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multific · 8 months

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Modern Warfare Men as Sugar Daddies - Preferences

John Price, Simon Riley, John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, König, Logan Walker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age gap, smut

Part 2

A/N: The description of Sugar Baby and Daddy relationship is not portrayed realistically here, this is a more intimate relationship, I would say. I think it is more of a romance that started with a Sugar Baby-Daddy relationship. (Potential part 2? anyone interested let me know!)

John Price

You two met when you worked in a café. At first, he was only a customer. A customer who soon became a regular. He always asked for the same drink and sat at the same table, right in the corner so he could see everyone in the room.

He offered to take care of you and you agreed probably way too quickly.

He was too handsome and kind to say no to.

Your agreement was simple, he gave you his card and you gave him comfort. Whenever he left for a mission you always worried for him, not because of his money but because of him.

He would call you his Darling.

He loved to see you in nice dresses. Even if you didn't want to buy anything, he would still take you to the stores.

And in return, he would just want you naked, on or against any surface he prefers at that moment.

John is a giver, that is for sure.

Your legs always tremble when you think of sitting on his face, his beard so deliciously scratched against your skin as you ride his face.

Simon Riley

Simon found you through a website.

It was very late and he was way too lost on the web to care, but then he found himself on a page.

sugarbees.com

And he found you very interesting. First of all, you were gorgeous. You looked the most natural out of all of the women on there and he got interested.

He saved up all of his money from the army after he retired. Why not spend it on someone? Not like he had anyone. So, he sent you a message and you replied within the next 5 minutes.

You two agreed on a meeting the next day.

Simon was surprised that you were so prepared. You explained he would be your second if he agreed to your terms.

Your terms were very reasonable, even the money you asked for. And you even offered a 'test-run' as you called it. Which basically meant that he could fuck you to test if he would like it. And boy did he love it. He signed your papers the moment after he came inside you.

You turned out to be a good companion. You always kept him on his toes, asked him to go out on dates, and not only expensive ones, he learned you prefer Burger King over any fancy restaurant. And each and every date would end the same, with mindblowing sex.

Simon learned that you loved to give him blowjobs, there was something about the tears that gathered in your eyes that he didn't like but you reassured him, you loved every second of it. Having not only your pussy stretched out by him but also your throat turned you on.

He was glad he messaged you that day.

Johnny MacTavish

You two met at a wedding.

He later learned that it was actually a Sugar Baby technique to go to weddings and look for Sugar Daddies but he didn't complain.

You were gorgeous, it was meant to be a one night thing but then Johnny called you again.

This is when you explained to him what you wanted.

You wanted money and in exchange, he would get you as a girlfriend... kinda.

Johnny loved the attention you gave him. You even bought him gifts for events, given it was his money but still.

And you had a mad pussy.

He loved it when you were riding him, and you loved the noises he made.

Most of his money you would spend on Doctors, pills or condoms. Johnny loved to see you in heels. So, he would make sure to have a closet in his home filled with shoes for you. He would want you to wear one even during sex. He wouldn't say he has a foot fetish, but there was something about the way your legs looked in a pair of heels, the way your calves would look and how he wanted to always have them around his shoulders or torso as he fucked you.

Kyle Garrick

Kyle got to know you through a recommendation. Prince told him about his Sugar Baby and Kyle got interested and so, you two met.

You were a very bubbly person who always had a smile on their face. Kyle liked that.

It was very different from the things he had seen at his line of work.

Your agreement was also very reasonable.

In this relationship, it was you who demanded more sex from him.

Kyle liked to just spend time with you, he didn't always need to get his dick wet for the occasion.

König

He was confused about how he got into this situation.

One minute you were explaining to him what your job was, in the next he was eating your pussy out like a madman while stroking himself.

Since he often left for missions, you stayed in his home. You loved sending him videos.

Naked videos mostly with an attached note.

Thinking of you today

Missing you Daddy

Watch this when you are alone

Got some new panties you can rip off of me

Watch this with sound on

He would be so red. So SO red every time your name would pop up on his phone.

And when he would come home, you would be already waiting for him either on your knees or on all fours.

You would learn German to tease him. It would also help understand him a lot more. He would call you many cute nicknames in German.

After sex, he would take really good care of you. A shower or a bath is a must and then food to regain energy.

But no one said you wouldn't give him head in the shower or ride him in the bathtub until all water is gone from around you.

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro knew from the moment he saw you in the bar exactly what you were looking for.

And he was more than willing to give it to you.

You were stunning. Exactly what he was looking for and more.

But being an army man he needed a plan.

And his goal was to get you.

Which was easier than he anticipated.

Next week, he made sure to put on his nicest suit and expensive watch.

And just as if he was fishing, you got hooked.

What he didn't know was that you already had your eyes on him the week before. Who wouldn't notice a handsome man like him?

So, you knew this was all for show.

But you liked it.

You liked him. He would be your very first Sugar Daddy so you wouldn't exactly know what to do and what not to do. But Alejandro was patient.

He expected you to spend his money in a week's time but instead, he just often found you on his couch or bed.

The agreement with sex was simple, if either of you wanted to try something, speak up, you felt uncomfortable, speak up.

It was simple but effective.

You loved it when he used his leader voice on you. Giving you commands.

When he was gone on missions, you would learn a couple things. First, you learned to cook then you learned to strip and how to give a lap dance.

He would be thrilled to come home to his favourite food and a lap dance.

Logan Walker

It was his brother who set it all up claiming that Logan needed a little lovin' in his life.

Logan wasn't exactly happy with you, but you have been paid and you were not going to walk out.

You did keep your distance and gave him time to warm up to you. Given how distant and unsure he was with you.

You always texted him to meet up and he did come, reluctantly. He said he didn't want to waste his brother's money

But soon, Logan warmed up to you.

He found himself drawn towards you.

He found himself texting or calling you to meet up, he called you over to his place more and more often.

Sex wasn't essential to him, but you did end up seducing him, wearing a nice piece of lingerie and he was gone.

Men are simple creatures.

And Logan was certainly not against the idea of you in his bed.

Logan has great stamina, he is precise and he knows what to do. He learns your movements and how to fully please you as you learn the same about him.

You two are on the same wavelength most of the time.

Part 2

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

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zepskies · 7 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

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

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

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

🔥 Series Masterlist

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

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

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

Especially for Dean Winchester.

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

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

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

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

“Jack!” he called out.

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

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

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

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a fucked way to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That makes four,” Cas said.

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

John’s brows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense.

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

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

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

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

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

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

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

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not my department.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

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

Dean’s brows knitted together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

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

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

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

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

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

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

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

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

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

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean had carpet burn.

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

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

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

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

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

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

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

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

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

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

He blew out a breath and shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

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

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

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

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

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

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

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

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

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

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

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

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

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

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

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

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

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

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

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

Next Time:

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

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

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

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

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

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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themorningsunshine · 1 year

Text

Brownies

Pie eyed over you : Chapter 2

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Nothing in this one

Word count - 3.9k

a/n - And here is the second part to the Pie-eyed over you series. I am SO grateful for the love all of you have shown to the first part and I am really excited for you guys to read this. This will (hopefully) not be a very long series but I haven’t decided on how I want it to go so updates might be slow. Please bare with me.Also, let me know what you guys want to see in this story :)

He looks around once before stepping out of the car.

The area is as lively as the last time he had seen it.

Not a lot of changes in 5 days, Bucky

He can see the bakery from where his car is parked.

He didn't have a reason to be here. For some reason, he hadn't demanded the money last time he was here and he was pretty sure it won't change this time either.

But there was something about this bakery.

It's the cakes. He tells himself, but his suddenly quickening heart tells a different story.

He walks towards the bakery and sees you standing behind the counter, with a small smile on your face, which seems like your default setting, looking at the registers. And just like last time, Bucky's steps falter for a moment before he takes a deep breath as if his lungs had suddenly been deprived of air before walking again.

As he opens the door, the bells above his head jingle and notify you of a new customer.

When you look up from the register, your smile grows and turns into a slightly teasing one as you look at the man standing in front of you. You were relieved. Was it okay that you kinda hoped he would come back?

As he walked towards the counter, you spoke up, "Can I say, 'I told you so'?"

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn't help the way his lips were turning slightly upwards. "Come on, sweets. We both know you wanted me to come back."

Your breath hitches in your throat at both the nickname and the comment. You clear your throat, willing yourself to speak, "Of course I did. It's good for business, you know." You tried to sound composed but the smile on your face gave it away.

Bucky chuckled as he took the seat beside the counter and looked at the case full of sweets in front of him. It was still the early hours of the day and there weren't a lot of people in the bakery, except for a couple sitting in the corner and a teenage girl sipping coffee while working on her laptop.

