#i just watched it again and i just gotta know

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A new relationship means excitement, an uncontrollable craving for each other. When an early morning romp is interrupted with a scheduled weekly meeting, will you be able to keep your hands to yourself when Price begins to drone on? And if you can't, what will your lieutenant lover do once the meeting is over after you've tempted him for far too long?

Word Count: 7.8 k

Warnings:

“Come on, just a quickie before you gotta go,” you try to bargain as you roll onto your knees on the mattress, moving to straddle yourself over top of Simon’s lap so that he can’t get out of your bed yet. “Promise I'll make it worth your while.”

You sit on his thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck and he grabs onto your hips with those large hands, only his boxers and your panties keeping you apart. Gently you run your fingers through the short, dirty blonde hair at the back of his head before bending down to try enchanting him with your kiss to stay a little longer before you both have to start your day. You know if you can get him going, quick is the last thing it is going to be and all you want is more time in his company. It’s getting harder these days to let him go. 

Your lips meet and he sighs long and deep as he drinks you in. This new development in your relationship is only a couple months in the making, but you already have him in a chokehold that he can't seem to break free from. Goddammit your kiss is like heaven and he wants nothing more than to shove you back into the mattress and get lost in the ecstasy of your body all over again, but obligations of the job that you have so conveniently forgotten about are fast approaching this morning. As much as he hates it, clearly he’s going to have to be the responsible one. Christ, you aren’t making it easy when your pretty eyes are begging him for more as you pull agonizingly slow from his mouth and roll your hips over top of him. 

“We can’t,” he says with an agitated groan as he bites the corner of his lips so the pain will stop him from losing it and leaning back in; if he doesn’t show some restraint now it’s not going to happen. “Officer’s meetin’, ‘member? Don’t wanna start any rumors with our absence, do ya? Rather not have to have a discussion with Price today. So, ya best stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that ‘fore ya get us both in trouble. Cause ya know if I get started, I ain’t stoppin’.”

Fuck, is it that time of the week again already? You’ve nearly forgotten the date, so absorbed in having the hulking military lieutenant all to yourself over the weekend. Instantly your heart sinks as you realize that your request isn’t going to get fulfilled now, not if you want to keep this relationship on the down low. No, you don’t want your good thing ruined by stirring up trouble, no matter how much your body still trembles to be beneath him right now.

Fine, your hands are tied at this point, so you’ll just have to be strong and table this till later. Or at least… you’re gonna try. 

“Just can’t get enough of you,” you say, resigning defeatedly as you move to rest your forehead on his.

Eyes shut, he takes a few seconds just to enjoy the closeness with you before he speaks. “Later,” he reassures in a husky whisper. “Not like I can fuckin’ stay away from ya.”

A warm kiss is swiftly pinned to your temple and you sigh defeatedly before you move off of him to sit at his side. He gives you a look before he gets to his feet to find his clothes strewn about the floor, dressing as you watch on with hungry eyes until his body is covered once again. Instantly you are missing the sight of it now that it’s gone. Later already feels like a lifetime away as you fall back against your pillow with a groan and cover your eyes with your arm. 

The sounds of rustling clothes and the jingling of a belt buckle lasts just a few more seconds, followed by the sound of heavy steps before you feel a depression next to you on the bed. A rough hand removes your arm from your face and you are met with those coffee eyes and cheeky smile poking out from beneath his half pulled down mask as he leans over top of you. “See ya at the meetin’, luv,” he says before leaving you with a quick kiss as he rushes to get out the door before that one small action ruins it all and he ends up getting you both caught from sticking around too long.

You watch the door shut behind him and in the silence that follows you can hear the sound of your heartbeat throbbing in your head. How are you meant to keep it together now?

Getting dressed feels like an impossible chore, but eventually you finish and arrive at the conference room with a bit of time to spare before the meeting starts. You enter the space and are immediately dragged into making small talk with a few of the others standing around the conference table, exchanging pleasantries till Price arrives. The heat in your cheeks struggles to dissipate from the morning and it is only made worse as a tall, burly figure enters a couple minutes later and makes his way to the back of the room as if it’s nothing. Your vision constantly darts over to that masked man in the corner as you chat, your pulse keeping your face hot because you can tell that he is doing the same, though the shadow created from the fabric covering his face gives him the advantage in keeping his dark eyes on you.

Trying to force his sight not to linger on you today isn’t an option, not when he can see the product of his kiss still spread through your face. It’s captivating to be in the presence of something like that belongs to only him, so why the hell would he not want to soak you all in? It’s like he is hypnotized. He hasn’t felt like this in a long, long time and to say he isn’t a little obsessed would be a complete lie. Just looking at you gets his pulse racing now and it’s almost instantaneous how he has to adjust the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly gotten a little tight as his body reacts to the sight of yours.

He’s gotta snap out of his insatiable craving right now or this meeting is going to be brutal to try and get through. Moving to the back of the table, he takes his seat to hide the bulge growing in his pants. That’s when a familiar voice rings through the room just the same as it has week after week and Simon feels like he can breathe a little easier.

“Mornin’ everyone,” the distinct voice of your superior is heard over the small crowd. “Let’s get started, shall we. Got things to do.”

Captain Price doesn’t waste any time, arriving precisely on the hour just as he always does and everyone immediately takes their seats just like clockwork. Good, now all he has to do is get through the hour and then you’ll go your separate ways until the end of the day. However, as he looks on as the chairs around the table get filled, he realizes that your usual seat towards the front already has a body sitting in it that isn’t yours and the only free chair left is at the back of the table right next to him.

Your eyes meet and your breath hitches as you see the empty spot beside him and it feels like you can’t get enough oxygen as you make your way over; no sense in prolonging your agony. Simon’s shoulders stiffen as you take your seat, the tension caused from your proximity making his mind hazy, even before Price begins to drone on about nothing of major significance. It’s all just daily reports and mandated updates from around the base, so it doesn’ take long before it all becomes background noise to the beating of his heart in his ears. 

You aren’t fairing any better as your mind begins to wander and it’s in that loss of attention that the trouble starts to brew. 

Sensory-filled memories of the past couple of nights play through your mind on repeat: sweaty, tangled limbs, burning kisses that steal your breath, ecstasy filling you up until all you can do is lay back and let it consume you; it’s the type of euphoria that could make you an addict if you're not careful enough. The vivid sensations associated with the images flooding through your mind chip away at your calm so that about halfway in your sanity has deteriorated. 

You cross your knees over one another and clamp your legs together to stop the ache blossoming between your thighs, but it does nothing to help. You have to do something to ease the agony because you cannot squeeze your legs together any tighter or the danger of you accidentally letting out a moan will become a real threat. Desperately your eyes dart around the room to try and focus on anything in particular, but there is nothing that grabs their attention until they stop back at the table in front of you and out of the corner of your sight you notice the top of Simon's thigh peeking out from under the table. Those juicy bits of his body that you know intimately as they have been pressed between your legs before are a magnet for your sight and suddenly there is a need that is awakened in you.

Fuck, now you have a new problem. The longer you look, the harder it gets. Imagination isn't enough anymore. Shoving your hands into the tight space between your crossed legs you try to bury the feeling, but your desire pleads with you to reach over and get a feel.

Just a little touch won’t hurt, right? 

He probably won’t even notice if you are careful enough, at least that's what you try to convince yourself of so you don't sound so fucking desperate. Maybe giving yourself a little treat will help ease the pain enough that you can move on. As Simon leans back in his chair, trying to adjust his position to keep himself focused on Price, you take that as a sign that you should just go for it.  

Simon notices the way you shift in your seat, inching in closer to the edge of the chair nearest his side. You pause for a few seconds before he catches you moving again and now your shoulders are almost touching. He wonders what you’re up to getting this intimate, but just as the question enters his mind more movement grabs his attention and he watches as you lean in and your shoulder twitches. Then he feels it, a delicate bit of pressure on his thigh that immediately sends him spiraling.

You have reached over and are now running your fingertips over the outer seam on the leg of his pants, but the moment you make the slightest contact with him a yearning blossoms in your chest so strong that you can’t stop yourself and your fingers begin to wander thoughtlessly. Soon you find your touch on the outer edge of his thigh and then the middle and still you can’t force yourself to stop.  

Simon risks a look down into the shadow underneath the table only to see your arm stretched out and your hand creeping in towards the middle of his lap. He pries his sight back up and catches you peeking over at him from the corner of your eye. Your gazes meet and your chest begins to rise and fall more heavily than it had a few seconds ago as you shoot him a tempting look.

Oh, so this is what’s going to happen today; his strength of will is going to be tested. Fuck.

Carefully and quietly, Simon repositions himself in his seat. Without turning his face at all, he inclines his head to the side so that it is nearly pressed against yours. “Ya sure ya wanna start this?” he growls his question in a whisper near your ear, yet he does nothing else as he sits back up straight. 

Your hand continues on undeterred and makes it in between his thighs without any resistance; it’s clear that neither of you were finished with what was trying to be started this morning as a small peak already meets your hand before you’ve even done anything.   

Simon exhales a shaky breath as your hand makes contact with the crotch of his pants and it takes all his willpower to hold steady as you run your hand over the mound just under the zipper. Thank God he’s wearing his jacket today, otherwise the way his chest starts to heave with each labored breath as you stroke your palm consistently over the swell would give him away to everyone here. Behind the mask, his mouth hangs open slightly as he forces himself to quietly pant as if under duress. 

Being this close to him, you can hear the change in his breathing and those subtle deviations in his respiration guide your movements further. You press down and he has to bite his lip until he tastes that first bit of copper to keep himself under control. And yet he doesn't pull your hand away… because he doesn't want to. His pretty thing needs to feel him, he isn’t going to deny that. It’s a risk, but it’s one he is more than willing to take just to keep you locked in this moment with him.

Over and over you go in with insatiable intent, stroking until the tip of his thick cock throbs with his pulse against your touch as a throbbing of your own. The sound of your captain is barely a faint whisper at this point as all of your  awareness is focused solely in the silent tension shared between you and your lover as your hand draws him closer and closer to release just from the pressure alone. 

The tingle in his lap radiates out in waves that make his limbs feel heavy and causes a cold sweat to break out across his skin and just as Simon thinks that he can’t take a second more of stimulation because he’s going to burst, the meeting finally comes to an end. Quickly you have to pull your hand back out of his lap as your fellow officers’ attentions are no longer focused towards the front of the room and you pray that they can’t see the way your body shudders. 

You don’t dare get out of your seat yet; at this point your legs are like jelly and you are sure that if you try to stand you will make a fool of yourself by stumbling around. Instead, you pull out your phone to pretend you are making a note of something important as everyone leisurely files out until all that is left is you and Simon in the empty room. 

He hasn’t said a word since his cautionary question, instead moving out of his seat the moment he could to lean up against the wall near the door with his arms crossed over his broad chest. The last person makes it out and yet he’s still standing there soundlessly as if he is waiting for something, his shadowed gaze locked onto your form. 

Eventually you calm yourself enough to make it out of your seat and back onto your feet without falling. You take a few steps to leave and you nearly make it out of the room before the door is promptly pushed shut in your face and Simon places himself directly between you and the exit. Instantly you are stopped in your tracks and you stand there curiously as that familiar click from the lock being engaged is heard and the room falls silent, not even the sound of people coming and going can be heard on this side of the door. 

“What was that, hmm?” he asks in fake anger, his bright eyes giving him away even with the mask covering the majority of his features.

You shrug. “What are we talking about?” you ask in return with a tilt of your head. Ever the little actress, it seems.

He chuckles deeply as a spark flashes through the irises of his eyes to make them shine the way an animal’s does before it goes in for the kill. You know exactly what that look means. “Playin’ games, are ya?” he asks. “Or did ya already forget the way you were just tryin’ to make me come?”

“Is there a problem?” you ask back as the corner of your lip upturns ever so subtly. 

He takes a step towards you and you move back with it; another and you do the same. This continues only a few more paces until you run out of space and back into the edge of the table, allowing Simon to move in without a problem until his body is within a few feet of yours. Reaching out with one of those large hands he wraps it around your wrist and pulls your arm forward into him. 

“Oh, we ‘ave a big fuckin’ problem now, sweet,” he groans as he takes your hand and pins the palm just to the side of the zipper on his pants. You don’t even have to look down to know what he’s talking about as there is a hard, stiff peak that meets your touch; the tip of his cock strains against your hand as he presses your palm down over it. “See what ya did?” 

An unintentional moan escapes your lips at the feeling that you try to disguise with a cough, but Simon has already caught it. With a hook of his thumb under the cloth of his mask, he pries it up off of his mouth and in the same motion he jerks your arm past his body to pull you in the miniscule distance still between you both so that you are now plastered to his chest. Since his mask isn’t an issue anymore, his hand captures your chin in its grip and he holds on firmly. 

The intense domination of the movement feels like an ambush on your sanity and with that one simple motion he already has your heart fluttering just like he wants. You’ve played your little game and gotten him riled up, and it’s got him craving you so bad he can hardly keep his thoughts straight. Now it’s his turn at it and he isn’t going to stop until he has chipped away at your resolve so that you want him just as badly. 

