him, “Fumi!”

He instantly looks around for who called him, seeing you.

“M-mother?!”

you can here his class gasp, repeating what he said.

You reach Fumikage, your beautiful boy, and hug him tightly.

“M-mother, what are you doing here?” He says with confusion.

“Principal called to notify me, so I came straight away.”

You pull back and cup his face, “are you a okay, Fumi?”

“M-mother not infront of the class…” he whispers with embarrassment.

“Fumi, you worried me sick! Are we able to leave now? I want you home.”

“Yes mother, I just gave my statement to-“

You grab Fumikages hand and drag him to the car, “good, let’s go then.”

Fumikage hops into the car, still with his hero costume on.

“Best hero school my ass…” you whisper angrily.

“It was the villains quirk, mama.”

“Yea well I expect better from U.A.- you better have not even been near those villains!”

Fumikage looks away.

“Fumi, please tell me they kept you away from the villains.”

“Well we got separated and-“

that’s definitely a fucking email.

You put your head onto the steering wheel.

“Do you not have any hope in my ability’s?!”Fumikage angrily bursts out.

“Excuse me- you shouldn’t have even been near those villains.” You say angrily.

“I can handle myself.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“I’m training to be a hero, mother!- I can get beaten up if I have to.”

“You shouldn’t have to!”

“Well dad did didn’t he? Is that why he left?!”

Then the car goes quiet.

You don’t like talking about Tokoyamis father, you always argued with him about how hard you worked and how hard he worked- training to become a hero.

He told you he didn’t need a “loose end” on his record, he didn’t need Fumikage.

you don’t like talking about him at all.

“Fumikage, I don’t like talking about him.”

“He was a hero, he worked for that didn’t he?”

You don’t understand why Fumikage wants to put him in a good light.

“He was barely a hero, he left you Fumikage.”

Fumikage whispers, “Maybe that was the right thing to do.”

You smack the steering wheel, “You needed a father Fumi, I couldn’t do all of that by myself- I…”

He raises his voice, “Is that why you let Ryuji do that to me, because you thought I needed a father?!”

“Fumikage, I didn’t know he was like that!” You plead with him.

“You were barely even home, you barely know me!”

“watch your tone, boy.”

Fumikage immediately stops, he always hated when you were angry with him.

So angry to the point you stopped using his name, the one you gave him.

You take the car out of park, and start the drive home.

it’s quiet, you like it like that anyways.

Ryuji was nice to Fumikage when you were home.

Sometimes you wish you could be at home all the time for Fumikage.

You wish that you could know him more, you just want him to live a good life.

It was four years ago, you decided to come home early, Fumikage and Ryuji were arguing about something stupid- you forgot what it was about.

You saw Ryuji pin Fumikage against the wall and then he started screaming at him, Fumikage was terrified.

You called the police while you tried to get Ryuji off of Fumikage, they ended up tasering him.

Fumikage slept in you bed for 2 months after that.

He said the nightmares would stop when he was with you.

You try your best to avoid that hallway now.

You eventually pull into your driveway, Fumikage goes inside first, you stay in the car for a moment.

You can’t protect Fumikage from everything, no matter how hard you try.

Walking into the house, you try to open Fumikages door to apologize to him, it’s locked.

So instead you go out to the balcony in your room, you’re able to see a lake peeking out from the trees.

And it’s quiet.

You like the quiet though.

Ryuji hated it so he always talked to fill up the space.

So now when it got quiet, you could faintly hear Ryuji talking about something that was never that important.

you hate the quiet now.

You can feel the tears falling down onto the dark wood below you, your curled into yourself on the lounge chair that’s outside

you haven’t really cried in awhile, never had the time.

you feel a weight sit next to you on the chair, you assume it’s Fumikage.

“F-Fumi, m’sorry baby- ma-“

“Fumi?” An energetic voices says playfully.

that’s not Fumikage…

You look up, only to see hawks…

“What’re you doing here…” you say hesitantly, confused on why the number three hero was here.

“I was on patrol..?”

“Why’re you here…?”

“I saw that my favorite nurse was upset!” He replies happily.

You nod and wipe your face.

“So, why’re you crying?” He cocks his head to the side with curiosity.