"So, what do you want today?"

You. Bucky's eyes widened as a voice from inside him replied almost instantly and he had to look up to make sure he hadn't said it out loud. What the hell was happening to him? He clears his throat and replies, "Surprise me"

You smile at him before bending to pick up a couple of brownies from the case putting them on a plate and passing them to him. "Just made them. Try and tell me how they are." There was a glint in your eyes and Bucky knew that he could never not like anything you made.

He picked up a brownie and took a bite. As it melted into his mouth, a perfectly sweet taste filling his senses, he closed his eyes and moaned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and clenched your thighs together at his reaction. "Sweets, this is the best damn thing I've ever had."

You chuckled as red color crept up to your neck at the praise. "Glad you liked it, James."

"Liked it? I love it, sweets." He spoke before taking another bite from the brownie.

You stood there for a moment, just looking at him. There was something about him. A rough exterior, covered in dark clothes from top to bottom, but there were moments like these where you saw just how soft he was beneath all that and for some reason, you just couldn't take your eyes off the man who was eating your brownie as if a second without them would kill him.

The sound of the bells jingling at the door brought you out of your daze. You looked at him once more before walking towards the other end of the counter to the middle-aged woman who had just walked in.

When Bucky finished one of his brownies and forced himself to not instantly reach for the other one, he looked around. The bakery wasn't that large. A small, cozy place with a few decorations. Filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies and cakes, it was warm and inviting. It was so you.

Bucky's eyes landed on a shelf beside the counter and his feet brought him to it before his mind could catch up. It was a small shelf but lined with books.

The books looked old as if they had been read over and over again but well kept. Cherished. He brought his flesh hand to one of the books and slowly picked it up. To kill a mockingbird

He stared at the cover for a moment, before walking back to his seat, with the book in hand.

As he opened the book to the first chapter, the words brought him to a time long gone. An easier time.

He used to read a lot, as much as he could anyways. He liked books. They were an escape. The stories made him forget about the struggles of his own life.

But that was a habit long gone. Another thing he loved that was lost to time.

He starts reading it before he knows what he is doing and instinctively reaches for the brownie on the plate, taking a bite.

You look up from the cash drawer, eyes drifting to the man who has been occupying your thoughts more than you would like to admit.

He is engrossed in a book and his furrowed brows as he focuses on the book and the soft look in his eyes as he skims through the pages has your heart fluttering. You notice the brownies on his plate are almost gone now and trying your best as to not disturb him, you place another two on the plate and watch as he reaches into the plate without looking away from his book and takes a bite. You smile to yourself before getting back to the kitchen to prepare an order of cupcakes.

＊*•̩̩

Bucky looks up as he feels eyes staring at him, only to be met by your y/e/c ones.

"Finally, and I thought you will finish the whole book in one go." You said, letting out a chuckle.

Bucky narrows his eyes. Sure, the page he was on and the feel of the chair proved that he had been there for long, but it couldn't have been that long, right? "How long has it been?"

You smile at him before tilting your head towards the little clock adorning the walls and Bucky's eyes widen. It had been 2 hours. What the hell had happened to his sense of time?

He hadn't felt this at peace in ... a very long time. He looked down at his plate which still had a small piece of a brownie left and he could swear he could still taste it in his mouth. How many had he really eaten?

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts. "So.." You kept your head on your fist and leaned on the table with a teasing smile on your face and it was becoming difficult for him to focus on the outside world. "And this is a wild guess. Like, completely random. You like reading?"

He let out a chuckle before thinking about your question. "I used to."

"What happened?" You ask with genuine curiosity. He looks at you and realizes that you're not asking just for the sake of it. You want to know. You want to know him.

"Life. Life happened." He replies, only because he can't get himself to lie to you.

"Come on, James. If we are not able to find time for the things we love, are we really living?"

He looks at you as if pondering over your words. It wasn't that easy.

"I know what you should do." You stood before taking the book away from him, dog-earing the page before sliding it back towards him. "Here, take this book with you."

When he narrowed his eyes, you continue, "Take it with you and read it. When you're done, come back and return it to me." You explain as if it was the simplest thing in the world. As if giving him one of your favorite books that you had cherished for so long wasn't a big deal at all.

Bucky shook his head. "Nope, no, sweets. I am not taking it."

"Come on. You don't leave a book in the middle if you like it. It's a crime."

"Then I'll just buy it from the bookshop. This is yours." He said before sliding the book back towards you.

"We both know you won't do that. Come on, James. Just take it."

He picked up the book and slid it into his metal hand, knowing that there was no use in arguing with you but said with a smirk. "Careful there, sweets. Or I'll think you're giving me this book because you want me to come back."

As if on cue, the bell of the entrance dings notifying you of a customer. So, you turn back to look at him for the last time before saying, "Maybe I do."

And Bucky really hopes it's true.

*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

He comes back a week later.

And the week after that.

He comes to the bakery every week until it becomes a routine. A part of him. A part engraved in his life as if it had always been there. It's simple.

He would come to the bakery, the book you gave to him last week tugged under his arms. Sometimes he would be finished with it, other times, he would just promise to return it the next week. You didn't mind. Not till he kept showing up.

He would sit beside the counter, ordering whatever it was you recommended. When you asked him how it was, he would always reply with 'The best damn thing I've ever had.' and he could swear to god he meant it every single time.

The both of you would talk, as much as you could anyways and Bucky found that being around you was the simplest part of his whole week, and the most precious too. It was his little escape. A time when he didn't care what was happening. About the people working for him or the people behind his life, he couldn't care less. All that mattered was that he was there, in the middle of a little bakery, eating sweets and talking to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

You didn't mind either. Somehow, every single time the bell of the entrance jingled, you silently hoped it was the same beautiful blue eyes that you just couldn't take your mind off.

The only trouble was, it is really easy to get distracted from running a bakery all alone when you have a guy like him sitting there, carefree and yet intimidating as if he owned the place. It was very distracting.

And one day, you let him know exactly that. It had been a month since he had shown up at the bakery for the first time. A book on the table and a plate of cookies, talking to you as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

You walked back from the cash register after handling a customer before speaking up, "You know, I have a bakery to run, James, and you are pretty much the most distracting person here." Even though your words were borderline harsh, you let him know through your teasing tone that you were just kidding. Him stopping to come to the bakery was the last thing you wanted.

"Aww, come on, sweets. We both know I am your favorite customer." He replied with a smug look on his face and you didn't know if you wanted to slap it from his face or kiss it. Definitely the latter.

"You wish, James."

As if on cue, the bell of the door jingles, and Bucky looks that way to see a young pregnant lady with a blond man standing at the door.

He looks back at you to find you grinning from ear to ear and watches as you practically run from behind the counter towards them and engulf the woman in a big hug, angling yourself so as to not hurt the evident bump.

When you do the same with the blonde man, the air surrounding Bucky suddenly thickens and he realizes he isn't going to like this man much. But it was just because he is blonde. Bucky has never liked blonde guys.

You say something to the both of them before bringing them inside towards a table near to where Bucky is sitting and helping the pregnant lady on a chair. You still have the widest grin on your face when you turn toward him.

"James, this is my best friend, Wanda, and her elder brother, Pietro." You said before pointing towards them.

"He is literally elder than me by 13 minutes." The brunette points at you accusingly as you snicker.

"Still older." The blonde replies with an accent just like his sister.

"Guys, this is James." You point toward him and Bucky watches as something flashes through Wanda's eyes and her lips turn into a teasing smirk.

"So, he is THE James Barnes." She brought her hand towards him to shake before continuing, "She has told me so much about you."

At this, Bucky turns towards you with a smirk on his face and raised brows and watches as your cheeks turn red. Just then, the oven dings and you thank heavens for the distraction, "That's my cue."

You turn back and walk towards the kitchen with hurried steps as Bucky's eyes follow your form, just like they always do. When you disappear into the kitchen and he finally takes his eyes off and turns back, he finds Wanda looking at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk as if she could read his mind.

Bucky cleared his throat, "So, how do you know y/n?"

"We met years ago when she came to visit here as a kid. Have been friends since."

Bucky shook his head but clenched his jaw when she still didn't remove her accusing stare from him.

Pietro, sensing the slight tension between them, tried breaking the silence, but Wanda cut him off, "Where have I seen you before?"

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat. You still didn't know who he was and if it was up to him, he would keep it like that for as long as he could. You looked at him as if he was human as if his hands weren't covered in blood as if you weren't scared of him and he would do everything he could to keep it that way.