Keeping his grip tight on your chin he cocks your head to the side to move it out of his way as he leans his face in towards the soft, tender skin that has been revealed to him just under your jawline. 

“Now, how’re we gonna fix this? Can’t go ‘round wit this thing at full attention,” his balmy breath travels over your skin as his lips rub along the side of your neck, the tip of his nose catching that sweet spot just behind your earlobe. 

The very faint stumble covering the lower half of his face prickles your skin as he presses his lips against you gently at first to let the feather-light pressure tantalize the flesh around that pulsing vein under your jawbone. He can feel it begin to race under his touch the quicker your heart pumps and he has to force himself to take a breath. To observe the physical reaction you have to him, to feel the way you come alive in his hands, it’s enough to bring him to his knees and if he isn’t careful he can easily lose himself.     

“Ya owe me–” he trails his kisses upward until his lips are pressed along your jaw “for–” those heated kisses keep going over the contour until he hovers right over your mouth, lips ghosting over yours just out of reach “–all that teasin’.”

You attempt to move in and collapse the distance between your mouths to zero, but his hold on your face keeps you at bay. Again you struggle to embrace his mouth and again he pulls you back and it’s clear what the game is now. If you want his kiss on your lips, you are going to have to meet his conditions. 

“What do you want?” you ask coyly as if there is anything else that he could possibly be after at this moment. 

Simon runs the tip of his stout tongue over the middle of his bottom lip as he stares at yours, the skin on your mouth growing redder with each erratic inhale of breath you take, before he drifts his gaze back up the short distance to your eyes. He admires how they shimmer with unspoken wants as he meets them again. 

You know full well that the door is locked, Simon is certain you heard him secure it since you were close. That means you both are cut off from the rest of the base while in here and with the meeting over, there is no reason for anyone to come around. The room is yours for as long as you want.

“Well, we’re all alone, luv,” he says. 

“Mmhmm,” you agree as if he’s asked a question.

Taking both his hands, he cradles the back of your head as his thumbs rest against your cheeks and he takes a step so that his hips block your body against the table. He inches in ever so carefully, making sure that his lips will not touch yours, but be just close enough that the agony caused from their proximity will make you fucking burn to feel them. It’s a game that he has perfected over his time with you and one he prides himself on being the master of. 

“Ya know what I fuckin’ want.” 

The heat from his warm breath wafts over your lips to make them tingle from the change in temperature. This close you can finally catch the scent of his natural musk mixing with the sharp notes of his spicy cologne and the smell reminds you of your sheets where the fragrance still lingers. It is overwhelming your senses until you feel delirious and out of control. 

“Wanna take ya on this fuckin’ table,” he breathes into your face in a growl the comes from somewhere deep inside. “Can’t wait.”

His voice is pure sex on a good day, but in these moments when his full attention is on you as he plays up the sultry notes of his tone to match his growing need, you can’t help the way you squeeze your legs together as a shudder of pleasure runs like icy water straight through to your core. 

“Undo - your - pants,” he orders, his deep, heavily accented voice breathy, but firm. “Now.”

Your pulse is pounding in your ears with your short, quick breaths and he takes the moment to tempt you further by having the tip of his tongue gracefully slither out of his mouth to catch the edge of your upper lip, lightly grazing the inner bit so that you shiver and it takes all your strength not to buckle at your knees and stumble in his grasp.  

Finally gaining control of your limbs through the haze spreading in your mind you move your hands over your abdomen, using touch alone to find the fastener at the front of your pants as he holds your head in place, forcing you to keep your eyes focused on him. Finally you locate the button and as swiftly as your shaky fingers can manage, you fidget with it till it opens and you can guide down the zipper. 

A ravenous grin spreads across Simon’s lips at the sound of your clothes being shed. It’s Pavlovian the way it immediately makes his mouth salivate with anticipation as he knows that soon he is about to enjoy a feast that includes all your delicious curves ready and begging for his special brand of ecstasy.

You’ve done what he’s asked and now you desperately want your reward, but you should know by now it isn’t going to be that easy. He is a man of mutual obsession and you’ve only barely just started to ache with the overwhelming intensity that he wants; he needs you in shambles just like he’s had to be this whole time as you stroked him under the table.  

“Please,” you plead tacitly as multiple words seem too cumbersome to have in your mouth.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet. Push ‘em down,” he demands. “Take ‘em off.”   

You scramble to follow his dictation and grab onto the waistband of your pants, jerking them down over the curve of your rear and continuing until they are past your calves, slipping out of your boots so that you can step out of the fabric now bunched at your ankles. You stand back up straight and immediately those rough fingers are outlining the band on your panties just below the hem of your shirt and each time they graze over the tender skin of your pelvis, you gasp inaudibly into his face as the electricity from his touch makes your skin tingle. 

As one hand plays, the other that is cradled at the base of your skull draws your face to him. “Ya got me wantin’ ya so bad it fuckin’ stings,” he admits. “Is that what ya want, sweetheart? Ya want me a goddamn mess wheneva you’re around?”

His thumb tugs at the corner of your mouth as he drags it over your bottom lip and the action takes your breath so you have to forcefully catch it. “I want you to want me as bad as I want you,” you answer as your heartbeat hiccups in your chest.

Simon chuckles. “Greedy girl,” he says, drawing out the words, his voice getting more and more gravely. “Ya know how fuckin’ hard I was strugglin’ to not just throw ya on the table and take right there in front a everyone? Ya got me outta my goddamn mind insane for ya with just a touch.”

You look up at him with starry eyes, the kind of sight that makes him feel like you think he’s hung the fucking moon for you. “Take…me now…” you beg.

He can feel you tremble in his hands as you plead for your sanity and it pushes him to his breaking point. “That what ya want?” he asks. “Let me hear it, sweet.”

You nod without even having to think about it. “Please, Simon. Please. I haven’t stopped needin you since this morning. Just give it to me.”

Fuckin’ hell he is going to absolutely wreck you after that.

Tilting his head to one side he moves in and with a sharp inhale of breath before the plunge, he hauls your mouth to his and crashes his lips on yours. The deadly potency in his embrace knocks the little bit of air you just drew in from your lungs and in an instant you are left gasping for breath again while not wanting him to pull away.  

That huge, hulking body with all of its bulky muscles overwhelms your own as he pins himself harder against you, pushing your hips together to grind that stiff peak roughly against you with rocking movements, hips rolling into you again and again until you join him as your frantic fingers rip the jacket off his shoulders and down his arm so that you can feel his skin under your hands.   

His mouth is insatiable, stealing sloppy, desperate kisses one after another until your lips burn from the abrasion. The contrast between the rough way he embraces you with the delicately smooth feel of his lips is a sensory overload in the best way. Those long fingers of both of his hands are now tangled in the strands of your hair at the back of your head, not wanting to give you the chance to get away from the harshness of his lips as he claims your mouth as his. 

You match his energy and your fingers find the hem of his mask that still clings to his face and you slip them up underneath to pry it off the rest of the way so that you can caress the back of his head and make him buckle from the shiver as you run your fingertips over his scalp. He holds you tighter as a blunt grunt of pleasure vibrates up from his chest and he breathes it into your open mouth for you to swallow down. He is so caught up in the passion of the moment that he nips aggressively at your lower lip until you gasp as it stings so good. 

The warmth from his breath tingles along the raw skin of your mouth as he buries his nose in your cheek the harder he pushes in. No matter how close you are, it isn’t enough; he wants…no he needs to be closer. He isn’t sure yet if he likes being the type of man that goes feral with an insatiable appetite for his lover, but if you are going to be greedy with wanting his attention he is going to be greedy in the way he reciprocates it.

You are suddenly on the move as Simon easily slides his strong hands up under your arms and picks you up to set you on top of the sturdy table, tugging behind your knees to pull you forward so that you are at the very edge of the surface. You hadn’t realized how warm you are until the instant the cool table touches the bare skin on the back of your legs.

A hum vibrates in his chest as he rubs the length of your thighs before he lockes his hands around them to pry them apart and moving in with his palm, he slides it up into the crotch of your panties and cups his wide hand up over your sex.

“F-fuck,” you whimper as he presses down to pin your lips up into your clit. “I need…I need…”

“Whatcha need, sweet?” he asks through panting breaths as he pulls back and pushes in again, making you squeak out a high pitched whine. “Tell me, use your words.”

You swallow hard. “Need… your fingers…” you struggle to say as he does the same maneuver again.

“Does that sweet little clit need my attention?” he asks. “Achin’ for my touch? Ya think I should jus’ give it to ya after the mess ya made a me when I couldn’t even get at ya yet?”

He keeps his hand pinned down and the pressure makes your hips buck in reaction. “I know… I know…” you stammer out the sloppy confession as you fight to create any words at all. “Couldn’t help it.”

If he had been in a more calm state, he would have liked to tell you to get yourself started to see how you’d follow his directions, and then if you did a good enough job he would come in, but Simon wants to feel you just as much as you crave his touch. The strangle you have on his sanity is making him lose it fast and there isn’t much time he is going to be able to spare, but even in his inebriated state as he slowly drowns in your ecstasy, his mind concocts a devilish plan. 

Maybe he can have both his cake and finger it too.

Suddenly he takes your hand in his, wrapping his larger one over top while making you match the way his two middle fingers stick out with yours, and forces them both to descend down the tingling skin of your lower abdomen into the front of your underwear as he rests against you with foreheads touching. Working your combined fingers in tandem, Simon parts through the lips of your pussy and moves both sets right up against that tiny bundle of nerves just above your core.

“Already wet, pretty girl?” he groans with a hiss as his finger makes contact with a bit of warm moisture once inside. “Not enough, though. I want ya fuckin’ drippin’ for me. And we’re gonna do this how I want. Now we’re gonna make ya a mess so I don’t feel so alone.”

It hasn’t left his mind that this isn’t the safest place to be, that even though the room is only used on those weekly occasions when Price gathers his personnel to keep everyone up to speed, even though the space is vacated and the door locked, there is no guarantee that someone won’t try and get in. He has to be quick, but he is going to do this right. 

Simon expertly guides your finger over your clit in that very distinct way that he does it, rubbing in concise circles over the nub with both of your fingers, using a bit of light pressure as your knees fall apart to give him more access and it doesn’t take long until your mouth falls open so that all those pretty sounds can escape unhindered just as you know he likes.

Their sound only adds fuel to his desire. Having him pilot your movements, forcing you to pleasure yourself under his control, adds another level of euphoria that he had not previously thought possible. Fuck, does he feel powerful to take you like this, both of you working together until your wetness dribbles down his fingers as the heat warms his hand.  

His face is so close to yours that he can use your breath to fill his lungs as he runs out of air; the only thing he wants to sustain his life at this moment. Breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you; he only wants to be consumed by you like a man possessed. He has never needed anyone in the way he needs you and the more he causes you to sing, the more he has to be sure that no one else can ever satisfy you the way that he can. It’s his mission now to completely ruin you for anyone else.

Your legs start to shake as the pressure continues to build from the sensitivity and your calves crush his hips as a pitiful whimper you let out sends him over the edge and drives him insane in his already weakened state. There is no stopping the feral part of his brain from taking over to guide his movements and suddenly your clit isn’t the only thing he wants to play with; he needs to fill you.

You can feel your hand on the move, slithering down until the tips of both your fingers reach your entrance. And quickly they ascend up into you to stretch you out as your legs vibrate, the flood of blood to your cheeks making your face burn like you’re on fire as he keeps shoving up inside until he reaches the amalgamation of your combined knuckles. He keeps his eyesight down to watch the way your hands make your panties bulge as your pussy is filled with the both of you.

The unexpected fullness causes your back to arch and your head to fall back as you struggle to stifle a desperately loud cry from being stretched. Instantly Simon drags your head up and harshly connects your lips with overwhelming savagery to stop the sound from getting out, sucking it down his throat with his mouth pressed to you so securely as you continue to groan in short bursts until you finally are able to calm yourself enough to keep your volume down.  

Your body grips both of your fingers tight as he begins to rhythmically work at your G spot with rough and intense movements, unable to calm down. The harder he goes the more dampness covers the fingers inside you and it drips down onto the back of his hand and begins to stick to the inside of your thighs. Your walls flutter around his fingers the more they swell and that lets him know that you’re close. His pulse is racing to feel it, that moment you come; no single sensation ever gives him more pleasure than being the reason you fall apart.

Your hips begin to grind onto your hands for more friction. “Fuck…fuck…” you mutter in agony under your breath. It’s nearly there, just a bit more. 

Stroking and grinding, stroking and grinding, it feels like an eternity stuck at the edge of that cliff as the warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach grows in intensity, but suddenly and without warning, like a wave washing over you, that warmth reaches its peak and shoots through you as you fall over the edge.  

Simon makes you ride out your orgasm on your fingers until you settle and only then does he gently pull your hands out from your still quivering core and up out of your panites, never letting you go. He holds them up and your fingers glisten with the product of his work under the fluorescent lighting. After taking a few seconds just to admire the way they look he locks eyes with you and holds your gaze as he brings those coated digits on your hand straight up to his mouth and sucks them inside that wet cavern. He uses his tongue to swirl around your fingers to clean them, sucking on them thoroughly to get all the taste of you off and you nearly faint from the erotic nature of his action. 