You sigh, “it’s nothing…”

“Clearly it isn’t.”

you rub your temples, “It’s just- everything’s been piling up.”

“Yea, I understand.” He rubs your back softly.

“M’sorry, you should go back to patrol-“

“No, the world doesn’t need me for a couple minutes, but you do.” He says with a carefree smile.

You sigh, trying to control you breathing so you don’t make even more of a fool out of yourself.

“You want a hug?” He opens his arms awkwardly, almost as if he’s never actually gave someone a genuine hug.

You open your arms as well, leaning into him and taking comfort in his warmth, he smells good too.

“Man, your wings are small…” he whispers softly.

“rude.” You scoff.

“N-not in a bad way! It’s uhm…cute!”

“Don’t say a woman is cute when she’s older than you.” You say while chuckling softly.

“What if I like older women?”

“I thought you were supposed to comfort me, not flirt.” You push yourself out of the warm hug.

“Sorry- second nature for me.” He stretches, his wing go with him, almost knocking over a plant.

“Your wings are too big…” you say in a retort to his earlier comment.

“I can make them smaller for you.”

“I bet mine are way softer.” You tease.

He laughs, “wanna bet?”

“No need too.”

You turn around, your back facing him, “go on and get a feel- might be your only time to.”

Hawks laughs and shakes his head, hesitantly he takes off his gloves and brushes his fingers through your wing span.

“You’re right, they’re soft..” he says softly.

“Told ya.”

“Mine are better though!” He says with a teasing tone.

You giggle softly, hawks has already made you forget a small bit about the days events.

“Y’know when I was younger, I thought if you touched a birds wings they’d get turned on.”

“Nah, not with mutant quirks usually” hawks says while putting back on his glove, “kids are always tugging on em so…I got used to it.”

“I used to let kids touch them if they were at the hospital for a while.” You stand up from the chair.

“Are you gonna touch mine?” Hawks says with a slight jitter in his movements.

You chuckle softly and pet his wings, “yknow, you’re much cooler on TV.”

You notice his wings puff up, “You watch me on TV?”

“Yea sometimes, very cool in my opinion.”

you can see his ears turn red, his wings twitch softly, and you hear a soft high pitched sound as well..? Almost similar to a bird chirping, weird.

“I’m glad you think that.”

Then it’s silent, you try to distract yourself with your thoughts but hawks continues to talk, reminds you of Ryuji.

“Was today your off day?” He asks curiously.

“Yea, ended up being a lot more stressful than they usual are.”

Maybe you could tell him the truth.

“I heard about the U.A. situation…is your son okay?”

“He’s fine, he had to fight apparently…I don’t want that for him.” you feel the tears coming back up.

“I understand that can be stressful for you.” He pats your back, his face still sporting a soft smile, it feels like he’s still in hero mode.

“Then in the car we fought- about his dad, about some of my…untasteful choices when he was younger.”

Your rambling, hawks probably doesn’t want to hear about this anyways.

“Untastful choices?” He chuckles.

“I used to date this guy when Fumikage was about 11, His name was Ryuji…he uhm.”

Hawks waits patiently for you to continue, he’s still smiling.

“He pinned him against the wall a-and he wouldn’t stop screaming.”

You can feel the tears going down your face.

“A-and i tried to get him off of Fumikage but he just threw me against the wall t-then he went back to him.”

Hawks isn’t smiling anymore.

“I-I had to call the cops and Fumikage just…wasn’t the same obviously, we wouldn’t sleep in his own bed, he became so quiet.”

Hawks is holding your forearms, his thumbs circle your skin in a smoothing manner.

why isn’t he smiling anymore?

“oh god- I’m a terrible mother.”

“Don’t say that.”

You fall into his chest and cry, what else could you do? you can’t change what Ryuji did to your son, your baby.

“Your amazing y/n, you…your a good mom I know you are.” He says quickly.

You don’t even know hawks real name, yet here you are crying to him about what you think is your own incompetence as a parent.

“I wish I knew how to make you feel better.” He says softly, he holds you.

“You should be on patrol..”

“My job is to help, and I want to help you.”

he holds you a little tighter, he smells good.

you can hear the soft static coming from his head gear, sounds like someone’s speaking.