"I don't know. You must be mistaken." He took a breath to calm himself down. He couldn't intimidate this woman the way he did with his people. He wouldn't give her a reason to doubt him. She clearly meant a lot to you.

As Wanda opened her mouth to speak, you came back from the kitchen, interrupting the conversation.

You looked towards Pietro before speaking, "The boxes are in the back, and please be careful this time."

Pietro brought his hand to his chest as if your words had somehow hurt him. "You hurt my feelings, y/n. When am I not careful?"

You brought your finger to your chin in mock thinking before replying, "Let me think. Off the top of my head, maybe whenever you drive your bike way past the speed limit. I swear to god, Pietro, one day, your speed will ruin all my sweets."

"Ouch, you care about your sweets more than me?" He said as if your words had physically hurt him this time.

This time, Wanda replied, "Pietro, my dear brother, even I care about her sweets more than you."

The both of you chuckled as Pietro huffed and stomped off towards the back.

You looked at James before explaining, "He does the deliveries for me, as a favor. Believe it or not, it's difficult to deliver stuff in a town you know nothing about."

Bucky lightly chuckled before replying, "Tell me about it."

He then looked at Wanda once again and saw that she was staring at him with the same glare from before, but thankfully, you didn't notice.

He knew he had to leave soon. He wouldn't give her enough time to put the pieces together. "Sweets, I should go."

"You, sure? You could stay. I am sure Wanda wouldn't mind."

"No, I know. But I will leave you to it. Bye, sweets. Bye, Wanda." He turned towards the door quickly as if he couldn't get out of there sooner.

"James, wait." You called out to him and he stopped midstep. He will never get tired of how his name sounded on your lips. "Here. You forgot this." You handed him the book he had been reading for the past week and look up at him with a smile on your face.

Yeah, he definitely didn't want you to find out.

As he walked out of the bakery, you turned back towards Wanda, the smile etched on your lips and a soft look in your eyes. "So....." Wanda started in a teasing tone.

"Don't say it. Don't say it."

"He is hot."

You rolled your eyes at her. "What would Vision think, Wan?"

"You know what I mean."

You bit your lips before looking at her. "It's nothing like that. We are friends. Or at least I hope we are."

"Yeah, because going around calling people sweets is the new thing men do."

You plopped yourself on the chair opposite to her before burying your face into your hands. "It's just a nickname that stuck."

Who were you lying to? You couldn't hide from your oldest friend the fact that every part of you knew that him calling you sweets was the best sound in the whole world. She brought her hands to yours and removed them from your face and you looked up to be met by her serious gaze. "Just be careful, y/n. Something about him just doesn't seem right."

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙

The corridors of this building always seemed darker when he came back from the bakery. He already missed how warm and inviting it was. The book tugged under his arm the only reminder that he had been there.

He heard some voices coming from his office and as he walked closer, he recognized the voices instantly.

He opened the door to his office, only to find Steve and Sam standing in the middle of the room.

"You're finally here." Sam almost exclaimed with relief as his eyes landed on Bucky. "What, couldn't handle this place for a few hours without me, Wilson?" He looked at him teasingly.

"Shut it. Stark called, asking about you. I had to make some half-ass excuse to him. But I am pretty sure he knew I was lying. That man is too smart, I am telling you." "Don't worry about it. I'll give him a call. Will schedule a meeting with him."

Sam crossed his arms across his chest. "What, you're not even gonna tell us where you were?"

Choosing to ignore his question, Bucky walked and sat on the couch. "How's Carl? Alive?" He asked as if he couldn't care less about the answer.

"He is still in there. Breathing." Steve replied before contemplating his next words. "Buck, do you think you were maybe a little too harsh on him? A week in the dungeon filled with our enemies is not really a vacation."

"He got what he deserved, Steve. We can't go easy on them."

Sam looked at Bucky with an accusing gaze before speaking up again. "So I lie to Tony Stark and handle all the chaos in here for the whole day and you just conveniently ignore my question of where you were."

Steve gave Bucky a once-over before smirking. "Let it go, Sam. Bucky has got a lot on his hands."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve before looking down, only to find crumbs of cookies still sticking to his hands.

He not-so-subtly rubbed his palms on his trousers before looking up and ushering the both of them outside the room with a lame excuse.

He placed the book he had brought with him on his table and opened it, only to find something in the middle of two pages. He opened it to find a small flower kept gently between two pages. A little pressed, but fresh, telling him that you had sneaked it in between today.

He picked up the flower, oblivious to the smile on his face when his eyes landed on a small note sticking to it. In swift handwriting, it read To my favorite customer

Bucky couldn't help the way his heartbeat quickened or how he just couldn't remove the smile from his face. But he couldn't care less.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard knocks on the door to his office. Tucking the flower and the note inside the book, he turned towards the door and called out for the person to enter.

When the door opened, his eyes landed on one of his men. "Walker, what do you want?"

"Sir," He said bowing his head a little to him. Bucky never really liked John Walker. He always tried to show himself to be more than what he actually was. But he got the work done and he hadn't given him a reason to not trust him.

"Sir, I checked the collections for this month and I noticed something."

Bucky nodded his head, not really paying attention to whatever he had to say.

"The new Bakery." Bucky's eyes shot up and he tried his best as to not look too interested. "That baker hasn't paid this month too, sir and we can't ignore this. She is trying to rebel. Has no idea what she is trying to go against."

Bucky didn't like where this conversation was going. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. It's just a bakery."

Walker narrowed his eyes at him. When had the most ruthless mafia boss gone so... soft? But maybe he just didn't care for some stupid baker.

"Sir, this sets a wrong example. People will try to imitate her and that is never a good sign."

Bucky was growing impatient now, This isn't how it was supposed to go. "Just let it go, Walker."

"It's okay, sir. I understand that you don't want to get your hands dirty. Please let me handle this. I promise I wouldn't disappoint."

Bucky should have ordered him to not do anything. Should have just given him some other thing to do. But he didn't want to gain suspicions. He couldn't show that he cared about anything. It would always go against him.

He knew this wasn't going to end well, but he nodded his head at Walker. There was no way in hell he would hurt you or anyone without his permission but it didn't mean he was letting Walker anywhere near you without him around.

But among all this, one question lingered in his mind.

Why did he care so much?

Next part

Taglist (open) - @alana4610 @infinitehyperfixations @emilyroberts @winters1917 @almosttoopizza @lizslibrary @darlingwhoreslut @broadwaybabe18 @lolabrielle @quethekillerqueen @bbiaa420 @verveta345 @my-oppar-blog @cookielovesbook-akie @saranghaey @writing-for-marvel @talesofadragon @depressed-gays-of-marvel @carrysears @supernatrualqueen @thecubanator2 @mcucatlady @tesseract69 @unaxv @fridooolin @havlindzk @coffeejustcoffee @nabiiturner @galaxy-dusk @blog-the-lilly @roserfz27 @elsie-bells @partypoison00 @melsunshine @thevodkori @emoalien69 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @awkwardgiraffe726 @just-set-things-on-fire @lalalalalafu @jotaros-bara-tiddies @scuzmunkie @moonchildlov @pampeop @mossiswriting @gloriouspurpose01 @day-dreaming-goddess @hawkeyes-queen @thats-alittle-gay @solisinferni

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forsworned · 2 months

Text

˗ˏˋFORSWORNED'S CALL OF DUTY MASTERLISTˎˊ˗

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

admiration it's (not) just sex (nsfw) romantic

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

sexy stretching

࣪ೀ ࣪ ⏤ SAVING SERGEANT MACTAVISH

𓈒༑•̩̩͙ ⏤ 𝗌𝗒𝗉𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗌: 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒'𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝖼𝖾𝖾𝖽?

⤷ KNOCKING AT DEATH'S DOOR

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

sweet nectar (nsfw)

EPISODIC POLY!TF141 SERIES

failed mission blues bumblin' fool crazy cat lady coddling favorite tears and taunting espresso many feelings y/n loses a bet

KEEGAN RUSS

i wanna take a read on your disco stick (nsfw)

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER

dirty little daydreams (nsfw) passenger seat lovers (nsfw) munch (nsfw)

LOGAN WALKER

crush (ft. bluecollarworker!logan) [coming soon]

HEADCANONS

HOW THEY WOULD REACT TO...

⤷ "Hey guys, I'm with my boyfriend, ____" trend. ft. TF141

INCORRECT COD QUOTES

one two three

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lesbian-deadpool · 1 year

Text

Y/N, about John Walker: We shouldn’t let him get away with it.

Sam: Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Sam: Let’s give him a piece of our minds-

Y/N: Let’s stab him!!

Sam:

Y/N: ... yeah... your thing.