The way he has no shame when it comes to enjoying every bit of you is staggering to behold. He is insatiable and you can’t get enough.

Giving your hand back, Simon steps up right against you between your legs as his hand slips between your bodies and he shifts his hips slightly so that he can undo his belt buckle, then the button on his jeans, and finally pull down the zipper. Sticking his hand inside the shadowed recesses of his boxers, he pulls out and releases that thick, veiny appendage that has been throbbing for far too long without relief. It stands at attention and bobs with his pulse, a mouth-watering view of all that girth ready just for you. 

The knuckle of his finger bushes over your still overly sensitive cunt as he hooks the digit into the seam at the crotch of your ruined panties and jerks them to the side out of his way before the tip of his cock presses into your petals. So slowly he guides himself past that first barrier in through your lips and carefully he strokes his cock in your cum, coating himself in the heated moisture his touch produced. 

Calloused fingers suddenly divide through the strands of your hair at the back of your head so that his grip is securely woven into you as the others dig into your hip. “You drive me wild, pretty girl,” he says with covetous aggression, “but if ya ain’t careful, I may not be able to contain myself like I did today. So unless ya want me ta fuck ya in front a everyone, you’re gonna wait till we’re alone to start things, yeah?”

You nod in agreement.

“Then I’ll make sure ta get ya so fuckin’ good,” he whispers as he pulls out just enough so that he adjust himself to align his swollen tip with your entrance. “Won’t let ya go till you’re satisfied, promise.” 

He prods against the opening, pushing up against it until you feel drunk on the feeling of anticipation as you wait impatiently for when he finally thrusts hard enough to get all that girth in. “Lift your hips,” he hurriedly demands and you lean back on your hands to help angle your pelvis upward.

Those coffee-colored eyes meet yours one last time as his hand gives your hair a tug. “Let’s finish this right, yeah?” he breathes and his hips snap forward as he pulls yours down.

The moment the tip breaks through the threshold of your body you both involuntarily share a gasp between your open mouths. You are so wet and clearly more than ready to take him, but he still has to pace himself getting in or else he’s going to come before he’s had a chance to really fuck you good. Still your body sucks him in every single inch he gives you until he reaches the base of his shaft where he pauses. 

The width of his cock pushes against your walls until they form around the contours perfectly and his hand on your hip burrows harder into the skin in an attempt to let any other feeling get through the overwhelming sensation of being inside you so that he can last. He focuses back on your face where your eyes are shut tight and something about that just won’t do. He wants those blown-out pupils that rest behind closed lids to be fixated on him as if he is the only thing in the entire fuckin’ world that you crave to look at.

Because you are the only thing in his.  

“Eh, eyes on me, sweet,” he growls desperately to get your attention back. “Need ta fuckin’ see ‘em. That’s it, just like that.”

You open your eyes and your aching gaze renders Simon speechless. How in the fuck did he get so lucky to call you his and why in the hell didn’t he make that happen sooner? Without any more of a pause he begins to thrust in and out of you with a ferocity that makes your body burn as his desire overtakes him. Each stroke stretches you out more until the sting subsides and all that’s left is the satisfying euphoria that comes with being filled so full.

Your cheeks feel like they are glowing and on fire as thrusts after thrust he pounds into you, stretching you and filling you to the brim on all of his passion for your body as the sound of slapping skin against skin fills the silent space, accentuated by the sound of threads snapping as your panties are stretched to the point of ripping. Panting heavily into your face with mouth open, chest heaving up and down with laborious breaths, Simon unleashes himself upon you.

“Fuck,” he says, jaw hanging slack with desire, “wish ya could see how pretty ya look right now.”

Harder and harder he thrusts into you until the table begins to rock with him as he shoves his fat cock as far up into you it almost hits the back of your cervix. He desperately tries to keep the pace even, but it is reaching the point of no return.  

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he stutters with a groan low and guttural as he starts the feel that pressure again building at the base of his spine, ready to shoot through him at any second of he keeps this up. “So fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough of ya.”

You buck against him, meeting his movements with your own as you use your legs wrapped around his hips as leverage. The risky nature of your triste barely registers anymore as the stimulation from his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again inside you clouds all your thoughts except one: the need to come. And it is fast approaching the longer he goes until it is right fucking there; all he has to do is keep going.

“Shit, don’t stop Simon,” you plead in distress to him, your toes curling into the air as you focus on your erratic breathing. 

“Tha’s it, sweet, come for me,” he growls, “Come all over my fuckin’ cock.” 

His pace is relentless as he pumps with those powerful thrusts that bury him deep within you, unyielding and relentless with his need to render you completely satisfied. And just like that everything comes to a head with a shudder as your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp. You squeak out in a whine before you clamp your lips together tight to make sure you can stay as quiet as you can as you ride out the depth of your pleasure on his cock. God, it doesn’t stop, second after second it just keeps building stronger and stronger. Simon does not let up and soon you are whining from the over-stimulation.

He isn’t far behind though and it doesn’t take many more strong thrusts until the warmth that had been building to this point twice now finally shoots through his body, coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he rips his cock out of you and through your thighs as he pulls up your shirt over your tits to cover your stomach in sticky semen as he comes hard.

Leaning forward, Simon opens his mouth and latches it fully onto your collarbone through the fabric of your shirt, digging his teeth into the muscle to keep himself quiet as he milks himself dry with your thighs. He grinds up into those juicy bits of your legs as he grunts laboriously into the muscle of your shoulder so that it vibrates from the intensity while his wide hips continue rolling upward until he has nothing left to give and his shoulders slump forward with exhaustion as he comes to a stop.   

The muscles of his arms are shaking as he releases your shoulder from his mouth. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he says out of breath, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, “I ain’t ever been to a meetin’ that ended this way, but Christ should they.” 

You chuckle as you incline up into his face to catch his mouth in your embrace. Releasing his lips, you are met with a contented smile as he strokes your cheek sweetly with his thumb. You both know you need leave, you’ve spent too much time here already, but Simon just can’t let you go. At least, not yet. Not when you look so good in that post-coital hazy state of bliss that it makes his heart flutter.  

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon smut #simon #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #ghost #ghost cod smut #cod ghost #cod

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #graduation #childhood friends #friends to lovers #wayne munson #hurt/comfort

[reverie-starlight]

nia, you’ve inspired me to write this with that sleepover question you asked abt me n atsumu a while ago 🫶🏻🫶🏻 I live soley to bug him. it’s my favourite hobby. @luvring

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff fluff.

the faint humming of the television as it played whatever movie had been reduced to background noise is the only sound in your apartment’s tiny living room.

you’re laying on top of atsumu, who’s holding you so tightly against him to make sure you don’t roll off and hit the floor. it had been a lovely day together, going out for lunch and then spending the day at your place playing video games and watching movies. you had even attempted to cook dinner together (a task neither of you are particularly good at, but the simple Italian recipe you found seemed to work out well). you’ve been “sleeping” on his chest for the past half hour, but if you’re being honest, you’re slightly more awake than you’re pretending to be.

according to the clock on your wall, it’s 9:30. which means atsumu has to start heading home soon. it’s the time he set for himself and he’s always so good at keeping his schedule, but you don’t want him to go just yet.

…or at all.

you stay perfectly still on top of him without tensing up too much to avoid suspicion, hoping he’ll just forget and stay the night. with the way he’s gently rubbing one of his hands up and down the skin of your back, you almost fall asleep in his arms for real. but then you feel him slow to a stop.

he pulls his hand out from under your shirt, slowly, you assume it’s so he doesn’t ‘wake you up’, and sighs. you can just picture him checking his phone and realizing, so you do what any scheming partner would- you pretend to wrap your arms around him tighter and nuzzle into him in your sleep.

but atsumu’s observant. he knows you’re not actually sleeping (your breathing hadn’t quite evened out yet) but you are getting there, so he dares to disrupt the serene environment and kisses your forehead to soften the blow.

“baby,” he says, and you immediately shake your head in protest. “ya gotta move, sweetheart. it’s time for me to go.”

“noooo,” you whine, and he thinks it’s the cutest sound he’s ever heard.

he knows you don’t want him to leave just as much as he doesn’t want to leave either, but even though he hates the very idea of it, he has to be up early for practice and you live a bit further away than he’s willing to accommodate for on such short notice.

you nuzzle into his neck a bit more and he sighs again. “angel, please?”

you tilt your head up to look at him and he worries about the angle your neck is twisting at. he brings a hand up to cup the back of your head to keep you from moving it any more.

“‘tsum, please stay?”

turns out you were closer to falling asleep than he anticipated. your voice is so soft and clearly riddled with sleep that he almost caves.

but then he remembers last time this happened and how he had to wake up at 4:30 to make it back to his own apartment to shower, change and pack his gym bag.

and he shudders.

“lovebug, ya know I wish I could, but I really can’t this time. can ya let me up?”

you grumble a bit at the nickname, peering up to glare at him, and he thinks you’re really going to give in, but instead you just lock your legs tight around his.

of course you’re not making this easy for him. when do you ever?

“baby!” he can’t help but laugh, because he absolutely adores you for it.

“you can’t leave if you can’t move,” is what he thinks he hears muffled against his chest.

“that a challenge?”

you shrug and he just scoffs.

“cause if it is… I think we both know how quickly you’d be proven wrong.”

it’s true and you do in fact know it, but you’re just desperate enough to delude yourself into thinking you could keep him down with sheer determination alone.

so when you hold your ground and get defeated in milliseconds by him manhandling you and carrying you to your room, it’s a good thing you have a backup plan ready.

“okay, okay! you win, so your prize is taking me home with you for a sleepover at your place!”

he freezes just as he’s about to dump you on your bed (and presumably tuck you in so you don’t try and jump him on his way out like you have many times before).

atsumu wonders why he hadn’t thought of that as he breaks out into a wide grin. he curls you closer towards him and presses kisses all over your face and neck. “you and your beautiful brain! Oh I love ya so much,” and then he drops you onto the bed. “pack a bag, you’re comin’ over.”

ten minutes later, you’re out the door and no longer tired. it’s a struggle to lock your door when you’re still slung over his shoulder and trying not to laugh so loud that you wake up your neighbours, but like most other situations, he’s there to keep you steady.

“take your time babe, not like we’re in a rush,” he teases while swaying back and forth to make things harder.

you feel delirious, from love or being held upside down you’re not quite sure, but you giggle some more and smack his back. “‘atsumu, come on.”

he relents and soon enough you’re in his bed, playing with his hair. the roles seem to have reversed, because now he’s the sleepy one and you’re admiring the view.

you feel his breath tickle your neck and the goosebumps that follow. he nuzzles into you further and you can feel the movement of his lips when he says “we should have a forever sleepover.”

you turn into a puddle of goo. “yeah? you want to spend every night together?”

he nods and grumbles when you move your hand away from his hair. “wan’ ya with me every night. wanna come home to ya. and I wanna be the first thing ya see when you get home too.”

you coo at your sleepy golden retriever of a boyfriend and he hides his face against your shoulder. “you’re adorable when you’re tired, baby.”

“not as cute as you were earlier, that’s for sure.”

you smile and press a kiss to his scalp before forming a response for his unofficial proposal to move in together.

it’s not as though you haven’t thought about it. it’s constantly on your mind, especially since staying at his place has started to feel less like being a guest and more like an extension of your own home.

if he were to ask you properly, you would most definitely say yes, but since he’s half asleep and most likely doesn’t realize what he’s insinuating…

“we’ll talk about it more tomorrow after you get back from practice. sleep, angel, it’s late. I love you,” you whisper.

he nods a little and repeats the sentiment in a soft, slurred murmur before nodding off for the night.

you’re sure to hug him a little tighter as you drift off soon after and dream of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

cheesy ending, but I’m feeling soft for him :( so can you really blame me??

tagging some more lovely people :3 @emmyrosee @dira333

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader fluff #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff

[pwinkprincess]

Girl, your writing is so freaking good!!!

I was Wondering how fratboy!gojo would react to reader pulling a TikTok prank on him like paying for „premium air“ or playing the sound „shawty, your man still around?“, would he get angry, thinking that she is cheating on him even though he is the King of cheating?

Thank you so much for your stories, they always highlight my day ❤️

thank u sm for reading babi 💗💗🎀🎀💞

after a session of toe curling sex, sensual kisses, and words of affirmation as part of aftercare, you and satoru finally untangled limbs and relaxed. usually, he puts you straight to sleep but today you felt restless and wanted to just run around. satoru’s breathing tingles your ear as he breathes shallowly.

his lips are pressed into an adorable pout, while his long white lashes flutter against his eye lids. he’s on his respective side, but he still made sure to keep his arm outstretched and touching you in some way.

you don’t usually play pranks on satoru, but you’re bored and you have been watching too many tiktok couples. with a sigh, you prepare yourself to get into character.

“gojo.” saying his last name felt extremely weird. that word is foreign on your tongue and you make a face as if it has an actual taste.

satoru stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake up. you roll your eyes and say his name again, but louder. “gojo!” you say while patting his side.

he jumps up, looking at you in worry. “what?!”

you clench your teeth together for a few seconds to keep yourself from laughing. you force out a sigh and jump up from your bed. you begin rapidly pacing around your room, pretending to pick up things and put them in their respective places.