You don’t want him to go yet.

“Mama?” You hear Fumikage call from your door way, luckily at this angle he can’t see you snug as a bug in a pros arms.

oh god- what are you doing??

You immediately jump out of hawks embrace, he looks incredibly confused by your sudden movements.

You look around quickly, Fumikage can’t see you like this, Not with some man!

You spot a weighted blanket, you got it for Fumikage when he was struggling to sleep without you- though he said it was too heavy and cold.

You immediately push hawks down into the chair and throw the blanket over him just in time for Fumikage to walk out into your balcony.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Fumikage says confused.

You sit down onto the lounge chair, mind you hawks is right under you being smothered by a blanket.

“J-just enjoying the view!”

The two of you just stare at each-other for a moment.

“So what did you need?”

Fumikage sighs and says something under his breath.

“Y’know I don’t have super hearing Fumikage.” You try to joke with him.

“I said that I was sorry..” he looks down at his feet, he looks ashamed.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, your already stressed enough from work and-“

“Fumi..”

“And you’re always trying your best all the time and-and I’m so sorry I wasn’t appreciative of that!” He looks up at you with tears in his eyes, it breaks your heart.

“Fumi you don’t need to apologize…”

“But I do-“

“Shh, just come here okay?” You open up your arms.

Fumikage goes into your warm embrace, putting his weight onto you.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, we both made mistakes…I’ve made more than you though.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled-“

“I still love you Fumi…I love you so, so much- and I just want you to be safe, and happy, and I want you to be better than me.”

You ramble, Fumikage listens.

You and Fumikage never really understood eachother, sometimes it was like you were both ghosts haunting the same house.

But you tried so hard to understand eachother and the only thing you both understood is the love you had for the other.

Fumikage loved you so much, and Fumikage is the reason you’re still here in the world.

Fumikage sniffles, “mama..”

You rub his back, “what is it baby?”

“Why is this blanket so bulky…”

Ah yes, you totally forgot about hawks.

“I-I uhm, no reason…” you look away.

“Is someone under-“

“How about we go get something to eat?!” You quickly change the topic.

Fumikage stops his little investigation, and nods.

“Go on downstairs, I would like to change into some comfier clothes before we go out or eat!”

Fumikage smiles softly and pitter patters down stairs.

“Y’know, the blanket isn’t half bad” you hear hawks muffle out.

“Sorry…” you peel back the blanket to see a red faced hawks, most likely from the lack of air circulation under a thick weighted blanket.

“It’s fine, glad I got to hear you both make your amends” he shoots up a thumb.

“Well, have to go get some food..we haven’t had dinner yet.” You say sheepishly, tapping your fingers together.

“You wishing I could come, mama bird?” He teases.

“No, I’m telling you to leave and never come back, bird brain.” You say sarcastically.

Hawks chuckles, his laugh is nice.

Hawks is nice.

“You need to go back on patrol, I’ve kept you long enough…”

Hawks looks away for a moment, thinking.

“Can I keep the blanket?” He says almost too quickly.

“What?”

“...can I keep the blanket? You can say no!” He quickly adds the last part.

“No, no, Fumikage doesn’t use it so- go ahead!”

“I’ll see you soon?” He says hesitantly.

You smile, “Course..”

“I’ll see you then.” He takes off into the sky, weighted blanket in hand.

You quickly run down the stairs to meet up with Fumikage, only to find him waiting outside in the already cranked car.

You hop in, “where to?”

Fumikage continues to stare at the house.

“Fumi?” You say hesitantly

“Why did I just see the number three hero fly away from our house…”

Well shit, how are you supposed to explain this one to Fumikage.

On the other side of town, hawks is at his own perch patrolling whilst holding on tightly to the weighted blanket.

The only thing on his mind is that it smells like you.

And when his patrol finally ends he flies home, hawks never really had blankets on his bed, always too stuffy for his wings to be comfortable.

This blanket would probably be even more stuffy since it was heavy and thick but…

He still slept with it.

He would never tell anyone that he slept like a baby that night, and the night after that, and the night after that one.

Maybe his little interest in you is worse than he originally thought…

PART FOUR: MOTHER HEN: PART FOUR

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