#source: 30 rock #incorrect marvel quotes #john walker x reader #john walker imagine #john walker #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #MCU x reader #MCU imagine #marvel #MCU

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clarks-letterman · 1 year

Text

gimme one good reason y’all didn’t like him cause the suits doing it for me rn

#john walker #john walker x reader #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #anti mcu #anti john walker

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burstinn · 6 months

Note

REQUEST!

as a male!Reader, I feel very represented in your works,

could you write a male!Reader that’s really tall? Like, humongous? In hight, and body? (In the military as well)

I always see male!Readers that are so small and tiny and baby.

like, no. You get me? Just saying. Thanks!

Male! Reader with the height and body of a goddamn Monster.

(Headcanons)

Note: some mentions on top reader but I like to keep it ambiguous. So you can read it as a switch! Reader. This is a quick drabble of some Hcs

People shown: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, Keegan, Graves, Nikto, König, Horangi, Logan Walker,Roach, Makarov, Krueger

-Reader is 6'5.

-Basically built like the Russian terminator guy

GHOST

- Got shocked when he first saw you, wanted to seem more intimidating than you.

-So he puffed out his chest and glared at you.. Bro wants to challenge you nahh 😭😭🙏🙏

-You would fold him tho ngl (in the ring and in bed fr fr)

-when he got comfortable with you kinda jealous his title of the big, tall intimidating man got taken away.

-When you sparred with Ghost it was a tough fight but you managed to get Ghost in a chokehold wrapping one of your tough bulging sexy ass arms around Ghost's neck.

-Never knew he wanted to be man handled so bad it was Hot he had to excuse himself and run off because he got hard.

-Starts imaging if your cock is just as big.. Spoiler alert.. It is..

SOAP

-Looks at you then Ghost mind blown that there was someone more humongous than Ghost

-Teased Ghost for awhile

-Drools over your pecs..

-He totally dreams of being crushed by you..

Or being crushed between Ghost and you.. Or both..

-Asks if he could feel your guns (Your arms..)

(IT COULD ALSO BE YOUR HUGE THROBBING CO-)

-Keeps glancing at your cock. Even though it's clothed.. I mean look at you.. Your manhood is basically too tight for your pants he can literally see your outline.

-Soap asked if he could measure your Length.. So he could see how far it could go inside of him YK?! YOU UNDERSTAND.

GAZ

-More interested than having dirty thoughts.

-Keeps asking how you got that big

-Wants to be just as strong as you

-Cutie patootie (T_T)

-Basically hangs around you to see how you work

-Even follows you so he could watch you train and spar

-Asks about your diet and if how your body looks is genetic

-inspired by you. Like a child (😭😭WHALUAAHHAH GAZZ)

PRICE

-Beneficial for him I mean he gets to have another soldier that's just as intimidating as Ghost.. Maybe even more.

-Is like a proud father

-Talks to everyone about you and how bla bla bla

-Trains with you

-He'd show you tricks and tips on how he trains and you show him tips and tricks on how you train

-Probably has a picture of you at his desk.. Beside the other pictures of his other not biological family. Aka. The whole 141..basically has a pic of everyone they all family up in 'ere

KEEGAN

-Heh.. Yknow.. Pictures..

-In the showers in lockers makes sure he's there near so he can see you in all your glory

-Probably had wet dreams about you

-Also makes sure he's there when your training. It's not like he's obvious everyone there is fuckin watching you

-What's that? You wearing a compression shirt? 🤨🤨 nuh uh in the sex chamber you go 👉

-Touching, touching, touching EVERYTHING

NIKTO

-Quiet

-What the fuck

-Silent panicking

-Jealous very jealous

-Compares himself to you, would train harder just so he can look like you (bb nooo 😭😭)

-Would watch also how you train your body so he could copy it

-You caught him once training in the middle of the night.. And he's using your technique on how you use the punching bags.. He's just getting some stuff wrong..

-When he notices you he got.. Slightly embarrassed and angry.. Panicked inside when you came closer asking him if he was using your technique in training

-You trained him properly on how you do it.

-so like now.. You train him in the middle of the night..

GRAVES

-same as price shows you off but more in an annoying way

-Hes boasting

-Would face you off against his strongest shadows no diff you still win.. Yuuuhhh

-Subtle touching like hand on shoulder, arm, head whatever.

KÖNIG

-Relieved that he has someone that looks like him.. Albeit slightly shorter.. Still!

-Got nervous meeting you first.. Forced himself to act tough to impress you I mean he is a colonel

-Makes sure to be in missions with you. Wants to see you in your most serious and intimidating

-Got intimidated himself once he saw how you act on field

-Tries to be on your good side the whole time

-One day he was watching you and just started thinking about YOU KNOWWW!!

-Blasphemous! He got red and cried to Horangi about it

HORANGI

-You know about this guy

-He's silly

-He'd read fanfics thinking it's him and you

-he'd make fanfics too, about you and him maybe adds König

-Shows it to König all proud and shit as if König isn't looking at him with absolute horror in his face when he reads what Horangi wants to do with you or you with him.

-He's delusional

-Slapped your ass and blamed it on someone else that's near him. It was König.

-Is it as veiny as your arms? A man can only dream.

-gives you a soda can and tells you to crush it in your arms.. Better yet in between your legs.

-Would then tell you like "good now do my head"

-PlEASE let him be between your thighs

LOGAN WALKER

-Rolled his eyes when he saw you

-Avoids you like the plague

-Why doesn't he like you? No idea. He a big pussy bitch is what. He sad you get more dick n pussy than him.

-Complained about you to Hesh

-He may not like you. He can't lie tho. You are good at your job so like he can't do anything about that

MAKAROV

-Sex Chamber. Now.

ROACH

-Quiet around you..

-Looks up at you like a damn bug. It's cute. He likes it when he looks up at you

-He'd jump on you and crawls around like a cockroach

-haha funi jok

-Would use your shoulder as a seat.

-If you do pushups he'd be on top of your back

ALEX KELLER

-Oh..

-Audible gulp sound (haha he's drinking your seme-)

KRUEGER

-Curses in German

-Dreaming about HAHAHAHAAHAH

-If he's fingering his gun to clean it he just.. Thinks..

-If he sees YOU finger your gun to clean it.. That's it he's done.

-He's dragging you somewhere

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multific · 8 months

Text

Modern Warfare Men as Sugar Daddies (Extra) - Preferences

Part 1

Warnings: Smut, Sugarbaby-Daddy relationship

A/N: Since the previous post was very well-loved, I decided to write more details about the characters. Apologies if there are things which have been mentioned before. I also considered the vote and wrote this according to what people wanted to see the most.

John Price

It was never about the money for John.

But now, he enjoyed every aspect of it.

Buying you everything you wanted, and in exchange, you would oh-so-nicely bend over his table without a question.

John is a very giving person but he does enjoy being taken care of.

"I'll take care of you, Daddy." you would say with a sweet voice and John would be a goner.

He loves oral. Bot receiving and giving.

But let's be fair, he is a giver after all.

He can spend hours between your legs and is not afraid to overstimulate his pretty little doll.

He likes to hear you plead and beg.

But in the end, he would always give you exactly what you want.

And after sex, he would be a sweetheart. But let's be honest, he first needs his sleep. A little nap for Captain John Prince and then, he would be good.

He would be so hungry so no matter if you are as well or not, food would be a given.

So be prepared for a nice order of any he craves at the moment.

You never had sushi naked before? Now you will.

Johnny MacTavish

Let's be honest this man has a kilt.

And he fucked you many times while wearing said kilt. He would hike it up and then pound you.

The little devil doesn't even wear any underwear under his kilt.

Johnny likes you in pretty dresses. The shorter the better. Without anything under.

Just a dress.

That's it.

Every restaurant you go to, you always feel people watching you.

"They are jealous, Bonnie." he would say. And you believe him.

Being with a handsome Daddy, wearing pretty dresses and jewellery, who wouldn't be jealous.

He likes to give you jewellery.

But his favourite is always that pear necklace he gives you every night.

Seeing you covered in his cum turns him on. It is a way to show that you are indeed his.

After the fact, showering is a must.

He would just kiss every inch of your skin while washing your entire body.

Kyle Garrick

Kyle likes to tease you in public. The thought of getting caught turns him on and you never object.

He likes to buy you things so he can rip them all off.

"I'll buy you something prettier. Let me eat that pussy now." he would always say.

And again, you don't object.

You couldn't even go to the movies without his finger soon finding your clit.

"Don't make a sound and I will give you a reward," he whispered into your ear.

You loved his games.

And he loved to play with you.

Every outcome of his games was always so pleasurable.

Giving you nice little rewards which could either be a night of long fucking or a new pair of shoes.