“you gotta go! he’s on his way!” you exclaim. you pick up his discarded clothing and throw it at his face. “hurry!”

“who is he?!” satoru frowns. he’s freshly awakened and nothing you’re saying is making sense at the moment.

“my boyfriend!” you have to turn your back to him so that he can’t see the smile that made its way onto your lips.

the room goes extremely quiet, a pen could drop and echo throughout the room. you pretend to busy yourself by picking up your own disregarded clothing and putting them on. once you’re dressed, you look over at satoru who’s staring at you with a look in his eyes. your heart almost drops from his death stare.

“can you get up? i have to change the sheets.”

“boyfriend?” he parrots.

“yes. my boyfriend. now, get up and go. please, he said he’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

satoru just stares at you. you have a stare off with him, not saying anything to each other. satoru breaks the contest first. he chuckles to himself as he slides off of the bed and begins dressing himself.

“i hope he knows how to fight.” satoru tells you while stomping his foot into his shoe.

“huh?! you’re not gonna fight my boyfriend, gojo.” you watch as his head snaps towards you when you say his last name.

“you’re full of shit. y’know that? does he know that you break down when i don’t give you enough attention throughout the day? does he know that i took your virginity? you’ve never said shi—” he cuts himself off by just sighing and running his hands down his face.

“we can argue later, jus’ go.” you dismiss him.

“delete my number.” he says as he walks towards your dorm room door.

you realize he’s serious and you quickly break character.

“toru! wait! i was playing!” you’re grabbing at his wrist to stop him from walking away for good.

he looks down at you. his skin is flushed from how angry he had gotten. his breathing is harsh and he has this faraway look in his eyes.

“you lying?”

“there’s no other guy. jus’ you toru. jus’ you.” you reason with him. you’re pulling him back into your room, and standing on your tippy toes to place your lips against his. as the kiss begins, he doesn’t immediately kiss back. not until you whimper out a weak “daddy, please.”.

once he calms down and he’s absolutely sure no other guy is coming, he sits back down on your bed.

“you play too much.” he lectures bitterly.

“you were sooo mad.” you giggle, kissing on his jaw.

“was not.” he argues, knowing very well that he was in fact mad.

#asks ! ˚ ༘ ೀ #fratboy/playboy!gojo #pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა #₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ #toruuu ᡣ𐭩୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ #jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა #˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

[harmshake]

Melt

Roman Reigns & Fem Black Reader | 18+, NSFW, fluff, a hint of birthday smut | 939 words

a/n: Just a little something I whipped up because it's his day. 😍

Happy reading! Read my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

The lights were low to let the candles on his cake be the only glow in the room. But once your husband made his wish and blew them out, you flipped all the lights back on and Roman's smile glowed even bigger. He looked down at the strawberry cake you did your best to bake, the oven behind him still hot as you had pulled the cake from it and frosted it too soon—rushing to finish it before he got home. 

His brown eyes watched the strawberry frosting as it melted and dripped down the sides of the cake and pooled on the plate it sat on, threatening to spill from the sides and onto the marble counter. You looked up at him from his side, then the cake, and then him again, seeing his eyes crinkle with that glowing smile that wobbled into a tiny laugh.

"This is beautiful," he said but then you both burst out laughing together. The candles that you wedged into the cake were slanting into the icing, flopping like your entire attempt to surprise him. You had dimmed the lights, decorated the dining table with birthday gifts, and thrown on your cutest dress and stilettos so you could hold the supposed-to-be-cute cake and greet him at the door after you made him run to the store for ice cream as a distraction to set up. You both laughed so hard at the little disaster that was your cake that a tear slipped from your eye and you wiped it away before you felt his hands cradle your face with his wide thumbs stroking your cheeks, that glowing smile spreading his cheeks as his deep voice became softer. "Baby, no, seriously. I love it. I love you."

"That's a relief. Happy birthday, baby. Love you, too." You reached your hand up to hold his as he leaned down to give you a kiss that was as soft as his tone. You didn't bake very often but when you did it usually came out edible. If only he hadn't gotten back from the store so quickly. "Guess I should run back out and get a real cake, huh? Still want strawberry?"

Roman shook his head before he swiped his pointer finger in the puddle of icing that dripped onto the marble, slipping it between his lips to taste. "Naw, this is perfect. I'mma eat it as is," he said with another dip of his finger in the goopy mess. 

"Want me to grab you a plate at least or you just gonna eat it straight from the counter?" you teased as you turned to grab a kitchen towel that hung from the oven door to clean the counter. When you tried to switch around, Roman's arms were suddenly around your waist to pin your backside to him, his bearded chin on your shoulder when you went to look at him before his lips were on yours, sweet like the frosting. "Don't tell me...you trying to eat me, too, huh?"

That made him chuckle, especially since you could feel every inch of him in his joggers as he pressed himself to you. You pushed your butt against him to make him rumble a sigh in your ear and squeeze your hips in his hands as he said, "You know I always gotta taste for you...but psssh. I thought today was my birthday."

Roman shifted you to face him then, his hands still on your hips but his eyes on your juicy lips that glistened with your lip gloss. He bit his bottom lip as you nodded, catching his drift as you caught his gaze that grew hungrier for more than cake. You rested your hands on his massive chest in his white tee shirt before you slowly let them fall to his waistband that you tugged. 

"Didn't I spoil you enough with a homemade cake?" you asked with a grin as you pulled him by his waistband to the dining room where you pushed him down into the seat at the head of the table. Roman licked his lips as he watched you sink onto your knees between his burly thighs. He didn't have to answer because you could see from the greedy look on his handsome face that he wanted to be spoiled a little more—and you wouldn't deny the birthday boy on his special day. "Better be glad I love to spoil you..."

"Don't I spoil you on your birthday?" Roman wanted to tease but all that bass in his voice simmered into a heated sigh when you ran your hands up his legs and over his thick bulge until they reached his waistband again, pulling until it and his boxer briefs settled around his ankles. 

"You sure do..." you purred as you eyed his pretty, brown, thick piece of flesh that spoiled you almost every night and extra on your birthday, studying how it twitched for you before you could even touch it. You loved the way it felt hard yet smooth in your palm when you did...and loved the way your husband stirred with another sigh when you massaged it. You couldn't wait to hear the beautiful sounds he'd make when you wrapped your lips around it. "I love you, baby."

And you knew Roman couldn't wait, either, when he cupped your chin as you kissed his head with a flick of your tongue to catch his pleasure that tried to trickle from it, making him twitch again and making you tremble to taste him melt in your mouth and down your throat... 

"Mm, you love me, baby?" Roman softly growled to you, his eyelids low with his glowing smile shifting into a seductive smirk as his thumb grazed your bottom lip. "Show Daddy how much with this pretty mouth."

.

.

.

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[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)

Word Count: 6125

Series Rewrite Masterlist

After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.

Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“What?” you whispered.

“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.

Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.

“Start what up?” you asked.

“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.

Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.

“Alright, just remember you started it.”

“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”

“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.

“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Dean—!”

“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.

“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.

“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” you asked.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.

“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.

“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.

“Where’d you find those?” you asked.

The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”

“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.

“HellHoundsLair.com.”

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.

“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”

“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.

“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”

You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.

***

The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to. 

“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.

“That’s the one,” answered Dean.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.

“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.

Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” you questioned.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

‘Oh, that’s just great.’

“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.

“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

***

You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.

“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”

Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”

“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door. 

“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”

“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”

“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”

You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.

Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”

Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.

“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.

You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him. 

He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”

Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.

Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”

A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.

“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said. 

The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.

“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Professional what?”

The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.

The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.

“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.

You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”

“Amateurs.”

You and Dean immediately lost interest.

Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.

“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.

“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.

“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.

“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.

Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”

“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—” 

“By itself,” Harry finished.

“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.

“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.

“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”

A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”

***

You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town. 

“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.

“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”

“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?” 

His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Hell House.”

***

Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head. 

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.

You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”

You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.” 

You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”

You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference. 

“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.

You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”

“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.

“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.

“...I double dare you.”

Sam just shook his head and continued walking.

You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight. 

“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”

Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”

Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother. 

You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.

“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust. 

“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.

You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“But Dean.”

“Hm.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.

Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”

You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He just grunted in response.

***

The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”

“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.

“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”

“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”

***

Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.

“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.

“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.

“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”

You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter. 

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea,” you responded.

***

The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.

His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”

“So?” Dean said.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.

“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”

Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.

“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.

“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”

“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke. 

“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.

“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”

Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.

“Where we going?” Dean questioned.

“To find a copy store.”

Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughed and walked after you.

“You did this?!” Sam called.

The only response he got was a laugh from his brother. 

“You're a friggin jerk!”

“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.

***

After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.

“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”

You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”

Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”

Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.

“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.

“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”

Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”

“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.

You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”

“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.

“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”

“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.

“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.

You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally,” Ed nodded.

Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”

“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.

Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly. 

Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”

***

You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord. 

You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”

Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”

“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.

“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.

You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”

Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”

Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”

“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.

“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.

Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”

Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”

You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”

“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”

“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”

Dean grunted, “Fine.”

***

Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.

You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.

“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.

“I don't know,” Sam answered.

“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.

You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.

“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.

“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up. 

“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders. 

He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door. 

“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.

“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.

Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.

“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.

“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.

Sam and Dean appeared behind you.

“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.

“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.

The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.

“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”

Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.

“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.

“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.

You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway, 

“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.

“Guys! Help!” you screamed.

Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.

“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”

Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.

“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.

“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said. 

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.

“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged. 

You turned back to the house and watched it burn.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.

***

You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.

“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”

You cringed. 

“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.

“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car. 

“And create the RPG,” Harry added.

“The what?” Dean asked.

“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”

You forced a smile at him.

“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.

“What's that,” prompted Dean.

“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.

“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”

Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.

“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.

“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth

a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

[supernaturalfreewill]

Sam wandered over and sat down next to you on the edge of the roof. He was holding his shoulder and winced a little as he sat down.

"You doing alright?" you asked.

He nodded. "I'll live," he said, catching your eyes and giving you a tired smile.

"Is Dean on his way?" you asked, looking out across the town below and taking in the setting sun in the distance. It wasn't a bad view... and the company wasn't bad either.

"Yeah. He's bringing a ladder," Sam said, sighing and finally letting go of all of his tension.

You nodded. "How's he gonna do that? Strap it to the roof of the Impala?" you laughed.

"No idea. My guess is he's gonna show up in a hot-wired van or something..."

You adjusted your grip on the rifle lying across your lap. You nodded toward a road sign that the sun was just glinting off. "How much you wanna bet I can hit that sign?" you asked him, putting the rifle up to your shoulder and looking through the scope.

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Considering that I've seen you nail a headshot on a ghoul from 900 meters away, nothing, because I know you can hit it." He shot you an admiring look.

"Aw, come on... you're no fun," you said. "Cover your ears, Sam," you said, smiling. He laughed but plugged his ears and squinted toward the sign in the distance. You exhaled, held your breath, focused... and squeezed the trigger. You watched through the scope as the bullet pierced the center of the zero on the sign and grinned at Sam.

He shook his head as you rested the rifle over your lap again and swung your feet aimlessly. "Hey—have I told you lately that—I'm—I'm really glad you're with us?"

You looked over at him in vague surprise. "You haven't. But thanks. I'm glad too."

"Yeah... I don't know how to explain it but—it feels like—like I was waiting for you or—Oh! I mean, we were... uhh—We were waiting for you... as—as part of the team..." Sam's face flushed and he cleared his throat as he stared straight ahead again at the setting sun. Smooth.

But you were feeling butterflies in your stomach and a glow of warmth in your chest as you realized what he'd accidentally said. You bit your bottom lip and looked out at what suddenly seemed the most beautiful sunset you'd ever seen.

"Oh my God. I don't believe this," Sam said suddenly, standing up. Looking down, you saw an approaching fire engine, complete with a hook and ladder.

"Is that—Dean?" you asked, squinting at the approaching truck. "Wow..." you laughed.

Sam rolled his eyes and offered you his hand to help you to your feet. "He's always gotta show off," he said, shaking his head.

"Don't worry. Sam Winchester is not someone who can be upstaged," you said, giving him a soft look.

Prompt: "How much you wanna bet I can hit that sign?" / "Considering I've seen you hit an enemy from 900 meters away, nothing, because I know you can hit it."

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sammy imagines #sam winchester drabbles #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural #spn imagines #sam winchester fanfiction

[yoursweetestbunny22]

Drunk! JJ Maybank x Reader

Sinopse: just jj being clingy while drunk and yn having feelings for him

Warnings: just fluff and fluff

The bonfire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows over the beach. The night was alive with the sound of laughter and the smell of salty sea air. But my attention was fixed on one person: JJ

"Y/N!" he called out, his voice slurred but cheerful. "C'mere, you gotta try this!"

I sighed, making my way over to him. "Jayj, how much have you had to drink?"

He chuckled, holding up his fingers as if counting. "Uh, I dunno, lost track after... five? Six? Doesn't matter. I'm good."

“Well” rolled my eyes, gently taking the cup from his hand. “I think you've had enough for tonight."

"But I'm just getting started!" he protested, his tone playful but insistent. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "Besides, you haven't even danced with me yet."

"JJ, you're drunk, The others had already left as well”I said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "Let's get you back to the Chateau."

His expression shifted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Only if you promise to dance with me when we get there."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Fine, I promise. Now let's go."

He stumbled as I guided him away from the bonfire, his arm draped over my shoulders for support. The walk back to John B's house felt longer than usual, JJ's weight making it harder to navigate the sandy path.

"Y'know, cupcake" JJ mumbled, his voice low and intimate. "You're really pretty."

"Thanks, JJ," I replied, trying to keep him steady.

"I'm serious," he insisted, stopping suddenly to look at me. His blue eyes were hazy but sincere. "You're, like, the best thing that's ever happened to me…I really love you"

My heart skipped a beat, but I brushed it off, he was drunk… “thanks jayj..But you can tell me that when you're sober, now c'mon, let's keep moving."

He laughed, a sound that was both carefree and heart-wrenching. "You're always taking care of me. Why?"

"Because you're my friend, JJ," I said, my tone firm but kind. "And friends look out for each other."

As we continued walking, he stumbled again, nearly dragging me down with him. I tightened my grip around his waist, determined to get him back safely.

"We're almost there," I reassured him, my breath coming out in small puffs in the cool night air.

When we finally reached the Chateau, I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease. I helped him up the creaky steps, praying he wouldn't wake anyone inside.

"Shh, be quiet," I whispered as I unlocked the door. "You don't want to wake Sarah and John b"

JJ nodded, but his balance was off, causing him to bump into the doorframe. "Oops" he giggled, his laughter infectious.

I managed to get him inside, guiding him to the worn-out couch in the living room. He flopped down with a contented sigh, pulling me down with him.

“Stay..” he murmured, his eyes half-closed. "Just for a bit."

I sat beside him, his head resting on my shoulder. "Only for a little while," I agreed, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Some time passed, and I could only feel his warm breath and a hand on my waist... maybe he had already fallen asleep. Well maybe not.

He turned slightly, his breath tickling my neck. "Do you ever think about us? Like, more than friends?"

My heart raced, the question hanging in the air. "JJ, you're drunk. We should talk about this when you're sober."

"But I wanna know," he persisted, his fingers intertwining with mine. "I think about it. A lot."

I sighed, my emotions a tangled mess. "Get some sleep, JJ. We'll talk in the morning."

He nodded, his eyes drifting shut. "Promise?"

"I promise," I whispered, watching as he slipped into a peaceful sleep.

As I sat there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against me, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more between us. But for now, I was content to just be there for him, taking care of the boy who always managed to steal my heart, even in his drunken stupor.

Minutes turned into hours as I stayed by his side, lost in thought. I gently shifted, trying to make him more comfortable, and pulled a blanket over us. His arms tightened around me instinctively, even in sleep, as if he feared I'd slip away.

"Y/N," he mumbled in his sleep, nuzzling closer. I sighed softly, brushing a light kiss against his forehead. His confession, although muddled by alcohol, had left a mark on my heart.

Tomorrow would bring clarity, but for tonight, I was here, holding onto the boy who meant the world to me. The Chateau stood silent around us, a quiet sanctuary where, for a few hours, everything felt right.

#jj maybank high #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #outer banks fanfic #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks jj maybank #rudy pankow #coquette #dolette #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #coquette dollete #girlblogging #dollcore

[figsnpassionfruits]

Paint Away, My Little Dove - Chapter 6

word count: 2.2k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, kisses, mentions of sa, mentions of death, canon-typical themes, mentions of human trafficking dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

“What do you think, Arthur?”

Both of you were back at the Heartlands, close to a nearby farm you had seen last time you rode past. Arthur came up with the idea of letting you practice sketching animals. You wanted to include them in your art; it was just that Arthur could not be around all the time to sketch them for you. So, he came up with the idea of teaching you.

He leaned over, eyes scanning over the cow you had sketched. “Aghhh-“ He started. “If I saw a cow like that I would’ve shot if out of pity.”

“Arthur!” You yelped, slapping his arm in a playful way. “You’re horrible.”

“m’sorry, dove. But we gotta keep on practicin’.” Arthur had a big smile on his face, his voice erupting with laughter as he kept teasing you.

Both of you had missed this. Just sitting on the dry grass, a soft blanket underneath you to protect the clothes from the dirt and a can of dried peaches for the missing sweetness in your mouths. After the past few times you had met, it had been nothing but bad news. This? Yea, Arthur had missed this. The joy you would bring him would make him feel young again. Slowly, his doubt was starting to vanish. Maybe the age gap would not mean that he, an older man, was stealing away your youth. Maybe you were just ready to share a chunk of that.

Arthur had allowed you more insight into his life. The morning after your nightmare he had made the decision to tell you about his upcoming. You had poured out your heart to him. It was only fair to you for him to do the same. Thus he started talking about his camp and the people who brought it to life. He told you stories about each of the members and the adventures he had lived through with them; good and bad. It was heartbreaking hearing him talk about the deaths they had to endure at Colter. Arthur was such a good man, always trying to protect and defend his loved ones. Even without all this knowledge, you had a feeling that he was a hard shell with a soft teddy bear inside. On that morning, he proved you right.

Laughter after laughter you had leaned onto one another, shoulders and arms grazing each other each time the sound would fill the air. His deep voice would harmonize pleasantly with your higher one. Gosh, anyone watching from afar would think that you were on your honeymoon.

Without realizing you had bit your lip, drifting your upper body closer to his, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as you did so.

Arthur had caught on to your motion. His laughter died down along with yours as he analyzed your movements, trying to predict the next. To him, it seemed like you were leaning in for a kiss. Whether you had comprehended it or not, he did not know. Either way, Arthur was not backing up.

Pecks on shoulders, hands, cheeks and foreheads you had done. Touching each other’s lips, however; not.

And so you stopped. In order to come over the awkwardness, you let out a small cough and plucked an imaginary feather from his hair, mumbling something about that it had annoyed you before he replied with a small ‘thanks’ in return.

“So, ehm- when will I get to meet them? Your camp, I mean.” A pitiful attempt at changing the topic, but it was better than silence.

“I don’t know, Y/N. It’d be safer right now not to. You know now what kinda bastards are looking for us. Not the kind to take it easy on folks. I just don’t want you to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You hummed to his response. He was right. From what Arthur had told you before, the Pinkertons were constantly on their tails, just waiting for the right moments to strike. How the gang dealt with the stress, you could not explain to yourself. But you could relate to being on the run. That feeling of constant anxiety and fear was nothing you would wish on your worst enemy. The toll it could take on someone could end with death. Paranoid people throwing themselves on train tracks or jumping off cliffs was not rare at this time. And no one could blame them. Folks would rather meet death than whatever else life had in store for them.

“What about that Charles? You always speak so highly of him?” You asked, moving loose strands out of the Arthurs face. “I’d just be at ease knowing you’re around someone that I know as well. That’s all.” You explained, softening your voice, hoping to receive a positive response.

Arthur smiled as he put his rough hand on your cheek, covering most of your soft skin with his. “Alright, darlin’.”

Hours after asking more about the social circle around Arthur and poor attempts of drawing various deformed animals on paper, it had become nighttime. Crickets were making their presence known as coyotes barked all over the Heartlands. Sleeping together in a tent was not unknown to you both anymore. Rather, it had become a routine whenever you spent more than a day with each other. Your body knew who was next to you. Therefore, it was not uncommon that you would snuggle his arm in your sleeping state. Arthur was no different either. Every once in a while he would find himself having a meaty arm around your form, squeezing it tighter instead of letting go when he caught himself doing so.

The chirping of the birds and the warm rays of the sun beamed through the thin fabric of your tent. Arthur was usually the first one to be awake. Today it was no different. As you stirred around, humming soft and quiet sounds, Arthur was leaving soft kisses on your forehead, travelling his lips from that very spot to your nose to give its tip a peck as well, refusing to ignore it. As he was roaming his blue eyes over you, he thought about the conversation you had. Arthur wanted to keep you safe. But at the same time, he was refusing to let you get involved with the gang. There was no way he could be at two places at the same time. If you were at Hamish’s, he was either there or not. If you were at the camp, at least someone else could keep an eye on you. Now that Bronte knew you were still alive, you basically had a target on your back. Minutes and minutes passed as Arthur weighed out his options, pondering about what was the right decision to take. Nevertheless, he could not find an appropriate answer. No matter what it would be, he had to hurry finding it. Time was ticking and Bronte was just getting started.

………………………………………………

Arthur was sitting in the wagon along with Dutch, Bill and Hosea. The four were on their way to Angelo Brontes mansion who was hosting some sort of party. The Italian had invited them to join and so Dutch accepted, assuming it would be casual business. Arthur, however, felt different. None of the others could figure out his mood. For them, he just looked extra grumpy today, not knowing the devastating reality behind it. Keeping his cool was something Arthur never had to struggle with. Tonight, oh god, he did not know if he could.

“Y’okay, boy?” Hosea questioned, sensing Arthurs energy deficiency as the rest of them were laughing over the suits they were wearing. Never had they imagined to be dressing fancy like this while being on the run from the Pinkertons.

Arthur nodded, not facing the older man, staring out of the window instead.

Upon arrival, the four removed their weapons and handed them to Brontes guards at the gate. It seemed like an eternity as they strutted through the massive mansion, following a man who was leading them to a balcony a floor or two above to meet with Angelo Bronte.

Once Arthur set his eyes on him, he could not turn away. Every single thing you had told him about what that man did to you was now being envisioned. No matter how hard he tried to block it out, the rage could not be filtered.

Thankfully Dutch took care of the talking.

To calm himself down, Arthur accepted a cigar given to him, bit off the tip and started inhaling the tobacco within. Every word said by Bronte was igniting the fire within him. ‘Why the hell did I agree to this?’

Angelo Bronte had mentioned something about a trolley station that he would allow to be robbed, whatever that meant. Now being able to recognize the Italians false facade, Arthur did not believe him. Not a bit. Dutch however, gave into it right away, making Arthur curse under his breath, just loud enough for himself to hear.

After what felt like hours of torture, the four had managed to act normal and socialize with the rest of the guests. Arthur had poured drinks here and there, Bill succeeded in stealing a letter from the mayor to Bronte and Dutch and Hosea blended in with the high society.

“Dutch, we gotta leave. I’on know how much longer I can stay here without doing anything stupid.” Arthur said to Dutch as he looked around the garden, faking a small smile to the guests passing by.

“Whatchu mean, Arthur?” Dutch questioned, raising a brow at his statement.

“Ain’t you realizin’ what’s happenin’’ here?” Arthur whispered in a quiet, yet harsh voice. “That man was about to traffic little Jack to sick people and out of a sudden we are fine with him. Who knows how many children are involved.”

Dutch let out a sigh as he put a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur, this ain’t our fight. Senior Bronte just offered us to rob a station in the middle of Saint Denis. He is basically handing us money. We gotta take it.”

“The hell it ain’t, Dutch.” Arthur brushed off his hand off him, taking a step back, shaking his head in disbelief at Dutchs words. “This is wrong and ya know it.” Arthur was pointing a finger at him, venom spitting from his tongue with the way he was accusing him.

Just as they were about to leave, Bronte stopped them at the gate, saying his farewells as he watched the outlaws grab their weapons from the chest they had previously placed them in.

“Mr. Morgan!”

Arthur did not look at him. If he did, he did not know what he would have done to that man, if you could even call him that.

Bronte came up to his side, putting a hand on the taller mans shoulder, standing close enough to Arthur so only he could hear his words. “Did you think about my negotiation?”

His touch felt disgusting. If this was under normal circumstances, Arthur would have pushed his slimy hand off and ground pounded him until he was choking on his own blood. But they were on his property. If he would not get pulled off right away, he would have been shot. This was neither the time nor place.

Arthur joined the rest of the gang, letting Brontes hand fall from his shoulder with the large steps he took. He did not even care enough to look back at him as he stepped into the wagon. Arthur was not going to pretend. That man made him sick and he was not going to allow Bronte to believe otherwise.

……………………………………………

Arthur had returned in the middle of the night, declining the thought of letting you sleep by yourself at the camp you both had set up.

The tents dark fabric was flowing along with the slight wind. Arthur pulled the opening apart, seeing your sleeping form rising and falling in the same slow pace. Even after all the anger he had felt, he could not help but crack a lazy smile at your sleeping position. Your hair was all over the place, mimicking a snake attempting to strangle its prey. After taking off his coat, he crouched down to your level, removed your hair from your face before delivering a kiss to your nose once again.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Stirring at his words you gently fluttered open your eyes, smiling at the sight of him. Even if it was late, you did not mind being woken up by Arthur. Especially in this way. “Hi.”

“You sold enough art in Rhodes t’day?” He asked while getting under the covers which you had slightly lifted up for him.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Enough to get by for some time.”

Arthur mimicked your nod, putting his calloused covered hand underneath his head, placing his other on your waist to pull you closer to his broad torso.

His shoulders were a dream to sleep on. If you had been the slightest bit more tired, you would have already fallen back asleep.