Kyle could be very kind even if he preferred to be a tease. He has his sweet moments when he just enjoys spending time with you. He would have such a sweet smile every time.

Simon Riley

Never call him Daddy. Ever!

Even IF he is your Sugar Daddy, calling him that would not work. Given how his father was with him, he banned you from calling him that after you did once.

You didn't ask why, the hurt in his eyes spoke louder than any word. So from then on, you called him Sugar or Simon.

He would be fine with silly nicknames.

Just imagine the faces of people when you come running with a new bag to him asking him to buy it and you call him your little bunny.

Simon's favourite thing is when you tell him that he can do anything.

And you do mean anything.

So, for his upcoming birthday, your daddy asked you one gift.

Anal.

Without hesitation, you said yes.

Not like you can say no to him.

You weren't too surprised anyway. He always somehow managed to insert at least one of his fingers into your butt whenever he was fucking you, no matter the position or occasion.

But then, the next week his hyperfixation is your boobs. He wants nothing more than to fuck your beautiful boobs, no matter their size.

After the fact, Simon would need a moment for himself, just like 2-3 minutes alone in the bathroom/kitchen to collect himself. But as the months pass, he would get more and more used to having you and he would stay in bed with you. He would pretend to sleep, he enjoys you cuddling to his side and he refuses to admit it.

König

After your little photos and videos you send him, he always sets his mind to punish you.

You deserve it, he always says. And he can be ruthless. Yet, he would never do something you don't like.

Like that one time when he was mad because you disturbed him during his debriefing, he arrived home and set his mind to fuck you senseless.

And he did.

He fucked you first with his fingers, then a toy and finally, when you were so cock-dumb, he finally gave you his cock.

But before he did, he looked at your face, the tears and he stopped for a moment.

"Are you okay?" It was a simple question but it held many meanings.

"Of course, Daddy."

"What's your safe word?"

"Diamond."

"Good girl."

To say that this man fucks is an understatement.

This man fucks and destroys furniture.

It got to the point where after your fifth bedframe, you two ended up with only a matress on the floor.

The frame left marks on the wall, to the point where it needed a fresh coat of paint.

He was called King for a reason. And he is the King of your Pussy.

Logan Walker

He got used to you rather fast. To his brother's delight.

Now the two often teased each other about you.

To your surprise, Logan is mostly normal in bed, nothing too freaky-deeky.

Which did make you want to see the wild side of Mr Walker.

You want to know more, do more for and with him.

But you knew better than to ask his brother... that would be too weird.

You needed to find out yourself

And so, you pushed him to the edge. With what?

Jealousy.

Wearing a dress too short, looking at a man across the bar maybe for too long.

And it did the trick.

Logan dragged you home, tied you to the bed and teased you for the entire night.

While he might not be freaky, he for sure likes to spend time with you.

You noticed he liked to just be in the same room.

Doesn't have to be sex.

But you promised to never make him jealous again. He made it clear, you were his and his alone.

He doesn't share. And the marks along your body were the proof of his claim over you.

Alejandro Vargas

Having him as a Sugar Daddy, you called him your Mexican Devil Daddy.

The one who whispers sweet things in Spanish into your ear while he does the most unpure things to your body.

He likes to have you in his arms at all times.

Never ask him for a reason behind it.

He doesn't have to explain himself.

His hand is glued to your thigh as he drives.

Alejandro is not a huge fan of punishment but if you push his buttons, he wouldn't be nice.

He says he hates it when you whine but he actually loves it. He for sure has a thing for your brat side.

Keep telling him how much you missed him and he will give you anything you want.

"Chiquita, what would you like?"

"Dinner with you, Daddy."

"Hmm. At the place you like so much?"

"Yes."

"With the private balcony?"

"Yes."

"Do you plan on being naughty like the last time we where there? When you 'forgot' to wear your panties and I had to punish you right there and there?"

"I would never do that, Daddy. I am a good girl."

He would laugh, you adore his laugh.

But he would give you the world.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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bxyp · 7 months

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 2023 | the path to the world of lust and debauchery.

𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔞𝔱, 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔧𝔲𝔡𝔤𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡. 𝔅𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭.

𝙁𝙀𝙈 𝘿𝙉𝙄 & 𝙈𝘿𝙉𝙄 | 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙁𝙐𝙇 18+ 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙐𝙏

ＫＩＮＫＴＯＢＥＲ 2023　ＭＡＳＴＥＲＬＩＳＴ

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷. ᴏʀᴀʟ ғɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪɢʜ sᴇx. ᴀʟᴇx ᴋᴇʟʟᴇʀ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸. sᴀᴅɪsᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴀᴄᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ/ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ. ᴀʟᴇᴊᴀɴᴅʀᴏ ᴠᴀʀɢᴀs (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟹. ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ/ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴄɪᴇɴᴄᴇ/ᴍᴇᴅғᴇᴛ. ᴀʟʙᴇʀᴛ ᴡᴇsᴋᴇʀ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ᴄᴠ)

ᴅᴀʏ 4. ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ. ʟᴇᴏɴ s. ᴋᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ (ʀᴇ: ɪɴғɪɴɪᴛᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss)

ᴅᴀʏ 5. ᴀɢᴇ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ sᴇx. ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 6. ᴘʀᴏsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ. ᴘʜɪʟʟɪᴘ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇs (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟽. ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪᴍᴘᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴏʀ sᴏʙʙɪɴɢ. ᴋᴇᴇɢᴀɴ ᴘ. ʀᴜss (ᴄᴏᴅ: ɢʜᴏsᴛs)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟾. sᴇx ʀᴏʙᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀᴍᴘᴇʀɪɴɢ. ʟᴇᴏɴ s. ᴋᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ʀᴇ𝟺)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟿. ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀs ᴀɴᴅ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙᴇɴᴇғɪᴛs. ᴄʜʀɪs ʀᴇᴅғɪᴇʟᴅ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ʀᴇ𝟷)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟶. ᴄᴏsᴛᴜᴍᴇs/ᴄᴏsᴘʟᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ (ᴛʜɪɢʜs). ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ "sᴏᴀᴘ" ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪsʜ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟷. ғɪʟᴍɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴏɴ. ᴋʏʟᴇ "ɢᴀᴢ" ɢᴀʀʀɪᴄᴋ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟸. ʙᴏɴᴅᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡ/ʙᴀʟᴄᴏɴʏ sᴇx. ᴠᴀʟᴇʀɪᴀ ɢᴀʀᴢᴀ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟹. ᴡᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴏʀ ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs ᴀɴᴅ sᴏᴍɴᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ. ғᴀʀᴀʜ ᴋᴀʀɪᴍ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟺. sɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛʜᴇɴᴏʟᴀɢɴɪᴀ (sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ/ᴍᴜsᴄʟᴇs). ᴋᴏ̈ɴɪɢ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟻. ᴄʜᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ. ʜᴜɴᴋ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ʀᴇ3)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟼. ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ (ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ) ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴀᴅᴀ ᴡᴏɴɢ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ʀᴇ𝟺)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟽. ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴅsᴍ. ᴋɪᴍ "ʜᴏʀᴀɴɢɪ" ʜᴏɴɢ-ᴊɪɴ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟾. ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs. ᴊɪʟʟ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ʀᴇ3)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟷𝟿. ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏᴛɢᴜɴɴɪɴɢ. ɴɪᴋᴛᴏ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟶. ᴏᴠᴇʀsᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴏʀsʜɪᴘ. ʟᴏɢᴀɴ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ɢʜᴏsᴛs)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟷. ʀᴏᴜɢʜ sᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀsʜɪᴘ. ᴀʟʙᴇʀᴛ ᴡᴇsᴋᴇʀ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ᴄᴠ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟸. sɪᴢᴇ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴᴛᴀᴄʟᴇs. ᴋᴏ̈ɴɪɢ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟹. sᴇᴛᴘ-ᴄᴇsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴀᴄᴇ sɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ. ᴅᴀᴠɪᴅ "ʜᴇsʜ" ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ɢʜᴏsᴛs)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟺. sᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ/ᴀɴɢʀʏ sᴇx. ɴɪᴋᴛᴏ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟻. ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ. ᴀᴅᴀ ᴡᴏɴɢ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ʀᴇ𝟺)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟼. ɴᴏɴᴄᴏɴsᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀsᴋs/ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜs. sɪᴍᴏɴ "ɢʜᴏsᴛ" ʀɪʟᴇʏ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟽. ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇɴsᴏʀʏ ᴅᴇᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟾. ᴘʀᴀɪsᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇs. ᴄᴀʀʟᴏs ᴏʟɪᴠᴇɪʀᴀ (ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ: ʀᴇ3)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟸𝟿. ᴏᴠᴇʀsᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ sɴᴏᴡʙᴀʟʟɪɴɢ. ɢᴀʀʏ "ʀᴏᴀᴄʜ" sᴀɴᴅᴇʀsᴏɴ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟹𝟶. ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ʀɪɴɢs/sᴛʀᴀᴘs ᴀɴᴅ sɪssɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ/ғᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ғᴇᴍɪɴɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴠᴀʟᴇʀɪᴀ ɢᴀʀᴢᴀ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

ᴅᴀʏ 𝟹𝟷. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇsᴏᴍᴇ/ᴍᴏʀᴇsᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ/sᴇᴍɪ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ sᴇx. ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ "sᴏᴀᴘ" ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪsʜ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ) & sɪᴍᴏɴ "ɢʜᴏsᴛ" ʀɪʟᴇʏ (ᴄᴏᴅ: ᴍᴡ ɪɪ)

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zepskies · 6 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 9

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

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

🔥Series Masterlist

AN: As promised, comin' at ya a day early! ❤️‍🔥 I hope you enjoy...