“What was your most expensive sell?”

“Today?”

“Yea.”

You snuggled further into him, intoxicated by his scent as you smiled to yourself. “Fifty-three.”

“Jesus, woman.” Arthur chuckled, pulling you even closer to him. “Tomorrow ya gotta go back to O’Creagh’s, alright? Don’t wanna risk things if someone followed me.”

“M’kay.”

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #paint away #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff

[archangeldyke-all]

Hiii this is my first ever ask so I'm kinda nervous!! Would you be willing to do a sevika x submissive masc reader? I don't really see any fics with her and a masc reader especially a bottom reader.

I absolutely love your writing, It's amazing!!! 🫶

sure! i'm going to combine it with this other delicious smutty ask i got too:

Sevika breaking the headboard with her hand (flesh or mech, which ever you prefer) while she’s tribbing reader? I think the lack of season 2 is messing with my brain

men and minors dni

it's no secret that sevika finds you irresistible. almost everything you do manages to turn her on at least a little bit, and she's always sure to let you know when she wants you.

but sevika goes feral for you when she catches you doing housework. especially if you're sweaty.

like right now. you've just finished mowing the back yard, and while it only took thirty minutes, the sun was so hot you've sweat through the white wife-pleaser you stole from sevika's side of the closet this morning.

you're chugging a glass of cold water, hunched over the sink when she finds you. you don't even hear her until it's too late and she's right behind you-- smacking your ass. you choke on your water and spin around, glaring at your wife. she grins.

"i can see your tits through that thing." sevika giggles, looking down at the now-sheer white top over your chest. you giggle.

"good thing our yard's fenced in. otherwise the neighbors woulda got a peek too."

sevika's hands are on your waist, and she's slowly pushing you backwards toward the bedroom as you talk. you don't even try to stop her-- this is the best part about cutting the grass: your reward.

"i'd kill them." sevika huffs, pouting at the thought of someone else seeing your tits. you laugh again, and the back of your legs hit the mattress. sevika shoves you down, then tackles you, hovering over you on all fours. you smile up at her.

"well, you got me where you want me. whaddya gonna do now?" you ask. sevika smirks down at you, then she ducks down and licks up a bead of sweat sliding down your throat.

you shiver, and she reaches up to run her fingers through the short-shaved sides of your head. you hum happily below her, melting into her touch. she licks your earlobe, then whispers in a low voice, "now i'm gonna fuck you 'til you're crying, baby." the breath you let out is shaky, and sevika smiles at the sound. "sound good?" she asks.

you grin and nod beneath her, and she snaps into action.

within ten seconds, sevika's got you both naked, and she's shoving you up the bed, not struggling in the slightest to manhandle you right where she wants you. it makes you dizzy.

"fuck, sevika." you moan. she giggles.

"you're so cute, babe." she laughs as she weaves her legs between yours, holding your calf against her chest as she hovers her cunt over yours. "i just gotta throw you around a bit 'n your cunt's already fuckin' soaked." she teases, smiling down at your pussy. you whine.

"just-- c'mon, sev." you grunt, wiggling your hips and trying to make contact with sevika above you. she just laughs as she watches you struggle.

"say please, baby." she whispers. you huff, glaring up at your wife.

"please, sev. don't you wanna fuck me? don't you wanna make me cum?" you whine, trying to turn the tables on her a bit. it works. sevika's eyes roll back as she grunts at your words, sinking down against you and starting a slow grind. you both whimper as she starts moving.

"fuck, baby." sevika grunts. "you don't got a fuckin' clue what you do to me, do you?" she asks.

you giggle beneath her. "well, i got a bit of a clue. your cunt's soaked." you tease. sevika grins.

"'s what you do to me. shit-- watching you work out in the yard, your arms out and sweaty--" she cuts herself off, whining. you giggle again, reaching up to pinch her nipples. her hips stutter as she whines, and you can feel her clit pulsing against you.

"shit, sev, you're really worked up, aren't you?" you ask. she whines and nods down at you.

"was watching you the whole time." she admits. you burst into giggles, most of them cut off by whines as sevika fucks you faster. "fuck-- 'm gonna cum baby." she grunts.

you gasp, reaching up to grab her hips and help her grind against you. "fuck, sev, cum on my cunt baby, i wanna feel it." you whine, grinding up into her.

sevika collapses forward, trapping your leg between your bodies, one of her hands coming up to support her weight on the headboard, the other balancing herself by your head. she keeps letting out these sweet whimpers, grunting and whining in your ear as she slides her cunt against yours.

she's fucking you so hard and fast that the mattress is creaking beneath you. you're both so wet that getting any real friction is hard-- and you watch in adoration as sevika whines and struggles to fuck you hard enough to cum. she's so close, you can tell, her eyes are shut, her lip is trapped between her teeth, and her arm above you is shaking.

you reach back and claw at her ass, and she gasps, freezing for a moment, before her eyes snap open, she glares down at you, and she starts fucking you like she's trying to break you in half.

there's smacking kissing sounds coming from between your legs, sevika's grunting with each swivel of her hips, and you're so close to cumming you can't even make noise.

and then, "jesus fucking christ!" sevika falls apart.

her cunt soaks yours as she shivers, and you cum at the feeling of it. her hips don't falter their movements-- in fact, they speed up as she chases her high and tries to work you through yours.

the sounds of your smacking cunts and shared whimpers is suddenly interrupted by a loud CRACK! and sevika promptly falls right on top of you with a yelp.

you burst into out-of-breath laughter against sevika's stomach as she tries and fails to push herself back up on her shaky arms. "what the fuck just happened?!" you giggle.

sevika finally manages to push herself off of you, and you groan as your wet cunt is exposed to the cool air-- no longer protected by sevika's. she blinks up at the headboard, then groans.

"oh, fuck."

you tilt your head up to look behind you, and burst into laughter when you see sevika's split the wooden headboard down the middle.

"holy shit!" you laugh. "babe-- that's fucking awesome!"

sevika groans. "fuck. that's the third time!"

you can't stop laughing. you guys specifically bought the solid wood headboard so sevika wouldn't be able to snap it mid-sex. it looks like you might have to upgrade to metal. sevika huffs, trying to ignore your giggles, but eventually she smiles at the sound, laughing along with you.

"you were really worked up, huh?" you ask. sevika shrugs bashfully, and you flop over to lay on top of her, nuzzling against her neck.

"you look so fuckin' handsome bein' my perfect little housebutch." she says, shrugging. you snort against her neck.

"what's that make you, then?" you ask. she shrugs.

"i'm the butch-winner. like breadwinner, get it?" she chuckles. you snort, then smack your lips against hers.

"ten minute nap then we're showering and going to ikea for a new headboard." you mumble, shutting your eyes and nuzzling against her.

she hums. "deal."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

[restinslices]

Ive seen your Lin Kuei Brothers hc about movie reactions and they re hilarious. I watched Mean Girls the other day and thought about their reaction watching it. I bet Bi-han would stan Regina lol. What do you think?

This is short because tbh I don’t really see them liking it😭. I added a little Drabble cause this took so long.

Although the idea of him being a Regina George stan is conical, I don't really see him enjoying movies like Mean Girls 

I'm not sure what movies he'd like or if he's more of a book guy, but Mean Girls is campy fun about highschool drama. I just don't see him being interested 

I'm not sure any of them would really be interested in it honestly. Mean Girls isn't just a girls movie but these are men who are in their 30s-40s and just don't give me Mean Girl stan. Yk?

I just don't see him liking it at all. He's checked out the entire time and when he's told it's a classic, he doesn't understand why 

It's not the worst movie he's ever seen but it's not his favorite. He'll never go out of his way to see it again 

A party pooper fr 

I don't think he'll be like “this shit is ASS!” because you like the movie but I can see him being like “well it was certainly a movie”

I don't know😭. I wanna say he'd like it, but it doesn't seem like his vibe. I'm sorry 😔

“Did you like it?” You asked once the movie was over. The answer? No. Honestly, halfway through the movie he completely checked out and if you hadn't announced that it ended, he wouldn't have noticed. 

“It was a movie” he answered simply. He went to get up from the couch but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. A random spout of strength that contrasted how sad you looked. 

“You didn't like it?” 

“I'm in my 40s”

“So?”

“So, it isn't for me”. Your frown deepened and he couldn't understand why. It was just a movie. He could understand why you liked it. It had childhood memories attached to it. He didn't have any memories attached to it, so to him, it was just a movie. 

“You suck ass” you finally said and crossed your arms. “I'm watching it again”. 

“Have fun with that”. 

I don't think he hates the movie but once again, I just don't see any of them truly appreciating it 

Teenage drama to him just isn't exciting. He's older so when problems arise he starts giving logical answers 

“How does Cady not see that she's also becoming a mean girl?”

Because that's the point of the movie Kuai 

He'll watch it maybe a few times with you if it keeps you happy

In canon he has a wife so I'm sure he knows that sometimes you gotta endure for them

I think his favorite character, if he had to choose, would be maybe Karen because she's just tryna live life based on my memory 

He's glad he understands the references you make now 

So there's positives  

Not his cup of tea but he likes that you like it 

“This is a classic, you say?” Kuai Liang asked. He meant for his tone to come out friendly and curious, but in reality it came out unsure and a little judgmental. Unfortunately for him, you noticed. 

“Shut up! You didn't like it?!” he couldn't understand why you were so surprised. He liked some movies but the movies he liked were nothing like Mean Girls. 

“I didn't say that”

“I cannot believe you. We're gonna watch it again until you like it”. Kuai Liang was tempted to get up and go do literally anything else, but when you snuggled close to his arm, he figured there was no harm in trying again. As long as he was close to his favorite person. 

I can see him being the brother that understands the message the most 

For some reason people debate on who's actually a mean girl. Whether it's Regina, Cady, Janis, ect. 

Tomas can see that multiple characters are mean asf

Now once again, I don't see this being his cup of tea, but hate is too strong of a word 

Dislike is too strong of a word 

The movie is just eh to him. It's just a movie. He won't suffer if he watches it but he'll never choose to watch it on his own

I can see him lying about how much he enjoyed it so he ends up watching it a lot more than he wants to because you keep putting it on 

Even if this isn't his favorite movie, he definitely thinks the first is better than the sequel 

That shit was ass 

Mean Girls is entertaining. The sequel… no❤

He watches it with you because it lets you spend time together. 

Honestly you could put on a shitty booty ass movie like Teen Wolf (2023) and he'd watch it if it kept the two of you together 

“Sooooo… thoughts?” You leaned back in your seat and look over at him with hope and happiness in your eyes. He internally winced. How could he destroy that shimmer in your eyes?

“I loved it!” he lies. His heart swells in his chest when you clap your hands together and give him a toothy grin. By the Elder Gods… you were far too cute for him. Now he certainly couldn't tell you he didn't particularly care for the movie! You'd look so sad. 

“I'm so glad! We should get matching pink shirts! We can wear them on Wednesdays!”. Tomas kept his forced smile on his face. Internally, he wasn't sure what can of worms he opened. All he knew was that it was too late to close it back up. 

“Sounds great” he mumbled. “Maybe we can watch the sequel I've heard about”. Why did he keep talking?

You scoffed. “Sure. I guess we can suffer together”. 

Suffer? Oh boy… 

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han #bi han sub zero #kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #bi han mk #bi han mortal kombat #bi han x reader #bi han mk1 #kuai liang x reader #bi han headcanons #kuai liang headcanons #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada smoke #mk1 tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada headcanons #tomas vrbada x reader #mk1 headcanons

[wobblesthecowgirl]

Could you do Arthur with a rich reader?

Lady and The Tramp

Arthur x fem Rich Reader

Thank you for the request, I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long! I'm loving getting requests and I'll try and get through them best I can!

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The way you met was definitely an odd one.

Dutch had sent Arthur to a massive mansion in the outskirts of Saint Denis that belonged to a famous lawyer. The idea was to watch the house until he knew who was there, and sneak in when they left for their often business trips.

Trelawny had informed him before he left that the place consisted of a man, woman, and a son. Easy enough, Arthur thought as he made his way to the place in the dead of night. The lights were off and Arthur watched the family of three leave for the night in a hush, to not alert people like him.

He snuck to the back of the building and looked for any type of opening, before he spotted a slightly cracked open window on the second floor. He grinned at how stupid these rich people were, before using a pipe to scale the wall. He then pulled the window open some more and squeezed himself inside with a grunt.

He got up and closed the window again, but as he did so, he heard a gun cocking and froze.

"I'm going to give you ten seconds to climb back out of that window, or I'm shooting you in the head, you disgusting outlaw." The voice was silky and upper-class sounding, but there was a sharp aggression to it too. Arthur raised his hands up in defence and slowly turned around to get a better look.

She was gorgeous.

The moonlight lit up her face, that was clean and looked after. Her eyes were narrowed at him, her neat eyebrows furrowed. Her hair had in little rollers, and she wore a night dress. Arthur would be lying if he didn't find her the most attractive woman he had ever seen.

"I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't think anyone was in."

This only made the woman point the gun to his chest further as she spat, "so? You're trying to rob my sister. You better get out of here right now."

He nodded understandingly, trying his best not to get shot, and he reached for the window handle and opened it wide, slowly climbing out. Before he climbed down the pipe, he looked at her - who was still pointing the gun at him - and apologised, "I'm sorry about this. I was just following orders. You ain't gotta worry about me coming back."

And with that, he took off, leaving the riches behind, much to Dutch's dismay, and leaving the woman behind, much to his dismay.

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You had spotted him around Saint Denis multiple times after that, without him realising. When you first saw him walking into the barbers shop, your heart dropped and you began to panic. But then he was just, getting his hair done, and trotting along with his horse back out the city. Sometimes he would come in with friends, going to the saloon, going to the tailors, just being a normal person. Despite him looking out of place with his clothes and demeanor, he wasn't acting like a criminal. But he did try to rob my family.

Then, your sister was murdered. You didn't know who did it, but the reason was clear: you had money, and they wanted it. You reported it to the law and they found out it was another rich man getting rid of the competition, but they refused to do anything about it. This man had a lot of money, he could pay off the law so easily. You had no justice. Then, an idea popped into your head: you could ask him.

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Arthur was surprised when you tapped him on the shoulder. You were in a beautiful dress, expensive earrings , and your hair neatly put up to frame your face nicely. He worried you was about to rat him out to the law or something, but he saw your eyes were filled with pleading worry.

"Hello. Please don't worry, I'm not here to threaten you again," She began, "but I need your help, Mister."

"You're askin' me?" He asked in surprise, looking around; they were stood in the middle of a busy street. She nodded her head and invited him to go back to hers, where she could explain the situation.

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He sat on her comfortable chair, a cup of coffee she had made for him in his large hands. She sat across from him, and even her posture was perfect, the way she drank her coffee was proper. He felt like a filthy animal next to her.

"Let's start with your name." She stated, as he nodded his head.

"Arthur Morgan." He didn't know what else to say.

"I'm Y/n L/n. I'm sorry for the weird circumstance, but I truly need help and I feel you are best fitted for the job. I will pay you if you help." She insisted. That's when Arthur realised he was about to agree to help her before she even offered money, he didn't even think about what he usually does. That's when she began to explain the situation.

"Don't you worry yourself, Princess. I'll make sure he pays for what he did to your family."

And that he did. The man who killed your sister was found dead less than twenty four hours after you had asked Arthur, and the law couldn't find who did it. You had payed him a lot, and you assumed that would've been the end of it. He wrote down how you could write to him in case you needed anything else, and you told him you was always at the market on Thursdays.

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Arthur was purposefully bumping into you every Thursday, and you could tell it was on purpose but you still let him act like he didn't mean to. He was bashful, a constant rosy blush on his cheeks, scratching his neck, and looking down at the ground. It was cute, and he was handsome. You both would talk in the market, then it became horse riding together, then drawing together in the meadows. You slowly became his favourite company.

It felt wrong to him. A real princess wanted to be friends with him. He was putting her in danger and he knew it.

"Y/n, I worry that our friendship is putting you in danger." He opened up one day as the two of you was sat ontop of a cliff watching the sun set. You titled your head to the side and asked, "why?"

"Well, I'm a criminal. You said it the day we first met. If other outlaws knew I was close with a rich lady, you'd be their first target to get to me."

The two of you went silent for a moment before you muttered quietly, "what if I was no longer just some rich lady?" It was his turn to question what you meant.

"I mean," you started, "what if I left this life behind. Joined you and your family of outlaws."

His eyes widened as he shook his head rapidly.

"No! Why on earth would you do that, Princess? You have a wonderful life ahead of you, you have the money, the rich suitors, a comfortable happy life. Don't throw that all away for me. I ain't worth that."

"But you are!" You blurted out, embarrassed by how improper you sounded. It didn't stop you though, "you mean so much to me, Arthur! And I don't care of your status, none of that has ever mattered to me! Just because I'm rich doesn't mean I'm free. It's not my money, it's the man of the household! I just sit and look pretty, being told who to marry, what to say, how to please people." Tears were forming in your eyes and you hung your head down.

"You're the only man in my life that accepts me for me. You look past the money, past the fancy clothes. You see me." You could feel his hand rubbing circles on your back, and instantly relaxed under his touch.

"If that's what you wanna do. I won't stop you."

You snapped your head up to see him smiling gently at you.

"I worry about you sure. But I won't pass up an opportunity to see your beautiful face every day."

There it was, another compliment. Another helping hand. Another gentle smile. You didn't realise you were looking at his lips, or that he was inching closer to you. It was only when your lips connected did you feel more awake. It was like an electric shock, his lips locked perfectly into yours like a missing puzzle piece. When he pulled away, his cheeks were flushed and you could only imagine yours were too.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me-" He stuttered an apology but was cut off when you pulled him back in.

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After that, Arthur had asked you to be his. You didn't even let him finish when you said yes. You went back home, packed your stuff and a lot of money, before sneaking off with Arthur to his camp. You donated the majority of the money to camp, so Dutch instantly liked your presence, and the rest of them welcomed you with opened arms.

Despite you having the money before, Arthur would spoil you with new clothes and little trinkets. You both would cuddle together next to the fire and he even taught you how to fish and shoot a gun. He would never admit it in front of others, but he would kiss the ground you walk on. He loved you, and kept you safe forever.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction

[milliesfishes]

Hope you are having a GREAT DAY. Re read your fics multiple times omg. My ideas for requests would be either your take on a verbal fight happening with Billy and then the groveling and making up that comes after

Or reader witnessing Billy getting having to be violent and him worried that they’ll be scared of him now 😭😭😭😭

thank you so much bb love u you and billy have a fight fem reader x billy the kid

Your breathing was heavy, your hair tangled and skin sweaty as the waves of euphoria crashed over you. Tilting your head back, your arm fell over your head, breasts heaving. Billy, who'd been holding himself above you with his forearms, let himself collapse into you, his head resting on your chest.

He was sweaty too, and when he lifted his head, you saw some of his curls were stuck to his forehead. Billy smiled tiredly, taking your free hand and kissing the fingers. Then he rolled off of you, still lying on his side and facing you. Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but you could feel his on you.

Billy's arm found its way over you, thumb running up and down a little patch of skin. It was soothing, and you closed your eyes briefly, your heart still pounding.

His eyebrow quirked. Usually, you were so cuddly after sex. But today you were quiet, pulling the sheet up to cover your chest, one arm still flung above your head.

Settling in beside you, he kissed your shoulder, nudging his chin there. "You okay baby?"

Nodding, your eyes didn't leave the ceiling.

Billy sat up on his side, leaning on one arm and looking down at you, frowning. "Are ya sure?"

"I'm fine," you insisted, your hand fisting the sheet over your chest.

He reluctantly relented, despite knowing you weren't being truthful. Billy laid back down beside you, sliding his arm under your body and pulling you closer. Your position remained, keeping your arm where it was and your hand holding the sheet. He propped his chin up on your shoulder, exhaling softly, seeming to decide on telling you something.

"I've gotta leave again in the mornin'," he mumbled, looking over your face to gage a reaction. Your expression was unchanging, but you closed your eyes for a second, nodding.

Then, unexpectedly, you sat up fully, his arm remaining on the bed behind you. The sheet was abandoned, and you drew your knees to your chest, aware that your body was still bare. Your chin rested there, your hair falling over your shoulders and brushing your calves.

Billy watched you do all this before he sat up next to you. He'd known this would upset you. His hand came to your back, rubbing it in slow circles. "I know, I know I just got back, but I...I can't stay 'round for too long. These jobs Murphy's got us doin', they're takin' us all over the county."

You were numb to his explanation, and you turned to him, your legs falling flat on the bed, hands in your lap. "How long this time?"

He hummed, thinking about it, using his fingers to brush your hair behind your shoulder absentmindedly. "A week. Maybe two."

Looking down again, your fingers flexed. "And then what, you'll be back for another day and gone the next morning?" You'd known he was going to leave again soon. It had been on your mind all night. "You weren't even back for half of one this time."

He was surprised at you. Leaving as often and for as long as he did bothered you, he knew, but he hadn't known it bothered you this much. "Sweetheart...y'know this is what I hafta do. I gotta work, so we can really be together someday-"

"And what happens when we are together?" you asked, turning to look at him. "We'll always need money. Are you gonna keep leaving then too?"

Billy's hand fell from your back. "Where's this comin' from baby? Ya never had a problem with my work before."

"I'm tired of it!" the desperate words fell from your lips before you could think about it. "You leave for weeks then come into town for a few hours. It's the same every time. You ride in, send me a message, sleep with me, and then you're gone again."

Astonished at your outburst, he ran a hand over his face tiredly. "Dunno what ya want me to do baby, I can't control when Murphy wants me to go out."

Your knees bent again, and your elbows were propped up on them, your fingers curled into your palms and resting on your forehead. Eyes falling to the tangled bedsheets, your whisper was pathetic. "What am I doing?"

"Baby-" he shook his head, putting one hand on the side of your knee. One of his legs was bent, his other arm resting on it. "I'm trying, you gotta believe me. This is the best I can do. Murphy's payin' the best money I can get for my work-"

"That's not true," your hands fell from your face. "You told me about Tunstall."

"We've been over this." Billy sounded exasperated. "Can't leave the gang."

"You could though," you insisted, sitting on your knees now and facing him. "You could, and you'd be doing honest work for more, and you wouldn't be away so much-"

"Stop." His voice was firm, final, and you were taken aback. He'd never used a tone with you before. "Ya know the boys've done a lot for me. I ain't leavin' 'em."

"But you'll leave me?" your words were small.

Billy sucked in a breath frustratedly, shaking his head once, keeping it turned to the side. He closed his eyes and raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing it as he tried to compose himself. "Baby...I ain't expectin' ya to understand. You're too innocent, ya don't know the things I've seen-"

"Innocent?" The usage of the term was a barb. You looked up at him, your doll eyes worried. "But I'm not...I'm not innocent."

He turned his head back to face you, a confused frown gracing his features. "What're ya on about baby... 'course you're innocent."

"But we've..." you gestured down to the scene, to your bare bodies and messy sheets. His eyes followed your hand, and his face clouded with understanding, moving closer to you as he realized.

"Baby," he started, putting his hand on your thigh. The weight of it was warm. "Makin' love don't take your innocence away. You're mixin' up innocence 'n virginity."

"But..." you shook your head, crossing your arms over your breasts, feeling shy suddenly. "It isn't...it's not..."

"It ain't a sinful thing if ya do it for the right reasons," he said gently, rubbing your thigh soothingly. "It's a natural act honey...not a bad thing when it's with someone ya love. Like when we do it."

You felt stupid, looking down as it washed over you. It couldn't...it was so confusing. Everyone had always acted like it was some dangerous thing that would make you horrible if you did it. What kind of cruel secret was this? Making you feel foolish, making you feel like you should've somehow already known.

Billy could see your internal battle, and he tilted your head up with his palm on your cheek, his eyes reassuring. "Baby...the kinda innocence I'm talkin' about is in your soul. You're a good girl. Ain't ever done anythin' bad to no one. That's what makes ya innocent. And I love that about ya, okay? There's nothin' to be ashamed of. Not with me."

How he was saying it made sense, but you still felt embarrassed for not knowing. Your eyes fell from his face. He exhaled softly, seeming to know you were beating yourself up. "It ain't your fault you didn't know. Don't do that."

"I'm innocent," you repeated. "I'm too innocent to understand you?"

Billy winced as you recalled his words from earlier. "That was a poor choice 'f words. You just...you're...you're..."

"What?" you searched his eyes, worried over what he was going to say next.

Billy opened his mouth, then closed it, sighing. His shoulders slumped. He raised both his hands to your face, thumbs stroking the sides of your face, a half-smile turning his lips up slightly. "Beautiful. And kind. And good. You're my angel."

Your eyes pleaded with him. "Billy."

"You really felt like this the whole time?" he asked, concernedly tracing a finger down your cheek. "Musta been eatin' ya up inside..."

"It's fine," you shook your head, wanting to rid yourself of embarrassment. "It's...I..."

Billy sighed, clicking his tongue. The backs of his fingers pressed against your fingers, and he pushed your hair from your face. "All this time...you coulda..."

Could have told him. You couldn't have. Not with him slipping in and out of your life like a needle running out of thread, dipping over and under fabric. He stopped himself before he could say the rest, realizing his mistake.

"I don't wanna leave ya baby," he promised in a whisper, looking down into your eyes. "I hate it, ya know. Always feel like I'm usin' ya, sleepin' with ya and then hittin' the road again."

Tears pricked your eyes at his words. Because that was how you felt sometimes too, though you felt guilty for it. It obviously wasn't true. But that didn't erase the feeling.

Billy could see all this on your face, and his expression saddened. He leaned in, kissing your forehead. "'M sorry." He kissed your cheek. "'M so sorry baby." Then your other cheek. "'M sorry." Your nose. Then your lips, capturing them and leaning against you. "Don't deserve ya...I know that."

You sniffled, feeling overwhelmed. Billy noticed, pressing his mouth to yours again, his kiss gentle. He pulled you into his arms, his big hand pressing your head into his chest. It was then that your tears fell, everything swirling inside you like a never-ending storm. His lips dropped to the top of your head. "Kinda man am I, huh? M' sweet baby's cryin' causa' me."