Word Count: 5,100 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, and angst.

Part 9: “Do Not Disturb”

“No one’s gotta know,” he replied. His voice was deeper, laced with grit. “Just try to stay quiet.”

Biting your lip, you slowly began to rock your hips. You had to let out a shaky breath as your clothed core found delicious friction against his muscled thigh, through his pants.

Dean broke through your nerves by claiming your lips. He sucked your bottom lip between both of his, grazing with his teeth. Your fingers sunk into his hair and gripped tight.

He groaned a little, and he slipped past the seam of your lips to slide his tongue against yours, curling and mimicking motions you’ve felt his tongue make inside you.

You moaned a bit too loud at that.

“Shhhh,” he said, low and quiet.

The back of his curled fingers grazed your neck, then down to squeeze and tease one of your breasts through the soft wool of your dress, over the satin bra underneath.

You had to utter a more restrained sound of pleasure at his touch; it was gentle, but firm and purposeful in every way. You couldn’t help but roll your hips harder, finding more friction against your clit and seeking more of the heat now throbbing inside you.

But just as you were about to encourage him to take the dress off, there was a knock on the cubicle door.

You froze, gripping his shoulders tight as your eyes went wide.

Dean broke his lips from yours fast. You were already starting to blush down to your neck. He glanced at you with a cocky smile before he subtly cleared his throat.

“Yeah?” he answered.

Everyone knew his policy: if his door was open, then it was fair game for anyone to pop in on him. But if his office door was closed, he was either busy with paperwork, or taking a nap. AKA: Do Not Disturb.

“Hey, Lieutenant. Just letting you know that lunch is almost ready,” Jack said through the door.

Dean nodded at that in relief. Nothing serious.

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks,” he said. He started to brush his fingers up and down your spine, eliciting a small shudder from you.

You still gave him an incredulous look. How could he keep touching you when one of his teammates was on the other side of the door?

“Oh, and I went to the store yesterday and got the right coffee this time. Gevalia, right?” Jack asked.

“Yep, good job. I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Dean replied. He chanced slipping a hand up the inside of your thigh. His thumb leisurely stroked your clit through your underwear, enhancing the flood of wetness he could already feel through the fabric.

It took everything within you to keep your lips pressed together with no sounds escaping, though a slightly ragged breath released through your nose. Your nails bit warningly into his shoulders. His lips twitched at a smirk.

“Sure thing,” Jack said. “And we’re running drills later, right?”

Dean held himself against an impatient sigh.

“You got it, Candidate. Be ready, I’m kicking your ass today.”

Jack chuckled gamely. “I look forward to it, sir.”

Dean didn’t really like being called “sir.” It made him feel like his dad or something. He wouldn’t say anything about it now though. He preferred to hear Jack’s steps retreating.

When he sensed the coast was clear, he turned his attention back to you. You met him with a reluctant smile. But he stilled your hips when you moved to get off him.

“Where’re you goin’?” he teased.

You let out a quiet laugh. “I think we’ve pressed our luck enough for today.”

Dean leaned in to kiss your cheek. His lips then veered off toward your ear.

“But see, I’m pretty damn sure that pussy’s still on fire,” he said.

The depths in his voice made you shiver. Your spine undoubtedly prickled with arousal again.

He smiled. “You understand, I can’t let you go just yet.”

Was it getting hard to breathe, or was that just you? You swallowed and let your fingers thread through his hair.

“What…um…where then?” you whispered. “Anyone could walk in here…”

He smirked against your neck and teased you with a nipping kiss there, making you inhale sharply. He doubted anyone was dumb enough to walk into his office without knocking, but these walls weren’t by any means soundproof. And he could see that you had your reservations.

“Okay, come on,” he said.

He released your neck and finally let go of your hips. He helped you stand on shaky legs, and you smoothed your pretty dress back down. You gave him a helpless look that said, Dear God, what now?

He smiled and took your hand.

“There’s one last stop on the tour,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head as he led you outside the firehouse and through a side door—into what felt like a large coat closet.

Essentially, that’s what it was. It held all the firefighters’ gear, from helmets, gloves, and overalls to matching navy jackets, lined with neon strips on the sleeves and mid-sections, as well as emblazoned with their last names on the back.

“I see why this was last on the tour,” you remarked dryly. Dean’s hand dropped to your hip as he flipped on the light and shut the door behind him. You felt the heat of his body against your back and tried to resist leaning into him.

“You’re getting the VIP treatment,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

But instead of turning you in his arms and pressing you against the wall, like you half-expected, Dean showed you where his gear was hanging up, further into the closet. You first tugged out the sleeve of his jacket. You ran your hand over the capital letters stitched on the back: WINCHESTER. It looked clean, but well worn.

You pulled out a large, but kind of scary looking mask next. It was black and yellow and had a large filter in the front. You knew this was what allowed him to breathe while walking through smoke-filled buildings, but you couldn’t imagine having to wear it for very long.

“This just looks uncomfortable,” you said.

Dean’s lips quirked. “Eh, you get used to it.”

You were curious though. You tried slipping the mask on and struggled, even when Dean tried to help you. Eventually he got the SCBA mask fitted correctly over your face. You were sure you looked ridiculous, and even though you weren’t claustrophobic, this certainly made you feel uncomfortable and closed in.

“It’s like living in a fishbowl,” you complained, already struggling to get it off. “How the hell do you see anything, let alone storm burning buildings in this thing?”

Again, Dean helped you with a chuckle. He was careful not to catch your hair as he slid it off your face and over your head.

“With a lotta training,” he said. “I practiced here at the house, at home, wherever I could. First just 10, 15 minutes at a time. Then half an hour, an hour or more. However long I could take it. I’d watch TV, cook, listen to music. Anything to make it feel more natural, like a pair of pool goggles.”

Your brows raised. “Color me impressed. I think I’d pass out.”

You adjusted where he put the mask, making sure it fit properly on the shelf next to his black helmet. Your hand passed over his jacket once more before you turned to him and let your hand run down his chest.

“Thanks for showing me around,” you said with a smile. “This place has got to be like a second home to you.”

Dean smiled back as he tugged you closer by your hips. “I’m here more than I’m at home.”

Your expression faded a bit as you considered that, and his hanging jacket.

“Have you ever gotten hurt?” you asked. You didn’t think you’d ever asked that yet.

His eyes dimmed, just a little, but his good humor remained. He was about to deflect. You just knew it.

“A couple scrapes here and there. Nothing major,” he said.

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe. You had a feeling he was like your grandfather, and not just when it came to his taste in music. Dean was a certified “downplayer.”

“Right,” you said. You also wracked your brain, trying to remember if you’d seen any noticeable scars, or even burns on his body.

Dean shook his head and dipped down to kiss you. It took you a bit by surprise, but you inhaled sharply as your eyes closed at the feeling of him.

“You’re thinkin' too much,” he said against your lips. And he claimed you again, deeper and deeper, until you were gripping his arms for dear life and he was walking you back to press you against the nearest wall. His hand clenched in your hair, then dragged down the column of your neck, raising goosebumps wherever he touched.

His lips soon replaced his hand. They burned a trail of wet, teeth-grazing kisses down your neck, along the scoop neckline of your dress, dipping his tongue between your breasts. You held him to you with panting breaths. But you also let your free hand wander.

You untucked his shirt from his pants and began roaming the planes of his back underneath the fabric, then the firm wall of his chest and sternum, all the way down to his belt.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them up against the wall by your head. His molten green eyes stared down into yours, as his knee pressed between your legs. You shuddered and arched into him. Your fingers curled around his hands unconsciously.

“Dean…”

“Gotta thank my girl for giving me such a nice surprise at work,” he said. You felt his lips grinning against yours, even as he grinded his hips into you with blinding friction. You tried to restrain your gasp at the feel of his hard length pressing against your core. Even though you wanted nothing more than more of this, you still had to voice your concerns.

“Dean,” you whispered with more urgency. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about that.”

You stared up at him incredulously. How could you not?

But he distracted you by sliding his hands sensuously down your arms. Down your sides and hips, just to drag the knitted hem of your dress up from your thighs. Then he slid down, all the way to his knees.

Your eyes widened as his smirk grew deeper. He looked up at you slyly from the ground, and it reminded you of giving him a very similar look when you’d gone down to your knees for him for the first time.

His fingers brushed your skin as he slipped your panties down to your ankles, over your knee-high boots. You fought a shudder at the feeling.

“You’ve got a thing for sexy shoes, huh?” he remarked.

A smile crossed your lips. Shaking your head, you helped him by kicking off your underwear.

“I think you’re the one with the fixation,” you teased back. “I just like what I like.”

Dean chuckled. “Couldn’t agree more.”

He hooked a hand behind your knee and brought one leg over his shoulder. His hand traveled up your leg, and his head turned to press a line of wet kisses up the inside of your thigh.

You sighed, letting your fingers run through his hair as your eyes closed. But your eyes popped open on a gasp as you felt him suck hard near your center, biting and then soothing the spot with his tongue.

You shot him a furrowed look, despite the incredulous smile tugging at your lips.

He just grinned. “Had to be sure you were paying attention.”

You huffed a laugh and gave a sharp tug on his hair. It made him grunt and try to swallow a groan, deep in his throat.

“How’s that?” you quipped back.

“Touché, baby,” he said. But the problem with that was, you felt his lips against your skin, just before his tongue licked a hot stripe across the seam of your pussy. You inhaled sharply and reached for something else to hold onto, otherwise you might rip his hair out.

Your hands found purchase on the adjoining wall and the supporting rail holding all the coats. And a practiced tongue swiped between your folds, carrying wetness to your clit. His face delved in deeper to swirl and graze that bundle of nerves with his teeth, while two fingers slipped inside your wet heat and into your core.

You shuddered and bucked against him, but Dean held your hip firmly. His body weighed against you, pressing you into the wall to keep you in place. Then his hand and tongue became unrelenting. His fingers stretched you open, exploring your inner walls and finding what made you writhe and choke on your moans.

“Oh my God, Dean…”

He was tempted to smile and tease you some more, but he knew he had to be quick about this; they’d spent a long time in here already.

Still, he was nothing if not thorough.

He sucked and bit down gently on your clit, right before his fingers found and curled into that spongey part deep inside you that damn near made you weep when you came.

And your eyes really did burn as they fluttered closed. Your whole body trembled with the force of your release as you gasped and panted for breath. His name fell from your lips, almost reverently. Soon enough, you were able to wrench your hand from the metal rail to sink back into his hair.

His tongue continued to lap and swipe, more languidly as he felt your tremors subsiding. When he eventually pulled away, he was heaving for breath himself. He barely had a chance to wipe at his mouth and nose before your leg slid forcibly off his shoulder.

He looked up in time to find you sinking down to his level, using his shoulders as leverage. You took his face into your hands and kissed him as thoroughly as he’d worked you over, making you a warm, shaking puddle in his wake. Dean held you to him and kissed you back between panting breaths.

Your hands pressed and made room between you, only to fiddle with his belt and palm at the almost painful hardness of his cock through his pants. He groaned into your mouth.

Fuck it, he thought. He had half a mind to take you right here in the turnout room.

But of course, that was when a knock sounded at the door. It was quiet, but there was no mistaking that warning. Which meant that someone was probably looking for Dean (and was also doing him the solid of tipping him off).

Dean broke from you, and you looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

Is that what I think it means?

Yep. Time to go.

With a nod, he helped you up to your feet and found your underwear. You slipped them back on, despite the grimace you made. You were now a bit uncomfortably wet, but you supposed you could deal with that until you got home.

You slipped down your dress and attempted to fix your hair, as well as Dean’s. You bit your lip and tried not to laugh at how you’d wrecked his light brown strands in all directions.

Dean smirked, but he had no time to tease you now either. He held a finger to his lips and closed his eyes for a moment, willing his hard-on to subside. It took him a few moments (deep breaths and unsavory thoughts), but eventually he was able to calm down enough to turn around and crack the door open.

Once he saw that the coast was clear, he slipped out of the closet first. He beckoned you next with his hand. It fell to the small of your back when you stepped out.

He spotted Benny coming out from around the Squad truck. He was wiping grease off his hands, like he’d just been working on the truck. He shot you and Dean a nod.

“Chief’s looking for you,” Benny said.

Dean nodded. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Benny gave him a salute, with deep amusement in his eyes. You blushed and tried not to think about what that look probably meant. You just hoped he hadn’t heard anything.

Dean smiled and walked with you back inside the firehouse. You wished you could just make your escape to your car, but you’d forgotten your purse in the kitchen.

Most of the team seemed to be almost done with lunch. You said hi to Meg again, who gave you a suspicious smile. Your blush started to burn down to your ears.

Gordon was also sitting on the couch. You hadn’t seen him since that somewhat unsavory moment at the Roadhouse, when he’d “shot his shot” with you. He greeted you with an incline of his head.

“Gettin’ the grand tour, huh?” he asked. His smile was pleasant, but there was a gleam of dry knowingin his eyes.

You froze slightly, as your mouth parted and embarrassment threatened to swallow you. You subtly glanced around, trying to see if anyone else was listening, and knowing for that matter.

Dean noticed your discomfort. Again, he rested a hand on the small of your back and shot Gordon a firm look with raised brows. It said, Shut the fuck up, man.

“The Chief’s looking for you,” Gordon said, nodding up at Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean replied flatly.

“Winchester.” A commanding voice carried down the hall.

Your head raised toward it, as did Dean’s. He was more relaxed than you to see the firehouse Chief coming down the hall. You fell into step with Dean as his hand on your back gently urged you forward.

“Chief,” he nodded. He introduced you as his girlfriend, and though you noted the other man’s subtle brow raise, Bobby Singer’s gruff expression lightened (just slightly). He shook your hand, firm and steady. You smiled and greeted him with a respectful nod.

“Hello, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” you said. You almost felt like you were meeting Dean’s father, the way the Chief seized you up a bit.

“Good to meet’cha,” he said. He gestured with a hand over to the now half-devoured cakes in the kitchen. “I was told you brought those in for us.”

Your face briefly ducked with a smile. “Uh, yes. That was me.”

“Well, thank you. I’m sure the whole house appreciates it,” Bobby said, pointedly raising his voice at everyone else in the common room. Meg, Chuck, and others voiced their appreciation and thanks.

“It’s my pleasure,” you said with a short laugh.

Dean smiled as he watched you. But a look from Bobby shifted his attention.

“We need to go over some things,” said the Chief.

“Yes, sir,” Dean said.

Bobby turned back to you. “Thanks for feedin’ the guys.”

“Thank you for letting me visit,” you said. Your sincerity showed in your eyes. “You have a great house here. Otherwise I think I’d still be stuck in that elevator.”

“Thank you, darlin’.” Bobby’s lips lifted in a rare smile. It fell when he glanced over at Dean.

“Meet me in my office.”

“You got it,” Dean replied. He took a moment, however, to touch your arm and press a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll call you tonight.”

That he said lowly in your ear. You bit your lip against a deeper smile, but you nodded, squeezing his hand one more time before you went to get your purse. Dean watched you leave (and he enjoyed the natural sway in your hips, as well as the tousled, slightly frizzy bounce of your hair).

With a long breath, he steeled himself to follow the well-worn path to the Chief’s office.

Bobby was sitting behind his desk, signing some paperwork. Dean’s phone quietly buzzed in his pocket. He discreetly fished it out halfway and found a text from you.

I’ll take care of you when you get off shift, Lieutenant. ❤️‍🔥

Dean smirked, but quickly schooled his expression (and pocketed his phone) when Bobby looked up at him.

“Seems like a nice girl you found there,” Bobby said.

Not that nice, Dean thought salaciously. He looked forward to whatever plans you had for him after his shift tomorrow. He wasn’t the only one with a talented tongue…

“Yeah. You try the cake yet?” Dean asked. He leaned a hand on the spare chair in front of the Chief’s desk. “Orange poppy seed. Who knew, huh?”

“Though next time, when we have a visitor, the tour should refrain from including the turnout room,” Bobby said, his tone both dry and censuring.

Dean’s brows knitted with “confusion.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Bobby’s frown sharpened. “Do you think I was born yesterday, Dean?”

“Now how could I think that, Chief?” Dean said, deceptively earnest. There was enough gray in the older man’s beard to speak for itself.

Bobby’s face fell into the most long-suffering deadpan.

“Don’t get cute with me, son. I’m not in the mood.”

He’s never in the mood, Dean thought. But his lips twitched with a small grin.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Damn right. And wipe that goddamn smirk off your face! I should write you up for this,” Bobby snapped.

“For what, Chief?”

“You know damn well, for what. You’re just lucky there ain’t no cameras by the turnout room, or I’d be suspendin’ you. Right here and now.”

Bobby peered at Dean closely, but the younger man gave nothing away. Dean now stood with his hands folded behind his back, like the damn professional he should’ve been.

After a moment, the Chief heaved a sigh of ever-mounting exasperation. Like a parent who knew you were guilty, but had no defining evidence.

“This is a firehouse, not the Motel 6,” he barked. “You understand me? You’re my Lieutenant, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to set a fucking example.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get. For damn sure you’ve got work to do.”

Dean’s face was nothing if not respectful, but Bobby spotted the edge of Dean’s smile when he turned to leave.

This was what Bobby got for going soft on John Winchester’s boy. He shook his head and went back to his mountain of paperwork.

“Idjit,” he muttered, turning the page.

Dean headed back into the common room after he left Bobby’s office. His good mood soured when he saw Gordon pass through the hall. Dean followed him all the way to the locker rooms. He hadn’t shown you this part of the firehouse, only because the guys tended to change clothes right there, instead of heading to the bathroom.

“Hey,” he called out.

Gordon stopped short and looked over his shoulder.

“You got a minute?” Dean asked.

The other man wordlessly agreed, waiting for Dean to catch up with him. They went into the men’s bathroom for privacy. Dean shut the door, then made sure no one else was in the stalls before he met Gordon’s expectant gaze and crossed arms. He was casually leaning against the wall.

Dean’s hands went to his belt.

“We got a problem, Gordon?” he asked.

Gordon’s brows rose. “You got one with me, Lieutenant?”

Dean’s lips thinned. He crossed his arms as well, and met Gordon’s gaze directly.

“Keep making my girlfriend uncomfortable, and we will,” Dean said. His tone was firm in warning.

Gordon took that in with a mild nod and a humorless scoff.

“You know, if anyone but you pulled that shit today, they’d be suspended on the spot,” he pointed out. “But because you’re the Chief’s pseudo-son, you get a pass. And a promotion at that.”

Dean’s frown deepened. He should’ve known it would all come back to that.

Gordon had completed his training and passed his test to be promoted to lieutenant as well, the exact same month as Dean. Gordon was older, with a few more years of experience. But Dean had it on good authority (from Bobby himself), that his own scores had edged out the competition.

“That had nothing to do it,” Dean said.

Gordon shook his head with a rueful smile. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, Winchester.”

Dean sighed in frustration and let his hands fall to his sides.

“Look, if that’s really how you feel, then why not issue a formal complaint with the Chief?”

“And what difference would that make? You’re their boy scout,” Gordon said wryly. “Me? …Maybe I just don’t fit the mold.”

Dean could see that side of it too. Gordon was a damn good firefighter. Dean trusted the man with his life…but there was an edge to him, one that sometimes put people off from getting to know the guy. Dean had known him long enough to see through it, to the good man underneath.

But being a leader was more than just the job. If he’d been in Bobby’s shoes, and it had been down between Gordon and Benny…Dean knew who he would’ve promoted.

“Gordon, you know your worth here. Ain’t nobody thinks you’re not one of our best,” said Dean. “But I am your Lieutenant. If you can’t handle that, then we’ve still got a problem.”

“Look, Dean. I like you. I do,” Gordon said, shrugging his shoulders. “Most days, I do respect you. But you’re also a cocky son of a bitch.”

Gordon then left the bathroom, and left Dean contemplating as a result.

Even after his long 24-hour shift, Dean replayed moment after moment from yesterday. From seeing you, inviting you into his office, reminiscing on memories, both happy and painful to relive, and everything that came afterwards.

He’d had to put his conversation with Gordon aside to focus on the job, but now, what kept coming back to him was seeing you trace the framed picture of his mother. That was one of the few pictures John had been able to save from the fire.

So when Dean left the firehouse in the morning, instead of joining some of the guys for breakfast, he drove over to the 84th Precinct, where his dad was already hard at work at his desk. By the look of his scruffy beard and loosened tie, maybe he hadn’t gone home last night.

Dean knocked on the desk, earning his father’s surprised glance.

“Burning the midnight and the daylight oil I see,” Dean remarked.

John’s mouth tugged at a smile. “Hey, son. To what do I owe the visit?”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Dean remarked. They used to do dinner at his and Sam’s apartment every couple of weeks, or at least grab a beer at the Roadhouse more often. For the past few months though, John had been even more buried in his work than usual. Dean could guess why.

“Any progress on the case?” he asked.

John huffed. “Which one?”

He gestured at a stack of folders on his desk. All of them signified an ongoing case. But both Winchesters knew what Dean was getting at.

He raised his brows and dipped his chin, trying to catch his father’s gaze. “Dad.”

With a sigh, John looked over at his son fully.

“Nothing I can tell you right now, Dean,” he said. It was a dismissal.

The younger man’s face fell into a frown, his brows knitting together. He dragged a spare rolling chair over and sat, making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“So you drop a bomb on me about Mom’s killer, and then it’s radio silence for weeks?” Dean said. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

John finally stopped typing on his computer. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired. Just then, Dean could see the lines of age in his dad’s face more than he had before. It worried him.

“I want to help,” Dean said earnestly.

At that, John firmed up, with a shake of his head.

“This guy’s an arsonist,” Dean tried.

“We’re working with Arson,” John said. “The rest is my jurisdiction, and you’re on a need-to-know basis.”

Dean blew out an aggravated breath and sorted a hand through his hair.

“Dad—”

“Don’t you get it?” John snapped. But when a few heads turned in the office, he forced himself to lower his tone. He met Dean’s eyes. “This man is…well, he ain’t a man, Dean. He’s a monster. I’ve told you enough for you to keep your eyes open, but you’re not stickin’ your nose in this. You understand me?”

Dean’s brows furrowed further, but he finally read the underlying worry in his father’s eyes. Just not for himself.

“For all intents and purposes, Azazel was a mafia leader in the middle of Kansas,” John continued. “He’s got over four decades in the business, and even with Narcotics’ help, finding him and pinning him down’s been a goddamn needle in a haystack, let alone connecting him to these murders. Even with the brand marks on the victims, we don’t even have evidence that someone ain’t just copying his signature, so to speak.”

Dean rested an elbow on the desk and brushed a hand over his mouth as he processed what his father was telling him.

“And those brandings. That’s the only thing tying the victims together?” Dean asked. He watched John closely, how the man’s frown deepened a bit. His eyes never shifted, just met Dean’s head-on.

“We’re still looking into it,” said John.

After a beat, Dean took that with a nod. He was still unsettled, but he got up and clapped his father on the shoulder.

“Call once in a while, huh? Maybe drop in for something to eat,” he said. “My girl’s a good cook.”

John rubbed a hand over his face, but he perked up with a bit of interest.

“Girl? You’re actually seeing someone…in the regular sense?”

Dean rose a brow. “All right, you don’t gotta sound that surprised.”

A smile tugged at John’s lips as he sat back in his office chair.

“Right, right. Cas mentioned something about that,” he said. “…How long you been dating?”

“A couple months now,” Dean said. Honestly, no one was more surprised than him at that fact.

John hesitated, but he nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Good for you, son. Hope I get to meet her soon.”

“You will, if you ever leave this damn desk,” Dean replied, nodding back with a smile. “See ya.”

But his smile dipped as soon as he turned to leave the precinct.

His gut was telling him one thing: his father was still holding something back. Something important.

AN: And there we have it! A little firehouse shenanigans, a bit of Bobby, a fair bit of tension, and a pinch of angst. What did you think?

Next time, we're going to start getting into the meat of the mystery. Along with a bit of drama...

Next Time:

“Dean,” you managed, though your throat became clogged with emotion. Your tears blurred your vision and finally slid down your cheeks.

You tried to push at your seatbelt; it felt like it was cutting your circulation across your chest. But that proved to be a mistake, as the tight fabric just pressed into the bruising you already felt forming against your skin. You couldn’t contain a small whimper.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His tone was more alert now, changed with the distress he likely heard in your voice.

You took in a shuddering breath as more tears rolled down your face.

“I need help.”

Keep Reading: PART 10

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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