A little sob escaped you, and he tensed slightly, rubbing your side. Now that your tears were falling, it seemed they wouldn't stop. Billy arm remained around you protectively as your body shook. "I know...I know pretty, I know."

"It's been so hard Billy," you choked in a broken whisper. "All those nights in between...some of them we didn't even talk, just..."

Crashing through the door. Kissing, touching. Waking up alone.

He nodded, squeezing you tighter and kissing your head again. "'M sorry sweetheart. 'M so sorry." Billy pulled you away slightly so he could look into your eyes, holding the sides of your face. "'M gonna do better for ya. This ain't worth it if it's hurtin' ya." He thought for a moment, resting his chin on your forehead as he did. "Maybe I can sit this next job out. Figure out what to do next."

Billy didn't make promises he didn't keep, and this whispered one against your hair lit a candle in your heart. "You will?"

"Yeah," he whispered comfortingly. "Maybe I can..." he exhaled, then nodded. "I'm gonna go talk to Tunstall."

You searched his eyes in disbelief. "Really?"

He smiled fondly, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. "Yeah baby. I shoulda done that awhile ago. The boys'll do just fine without me."

"It's a big change Billy," you murmured. Even though this was what you wanted him to do, you were worried about the repercussions. "Murphy-"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He's gotta understand. I got my girl to think of." Billy nudged his nose against your forehead, then kissed it. "I needa keep the girl I got to think of. 'N doin' the long jobs he gives the gang ain't gonna help with that."

You smiled softly, throwing your arms around his neck, holding him close. "You'd do all that for me?"

"Yeah," he breathed, rubbing your back. "I was supposedly doin' these jobs for ya to begin with. But we're gonna change things up. Make it all better."

Billy kissed your forehead as the last of your tears dried. "It's all gonna be better."

#billy the kid #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid imagines #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x you #william h bonney imagines #william h bonney x reader #milliesfishes billy

[s1m0nth3swag]

Gotta yap about my Dead boy boyfriends sorry chat

Like

I physically need to talk about them but my friends haven't watched the show yet (WATCH IT OTS SO GREAT AAHHHHH)

Some short imagines/ short scenario type of stuff? Idk

Not proofread (atp I don't know what that word means ngl I never proofread my studf)

It is currently 11pm for me, I am tired, this probably sucks but I do not care actually

☆ Imagine meeting the two for the first time and you genuinely cannot speak because they're both a little too gorgeous, I mean, Edwin slays his outfit and Charles has the biggest brown eyes. Pretty boys fr

★ I just think that, if you're another ghost, Edwin would like you more at first, if you're alive, Charles would (because of the whole Charles hates being dead thing and Edwin doesn't like being around the living)

☆ In this scenario, let's play with you being alive and (mostly) well. Involved in one of their cases, maybe, or you went into Jennys shop to get meat or something (if you don't eat meat pretend you're cooking a meal for a friend or something)

★ Probably immediately you kinda notice a strange aura (totally not Charles staring you down because he's never seen someone as cool and swag as you) - and let's be honest you aren't even surprised when you meet Crystal and she's looking at the corner all weird.

☆ meeting them again however, you probably just had some near death experience (maybe you wandered into a haunted house, or you somehow got involved in the whole Esther business) and you probably don't even care that ghosts exist because yeah, kinda checks out

★ Charles is probably immediately on your heel (Edwin is just the tiniest bit jealous) asking you all sorts of questions (Edwin is just the tiniest bit interested as well)

☆ getting to know them better, Edwin finds he quite likes yapping about cases with you (my autistic ghost boy needs someone that ACTUALLY listens to what he says) he will be overjoyed if he starts talking about a case and you go "Oh wasn't that the one where.." because yes!! It was that case! You remembered!! Good job!!!

★ I feel like the whole relationship would come along naturally at some point. Just you complaining how you can't sleep because your pillow is too warm and both of them offering to stay with you since ghosts are pretty cold

☆ they have the mutual agreement that they're somewhat sharing your affection since you give both of them the same. They'll just have conversations like "did you already tell them [...]" and "Oh, yeah I did could you do [...] for them?" Already being fully in the mindset of 'we can and will make this work with three people'

★ I think Charles would actually have a more difficult time when the relationship officially starts though. He just has so much affection for you and Edwin that he's almost bursting, but Edwin doesn't always like touch so he has ti be careful and look for the signs and you actually have to keep yourself up and cared for instead of being able to cuddle 24/7

☆ Just a silly boy struggling with not kissing and hugging both his partners at all times (though he has two hands, and will be the middle part whenever the three of you walk somewhere.)

☆ Edwin is more a acts of service type of guy while Charles, obviously, is big on physical touch, so whenever Charles holds you back from doing laundry or the dishes, Edwin will do it for you so you can chill out

★ doesn't mean you don't do things for the boys, though. You regularly get books for Edwin (which he's happier about that he shows) and always give Charles the chance to talk to you without any judgement (same goes for Edwin, though he doesn't use that offer as often as Charles)

☆ Imagine Charles rescuing Edwin from hell and that night the three cuddle up with each other even though Edwin and Charles don't sleep, just so you can hold both of them to make sure they're still there and well

#x reader #charles rowland #Charles rowland dead boy detectives #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland x reader #charles rowland x edwin payne #edwin payne x reader #edwin payne x charles rowland #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency

[middlingmay]

Soldier!Bucky AU Part 3

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Bucky has been very sensible in this AU so far, and I promised you some dumb, dumb decisions from our favourite soldier after he meets our favourite pilot.

That time has come.

Enjoy!

After he's scrounged up better clothes and shoes for Gale and Bill, and got them some hot, simple food, Bucky’s display of good sense and reason starts to derail entirely.

Almost as entirely as Gale resists sleep. He just sits across from Bucky and glowers at him. And okay, they’re in the position they’re in; it’s serious, couldn’t be more serious, but John can’t help but find it cute. But he manages to suppress the worst of him smile; he doesn’t want to get into it with Gale again.

So Bucky asks for a map and between them and Evans, his navigator, they figure out where Gale had left the march, their likeliest rest points and and their likeliest route to the Danube etc.

Bucky’s not an idiot; he knows he and his Section can’t take on a full column of armed Nazi guards. But Gale tells him that the guards are fading, too: falling down into the snow, some not getting back up, others absconding because sometimes there are less guards when they wake up. The only thing stopping an all out riot is the sheer exhaustion of the men who weren’t as well fed or well rested as the guards and have absolutely no means of defending themselves.

So Gale thinks if they can intercept them on what will likely be their final rest stop before the Danube, if they can take enough of the guards by surprise, it won't take too much to get the upper hand and convince them to surrender.

Curt, Bucky's First Lieutenant, eyes him. They’ve seen what desperate Nazis backed into a corner can do. But they know Gale knows this particular crop better.

Gale says some fella called Glemnitz gotta be the first to go. And if they have any spare weapons, guns, knives, clubs, anything, there are a few guys he trusts that are still strong enough that could help them.

But Gale starts loosing his fight against exhaustion, like making the slightest plan finally gives his body permission to crash. Bucky has to catch him before he face-plants the ground, and gently lays him back with a rolled up jacket under his head and a blanket over him.

Curt really knows him best. He comes and sits next to him as he watches Gale sleep. There’s no other word for what he’s doing, he’s well aware.

“You got that look on your face,” he’s told and Bucky will not look at Curt to give him the confirmation he clearly doesn’t need.

Curt taps the side of his eye and the side of his mouth and says, “Right there. Usually means I’m following you into a shit show.”

Which is a lie. Curt doesn’t follow John. They walk side by side, getting each other into all kinds of trouble. Their superiors had tried to separate them once, but Curt’s new Major and John’s new First Lieutenant hadn’t been able to handle it, and it hadn’t lasted long.

But, John watches Gale sleep and can’t get that wild, pleading look out of his head. Everything Bucky had said to Gale was true - they were in no state to launch an attack on a column full of armed Germans.

But there were also hundreds of allied men in that same column. And that’s what they were here for - to protect and rescue these men. That was their mission. He knows it. Curt knows it.

“You’re gonna sneak up on armed Nazi’s with a half-starved pilot, ain’t you?” Curt asks.

“Yep.”

“You’re gonna get in a few lucky shots you hope are gonna scare ‘em off before it’s gets too crazy.”

“Yep.”

“You’re gonna let that bucko (meaning Gale) take all our spare weapons and arm a bunch of other half-starved and a whole lotta mad POWs and light that powder keg on fire, ain’t you?”

“Yep.”

“And you know it’s a really shitty plan that has almost no chance of success.”

“Yep.”

And Curt shrugs. “A’ight. I’ll tell the guys.”

John has Shaw radio their platoon leader with their intel, about the Danube and rough ETA,s and if anyone, anyone is nearby, send them for Christ sake. Americans, Brits, Russians, anybody.

He’s not too worried about himself; he’ll live, or not, with the consequences of his decisions. But he knows his Section, and that they’ll follow him anywhere, and he’s well aware he’s leading them into trouble they might not come back from. But all he sees is Gale's pleading and desperate face and he can’t bring himself to think he’s made the wrong decision.

Gale gets maybe an hour and a half of sleep, before he’s up and raring to go. Curt rolls his eyes and shoves a ration bar into his hands along with a canteen of water and calls him a meatball. And Bucky realises he’s not the only one endeared by Gale’s obvious dedication to his men.

Bucky holds a gun and two mags out to Gale and teases, “You pilots know how to work a gun?”

Gale looks so offended Bucky can’t help but laugh and Gale slips the gun and magazines from Bucky’s hand, and it tingles where Gale squeezes it in thanks.

Bucky gives everyone in his Section the opportunity to take the out. None of them want to. But he’s also aware the other airman, Bill, is not going to be fit for what they’re about to do, so he calls it.

He orders Hannigan, who hasn’t shut up about his sister’s new baby since he found out about it in a letter, to return to the platoon with Bill. And just like John thought he would, O’Neil won't let him go alone. They were as good as brothers, those two. Hannigan was even going to be O’Neil’s best man when they got home.

They’re as ready as they can be, and John and Gale share one last look before they get in the jeep. He sees bright blue eyes struck with gratitude and doesn't even want to think about what Gale sees when he looks at him, judging by how hard Curt rolls his eyes before barking, “A’ight guys and dolls, let’s go set some shit on fire.”

#clegan #buck x bucky #soldier!bucky #mota au #headcanon #alternative universe #curtis biddick #john egan #gale cleven #mota #masters of the air

[maiiuelle]

wait so in the mermaid!reader thing rafe's gotta be a dredger or something who's looking for stuff to sell which happens to be around her cove !! but she keeps bringing him little trinkets she thinks are valuable but he's just like— why's there a tin can on my ship deck? and she's all smiley underwater knowing that she in fact did that !!

-🪻

omg i’m so so invested in rafe and mermaid!reader’s relationship 🥺 i love the idea of him being going out in search of valuables, maybe ward sent him on the yacht to go check out different areas of the island in hopes of finding some kind of treasure, or at least some clues. of course mer is intrigued. jj was very nice, so maybe this guy will be too!

rafe is out on his yacht, grumbling in frustration about the seemingly meaningless errand his father sent him on. little does he know the treasure he’s stumbled upon, a whole civilization of mermaids living just beneath where he’s stopped. the cliffs at the side of the island hide a cove with an air pocket, the perfect place for mermaids to live in secret from the island dwellers. theres a crack in the stone at the sea floor, just big enough for merfolk to slip in and out of to access the city.

that’s where you just came from, leaving civilization to explore the depths on your own like you do every day. the shadow of his boat catches you off guard, having never seen humans venturing this close to your home. your instinct is to be afraid — who knows who this person could be, or what they could be looking for. you physically shake the thought from your head, deciding that your fear is only a byproduct of the stories you’ve been told. you’re on your own mission to prove humans and mermaids can coexist, and confronting your fear is only the first step.

and with that, you’re picking through the soft sand to find shells, old tin cans, jewelry, and other knickknacks. it’s what you do best, searching around the ocean almosy daily for collectibles you can find in shipwrecks and reefs. you’re all about good first impressions, and who doesn’t like a gift? once the net bag at your side is filled with goodies, you look up at the bottom of the yacht again, giddy with excitement to make a new friend.

on deck, rafe is getting ready to pull up the anchor, sick of looking around for who-knows-what. as he’s reeling it up from the ocean floor, he hears a thump on the opposite side of the deck. he’s quick, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. logically, he knows nobody could be there. but, he still barks out an intimidating, “hello?”

he leaves the anchor and stomps around the deck toward the source of the noise, and he catches only a glimpse of small hands holding onto the side of the boat before they descend back under the water, leaving only a pile of trash and metal sitting on the wooden deck.

rafe runs to the edge of the boat, searching the water for any sign of an explanation for what he just saw. he can only watch the water slowly churn, like a big fish had just passed by beneath the surface. for once, rafe is stunned. the self-proclaimed man of action is frozen, and so shaken he calls it a day.

#thanks for the message! ​♡‧₊˚. #🪻 anon #obx #mermaid!reader 𓇼 ೃ༄ #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader