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gilverrwrites · 2 months

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Skinny Dipping

Pairing: Dean WInchester/F!Reader

Authors note: This has the been the hardest, and biggest of my re-mastered fics so far. I’m pretty sure the original was an amalgamation of imagines from supernaturalimagine and dirtysupernaturalimagines but I couldn’t even guess at which imagines exactly. This is like, my 4th public/semi-public fic in like 3 months, I’m starting to feel like this is a kink I didn’t know I had. Also, Metallica have not cancelled anything, don’t worry. (and I don’t know jack about cars, people that do, please don’t come for me, I really did try, k, thanks, bye.) 💖

Plot: Reader is a mechanic who Dean's been checking in on, and checking out for a while now. Dean has the perfect excuse to see her after baby breaks down nearby.

Rating: M/18+

Words: 2936

Content: Swearing, consumption of alcohol, reckless drunken/tipsy behaviour, being submerged underwater, skinny dipping, teasing, brief retraining, size-difference, dry-humping, (or I guess wet-humping), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, water sex, mild angst.

Please remember: If you never try, you’ll never know.

You switch off the radio, listening to the purr of your car's ignition as you pull up behind a familiar black impala. It was a beauty, but it was nothing compared to your ‘70 boss. You watched as its owner climbed out of the front seat and headed towards you.

Its owner being your old friend Dean Winchester. He and his brother had saved you from a coven of witches a few years back, and ever since he’s been popping back into your life every few months. ‘Working on a case nearby’, ‘just passing through’, ‘baby needs a new compressor’. Every visit he laid the flirting on thicker. You weren’t sure if he was just joking around with you, or if he was serious, or if he saw you as a challenge. Either way you’d been making him work for it. Today it just so happened that his car had broken down a few miles out from your shop, the perfect excuse to see you on a Friday night.

You were pulled from your train of thought by a light tapping on your window. You snapped your head to the side to see Dean hovering over your door. His familiar smile set your heart racing. Okay, so maybe his seduction tactics were working, he was hot, who could blame you?

“Is there a problem, officer?” You joked, rolling down your window.

Dean rested an arm on the hood and leaned in. “No, no, just a routine check.” You knew he impersonated officers and agents all the time, but you hadn’t seen it firsthand. It was impressive how easily he slid into character.

“I am, however, gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle for a full strip search.”

Act ruined.

“At least buy me drink first.” You quipped.

“If you can help me, I’ll buy you a whole dinner.” He winked and opened the car door from the outside. You raised your brows at him but climbed out anyway before making a b-line for the impala’s engine.

“What’s wrong?” You directed your question to the car in the same tone you would address a small child or animal, gently rubbing a hand across its roof as you walked beside it. "Has someone been neglecting you?”

“Hey!” Dean barked, clearly offended. “I take better care of this baby than I do myself.”

At that you looked back over at him. He’d forgone his usual flannel today, leaving him in a pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a grey t-shirt that clung tight and accentuated his broad chest. By the time your eyes reached his face, Dean was sporting a wicked grin, clearly ecstatic to have caught you checking him out. You avoid his smug gaze by popping the hood of his car to take a look at the engine.

“You weren’t kidding.” You whistled; Dean really was taking care of the thing. The motor was almost gleaming. You felt his warm hand suddenly press against your lower back and turn to look up at him. The expression on his face could only be described as that of a proud father.

“Yeah.” He agreed before pointing to the main battery with his free hand: “This is the problem. It’s busted.”

“Ah, you’re gonna need a new one. I’m surprised you don’t keep a spare.”

“Yeah.” To his credit, he looked pretty sheepish. “I normally do, but guess I forgot when the last one went out.”

“I don’t have one.” You said, pursing your lips to express your sympathies.

Dean didn’t respond, biting his lip while he waited for you to continue.

“But I could give you a jump start if you gotta head out soon.” You bring the hood back down and start heading to the boot of your car.

“No good,” Dean calls after you. “I’m not in a rush, but I don’t have enough gas to get me where I’m going.”

“Well… I’ve got a guy. He’s a few towns over. He’s closed at this time.” You inform as you open your boot and pull out your tow rope, flashing it to Dean with a smile. I can tow you into town for tonight, then drive you there and back in the morning.”

“I knew I could count on you!”

An hour later, you’d slowly but surely managed to drag Dean and his baby back into town, argued with him about him staying at a motel or on your couch (you’d won), and successfully swindled him into buying you that dinner he’d promised. Dinner being take-put pizza and over-priced ice-cream. Now, the two of you were sitting in your backyard, sharing the aforementioned ice-cream and an old bottle of Jack Daniels you’d pulled from the back of your cupboards.

“So,” Dean began, his speech slurred by the spoon hanging from his mouth. How’s the garage doin’?”

You take a sip of the JD and proceed to suck on your teeth as you consider how to respond.

“Honestly, bad. Ever since that shitty corporate place set up shop down the road, we’ve been going downhill.” You punctuate your statement with another sip from the bottle before offering it to Dean. “I’m keeping it up and running by tooth and claw, but truthfully, it’s probably only got a few months left in it.”

He gives you a sombre smile as he exchanges the tub of ice cream for the bottle. It's a touchy subject, but you can’t help admiring the way his neck moves as he tilts his head back to drink. You avert your eyes by scooping up the last bit of cold, sugary goodness and placing the empty container on the grass beside you.

“That sucks.” He places a hand on your shoulder, attempting to offer comfort. “That really sucks. Do you have a back-up plan?”

You grab the bottle back from Dean and take another sip before answering.

“I dunno. Sometimes I think about doing what you do. Kinda.” You begin. You don’t miss the way his entire body stiffens before you clarify. “Without the monsters. Just hit the road, get drunk at every bar in the country, visit Disney, become Metallica groupie, an-”

“You know they cancelled that tour, right?” Dean butts in.

“WHAT?” You shake his hand off and stare up at him in disbelief.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. The smile on his face is anything but sympathetic.

“Bastards.” You cross your arms and pout dramatically. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the laugh that escapes Dean's lips is magical, and you can’t help but join in. When he returns his hand to your shoulder, this time reaching for the furthest from him, thus wrapping himself around you, your skin tingles, and you let yourself fall into him.

As the two of you slowly seize your giggling, Dean checks his watch. He quirks an evocative brow at you when he speaks, “It’s getting late. Maybe we should head inside?”

You mull it over, dramatically swaying your head from side to side before you voice your decision. “Actually, I have a better idea.”

You stand up, offering your hand to Dean, who eyes you sceptically. Nevertheless, he takes the bait, placing his hand in yours and allowing you to lead him toward the footpath just outside your garden.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks, and you can sense the caution in his voice. You assume it’s the hunter in him being paranoid, and you know for a fact that his free hand is hovering over the knife he keeps tucked into the back of his jeans at all times.

“I’m taking you here,” you answer as you pull him through the last set of trees and onto the shore of the local lake. You scan the surrounding area as you kick off your shoes. Satisfied that nobody is nearby, you start pulling off your trousers.

As you bend down to pull your socks off, you look up at Dean. He’s staring back at you intensely, mouth open, cheeks pink.

When you start pulling your top over your head you feel his fingers lightly brush against your hips. He’d stepped closer, and you’re tempted to touch him back or to reach up and kiss him. But you don’t. Instead, you throw your top over his head and sprint for the water.

“RACE YOU!” You challenge, discarding your bra and panties before you reach the water and forward dive in. Dean follows you moments later with a cannonball that splashes your face just as you’re resurfacing from your own dive.

“Fuck! That’s colder than I expected.” You yell to him.

“I’ll warm you up.” Dean replies as he swims close to you. You let his hands return to your hips, not expecting it when he dunks you back under the water.

You cough and splurge as he brings you back up. You flail your arms around until you find the top of his head, and you cling to him for dear life, but Deans is stronger, taller, and he’s found solid ground to plant his feet onto below the water. He escapes your grip and throws you under again.

“STOP. MERCY!” You yell when you come back up. This time, you use your legs for safety, wrapping them around his hips. You'd be safe if you could just get a grip on his arms. You’d been too distracted to notice his erection until you feel it poking at you. You’re about to make a comment about it, but Dean speaks first.

“You’re cute when you’re scared.” He laughs, you silence him with a swift but playful punch to the chest. In defence he grabs at your wrists, able to trap both in just one of his hands. His other hand slides up your arms, over your shoulder, your neck, until he reaches your cheek. He leisurely rubs his thumb against your wet skin.

You stay like that for a while, watching each other, before you finally ask, “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Without any further hesitation Dean lunges forward, forcing his lips against yours. His kiss is hard and animalistic; he skips straight past the pecking and teasing to roaming your mouth with his tongue. His fingers leave your cheek and weave into your hair, holding you against him, his stubble scratches against your skin.

In a play for dominance, you dart your own tongue out, grazing his chapped lips, but he denies you. Instead, he pulls away from your lips, refocusing his attention on nipping and kissing at your jaw, neck, and collarbone.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been imagining this.” He utters onto your skin.

“What, this exact scenario?” You joke.

“Not exactly.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, and the gust of air against your skin makes you tremble.

“Then what?” You challenge. Your inability to touch him is frustrating you. In an attempt to stimulate him back, you grip your legs around him tighter, using him as leverage to grind against him. The tip of his cock doesn’t quite reach your clit, but its added pressure helps it spread your lips. “Tell me.”

He drops his hand from your head, and cups it under your asscheek. Firmly guiding you up and down, assisting you in rutting against his cock. Shakey breaths become grunts, and after a few seconds he releases your wrists so that he can grip you with both hands. Free to move, you shimmy down his body until you can feel his dick brush against your clit with each grind.

“Come on, tell me.” You plead, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, your grip tightening every time he hits your sweet spot. You know he's not shy, that he’s just getting lost in the feeling, and it pains you to say it, but eventually, you taunt. “I’m not gonna fuck you if you don’t tell me.”

He whimpers at your empty threat but finally confesses. “Just you. Your body, under me. Every night, I think about how you’d look, how you’d feel squirming, moaning my name.”

“Fuck. That’s hot.” You reply and he smiles as you plant your lips against his once again.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks, speech slurred as he tries to speak between kisses.

“Yes.” You respond instantly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Please fuck me, Dean.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His grip on your ass is like a vice as he lifts you up slightly. You both work in sync to position yourselves just right until he lowers you onto his cock, slowly pressing into you. There’s some resistance as he stretches your walls, but the sound of his whispered praises helps you relax until he finally bottoms out, stretching you in all the right places.

“Fuck, that feels so good. You took me so well.” He affirms, and even though he’s already balls deep, you can’t help the heat that spreads across your face.

He begins lifting you again before you can respond, sliding you up and down his cock in slow, steady movements. You grip tight to his shoulders and hips with your hands and knees, using them as leverage points to help move your body up and down. Each thrush is slow and shallow, but Dean seems to be loving it; his head rolls back, and he releases breathy moans with every rock.

“Shit.” You shout, holding tighter still when Dean unexpectedly shifts below you, repositioning his legs to a sturdier position. You watch through hazy eyes as he reaches up and grips your hand, before guiding it down the tight space between your bodies. You get the message quickly, and begin rubbing your clit in lazy circles, keeping in time with the pace of Dean's cock.

The added stimulation had your toes curling in no time. When your pussy starts clenching around Dean’s cock, you see the sudden concentration in his face. His brow furrows, and he bites his lip as he focuses on riding you through your orgasm. The sight was the final push you need to take you over the edge.

“Fuck, Dean. Fuck fuck fuck, that feels good.” You cry out as you hit your climax.

“Keep saying my name, baby.” Dean begs as he continues rolling your hips together. You feel his body shake as he starts to struggle with your combined weights as he chases his own release.

You try to assist, desperately pumping yourself up and down despite the newfound sensitivity as you chant his name.

“Fuck, yes baby.” You feel the twitch of his cock inside you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he hits his orgasm, rutting his cock as deep as he can as he cums inside you. “oohhh yeah.”

You stay in position for a long time following, holding on tight to each other, listening to each other's breathing as you come back down, until Dean guides your body backwards so that you’re face to face again. “How you feelin’?”

“Good.” You reply with a smile.

“Good.” He grins at you mischievously before plunging backwards into the water, taking you with him.

“So, was that everything you imagined it to be?”

He purses his lips in thought before teasingly responding. “Eh, it wasn’t bad.”

You both laugh as you lay your head down on Dean's bare chest; his arms envelop your body as you both blankly look up at the stars. You play with the hem of the shirt you’d stolen from him when you emerged from the water and re-dressed.

“You should do it.” Dean says when you're both fully settled down.

“Do what?” You query, popping your head up to look at him, unsure what he’s talking about.

“Hit the road.” He clarifies, revisiting your earlier conversation. “I mean, life on the road isn’t easy or sustainable, trust me, I know.”

“But…” You prompt, knowing fully that he wasn’t going to stop there.

“But it could be fun for a while. If it’s what you wanna do. Hell, I’d totally be a roadie if… you know.”

“I know,” You reply. You’re smiling at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The reminder of your failing business stung, but you didn’t want it to spoil your night. You lean forward, caressing his cheek; his stubble feels rough against your fingers. You gently pull his face forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “I might. I probably will. If it comes to it.”

“I can’t come with you.” He says when you lean away. You hadn’t expected him to want to come with you. Hoped, maybe? But you knew it wasn’t a possibility.

“I know.” You repeat.

He carefully reaches up to run his hand across your damp hair as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is longer, softer than any you’d shared all night. When you’re done, he lets his head fall back against the ground, and you perch yourself against his chest once more.

“You’ll still call me though, right?”

“Always.” He replies instantly. “You’re my best girl. Well, second-best girl.”

“The car?” You ask deadpan. Of course, the car is his number one.

“Who else?” He replies shamelessly.

You’re not sure how long you stayed like that, entwined in each other’s arms, spent and damp under the stars, until eventually, you feel your lids growing heavy. You fight it for a while, willing yourself to remain awake, until eventually your tiredness wins out. You cuddle closer into the warmth of Dean's chest as you fall asleep.

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #dean winchester smut #dean winchester imagine #gilverrwrites

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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poly!marauders x drunk!reader at a party and reader needy but they don’t want to help reader because they don’t want to do anything when reader basically unconscious of what’s happening because reader is drunk. So they try to explain to reader that they will gladly take care of them after they get better and go to bed. Thank you!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: alcohol, explicit themes/language (? like no smut just want of smut haha)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

At some point, your boyfriends had evidently decided that you’re not to be let out of sight. You’ve tried to go get another drink on several occasions, but no matter who you talk to, you always seem to end up right back on the Longbottom’s settee with one of the three of them. Now they’ve fixed you in Sirius’ lap, his hands spread firm and possessive over the curves of your hips to keep you from running off. Every time he shifts his leg even a little, the heat in your core intensifies.

Now, he laughs at something someone says, body rumbling like a motor underneath yours, and you nearly whimper. You lean back until your head is on his shoulder.

“Siri,” you murmur into his ear, “let’s go upstairs.”

He turns his head into yours, smirking. “We are upstairs, sweet thing.”

Oh. “Well, can we go somewhere else?”

“Why, honey?” Sirius’ voice is smooth as always, and now it runs over your skin like velvet. You could almost shiver. “You bored?”

You lean away just slightly so you can look him in the eyes, keeping your voice low. “I want to fuck you.”

You watch surprise, then delight, and finally chagrin play one after the other over your boyfriend’s features. He presses a chaste kiss to the skin under your ear, repentant. “I wish I could,” he tells you, breath fanning over your neck and giving you goosebumps, “but it’ll have to wait.”

“Why?” you whine.

From the other side of the couch, James sends you an inquisitive look at the sound. Sirius pats your thigh consolingly. “It just will, baby. I’ll take care of you tomorrow, yeah? Let it go for now.”

You don’t think you will.

You start squirming in Sirius’ lap, trying to turn around so you can kiss him but not quite coordinated enough to manage it. As it turns out, your fidgeting is enough. His hold tightens on your hips, and he leans forward, murmuring a placid “Behave” into your ear.

Your cunt pulses. Galvanized by this discovery, you repeat your new tactic, shuffling around on your boyfriend’s lap until his grip is punishing. You can feel the shape of his rings through the material of your bottoms. Sirius growls, and James’ head pops into view once again.

“What’s going on over there?” he asks.

“Sirius is being mean to me,” you whine before your boyfriend can get a word in. “He won’t let me move.”

“I’ll bet.” James eyes Sirius’ flustered countenance, beckoning for you. “Come here, babydoll.”

Sirius releases you into James hold. You notice him crossing his legs as soon as you’re away. James takes the other boy’s trials as a cautionary tale, tucking you into his side rather than sitting you on his lap.

“You’re in a troublesome mood, are you?” he asks fondly, rubbing up and down your arm.

“M’not,” you object. “Sirius was just being mean. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Mhm.” His disbelieving sound purrs through your bones.

You cozy up to James, looking at him through your lashes. The material of his jumper feels nice against your cheek. “You��ll help me, won’t you?”

He laughs raucously. You’re about to scowl, but he pecks you on the crown of your head, saving himself. “Just to be clear, are you asking me to fuck you in Alice and Frank’s new house when you’re sloppy drunk?”

You nod impatiently.

“Yeah, that’s not happening, darling.” He delivers another kiss to the top of your head to soften the blow. “But I do think I can persuade Remus to take us all home, how about that?”

Just as quickly as disappointment takes root inside you, hope blooms in its stead. You smile so hugely your ear pops. “Yes, please,” you tell James.

He squeezes your upper arm affectionately before leaning over, conveying something to Remus with a look that you might normally be able to interpret but currently can’t be bothered to. They’re going to take you home. You know what that means. There, you can fuck louder and nastier and longer than you ever would’ve been able to if you were trying to be discrete in the Longbottom’s spare bedroom. You can’t get there fast enough.

James stands you up, and there’s a flurry of goodbyes and niceties as your boyfriends shepherd you out the door. Or, you know they must all be with you, but it’s sort of hard to keep track of three people at once. You’re not completely sure whose hand is on your forearm as you descend the steps outside, or who wrestles you into their jacket when you shiver at the brisk night air. You lean contentedly into the loving touches regardless.

Eventually, it’s Sirius who gets you settled in the backseat, worriedly making Remus take your hands in his so you don’t stick them in the door when he closes it.

“You don’t think you’re going to be sick?” he asks, and you have the vague impression he’d been upset with you not long ago, but you can’t recall what for and there’s none of that in his demeanor now. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear, lips pursed. “I can run back in and get a bag for the car ride.”

“No, m’fine.” You sit up extra straight to prove it, cheesing at him. “I’m excited to go home.”

Sirius snickers and closes your door, but Remus cocks an eyebrow at you.

“What exactly do you think is going to happen when we get home?” he asks.

“We’re gonna fuck,” you say brightly.

In the driver’s seat, James barks out a laugh at your crass language. Remus darts a look his way, looking like he might be biting back a smile of his own.

“Dove,” he says, “we’re not doing that tonight. We’re going to have some water and go to sleep.” You must look crushed, because his smile turns pitying. “You’re too drunk, sweetheart.”

“But I want to,” you say brokenly.

“If you wake up tomorrow feeling better, you can have whatever you want.”

From the front seat, Sirius says, “I’ve tried to tell her this.”

You make a plaintive whining sound, and Remus reaches around your face, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder consolingly. “You’re being so mean to me,” you lament.

“Oh, I know,” he coos, patting your hair. “M’the worst.”

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peachypinkygloss · 8 months

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high on love — pjm

Jimin has once again won a race and he takes you out on a ride for the night, taking dangerous but very exciting risks. He should have expected that the rush of adrenaline in your body always turns you into a horny mess.

⚡︎ pairing: racer!jimin x fem!reader

⚡︎ genre: established relationship, smut

⚡︎ word count: 6.4k

⚡︎ warnings: unrealistic depiction of motor sports, jimin likes cars & oc is a bimbo lol, lots of cute nasty shit, disrespect of speed limits (jimin's breaking the law ‼️🙀), if this isn't the perfect representation of how deprived i am idk what is, sexting, nudes exchange, dom jimin/sub reader, unprotected sex, public/car sex, praising & degradation, brief anal play, blowjob, cum eating.

a.n.: it's jimin's special day 🤭 so i'm giving myself a gift lol. how generous of me to share it with you 🫶🏻 i finished this with a headache so y'all better hype this up (it deserves it, give it a read 😉)

"Minnie!"

"Hey, baby girl. Did you enjoy the race?"

"Yes!" You squeal excitedly, sticking your phone to your ear, happy Jimin decided to call you after his awesome performance. "You were so great," you say dreamily, "Couldn't take my eyes off of you."

You hear Jimin chuckling through the phone as you throw yourself on your bed, landing on your stomach. You bite down on your lip and start kicking your legs while listening to his husky voice, sending chills down your spine.

"I believe you," he laughs and you can't help but smile. "Won that one just for you, babe," he flirts, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You bring a finger up to your mouth and chew on your nail, practically mewling at the flattery.

Your boyfriend always manages to make you shy, teasing and flirting with you like the very first time. You imagine his plump, pink lips moving slowly to form the words, coming out of his mouth like pure and sweet honey.

"What wouldn't you do for me, hm?" You question, flirting back with him and hearing him laugh at that. "I'm so proud of you, Minnie," you purr into the telephone, an undying smile plastered on your face.

"You know me, princess," he begins and you picture the little grin he's surely sporting right now, "I never come second," he smugly snickers.

Even though you always tell him to not be too cocky — karma will come bite your ass, you usually repeat to him — you find it extremely hot at the moment. You love when a man is confident and isn't afraid to fight for what's his.

You recognize the sound of a door opening and closing on Jimin's other end of the phone, hearing him walk and rummage through his things.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Picking out an outfit for this evening," he replies, phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he takes out pieces of clothes from his suitcase. "Hopping in the shower in a minute."

"I see..." You hang on the last syllable, drawing invisible forms on the bed covers underneath you. You hear him stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. "You must be so sweaty right now," you wonder, a naughty image of a sweaty Jimin appearing in your head, skin all sticky and glistening, a delicious, manly odour emanating from him.

"You bet I am," he confirms. "Talk later, yeah? I'll be at yours in four hours, babe."

You and your boyfriend are supposed to hang out later in the evening today. It was planned before the race, agreeing to see each other no matter if he wins or loses, but Jimin never comes second, does he?

You nod your head, though you remember he can't see you. "'Kay, see ya later, Minnie," you sing in response, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your open palm.

"See ya, love you."

"Love you, too."

You hang up on Jimin, sighing contentedly before throwing your iPhone on the bed and rolling on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You stay silent for a few seconds until you start humming a lullaby, improvising a random tune.

The 'ding' of your phone interrupts you and you turn your head around to look at your new notification.

💬 Jimin 💓 sent an attachment.

This immediately catches your intention so you open the chat, biting down on your lip in anticipation, belly bubbling in excitement. Your brows raise up when your eyes lay on the photo Jimin's sent you. You feel your face and core heating up, blood rushing to your poor little clit.

You click on the picture to have a closer view, and gosh, your boyfriend is fucking hot. Your mouth waters and you cannot believe how handsome he is. He has the body of an angel and the personality of the devil for sharing that pic with you.

You see his veiny cock fully hard from the underside, standing tall over his stomach, a patch of dark hair crowning his pubis. You rub your thighs together to relieve the ache between your legs, unable to look away from your phone.

You can't see his face, but you have a beautiful sight of his abdomen, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You have the insatiable need to touch him, feel his heavy length weighing down on your tongue and have your small palm wrapped around the base of it.

You want Jimin to slap your face with his cock, tease you by swiping his wet tip over your lips, letting out a disapproval 'nuh-uh' when you try to put it in your mouth out of eagerness.

He took the picture just before going into the shower. He's such a tease.

You start to type out your response, thumbs quickly pressing down on the keyboard.

You: aww minnie :( wanna put my tongue on you wanna lick all that sweat off your abs and take you so deep in my throat

Jimin 💓: yeah? wanna cry like a little bitch around my dick?

Real bad, you think, heat pooling in your panties. You feel your clit aching, but you don't want to ease the pain, don't really want to play with yourself — maybe just out of pure laziness, though you know edging yourself before seeing Jimin makes things ten times more intense. And needy.

You open the camera app and lift your crop top over your breasts, taking a quick picture of your boobs for Jimin. You go back to your conversation with him and add the nude you've just captured to the chat.

💬 You sent an attachment.

You: yes your cock's too big for me, always make my eyes sting ;( want you to cum on my tits, minnie, please make a mess of me i'm your cumslut x

Jimin 💓: love those tits but you're right, baby my good, little cumslut. god, you're so gross, you realize that?

You: not gross! just passionately wanting you to mark me as yours but i can be a lil gross while sucking your cock :p

Jimin 💓: you always eat that cock like a stupid mess anyway drooling like a dog for it

You: can't help myself when you feel so good in my mouth <3 when your cum feels so warm and creamy on my breasts gosh i wanna be with you so bad right now miss you so much minnie

Jimin 💓: you fucking minx i'll be there in a few. i've told you, didn't i, needy girl?

You: you did! but i feel so lonely without my minnie my pussy's so so wet just thinking about you :(

Jimin 💓: fuck i know coming soon. wait for me, princess

You: okie-dokie x

💬 You sent an attachment.

You: oops sorry, miss-clicked :D

Jimin 💓: you know you didn't gonna fuck those tits bite those cute perky nipples

You: they're too small for it, i fear :/

Jimin 💓: shut up you know i can fuck every part of your body if i want to you're gonna push them on your chest and make a tight little entrance for me

You: if that's what mister wants >:(

Jimin 💓: yes. i'm gonna go in the shower now, you've distracted me enough

You: good shower x

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You're happy to see Jimin parked in front of your apartment building as you walk down the stairs, getting in the passenger side of his Porsche. You don't know which model it is — not that you have registered that information when he first told you — but you know it's in a beautiful grey colour.

After closing the door, you perch yourself over the centre console and lean in toward Jimin, pursing your lips to kiss him. "Hi," you softly greet him with a smile, smooching his full lips then every part of his face.

"Hey, baby," he chuckles, letting himself be pampered in your wet and warm kisses. The wet feeling isn't really what he likes the most, but he'll never stop you from showing your affection to him. He secretly loves it.

You eventually back away with a giggle, catching the smirk Jimin tries to hide. "You have a bit of lipstick here..." You giggle again, even though you should feel guilty for staining his cheeks with the marks of your lips, but he looks too cute this way.

"Where?" he questions, brows frowning a little, "Here?" he points to his right cheek. He got it right, but it's not the only place where he has lipstick.

"Yeah, here, too." You poke his left cheek. "And some here," you whisper, talking about his jaw and tracing it, "Definitely here..." You swipe your index over his plump lips. "Oh, and more here!" You exclaim, rapidly diving in to leave a kiss to his forehead, but before you can sit back up in your seat, Jimin holds you by the waist.

You squeal, flinching when he smacks your ass with his free hand, gripping the flesh by slipping a palm under your jean skirt. "You little tease... You like making fun of me, don't you?" He sensually growls in your ear, pussy clenching around nothing.

You whine, shaking your head from side to side, holding eye-contact with him. Your hands are laying flat against his chest, leaning on him to keep yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

"No! Just like how you look with my lips all over you," you purr, grinning when Jimin quirks an eyebrow. "Gotta show everybody that you're taken..."

"I see, little miss possessive," he says, giving small taps to your butt.

"Yes, you're mine," you affirm. "Mine, mine, mine," you repeat the word over again, kissing once more Jimin's pretty face.

He shuts you up by crashing his mouth on yours, gripping you by the jaw and keeping you in place. When he breaks your exchange, he instructs you to sit in your seat. "Put your seatbelt on, princess."

You reluctantly let go of Jimin's lips and do what he told you to. Even though he scolded you for ruining his smooth face, he doesn't do anything to wipe the lipstick's stains off, which makes you smile. There aren't that many anyway, you were lying earlier, but you love it when it doesn't bother him to wear your marks like you always wear his proudly — he's the kind to bite your inner thighs while eating you out and leave the trace of his teeth on you.

"Okay, let's go!" You announce loudly, not sure where you're going — probably to his since he lives on the other side of the city — but you're still very excited nonetheless. Car rides with Jimin are always a lot of fun.

"Let's go," he repeats with a nod of his head, sending you a wink as he puts the car into drive. You giggle once again, just genuinely happy to be with your boyfriend — your favourite person on this planet.

You look outside, watching the city lights at night and the other cars with you on the road. Jimin sometimes — often — judges which car people are driving, saying this model isn't worth anything or that the brand is just shitty. You don't understand the justification, but it has no importance to you, to be quite honest. And anyway, he sounds really hot when he's talking about a subject he's an expert in.

There's the occasional asshole who accelerates at red lights, this time being a BMW, surely intimidated or jealous by the expensive Porsche next to them. You find these people super annoying, especially when they do that when they see a woman standing on the sidewalk. How little their dick has to be.

Though Jimin doesn't feel the need to do that because he's not a pathetic man, he still has to crush that guy's ego. You notice him going faster next to the other car as you enter the highway, having a bit more space and freedom.

"Minnie," you say his nickname kind of as a warning, but you know he won't listen to you. You pretend to not support this improvised car race even though you already feel the adrenaline rushing through your body.

"Hold on to the handle, baby," he commands, looking through his rear mirror to see what the other car is doing, and to his satisfaction, they're participating in the race with Jimin. "We're gonna show this guy what it is really like to race," he smirks cheekily, adjusting better his rear mirror to a better angle.

So you execute yourself, gripping the handle placed just upside the door passenger — gripping it tightly, feeling your heart start beating faster.

The feeling is pleasantly familiar, remembering the numerous times Jimin made you hop in his Mustang during his practices, going super fast and trying to impress you. You've always been really impressed.

You recall the time he went to Bordeaux, trying out the famous circuit just for fun, just because it's Jimin. You've accompanied him there and watched him race with other professionals. It was truly amazing, really thrilling.

Jimin goes up to 140 km/h really fast in a 90 km/h zone. He dodges vehicles easily, though it's tight and fucking dangerous. There are three lanes for one way of the traffic and for the other, so he has to analyze his surroundings every time he needs to change lanes.

His opponent is catching up behind, also dodging cars and trying to pass Jimin. But your boyfriend is prepared; he handles the steering wheel better. His vision is sharp, shifting between his mirror and in front of him quickly. He's an expert, a professional — the BMW has zero chance.

If it was daytime, you're sure an improvised race like this wouldn't even be conceivable, considering how packed the highway usually is, but during nighttime there are way less car on the road. It allows them to drive more freely and fluidly. It's still very risky, but you love the adrenaline rushing through your body, love how intoxicating it is.

Jimin's grip tightens around the wheel, veins popping out along his strong arms. He looks so good with jewelry, wearing a few silver rings on his fingers and a watch around his wrist. You catch a glimpse of the thirteen tattoo inked on his skin, being the date of his birthday and also the number he races with.

"Jimin... what if there's a cop?" You say worryingly.

He grins, as if this can't be a problem at all. "Then this jackass gonna chicken out," he snickers, pressing down on the accelerator with his right foot. "Look at this," he says, holding the steering wheel with a lot of force so the car doesn't drive off the road. You look forward, seeing the BMW getting ahead.

Jimin puts on the turn signal to the right as they're getting closer to an industry truck and a van. There's a small gap separating them as they're both on different lanes, a gap just big enough for the Porsche.

Your eyes widen, pulse racing faster, hearing your heartbeat in your head. It's like your heart is going to explode or come out of your chest at how intense everything feels. It's addicting.

Jimin accelerates and passes by his opponent, sneaking between the too big vehicles, keeping the turn signal on as he maneuvers his way through the small gap. Your breath is caught in your throat as he does so, holding the handle tighter and tighter, scrunching your eyes shut, believing deeply in Jimin's skills...

"Oh my fucking god," he exhales heavily as if he was also holding in his breath. This is your cue to open your eyes again, nothing in front of you, meaning Jimin has succeeded. You hear him laugh, smiling with his full set of teeth. "Fucking loser!"

You glance at him, stars in your eyes and glinting in pure admiration. You find him extremely attractive, even more than he already is. You burst out in laughter too, incapable of keeping it in, finally stressing down.

You look over your shoulder and the BMW is stuck behind the truck and the van, the space now too small to pass through. Jimin won.

He has a big arrogant smirk on his face, one hand on the wheel as he licks his lips, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth after. You know he's proud of himself, and you have to admit that you are impressed.

"That was sick!" You squeal and giggle, your heart still pounding in your chest, but eventually slowing down to a normal pace. "Minnie, it was- I... Oh, God! Awesome, it was awesome!"

He chuckles as you struggle to get the words out, absolutely surprised, but in a really good way. You lack the words to describe how you're feeling and how the whole thing was just so thrilling. The adrenaline is such a strong hormone that you still haven't recovered from the race. You'll remember this one for a very long time, that's for sure.

"It was like a rollercoaster!" You say with a lot of excitement, looking at Jimin while he has his eyes settled in front of him, soon reaching your destination.

"I knew you'd like this," he flashes you a smile, glancing in your direction for a short second. "You're a little rebel, aren't you?"

"My boyfriend's a bad boy, of course I like a bit of danger..." You flirt, making Jimin laugh again.

When the car comes to a halt, you immediately unbuckle your seatbelt and jump on Jimin, not caring if you're in the parking lot of his apartment building. You straddle his lap and your entire body is on fire. You didn't realize the race made you that horny to the point you can't even wait to be in his apartment to start fucking him.

You kiss him and he reciprocates it right away, moving his mouth over yours hungrily. You cup his cheeks and begin to rock your hips back and forth, grinding down on Jimin. He bites your lip which makes you whine softly, pulling on his dark locks at the nape of his neck.

His hands lay on your hips, guiding you over his lap, pushing your bottom down on him to intensify the grinding motion. The steering wheel sometimes pokes you in the back, but you don't pay it any attention, kissing every patch of skin on Jimin's face, descending to his sharp jaw.

You're both breathing heavily, the small binnacle of the luxury car beginning to be really restricted in air. Though, it doesn't stop you, not at all.

You smooch the side of his throat, sensing his Adam's apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want to lick and kiss every part of his body, you need it — you need to feel his smooth skin under your tongue.

Jimin smells like his favourite body wash, a scent so manly and tingly it turns you feral on its own. He's a bit sweaty now so you have the salty taste of his natural essence on your tongue, feeling how warm his body is just after an eventful race.

You slightly chew on his flesh and suck on it, wanting to mark him even more in beautiful purple love bites, adding on with the traces of your lipstick. He groans under you, tilting his head back so you have better access to his neck.

He palms your butt under your short skirt, making you grind on him more avidly. Your panties start to get wet, the material sticking to your pussy lips because of your arousal gushing out of your cunt. You're so turned on it has your brain all mushy, no thoughts other than ones about Jimin and how good he's going to feel inside of you.

Then he pulls you back by your hair, your lips leaving the crook of Jimin's neck, eyes strained down on him since he forces your head back. Your hands clasp around his t-shirt, crumpling it between your little fists.

"What's that, baby, hm?" He questions, squinting his eyes at you. You think he's referring to your eagerness, taking control without really realizing it.

"Sorry, but please..."

"That cunt's too fucking greedy, is that it?" He lifts a brow, cupping your pussy through your panties with the hand not gripping your hair. "What a little slut you are... Soaking through your underwear already?" He mocks, gliding the tip of his finger over your core, feeling how damp the material is.

You decide you better be honest, knowing a little begging always makes Jimin fold. "Yes, want you so bad, Minnie," you breathe out while humping his hand as he keeps his palm over your crotch and he enjoys how you're so desperate to the point of chasing his touch. "Need you in my pussy, need your cock to feel me up, please," you beg sweetly, clawing at his t-shirt. "Please, Minnie, please."

He observes you for a while, frowning a bit as his pretty head is reflecting, maybe asking himself if he should give you what you want or not. You let out a whine — a pathetic one — and you know that's what finally convinces him.

"Want my cock?" He asks and you nod repeatedly, still holding on his shirt like it's the only thing keeping you from falling miserably into the depth of lust. "Then fucking take it, baby," he growls lowly, biting down on his plump bottom lip, pupils blown out.

You sigh in relief, babbling out a little grateful 'thank you' as you lower your hands to his pants. He looks down at your shaky hands, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. His hand that was previously on your cunt has shifted to your thighs, caressing your curves, admiring your body that looks so frail and easy to break.

Oh, he does know how simple it is to turn you into a slutty mess, drooling and crying like a baby to have his dick, not caring in which hole it goes as long as it's nestled in you.

You yank the zipper down and work on getting his baggy jeans down his thighs. Jimin's still watching you, not bothering to give you a helping hand, quite finding it adorable how you struggle so much.

When you free his cock out of his Armani boxer briefs, you gasp softly at the sight of his semi-hard lying against his toned stomach. "Always so big, Minnie," you tease, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

And it's true. He's average, just the right length for you, but the thickness, gosh it makes you salivate. The girth isn't talked about enough because that's the thing that has you crying tears of joy when his cock splits you open, the burning sensation always a plus to your pleasure.

You love it that he doesn't shave, seeing him in all his glory, dark pubic hair decorating his pelvis. His mushroom tip peeks out from under his foreskin, your mouth watering at the thought of having it in your mouth and twirling your pink muscle around it, tasting the little beads of pre-cum on your warm tongue.

"Stop kissing my ass," he laughs, smacking one of your ass cheeks. You giggle, though you're really being honest. He's stupidly girthy, not to mention the size of his balls that never miss to slap the skin of your butt whenever he fucks you in missionary.

"I love kissing your ass, though. You deserve it, Minnie," you flatter, showing him how much you love him and his pretty cock.

"Shut up," he suddenly rasps out, taking a hold of your jaw with one hand, deft fingers poking into your chubby cheeks and making your lips purse out. "Wanna fuck that cock or not?" You mumble a 'yes' through your squished face. "Get to work, then."

He lets go of you as you grip his cock, small hand barely fitting around the girth, giving him a few lazy pumps to get him completely hard. You hum when you feel him stiff under your palm, a bit of pre-cum leaking from the slit over his swollen tip.

You smear it with your thumb, twisting your wrist as you run your hand up and down his length languidly. You spit in your hand and bring it back down to his cock, coating him in your saliva.

You slip your panties down, wiggling in every direction to get them out of the way and finally throw them away on the back seats. You smile at the thought of Jimin finding them later, remembering this filthy night, dick swelling at the dirty images of you riding him in his car.

"Want it on my pussy..." You sweetly purr, directing the head of his cock to your cunt, pressing it down on your clit. You steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, the other circling your bud of nerves with his leaky tip. "Want your hot cum on my dirty little pussy," you tease again, using the same words he likes telling you in his sultry voice, so deep and raspy, making shivers run down your spine.

His dark eyes lift up from your hand guiding his cock in smooth circles over your puffy, aching clit and looks at you, catching the way you trap your bottom lip between your teeth. You see that he loves the idea you've just planted in his brain, wanting to cover your nasty cunt in his cum so bad.

"Fucking whore," he says under his breath, jaw hanging open. His hands roam over your body, often groping your ass cheeks or sneaking under your crop top, touching the underside of your breasts.

You move your hips in circle motions as well, stimulating your sensitive clit with the head of his cock, so warm and pleasant against your pussy.

"Am I your favourite one, though?" You pout.

He grins, letting out a low chuckle, "Of course, and the only one." At that, a lewd moan escapes your mouth and you start humping Jimin's dick, wet pussy lips gliding over his erection. "Hmm, that's it, baby," he encourages, hands on your hips as you move more frantically over him, covering him in your slicks.

Your breath is irregular, chasing your high with fervour, moaning obscenely above Jimin. "Gonna cum," you announce hastily, the rub of your clit against his cock driving you over the edge really quickly. Plus, you were already turned on, so your orgasm isn't far away, the knot in your stomach unraveling.

"Go ahead, cum on my cock, baby girl," he softly commands as if his permission was the only thing you needed to finally see stars. He grips your hips as you open your mouth, silent whimpers and moans coming out.

"Yes, yes, Minnie," you chant as you hump his cock, thighs and hands shaking. Your clitoral orgasm passes through you, bucking your hips forward while you slowly drive off your high. "Fuck, fuck..." You cry, letting go of his member and hiding your face in the crook of his neck for comfort.

He gently caresses your back in circles, helping you calm down and come back to earth. "Good job," he coos in your ear. "What a big girl. Rubbing your pussy all over my cock and cumming without my help," Jimin praises, patting your ass that peeks out from under your short skirt.

You only whimper in response, coming back to reality. You push yourself off Jimin's chest, looking at him with a pout on your lips. He knows it's fake, just to persuade him to do whatever you're going to ask him.

"Put it in, please," you beg in a whiny voice, "Need your big cock in me, Jimin." You sweetly pamper his face in warm kisses, knowing he never resists them. "Please, please, please."

He sighs, feeling your lips pressing down on his smooth skin, leaving his face all red and damp from your teasing little kisses. He gropes your thighs, slapping one of them as you arch your back like a slut.

"Take it then," he growls, gripping his cock and directing the head toward your dripping entrance. "Show me how bad you want it, my stupid girl," he purrs in your ear, cock head swiping between your pussy lips.

You eagerly bob your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as you look down where you slowly sink down Jimin's thick length. You gasp softly when the head of his cock stretches out your cunt, expending it to his large size.

You continue to sink further down, hearing the groans and moans of your boyfriend, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your flesh. You love the familiar burning sensation, reminding you that his cock is pushing into you, connecting both of your bodies and souls.

When you're finally sitting on his lap, dick nestled in the comfort of your warmth, clit touching his pubes, it feels exhilarating, almost too good to be true. Despite having been in you so many times before, neither one of you are getting used to the incredible sensation of being so close to each other, so connected.

"So big, Jimin," you moan softly, slowly moving your hips back and forth, doing grinding motions. "Love it so much," you mewl, holding onto his shoulders.

He looks down, too, and sees a shiny dew coating his pubic hair, your arousal leaking down his balls and pelvis. It's beautiful, a strong odour of sex invading the interior of the car.

"Yeah, baby?" He questions, voice a little breathy. "Love having my cock in you? Splitting your tight little cunt open?" He now gropes your ass, liking how the two small globes of flesh fit in his calloused palms.

"Uh-huh," you agree and drag your hips up, cock slipping out of your wet pussy, his meaty length glistening in your sweet juices. You yank them back down, creating a new motion, bouncing up and down his stiff erection.

You ride his cock in his car, steering wheel sometimes knocking your back as you vividly jump on his dick, but it isn't a major bother to you, not at all. Nothing's more important to you now than to fuck Jimin and feel his cock deep into you.

"It's so thick," you babble out, mouth staying open as little moans escape you. It makes Jimin groan hearing you say how his girthy cock destroys your tiny pussy, seeing it with his own eyes, pussy enveloping his shaft.

He loves knowing you like a bit of pain, willing to go through it to after reach a high level of pleasure. "Cock whore," he grunts, smacking your ass, the skin stinging because of the rings adorning his fingers.

You keep bouncing on him, wanting to make this as pleasurable as possible for him, but you know your legs will soon be tired. Though, you don't give up, and ride Jimin like your life depends on it.

You sense his fingers dancing on your butt, reaching your tight hole under your skirt. It surprises you, a little high-pitched moan leaving your mouth, but you don't say no — never would you.

He teases your rim, deft fingers circling it, making you arch your back and lean into his warm touch. You start grinding over his lap again, desperate to reach your high and feel his cock head brushing against your sweet spot inside you.

Jimin pushes his thumb at your hole while you roll your hips over his with vigour, literally using him for your pleasure. He doesn't mind, though, and penetrates your other entrance with his finger. You let out a loud moan, always loving it when Jimin fills you up everywhere.

"Gosh, I'm so close, Minnie..." You announce, rutting your hips against his and crumpling his t-shirt between your small fists.

"Keep going, baby, keep going," he encourages, holding the fat of your hips and guiding them over his hard cock. "Cum for me, my sweet girl."

"Yes, yes," you chant, his dick repeatedly nudging your sensitive spot, making the knot in your stomach tighten. "For you... Gonna cum for you, Minnie," you say before finally feeling it explode in your belly, millions of tingles passing through your entire body.

Your thighs shake beside his, rolling your hips fast over his lap to drive off your intense high. With trembling limbs, you slowly lift up your butt, discovering his length coating in your milky and shiny release.

Jimin groans in satisfaction, staring at his dick with adoration in his eyes. He slaps your ass, praising you for your good job a second time.

"What about you clean that mess off, hm?" He proposes, raising his gaze up to your glossy eyes. You bite down on your lip, the idea eliciting another wave of arousal in you. "Gonna lick it off and make me cum with that pretty mouth of yours, baby?"

With a nod of your head, you get out of the car, stepping on the cement of the indoor parking lot. Jimin lets the driver's door open as he leans his back against the car, telling you to come over with a tilt of his head.

You kneel in front of him, your naked knees lying on the cold ground, thighs sticky with your cum and pussy completely bare, feeling the air hitting it. You grip his pants, looking up at him with puppy eyes, silently asking for permission to touch his pretty cock, shining in your natural essence.

"Lift up your top," he orders, holding his thick length in his right hand. You do so and it seems to satisfy Jimin, a little appreciative growl leaving his throat. "Perfect, you can touch it, baby," he sends you the green light and you happily comply.

You replace his hand with yours, your fingers barely wrapping all the way around the base. You stroke it gently, feeling your slick slipping between your fingers, and look up at Jimin, making sure you're doing this alright.

Jimin sees that you're seeking compliments, a smile tugging on his pretty, plump pink lips. "Doing great, princess. Don't be shy, put your tongue on it," he instructs, your head bobbing to show your agreement.

You stick out your pink muscle and lean down to put it on his swollen tip, swallowing his bulbous head in after. Your lips wrap around him, tasting yourself on your tongue.

You sat prettily on your knees, wearing your white sneakers as your little ass peeks out from underneath your jean skirt, taking more of his length into your greedy mouth. You scoot yourself closer, wanting the tip of your nose to touch the patch of dark hair crowning his pelvis.

Jimin moans above you, gripping your hair in a tight hold as you sink down on him. Your wish is granted, having the entirety of his cock in your mouth, his tip teasing the back of your throat.

"Fuck, play with your tits for me, baby," he breathily commands, hooded eyes staring down at you. You flutter your eyes at him, executing yourself and rolling your nipples under your palms. You much prefer it when it's Jimin's hands, but you'll do without them this time.

You pull your head back, him watching his cock reappear between your lips, then disappear when you sink back down. You pinch your nipples, making them even harder, the cold air turning them extra stiffer.

You bounce your head over his engorged cock, hearing him moan and groan, an erotic melody to your ears. You choke a bit around him, Jimin delighted to see spit dripping down from the corners of your mouth, greedily taking him in your warmth.

"That's it, baby. Shit, such a good girl for me," he moans, voice husky and sultry. "Make me cum with that slutty little mouth," he insists, lust dancing in his dark orbs, looking at you like you're the very own object of his deepest desires. And you are.

You hum around him, groping your breasts while sucking him off, his strong hand gripping your hair at the roots, making your scalp itch. It sends delicious vibrations through the entirety of Jimin's body, a shiver running up his spine as you take him deep into your throat.

You hollow your cheeks and swallow around his length like you know he loves, hearing his little moans of approval above you. "Christ, baby... Gonna cum, keep going," he warns you and you're pleased to know you're making him feel really good.

You flatten your tongue under his heavy cock, bobbing your head over his stiff erection, pulling and pinching on your hard nipples. Jimin doesn't look away from you once, so turned on by your little fingers playing with your tits and your kneeling form sucking him off.

Suddenly, he keeps your head in place over his cock, forcing you down on him, nose pressed down against his hairy pelvis. You look up at him with teary eyes, feeling them sting. A crease appears between his soft eyebrows, mouth opening as he looks out deep and soft moans.

Jimin cums down your throat, cock twitching and shooting his release in thick, long ropes inside your mouth. You whine around him, wiggling your ass, happy to finally taste him.

"Fuuck," he breathes out, the muscles of his thighs tensing. He pulls out quickly, stroking his cock fast, angling it down toward your naked boobs.

You gasp softly, swallowing thickly to ease your poor throat, feeling his hot and creamy cum landing on your chest. He milks himself dry, moaning as small white beads spurt out his tip and fall on your beautiful tits.

Jimin exhales heavily, his head lolling back on his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, catching his breath. He holds his hand out for you to take and pull you up from the ground. He tucks himself back in his briefs and zips his jeans back up as you lean down to kiss him on the lips, giggling joyfully after.

Jimin helps you clean up the mess he made on you with the spare box of tissues he keeps in his car. You pull down your top, covering your breasts.

The vehicle beeps and the front lights flashes as he clicks twice on the button to lock the doors. You walk to the elevator hand in hand, ready to go back into Jimin's apartment with a cute afterglow shining on both your faces.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jimin imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin scenarios #jimin smut #jimin x reader

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sprout-fics · 2 months

Note

Oh my god, sprout pleeeeaaseeeeeeee give us biker simon smut 😭😭

Ask nicely and ye shall receive

Your breath fans across your face, head tossed back and throat bared as you grip the handlebars of the motorcycle, feeling the low thrum of the engine under you. Leather, musk, motor oil and the scent of him clouds your senses, hands gripping tight just as he presses himself flush behind you, blanketing the massive form of his body across your spine. You can feel every low rumble from his chest, surrounding you in sync with the engine, masked nose pressing up against the junction of your jaw and neck as he breathes a low growl of praise there.

“Good.”

A bitten off little moan bubbles up your throat, brow pinched just as he nimbly rolls your clit between his leather gloved fingers. Your wetness clings to the pads, the graze of his touch firm, unyielding, shaping you always just how he wants you. Demanding, controlling, forcing you to yield with a gasp of his name and his dark eyes boring intent into your skin.

He has you against the seat of the motorcycle, where you’d teased him, asking if you could drive. You’d arched the curve of your spine, eyes twinkling as you’d gazed over your shoulder and had asked so prettily.

“Please?”

You thought he was indulging you when he’d gotten on behind you, turned on the ignition and felt the purr of the bike underneath you. Yet just as you’d gone to release the kickstand Simon had snaked his gloved hands around to your front, up under your shirt, down past your waistband. Bracing his head against the back of yours, he’d breathed you in, let the air settle low and dark in his chest and spoke in that purring, possessive voice of his that promised a dizzying desire.

“Be good.”

You turn your head back to him, seeking, a whimper of his name as you part your lips. He greets you, allows you to kiss him through his mask, keeping his eyes open all the while to witness the growing glossiness of your eyes that speaks of want, a need for him that burrows down into your bones and paints them obsidian.

He growls, rutting forward so you feel the bulge of him straining in his jeans, slotting himself against your ass just as his fingers press down harder. Electricity dances up your spine, escapes as a groan that spills against his lips. Ghost’s other hand cups you under your bra, switching between nipples that perk against his fingers, the blood rushing down to the exact press of his fingers against your clit.

“Please.” You ask again, trying to buck up against him, seeking more friction as the taunt of your release dances beyond your reach. Yet you know he’ll send you over the edge only when he’s good and ready, will mold you to his liking, drink you down like an addiction he can’t escape. Ghost always has you exactly how he wants you, forces you to bend and rewards you with your shivering climax and a desperate gasp of his name as your orgasm drags you under with its power. He’s drunk off the sight of you gasping, writhing, teary eyed under his touch. Tamed, he silently thinks, able to touch a wild animal and have it eat out of his bare palm even as you nip at his fingertips. He’s a force you can’t escape, succumb to willingly as you drown together, inescapable like the tidal locked orbit of the earth and moon.

“Look at you, sweet thing.” He purrs in your ear, and you can feel his smirk through the fabric of his mask. “Gonna cum just from my fingers?”

You nod, biting your lip, eyes closed as you rock against his hand, down onto the low vibration of the bike seat, back into the inescapable hold of him as he grinds against your ass.

“Clever girl, this is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Ghost asks, and when you don’t respond he pinches a nipple harshly so you gasp in agreement. “Maybe next time I’ll have you ride me on this, watch those pretty tits of your bounce on my bike.”

The thought alone makes you shiver, motion rippling up your spine as he huffs a pleased little sound against your bare throat. “Like that? Hmm, dirty girl.”

“Ghost-” You manage with a whine, face warm as you chase the tease of your orgasm. Yet Ghost is steady, methodical, circling your clit with a needed touch before pulling away, over and over again until you shake in his hold, whine and beg and desperately chase him only for him to press in behind you, rubbing his erection against your ass with a low, huffing groan.

“Or maybe I should fuck you.” He goes on, seemingly unbothered by your pleas. “Just like this, you bent forward as I stretch you around my cock.”

You groan openly at that, nodding enthusiastically, voice an endless series of groans, gasps, mewling as he takes his hand away from your tits and raises his gloved fingers to your parted lips. You take them in wordlessly, tongue lapping against the leather as tears bead in your eyes, desperate, needing the release he dangles in front of you.

“Would you like that, sweet girl?” He huffs, grinding forward, his warm breath fanning through the mask. “Have you clenching on me just like this?”

“Mm-” You nod around his fingers, and Ghost groans deep in his chest as the bike purrs under you both. He presses deftly against your clit, and you feel the throes of your orgasm reach closer just as he growls into the flesh of your neck.

“Wanna feel you cum, pet. Just like this.” He huffs, voice grinding deep into your skull like soot. “All over my fucking fingers. Go on, fucking cum for me.”

You try to speak around his fingers, gasping a word that sounds like “Simon” and instead opting to bite down on his leather fingers just as he rubs abruptly, harshly against your clit, summoning your release so quickly you hurdle over the edge, entire body seizing with the taut snap of your release. Your breath catches in your chest, heart hammering and brow scrunched as you buck forward. Ghost works you through it, growling praise into your shoulder just as he grinds against you.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, fucking mine, my good girl. That’s it, fucking cum for me-”

You whine as his touch begins to drive you into overstimulation, head falling forwards just as he pulls his fingers away so you gasp, spit connecting your lips to his glove. You gasp, shoulders trembling as he leisurely grinds against your ass, letting you catch your breath.

“I got you, love. Breathe for me, you’re alright.” He murmurs into your spine, softer now, indulgent in a way that betrays his utter affection.

You look at him over your shoulder, catching the blown pupils against his rust colored irises, breathing hard, eyes twinkling, pressing back against him. You grip the throttle under your fingertips, press it just to hear the engine purr under you both.

“Going to let me ride you too, Simon?”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f! reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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lilacfiresoul · 2 months

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spring, april 1 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 619 words

They’d slept with the window open last night.

It was partially Regulus’ fault; the clocks had turned forward an hour, and he’d been up late, perched on the sloping roof watching the stars pass by, without realising twelve o’clock had turned into two, bypassing one am completely and hurtling Regulus into the next day without a moment’s breath.

One of the best things about living in a small village, in the middle of rural England, is that the light pollution staining the sky from distant cities doesn’t touch here, and Regulus can stare up at the sky and see stars twinkling back.

He’d climbed back inside shortly after, drowsy, completely forgetting to close the windows and curtains as he’d fallen back into bed with James.

Now, as Regulus is pulled from sleep by the sounds of birds chirping, the full onslaught of the sun hits him square in the face as he opens his eyes. Squinting, blinking away bright impressions on his irises, he lifts a hand up to block the light as he leans over to check the time.

Nine o’clock.

Spring is definitely here, and it’s not holding back.

James is still sleeping, on his stomach, his face turned towards Regulus, one arm curled up underneath the pillow to bunch it closer to his cheek. The bedsheets are gathered around his waist—clearly, he got too hot in the night and kicked them off—and the sunlight plays across the surface of his back, ducking between the divots of his spine, smoothing over the slope of his shoulders.

Regulus stares at him, James’ lips slowly parted as he breathes, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. Rays of sunlight dance between the strands of his hair, and he is a Greek god sleeping after a weary battle, Achilles or Apollo, racing with his chariot to pull up the sunrise, every muscle and bone sculptured from pure gold.

“I can feel you staring,” James murmurs. He doesn’t open his eyes, nor move, but he inhales deeply, his back rising and falling with his breath.

Regulus presses his lips together and doesn’t even try to stop his blush of embarrassment. “Can I not stare at my husband whilst he sleeps?”

James cracks open his eyes then, just one, to grin at Regulus before closing it again, snuggling further into the pillow. His voice comes out soft, tired. “Bit creepy, don’t you think? Stalker-ish.”

“We’ve been married for two years,” Regulus reminds him.

With a noise of contentment, one of James’ arms comes out from under the covers to drag Regulus over to him, pulling him into his body. Regulus is all too happy to settle there, tucking his face under James’ chin, breathing in the smell that is just purely James that he can’t describe to anyone else. James, in turn, presses his cheek into Regulus’ hair, his fingers moving to slightly trace lines down his back. It makes Regulus shiver.

“Oh, the window’s open,” James comments, voice still laced with sleep. “Did you leave it like that?”

“Yeah, I forgot to close it.”

One of their neighbours outside starts mowing their lawn, the repeated growl of the motor infiltrating into their bedroom for a few seconds before it purrs to life.

“It’s nine o’clock, you know,” Regulus tells James gently.

James hums, still running fingers along Regulus’ back. “So?”

“So,” Regulus continues. “Don’t you want to get up? It’s sunny out today.”

Neither of them move. James just sighs, pulling Regulus closer. “Five more minutes.”

It’s around one in the afternoon when they both finally get out of bed.

#frost's microfics #frost writing fluff for once?#who is she???#james potter is a greek god confirmed #james x regulus #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #james potter x regulus black #marauders #jegulus

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 months

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Can I ask for Husk and his kits? Husk's wifey is awake in bed, Husk curled up asleep beside her, and their kits also fast asleep on them. They're all purring. Little motors going and Husk's wifey is just in heaven.

A/n: I apologize if this is horrible, but this is such a cute request.

You were the one that tended to fall asleep first but now, now it was Husk's turn. Your husband curled deep into your side. His arm wrapped tightly around your waist as his face rested into your neck. You felt his tail curl around your legs as he let his wings drape themselves over your body and the kits protecting you both.

Marilyn had buried herself deep within Husk's own chest as she normally did as the little girl loved to be around her father. Coltrane tucked between your body and Husk's as Harry instead chose to let his tiny body rest between your free arm.

Your body vibrating from the purrs, each one rising and falling in unison. It felt perfect...it felt like heaven to you.

If you were to die here then you would die happy as a blissful sigh escape your lips. Eyes closing you yourself relax further into the bed as you smiled.

"Perfect."

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ghcstao3 · 7 months

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Can we have more cat!soap and cat shifter!ghost please? Maybe the group that had the chemicals was trying to create shifters for business or something

for sure we can have more

while reverse-engineering whatever mess had turned soap into a cat, it’s discovered the warehouse they’d raided had a side project of seeing if they could make shifters out of regular people—only, they ever got so far as a concoction that would turn someone into an animal while keeping their human conscience, and that was the extent of it.

so, now, soap is a cat. a cat somehow grumpier than ghost if only because it isn’t normal for him. but whatever. at least ghost is of help getting him reoriented with his body while they try and figure every out.

but then ghost is doing… cat things. grooming soap, knocking heads with him, forcing him to cuddle. he purrs like a motor around soap, and soap thinks ghost has maybe shifted back to human form once during this whole ordeal, otherwise maximizing his time spent with soap the cat. soap doesn’t understand it—what’s so different about their relationship when he, too, is a cat? whatever reasoning is beyond him.

though, he can say it’s pretty cool being able to understand ghost’s meows and chirps that could only ever been somewhat accurately interpreted by human ears. and, well—soap can also see very well the appeal of blaming cat instincts to get away with things, finally able to knock things off price’s desk without reprimand as a cause of his current situation. there are benefits.

soap just also wishes he could figure out what ghost’s angle is here.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #ghoap #cat shifter!ghost

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call-me-mrs-winchester · 10 days

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𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character

Summary: Will be in series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Age-Gap. Pining. Teasing. Underaged flirting. Language. Violence. Gaslighting. Gun Play. Murder. Description of Death.

A/N: I've had this series replaying in my mind for over a year. I'm so happy to share with everyone and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I've got big plans for this story! Thank you all for your support, feedback (preferably good) is always appreciated!

Maricela's POV

I've known the Winchester brothers for four years now. I was fifteen when they visited Kenosha, Wisconsin, on a hunt for a Lamia. I remember hearing the roar of the Impala's engine pull into the gas station before it drove to the opposite side of the pump I was using. The motor's purr cuts just before the driver's side door creaks open, freeing a tall and handsome specimen. Once he reappeared from behind the pump, I did a double take. I couldn't help but stare at the man who wielded the most beautiful green eyes, trying to place where I'd seen them before. The longer I studied his chiseled face, the more familiar it seemed.

The man noticed my gaze and turned to look at me. He gave me a small smile, and I realized what I had been doing. I tear my attention away while my cheeks begin to heat, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," I say, focusing on the ground. "You just look really familiar."

"Oh, I don't know about that," his deep voice responded. "I'm not from around here."

I nodded, taking in his words, but felt in my gut that he wasn't telling the entire truth. Instead of thinking too hard about it, I push it to the back of my brain and look at his sweet ride.

"Pretty nice car you got there." I compliment.

"Thanks," he says before flashing me a charming smile.

I was instantly mesmerized by him. I had no intention of ceasing our conversation in hopes of becoming closer to him while I had the chance. Who wouldn't do the same? Regardless of any age difference.

He looked away and stared into the distance, getting lost in his head. I clear my throat before speaking again.

"What year is it?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation alive.

"'67." He answers proudly.

I ask, genuinely curious, "What kind of engine does it have?"

A slow smile spreads across his face as if the question doesn't get asked often. He nods for me to follow him, and I smile as my plan succeeds. He pops the hood from inside the car before walking towards the front of the Impala. As I pass the driver's side door, the man sitting inside gives me a tight-lipped smile. I give him one in return, then turn my attention back to the gorgeous man as he props the hood.

"Impressive. Let me guess—this baby pushes out 460 hps." I comment, staring at the redone engine.

"461. How did you...?" He trails off. I catch him staring at me in my peripheral vision. I turn to the attractive man and can't help but smile even wider at the amazement shining bright in his eyes. He thrusts his hand out and says, "I'm Dean."

I take his hand and squeeze, giving him a firm handshake. "I'm Mari."

"Ma-dee...?" He repeats in question.

I giggle at his uncertainty and nod at the correct pronunciation of my Spanish name. "Yes, sir."

"What's a girl like you know about engines?" He smirks, leaning against his now-closed hood.

"I know a thing or two." I shrug nonchalantly. I heard the gas pump jerk, indicating that my tank was full. "I should get that."

I turn to walk back before his voice stops me.

"Hey, uh—you wouldn't happen to know where the nearest motel is, do you?"

"Wow, Dean, I'm flattered, but I like to be 'wined and dined' before we sixty-nine." I causally joke.

His eyes widen with shock as the blush rises to his cheeks, his jaw dropping slightly. I found it arduous to keep my smirk hidden after his overt reaction. His head shakes violently, his hands rising in defense before speaking.

"What? No, I didn't mean—I don't want to—Not that you're not—" His green eyes quickly skim every inch of my body. "I'm not saying you don't look good 'cause wow—but I just—"

This man, who exudes confidence, getting so flustered over my words was unexpected. I couldn't help but stop his self-torture with a laugh.

"I'm just fucking with you."

Relief washes over his features before letting out a large breath. After a chuckle, he says, "You're good, really had me going there."

"Well, if you're this easy to rile up with words, I can only imagine how well you'd respond to actions." I smile at the vulgar things I had in mind.

To say I surprised even myself with my comments is an understatement. I have never been confident enough to speak to any guy like this. Let alone one this jaw-droppingly sexy, but he definitely brought that side out of me.

A mischievous smirk plays on his lips as he gets closer. "You've got a dirty little mouth there, sweetheart."

"You going to clean it out for me?" I say seductively before sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.

Dean's eyes widen again, but he tries covering it with a huge grin. He opens his mouth to reply but gets cut off by the man in his car attempting to mask the words "jail bait" with a cough. I can't help but laugh; he wasn't wrong. The man standing in front of me turns red once more.

"Why don't I give you those directions?" I offer, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

He nods, giving me a shy smile. He thanked me after I gave him the information.

"No problem." I walk to my car and grab the nozzle from my gas tank. I put it back into its machine while he does the same. "I hope to see you around."

He winks before I slip into my front seat. I smile at his small but powerful gesture and pray the last words I spoke to him become true.

And they did, just not in the way I would've imagined. What I didn't expect was to see a monster—a real monster—attack someone important to me. Two FBI agents tracked me down in my hometown for an interview. And just my luck, the agents happened to be the gentlemen I met earlier. Their faces were just as surprised to see me as I was them.

A knock sounded on the front door. I pause my movie before surreptitiously peeking out of the living room window that faces the street. My eyes widen as I see a familiar classic car parked outside my house. My heart rate spiked, knowing that the Impala could only belong to the man I met just the other day. Panicking, I push myself off the couch and run to the bathroom.

I look in the mirror and see a nightmare staring back. My eyes were red and puffy, and my hair was in shambles. I heard another knock, but this time louder. With no time to run a brush through my bird's nest of hair, I groan in frustration. I drag myself out of the bathroom before the rapid pounding begins against the front door.

"Coming!" I yell while combing my fingers through my thickly tangled brunette curls.

I stand just before the door and take a moment to breathe. After straightening the sweats I chose to lounge in, I curse myself for not being presentable at a time like this. I suck in a breath before reaching for the door handle, bracing myself for the judgment and embarrassment that was guaranteed to come my way. In one quick motion, I swing open the wooden door to see the two familiar, tall, handsome men standing before me.

Their eyes became wide as they recognized who I was. I self-consciously sink into my hoodie, shy from their attention.

"Mari..." says Dean, just as surprised to see me.

"What are you guys doing here?" I ask, confused.

"We're uh, we're FBI agents. Just came to ask Maricela a few questions." The gentleman with long hair answers. "Is she home?"

"That's me," My eyebrows knit together. "Wait a minute, you're FBI agents?" I ask, not believing them as I eye up their suits.

"Yes." Dean and I locked eyes, and I could tell from his facial expression that he was hiding something.

"Let me see your badges." The words spilled out of my mouth.

They exchanged a look as if they didn't know what to do. They fumbled over their words before I cut them off.

"Well," I cross my arms. "Let's see it."

"Look, I don't think we need to—" Dean starts.

"Then you're not coming in. Plain and simple." I sass, standing my ground to the suspicious strangers.

Sighing in defeat, they pull their badges from their inner suit pockets. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose before taking their badges for a closer look. My eyes thoroughly examine their IDs, noticing an off detail, realizing why they were, or at least Dean was, hesitant about showing their badges. I hand them back before recrossing my arms.

"So... Jimmy, huh?" 'Dean' looks at me in confusion before the realization dawns upon his face. "I recalled you introducing yourself as 'Dean.'"

"Well, uh..." I see him struggle for an excuse. "I go by my middle name. Each time someone called for 'Jimmy,' my dad and I didn't know who they were referring to. So yeah, I—uh, I go by Dean."

I give him a 'you've got to be joking' look. He clears his throat and smiles, trying to play it cool.

"Right..." I stare at his face, hoping to magically remember where I knew him from—other than the day we met. Knowing my luck wasn't great, I brushed it off once again.

"May we come in?" Mr. Robert Plant asks.

With the faintest nod, I step aside to let them pass. Once they were in, I closed the door and led them to the living room. They settled on the couch and nervously smiled at me as I sat across from them.

"Are your parents home?" 'Dean' asks.

I shake my head. "No, they're not. But I'd rather get this done and over with, so please make this quick."

They nod before starting. "All right, tell us how you knew the victim. Then, walk us through what you saw last night."

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Luke and I had been friends for a while. I had the biggest crush on him. I figured he only liked me as a friend, so when he asked me to dinner, how could I have said no? He wanted to drive down to Kenosha and try this new restaurant."

"So, it was a date?" 'Dean' questioned.

"I guess you could call it that. Everything was going great until I stepped away to use the restroom. When I came back... Luke was with another girl." I replay the awful memory. "She was all over him. I was furious! Why ask me out, then allow some random chick to finish our date? It just didn't make any sense. But I refused to stay and watch, so I left..."

My voice began to waver as the emotions I felt the night before came rushing back.

"I called my best friend to come pick me up. While I waited, I decided to go back and confront him, giving him a piece of my mind. That's when I found him..." I hesitate, fearing they wouldn't believe the truth of what I witnessed.

I didn't expect them to, especially since the local cops didn't. For two sole reasons: One. Who ever listens to the crazy person who says monsters are real? Two. I was a minor, and no one takes you seriously if you're under the age of 18—even then.

"Found him..?" 'Dean' asks, sitting at the edge of his seat. My eyes found his, and just for a moment, I felt safe in the comforting pools of green.

My lips part, contemplating what to say next. Hesitation got the best of me, so I settled on; "Dead."

They nod, taking in my statement. "You told the police you saw a monster kill Luke."

I give a dry laugh before nodding in agreement, my gaze wandering. "Yeah, I did."

"Is there anything more you can tell us about this so-called 'monster' you saw?" Robert questions.

"What's the point? You're not gonna believe me. No one else does." I shrug.

"Hey," 'Dean' made it a point for me to make eye contact with him before saying, "We just want to help. So, try us."

I bit the inside of my cheek while frantically searching his beautiful green irises for clarity. His brows furrowed, woven with hope yet silently pleading to trust him. So, with a deep breath, I confessed. "When I went back, he—uh, he was on the ground, and she was... eating him. She looked human, but her face—it changed."

"Changed? Changed how?" Robert eagerly inquired.

"I swear it warped into something snake-like."

The men exchanged glances before fixing their attention back on me. "How did she escape?"

"She heard other people coming near us and ran off. I tried running after her, but she turned a corner and was gone. I called the cops but not before seeing the huge gaping hole in Luke's chest." I numbly say as I stare off into thin air, as his lifeless and mutilated body flashes behind my eyes.

"All I know is whatever that thing is, ain't human. She's a monster, and I swear, she's gonna get what's coming to her." I seethe.

After persuading me to tell the truth, they tried convincing me what I witnessed, what that monster did to my friend, wasn't real.

"Look, Mari," 'Dean' started. "Forget what you think you saw, all right? Cause monsters aren't real. The sooner you realize that the sooner you can cope with your loss."

"My partner's right. It's easy to think that some—" Robert lifts his fingers to add air quotes. "—'monster' could be responsible for your boy friend's death, but the FBI can assure you, there's no such thing. In certain traumatic events, the witness can alter reality the more they try to remember what happened. It could just be that you have an overactive imagination. It happens all the time, especially in kids. I think that's what's going on here."

I glare at them in disbelief. How dare they come into my house and feed me lies—telling me I have an 'overactive imagination.' As natural as breathing, I begin expressing my anger.

"I don't care who you are—I know what I saw. This thing will continue to kill people until it's caught. So why don't you quit wasting your time selling me something I ain't buyin' and find the damn thing!" I say each and every word louder than the last, anger fueling the fire they only fanned higher.

Silence fell between us. It was evident that my outburst caught them off guard, but I couldn't care less. Time and energy were being wasted by trying to convince me otherwise. I take a deep breath and collect my thoughts before getting up from the couch to walk out of the living room.

"Now, if there's nothing else you need from me—" I say while opening the front door. The men take my hint and begin walking towards me. Robert delivers a stiff smile before walking out of the house, leaving me alone with 'Dean.'

"Thank you for your time." He mutters before exiting my home.

"Hey, Page," I called just after he walked down the porch steps. He pivots to meet my gaze. "If you don't find this thing, I will."

With a nod, he turns back around and heads for his car. As soon as they drove away, I threw myself into research. I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew these two from somewhere.

I soon found myself down a rabbit hole.

"Oh shit..." I murmur, finding what I was looking for but not what I expected. Then, it all dawned on me.

Sam and Dean Winchester.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin. That's where I knew them from. They came in January of 2007 and took hostages in a bank before escaping, dressed as SWAT agents. They were a huge story, especially since they were wanted for other heinous crimes. Those of which included—credit card fraud, breaking and entering, disturbing a crime scene, impersonation of law enforcement, assaulting an officer, breaking out of jail, mass murder, kidnapping, arson, grand theft auto, grave desecration, and lastly, desecration of corpses. I felt sick to my stomach, knowing I was alone with them. Yet, all I could think about was what they wanted and why they didn't hurt me if they had such a rap. My mind kept racing and racing until I made a plan.

After an hour, I had a theory on what kind of monster killed my friend. So, I decided to confront the mystery men and pray they really were here to help. After changing, I traveled down to the city where they stayed.

I pulled up to the motel and braved myself with a deep breath before exiting my car. I clutched the gun in my purse as I walked over to their room. With determination, I knocked on their door. My heart hammered against my rib cage, wondering if what I was doing was a mistake. Dean opened the door, and his eyes instantly widened. I brush past him and walk into the middle of the room while taking a quick scan, ensuring it was just us three before turning to face them. Without wasting a beat, I jump into business.

"I know who you are," I assert with as much confidence as my voice could muster. "Sam and Dean Winchester."

Their faces dropped at the mention of their real identities.

"Now," I begin. "I want the truth. Who are you."

"Well, if you know our names, you should already know who we are," says Sam.

"I read what the articles wrote about you, even what law enforcement officials have tried charging you with before you were 'killed.' Yet, here you are: alive." I take the loaded gun out of my purse and aim at the brothers. "So tell me, who are you."

The men raised their hands in surrender, no doubt startled to see me wield a deadly weapon. What'd they expect? That I'd walk into the lion's den unarmed? I might be foolish, but I'm not stupid.

"Woah, woah. Mari, put the gun away. It's not a toy." Dean said, taking a step closer.

"No shit, Sherlock." I steady my trembling hands. "Now, somebody better start talking, or I'll start using this thing."

"Okay! Okay!" Dean shouts after hearing the click of the safety release from the trigger. "We'll tell you. Just please, put it down."

I hesitate but lower the weapon at a 45-degree angle, not ready to put it away completely. "You're right. I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam. But we're not what everyone says we are. We're... we're hunters."

My brows narrow in confusion. "Hunters?"

"We hunt monsters. We try to save as many people as we can. It's our family business."

I take a deep breath before saying, "I thought you said monsters weren't real."

The brothers seemed to relax when I put the safety back on before shoving the gun back into my purse.

"We had to. It was for your own good. You're too young to learn about the things that go bump in the night." Dean says before sitting at the table near the window, across from Sam.

"I appreciate it, but I can make that decision on my own."

"If you really want to know, it was a Lamia that killed Luke," Sam says, trying to ease the tension between his brother and me.

I nod. "Yeah, I know."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "You know?"

"Yeah," I pull out the folded paper I printed earlier. He gets up from his chair, walking closer so I can hand it to him. "I did some research and came across it. Figured it could be a possibility."

"So why did you come here?" Dean asked.

I shifted my eyes to meet his. "Because if those allegations were true, you would've killed me. And you didn't... You came to me, looking for clues to—to help. Bad guys don't do that."

I watch as his eyes soften. He gives me the tiniest smile before nodding.

"Now, how do we kill this thing?" I ask.

"No, no, no." Dean gets up from his chair and walks over.

"What? I'm going to help you kill it." I declare.

"I don't think so, sweetheart." He quickly towers over me. "Leave it to the adults."

"You don't scare me, Dean Winchester," I say confidently.

The truth is, I was—just a little. His lips parted as if he was going to say something back but he didn't.

"I think it's best if we take care of this," Sam interjects.

I fought with them long and hard until I finally wore them down. They agreed I could come with them as long as I stayed out of the way.

We ascended the steps of the church and pushed the heavy doors open. The men led the way before stopping in front of the altar. I gasped once I saw the priest's dead body lying on the floor with his throat cut open.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed. "She got to him first."

"What do we do?" I ask, frightened.

"Call Bobby," said Sam before the Lamia made her way from the back room.

Dean whipped out his phone and dialed whomever Sam referred to.

"What's another way to kill a Lamia?" he eagerly asks. He looks to the priest lying at his feet before saying, "It didn't pan out. What's Plan B?"

While Dean took instructions, the Lamia charged toward us. She dodged Sam's punch before grabbing his clothes and flinging him across the room. He hit the pillar before shouting for his brother. Ignoring me, she runs over with supernatural speed and snatches him away from the column that kept him upright. Dean sprints to the back room just before the Lamia throws the tall man to the floor like he was nothing.

She then straddles him, wrapping one hand around his neck before hissing. Her fangs and forked tongue were on display, just like they were the first time I saw her. Fear freezes me in place, trapping me in the memory of Luke's murder. She uses her unoccupied hand to press her fingertips against Sam's chest as if she were going to plunge it into his body. He tries prying her hands away with no luck. The monster begins to dig her quickly, growing claws into the man, forcing out a pained cry. The sound of his torture pierces through my comatose state, snapping me out of it.

Without second-guessing, I feel my body rush towards the monster, tackling her off the youngest Winchester. I quickly crawl over and grab the knife near Sam. I stand, holding the large blade in front of me. She pants heavily as a slow smile spreads across her face. The same one that burned in my memory that fateful day.

That was enough for me to lunge the large knife at her. She quickly dodged and tried attacking back, only for me to do the same. I finally land a strike on her arm, slicing her skin open. Yet, just as fast as it appeared, I watched her heal. The sudden realization that she couldn't be weakened easily had hit me like a truck. She took the opportunity to jump me, knocking the knife out of my hand. We wrestled on the floor before her strength dominated.

"I remember you." Her voice spoke. "You're the girlfriend."

"Shut up." I hiss while trying and failing to push her off of me. Her taunting laughs echo off the church's walls.

"I've got to say, your boy toy tasted amazing." She adds to the torment. A fresh set of tears fills my eyes. I turn my head and see the knife not too far away. I look at her again while I reach for the knife. "Don't worry, sweetie. He didn't suffer... that much."

My fingertips lightly grazed the edge of the handle. With one last stretch, I grasped onto it, and with one swift motion, I jammed the blade into the monster's throat.

"I said—" Her eyes widen in shock before I yank the knife out. "Shut up!"

She stumbled off, allowing me to get away. I push myself off the ground and run towards Sam, still lying on the floor.

"C'mon." I pull him up with all my strength before shifting some of his weight onto me.

We stumble to the back room where Dean was with the Lamia on our asses. Once we were in the kitchen, Dean tossed what seemed to be herbs out of the bowl he held at the evil creature. She flinched as if it had stung while Dean pulled the stove away from the wall. The monster fixed her eyes on the older Winchester, ready to pounce. I threw myself in her path before she—very easily— flung me out of the way. I groaned in pain as I tried to sit up. Sam followed my actions, only for him too to be cast aside.

"Fire in the hole!" Dean shouted before lighting the gas that seeped out of its line.

We watch as the Lamia burns to a crisp while listening to her violent shrieks. Once she was dead, Dean cut the gas, putting out the fire. My chest rises and falls, trying to calm down yet attempting to register everything that just happened. Dean walks in front of me and offers me a hand. I hesitantly accept before he pulls me off the floor.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

I nod with reassurance before Sam walks over to us. "I'm fine."

"It's over now." Dean rubs my back. "She can't hurt anybody else."

After the hunt, they took me out to dinner. It was less eating, at least for me, and more them giving me the talk about all that is dangerously real in the world. It goes without saying I became a hunter that day. Once I turned 18, I made it a full-time job. As much as Dean hated the fact that I fell into hunting and as much as he tried to stop me, I would help them on cases if we were near one another. After hunts, we always found time to hang out. They became my closest and most trusted friends, family even. We were always there for each other, especially at our lowest. Sam was the big brother I never had, while Dean was the crush I never seemed to get over.

Since the day I met him, my feelings for the older Winchester have only grown stronger. Each moment spent with him was bittersweet, knowing I was so close yet so far away from where I craved to be. But anything was better than nothing at all. Even with Sam's year-long encouragement, I refused to tell his brother how I felt in fear of rejection. The timing was another reason I hadn't confessed my undying love as each Big Bad became worse than the last. Things got a little more complicated when every angel fell from Heaven only to receive worse news when I called Dean to question 'The Global Meteor Shower.'

"Mari," Dean's hoarse voice spoke. "It's Sam... He's in the hospital."

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist here!

tags: @k-slla @jaredpadonlyyyy

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Note

For the drabble requests…..mechanic Tom Bennet 😌

“That mechanic you go to must be awful,” your father announced as you were about to leave; your face flushed instantly.

“What makes you say that?” you probed cautiously.

“Always got you goin’ back!” he answered. “Makes more problems than he fixes, I think. You should find a new one.”

If only he knew why you’d never find another mechanic; hopefully, he’d never find out.

Tom was wiping his hands with a rag when you stepped into the garage, standing up from kneeling in front of the grill of the car nearby. The click of your heels on the concrete caught his attention, and as soon as he saw you, he gave you a confident smirk. “Transmission again, eh?” he asked sarcastically.

You nodded slightly, eyes running over him— he was covered in grease, most of all on his arms that were displayed beautifully by the white sleeveless shirt. His cover-alls were unzipped and hanging at his hips, sleeves tied like a belt… what was the point of wearing those if they weren’t actually covering him? Shouldn’t a cover-all be covering all?

Whatever, you didn’t care— he looked fucking sexy, and annoyingly, he knew it.

As he approached you, reaching for your waist, you hesitated. “You’re dirty, Tom,” you noticed. “You’ll stain my dress.”

"I think you like me dirty," he replied with a purr, grabbing you roughly and pulling you into him; he took a deep breath by your hair, snarling a little. "You smell so fuckin' good..."

"You smell like motor oil," you giggled.

"Yeah? And I bet it's making you wet already."

Before you could chide him for being so crass (and accurate) he spun you around and shoved you up against the hood of the glossy black car closest to you both. Whimpering but relenting to it, you spread your legs out of instinct.

“Been too fuckin’ long,” he grunted against your neck as he pushed your dress up your thighs and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. “Should know better than to make me wait so long, love— m’not gonna be all gentle an’ sweet with you now. Know you like it like that.”

A chill ran up your spine as you held tighter onto his shoulders. “S-sorry,” you whimpered, trying to stay quiet knowing the other mechanic was just outside the garage entrance. "I was gonna come sooner, but..."

“Old man’s onto us, isn’t he?” he grinned, seeming almost proud of it even though he should know how bad it would be if you were found out. “That or he’s gonna cave and buy you a new car.”

“We can’t afford tha— oh!”

You interrupted himself as you felt his cock press up to you through his cover-alls and your lace panties— he was so hard already, and the thickness of him always made your head spin.

His hand grabbed your jaw and turned your face towards him for a sudden and rough kiss— he always took complete control of you when he kissed you, and you always let him with no protest at all.

He shoved his cover-alls and boxers out of the way just enough to let his erection bounce free, and hooked a finger in your panties a moment later to pull them to the side. He warned you about his impatience, but it was still all so sudden, and you gasped as he shoved his cock inside you in a moment.

"Fuckin' tight," he noticed with a groan instantly. It was almost too much; you dug your nails into his shoulders and hid your face in his chest as he split you open. You were plenty wet, even without any preparation at all, but he was still big enough for it to sting for the first few thrusts.

As the pain faded, though, you sighed and let your head tilt back; with one arm around your waist, he smiled proudly down at you and lifted his free hand to hold the back of your limp head.

"Missed this, eh? Missed getting fucked so good, I know, m'gonna give ya what y'need."

You were begging him for it already, chanting his name between whimper-y moans. He kept his grip iron-tight on your hips as he drove into you over and over; it wasn't too long before you fell back and laid on the hood, letting each thrust rock your body up and down as you held onto his wrists for some stability.

He grinned down at you with that cocky tilt to his smile, watching your eyes roll back... he even roughly tugged the top of your dress open to grope your tits and watch them bounce, too. "Good girl," he praised with a deep voice, "good fuckin' girl."

"M'gonna— fuck, Tommy," you sobbed.

"I know, I know," he cooed, "can't help it, can ya, love? Go ahead, you can come."

His permission was sort of moot, you were already falling over the edge, back arching up off the car with a loud gasp of his name. He fucked you even harder through it, praising and egging you on, until he couldn't take anymore and spilled inside you.

With his forehead on your shoulder, he slowly caught his breath, leaving stray kisses along your collarbone. "Better go back home soon, love," he whispered, "tell your old man you got a new transmission."

You let out a long sigh. "Can't you hold me a little longer?"

He pecked your cheek. "Okay," he agreed, rubbing your side with his thumb gently. "You can stay as long as you like... if you don't mind Jimmy coming in and seeing you like this."

Groaning, you sat up and collected yourself; he laughed a bit, pulling out quickly so you could get up and put your panties back in place. He watched you proudly, and you knew he was already imagining you having to go about the rest of your day with his come dripping out of you.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he assumed.

"I-I dunno, Tom, we should be a little more discreet..."

He nodded while you pulled your shawl up over your shoulders. "Yeah, we should... but I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?"

You bit your lip. "Yeah, you will."

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #mechanic!tom bennett #ewan mitchell

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mediocreanomaly · 10 months

Text

Uncanny Vash HC’s (SFW)

Authors Note: I’m sweating I have so many drafts to get out so I'm going in order, I promise all your ask shall be answered let me feed the creature lovers rq tho- Uncanny Vash is funny and I like to think about weird creature boyfriend, some repeats from the cuddling HC’s because this was already in the works but suck it up buttercup

• I’ll start easy with my “Vash purr’s” propaganda because Vash 100% purrs

•Only thing is he’s not a small animal, he’s a full grown man (plant?) so his purring is a bit different, it’s pretty loud and sounds like a rumbling motor rather than a soft rattle, and often sounds like it comes from every direction. It’s a bit unnerving if you don’t know it’s him making the noise

•It’s still soothing though, especially if your laying on his chest or if he’s laying on you? Let those vibrations sooth you to sleep, Vash happy purring naps are the best

• Staying on the topic of noises, Vash can do that chattering thing cats do. He doesn’t do it unless he’s with people he’s close with but if he’s interested in something you’ll just hear “ack ack ack ack” and turn to see him laser focused on something chittering away

•Vash’s eyes do that animal reflection thing, and it’s honestly terrifying to wake up to at night and although he knows they do this he some how never comprehends how scary it is to see him looking at you in the dark

•I see it like that one south park audio: *Everyone in the dark* Meryl: “Y/N I’m starting to think this is a really bad idea” Milly: “Oh I’m not Y/N, I’m Milly! I thought you were Y/N?” Meryl: “No I’m Meryl” Wolfwood: “You’re Meryl? Where’s Y/N?” Meryl: “Who are you?” Wolfwood: “I’m Wolfwood!” Vash who’s eyes are currently glowing in the dark: “ha ha guess who I am you guys!”

•All of Vash’s proportions are just ever so slightly off, it’s a plant thing, you’ve seen his sisters. This is one that freaks people out because sometimes they notice it but can’t figure out what they are seeing

•Basically: his arms and legs are just a little too long, his fingers stretch a bit too far, his eyes are a little too big, he’s a bit too tall, all stuff that once added up are kind of hard to pick out when your looking at him as a whole, so you know something is off about this man but you just don’t know what...

•Teeth? Teeth. Vash has fangs, in fact most his back teeth starting from his canines are pretty sharp. You don’t really notice unless he yawns and you watch as all his sharp back teeth are flashed in his gaping mouth and- oh he stopped yawning don’t worry about it

•Vash can drink water with his skin. His sisters have to live in the tanks and take in water through their skin and while Vash prefers to drink like a normal human he can totally dip his hand in anybody of water and it’ll hydrate him. It’s a party trick his does for the group and it freaks Wolfwood out when he drains a cup with his hand

•Vash frog blinks lmao. If he stares at something for too long or is really focused he’ll blink one eye and then the other, he can’t help it

•Speaking of which, Vashes eyes are triple eyelided like a crocodiles, which means he can be asleep and his eyes are wide open. It also means when he frog blinks you can see the other eye lid if you stare hard enough, scares a lot of bar goers who happen to look a bit too closely

•One time Milly had a whole conversation with Vash thinking he was awake but he was not. He was asleep. It’s that damn extra eyelid...if he’s really tired he falls asleep with his eyes open like that. It’s weird.

•He doesn’t keep body heat very well. Maybe it’s due to the fact his sisters live in water but he likes being in the sun to soak up it’s warmth (why else do you think he can wear that coat in the heat?)

•Vash...if he’s distressed will make this noise. You’ve only heard it once when a city was destroyed and he thought you were dead but...it’s like a howl or animal in pain? It echoed through the entire desert and your body had a visceral reaction to it like it was warning you of a feral animal not to be messed with. When you had stumbled out of the rumble the noise had ended as Vash quickly scooped you up into his arms sobbing telling you never to do that again, it still keeps you up sometimes when you think about it

•Vash...somehow? blends in with his surroundings very well. It’s kind of weird, if he stands still its like...hard to see him? but it shouldn’t be, logically this man in a bright red coat should not be able to be missed but sometimes it’s like your brain forces you not to see him. He knows it freaks people out so he talks with his hands and moves a lot so it doesn't happen

•Feathers! Vash sprouts feathers. Usually it’s when he’s very content or happy although it can happen in extreme distress too. They look like normal bird feathers but they shimmer slightly and they feel weird like they’re made of hair, fern or something softer, Vash is pretty embarrassed about them but it’s super pretty

•Vash sometimes get’s places he shouldn’t be able to get to. Your motel room will be fully locked with no key and you’ll open it to see the blonde on the bed and he’ll just wave like it’s no issue. Trust me don’t ask how he got there

#vash x reader #vash x you #uncanny vash #trigun x reader

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strqwberry-cqke · 3 months

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I was in the mha fandom when it first got popular (sadly) and i remember the wing guy fics where his feathers were really sensitive and im thinking about that for husk. Like what if the area around his wings are sensitive like how human spines are? How cute would it be to see angel gently stroking around that area on husk and he purring like a motor engine?

[husk laying in angels lap]

[angel reaches out to rub his back. Husk is fine as angel goes down his shoulders, but shivers and his wings perk up as angel strokes down between them]

Husk: “Hmph”

[angel quietly stares wide eyed at husker whos face is turned away. He keeps going with the same light up and down movement on husks back]

[husk beging to purr uncontrollably]

Angel: “aw you like that kitten”

[husk smacks angel with his wing]

#hazbin hotel #shitpost #writing #hazbin huskerdust #hazbin husker #husker hazbin hotel #huskerdust #husker x angel dust #husker x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk #hazbin angel dust #angel hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust #angel

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hotmessmaxpress · 3 months

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A/B/O bond rejection au where vale bites marc shortly before argentina but because of how badly it goes and because of sepang, the bite doesn’t heal and just festers with vale’s rejection of him until half of his body is basically unusable and he finally collapses and vale has to grow up and pick up the pieces

Tw: a bit of body horror (slightly worse, maybe, than the body horror already canon in marc’s life?)

(Somewhere in the realm of 2500 words)

At first it’s just itchy and a little painful, but then it darkens and scars, and eventually black veins start to spread from it like spiderwebs. Marc has to wear a bandage over it to hide how disgusting it looks.

Doctors throw out words like “retirement” and “care home” and “palliative care”. He’s told that unless his alpha either releases his bond or he bonds to someone else he’ll die. Marc, stubborn Marc, refuses. He will never bond to another alpha again, even if it saves his life.

The bite becomes so painful that Marc moves in a haze, arm often tucked into his pockets to disguise how it otherwise hangs limply at his side. His chest hurts when he breathes too hard and he can’t fully turn his neck.

He takes painkillers almost constantly now, instead of just when riding, but it’s become apparent that it’s not enough. The infection has spread from the bite to his heart and down his arm, and he knows his brain is next.

It’s Luca who finds him, collapsed between motor homes, neck gauze soaked through in blood and black pus. He nearly gags, but he drops to his knees and checks for a pulse. Marc’s eyes wrench open as Luca grabs his phone to call an ambulance, and Marc grabs his wrist.

“No. There’s nothing they can do,” he says, curling up on himself. “I need Alex.”

“How did this happen?” Luca says, filled with panic and anxiety about his brother’s former lover. He thinks of Bezz, their own pack omega, being in pain and nearly wants to wrench his hair out. He is overcome with the sudden urge to find his teammate and bury his nose in his neck.

More pressing matters, however, lay trembling in his arms.

“What is Alex’s phone number?”

Marc repeats it and Luca calls. Alex doesn’t answer, so Luca sends him a text with one hand, begging him to find them.

Luca pulls Marc up, letting him rest his head against his chest. He may not be his alpha but he’s still an alpha, and he hopes that gives Marc some comfort. Marc nuzzles his head against Luca’s collarbone.

“He rejected me,” Marc finally explains. “He bit me but then he rejected me. An incomplete bond— it’s fatal. It infects the rest of your body until it kills you.”

Luca feels himself shake from the effort of not crying out.

“How can we fix it?”

“You can’t,” a voice from behind them says, harshly. “Only your brother can, and he’s made it clear that he’d never do anything to help Marc, regardless of the consequences.”

Luca flinches but Alex doesn’t care, instead moving toward the two and gently peeling Marc away from Luca. Marc immediately buries his head in Alex’s neck, who purrs soothingly.

“I’ll talk to him,” Luca croaks. “Please let me. I can’t— if I’d known—“.

“He won’t,” Marc says wetly, without moving his face. “You can try but I know he won’t.”

Alex helps Marc to his feet, and begins guiding him the short distance to their shared motor home.

Luca watches for a moment, terrified, before he runs.

Bezz finds Luca screaming. He’s never heard him this way, and when he realizes Luca is screaming at Vale, he’s stunned. He’s not sure who to comfort— his instincts scream at him to intervene, but his feet feel frozen to the floor.

It’s Luca who makes the decision; as soon as he smells him enter the garage he turns, throwing himself at Bezz and scenting him. It’s then that Bezz realizes he’s crying.

“Maro,” he breathes worriedly.

Vale is standing there, watching them both.

“Vale… what happened?”

Vale doesn’t respond. He walks over, tucks his face close to Luca’s, and presses a kiss to Bezz’s head.

“Take care of Luca. I’ll be back.”

Bezz drags Luca to the pack room of the VR46 motor home, and is happy to find Pecco and Cele lounging around. He deposits Luca on one of the long loungers and then climbs on top of him, resting his entire weight against the alpha and keeping his face firmly pressed against his scent gland.

Pecco and Cele sense something is wrong immediately and tuck themselves around the two. Pecco brushes Luca’s hair back, who is still shaking.

“What happened?” Cele asks, eyes wide.

Bezz reaches for him, sensing his distress, and takes his hand.

“It’s Marquez— did you know he and Vale bonded?”

Bezz feels himself tense, and Luca whines, so he forces himself to relax again.

“What?” Bezz hisses.

“No they didn’t,” Pecco says, stunned.

“They didn’t do it all the way I guess. Vale bit him and then they had their falling out and now Marc is going to die. I didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. You should have seen it, oh my God.”

Bezz purrs to try and comfort Luca as he continues.

“He looked terrible. I found him collapsed— it explains why his riding has been so terrible. He was bleeding and his neck was infected. He said the doctors can’t do anything. It’s Vale’s fault,” he sobs.

Bezz has trouble having empathy for Marquez, normally. He knows what Vale has said— that Marc is a dangerous rider and should not be allowed on track and that he ruined Vale’s championship. He’s seen Marc’s danger on track firsthand.

Still… he doesn’t deserve to die, even if Bezz hates him.

“But Vale will fix it right?” He asks, finding himself anxious.

Surely Vale wouldn’t let someone die. He’s too good for that. He would never, never treat an omega poorly. Vale has always supported Bezz and ensured without a shadow of a doubt that Bezz’s omega status would never be a detriment. He’s always kept him safe and loved and supported by his pack, swift to correct anyone who doesn’t treat Bezz well. Surely Vale would never hurt an omega so deeply, even if it is Marc.

“I don’t know,” Luca whimpers

Pecco runs a hand down Bezz’s back, and it’s only then that he realizes he too has begun shaking. He presses himself closer to Luca, both to comfort and be comforted. He needs to feel safe and reassured. The thought that any of the boys would do that to him— leave him half-mated and slowly dying— fills him with such distress that he knows the others sense it.

Pecco rises and comes back with blankets, and Bezz leaves Luca only enough to make a makeshift nest around the four of them.

Cele puts a hand on the back of his neck, and he tilts his head so Cele can scent him. He hears the tapping of Pecco’s phone keyboard behind him, clearly rallying the other pack members to come comfort Maro and Bezz. Their pack needs to be together.

Alex might kill Valentino Rossi with his bare hands and teeth. He wants to tear into his jugular and rip it out in a spray of blood. It’s what he deserves for doing this to his brother. He deserves worse.

Still. When Vale turns up on their motorhome steps, smelling like distress personified, Alex knows he has to let him in.

He makes eye contact and growls, until he sees Vale’s shoulders dip and his eyes drop in submission. He growls once more for emphasis and his own satisfaction, not needing words to warn Vale against misconduct. Then he steps aside, and allows Vale to take unsure steps toward a delirious Marc.

Marc has been whimpering and crying softly since Alex dragged him here after his collapse, and when he sees Vale he whines and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Alex, please,” he whimpers.

Vale takes a staggering step toward Marc, as if in pain, and drops to his knees beside the bed where he is laying.

“Marc,” he says softly.

Marc opens teary eyes, and Alex clenches his fists.

Alex knows that something is passing between the two as he sees Marc relax. Vale turns to him.

“Please,” he says, and Alex closes his eyes for a brief moment.

“Marc?” He asks.

Marc nods, and despite every instinct screaming at him, Alex steps out of the room and closes the door. He refuses to leave, though, and instead parks himself just outside the door. He won’t give up Marc’s safety just to give them privacy.

Every instinct tells Marc to throw himself at Vale, to tuck his face in his neck and beg him to bite him again. The pain in his neck has lessened just at Vale’s proximity. He can only imagine how it would feel to be held by him.

Still, Marc knows he cannot.

He stares at the older man, blinking away tears. He has no idea how Luca got him here, or how he managed to get Alex to let him through the door.

“Vale?” He asks quietly.

Vale takes Marc’s hand, the one with blackened veins from the infected bite, and presses it to his lips.

Marc whines, and gives up resisting. He reaches for Vale, prepared for rejection again. Instead, Vale tugs him close, pressing Marc’s face into his neck.

Marc inhales, deep, letting Vale’s— his alpha’s— scent wash over him. It settles something deep in his bones, and he relaxes completely against the older man.

Marc floats from there. He remembers crying, sobbing, relaxing as Vale rumbles low in his chest. At some point Vale joins him underneath the blankets, allowing Marc to press himself against the full length of Vale’s body.

He loses himself in the sound of Vale’s low rumbling and his familiar scent. He’s pretty sure that it’s a fever dream and that he must truly be on the verge of death, but he enjoys it while it lasts.

At some point Vale’s phone buzzes, and he has a soft conversation in Italian that Marc’s brain is too sluggish to parse out. Vale has several more hushed conversations as Marc drifts in and out of sleep. At some point Alex returns, speaking to Vale in worried tones, but he leaves again shortly after.

Marc whines as he wakes one time, feeling sluggish. He flexes his fingers, grabbing onto Vale’s shirt. His arm doesn’t burn, for the first time in years. His body is exhausted and sore, like he’s just woken from a long nap he hadn’t meant to take.

“Vale?” he whimpers.

“Marc,” Vale soothes. “Good morning.”

“Morning?” Marc questions after a moment. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, or really what has happened.

“Yes. You’ve been recovering.”

Vale holds Marc’s hand up for him to see, and Marc stares unblinkingly at the smoothness of his forearm and bicep. He still sees blackness on his shoulder, near where he knows the bite is, but the infection of his arm has receded.

“How?” Marc questions.

Vale nuzzles behind his ear, and Marc realizes that it’s just Vale being near that has had such an effect on him.

“Oh,” he breathes.

There’s a long pause where he and Vale simply lay together.

“You’re really here?” he asks.

He feels Vale tense, and he shrinks away, afraid that now he has broken some spell and Vale is leaving. He wraps his arms around himself and bites back a whine.

Vale rumbles, low in his chest, and tugs Marc back.

“I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long. Why didn’t you tell me?” Vale asks.

Marc is afraid that Vale will leave if he says what he thinks, but he can’t help it.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he croaks, feeling like he’s cracking his chest open. “I didn’t want you to reject me again. I couldn’t take it. It hurt too much the first time. It was better to just let it happen.”

Vale makes a pained noise, and Marc shrinks away again.

“Shh,” Vale soothes, running a hand down Marc’s arm. “I’m not angry with you.”

Vale shifts so Marc can tuck his nose against Vale’s neck, breathing in his scent.

Vale is quiet for a long moment. “I should have done a lot of things differently. We can talk about it all later. For now you need to heal.”

“How?”

Vale snorts. “Did you ever actually talk to a doctor about this?

Marc grumbles, and Vale laughs.

“You’re stubborn.”

Marc growls.

“Alex and I talked. And I called a real doctor. We can reverse everything.”

Marc yanks away, dizzy with the force of sitting up and scrambling away from Vale so quickly.

“No!” he squawks.

Vale stares at him in shock, hands held up in surrender.

“No, please,” Marc begs. He knows it’s killing him but he doesn’t want the bond to be reversed. He knows it’s nothing good, not even a real bond, but the thought of it being gone is painful. “Please, Vale.”

“Why would you want to stay sick?” Vale asks, hurt coloring his features.

“Please don’t take it away from me,” Marc whimpers, pressing his hands to the bite.

At once, understanding dawns on Vale’s face.

“No, no, no,” he says, emphatically. “Not like that, Marc. We can fix the bond.”

Marc’s brain whites out in relief and he clambers onto Vale’s lap.

“Oh,” he says, dumbly.

Vale chuckles.

“You’ve been healing,” he says. “All it took was time together.”

Marc frowns, looking down at his arm and craning his head to try and see as close to the bite as possible.

“But you hate me,” he argues. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t hate you,” Vale breathes. “I tried, but it didn’t work. I have been mad for a very long time but I don’t think I can be angry any more.”

Marc huffs.

“We’ll have to talk about it.”

“I know. Heal first. Hard conversations later.”

Marc nods, allowing Vale to once again wrap his arms around him and scent him.

Vale presses the most gentle of kisses to the bite, which Marc knows must still be scarred and black.

“Does it hurt, still?”

Marc shakes his head and then shrugs.

“I don’t remember what it’s like for it to not hurt. It hurts less now.”

Vale kisses it again, and Marc purrs. He has no idea who Vale talked to or how exactly Vale intends to fix him, but he can at least enjoy this new turn of events.

“Will you stay with me this time?” he can’t help but ask.

Vale pulls back enough to look him in the eye.

“I promise,” he says, and seals it with a kiss.

(A/n: in this universe, Mark never breaks his arm because he has enough body horror in his real life that I feel like if I add some, I need to take some away.

Also I know it’s controversial to make bezz the only pack omega but for the purposes of this I wanted him (certified Marc Hater) to be the only one on the team with the unique perspective of also being an omega and coming to the realization of “oh god would vale do that to an omega? Would he do that to me?”

Plus I love the idea of him being the One Special Boy, Center of Attention in the academy but then Marc and Vale fix their whole mating thing and now Vale has His Own Omega hanging around. And bezz is SO JEALOUS, literally pussy out growling and basically begging Marc to fistfight him in the parking lot

Until vale finally long-sufferingly sighs and grabs him by the back of the neck and shakes him, then kisses him (on the forehead? Side of the head? Straight on the mouth?) and reaffirms to him that even though Marc is around Bezz will always be his and the pack’s Most Specialest Boy

also Bezz being the only omega gives me an excuse to fantasize about him being the center of a vr46 academy gangbang but let’s not get carried away

#rosquez #motogp fic #valentino rossi #marc marquez #posting this then going to sleep lollll please don’t hate me #rosquez a/b/o au

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dovakiinwitcher · 3 months

Text

Roy's Little Experiment

It had been a loooong day. Then again, that could be said for every day in Gotham. Robberies, muggings, drug deals-- Jason had seen everything short of murder.

Perhaps that made it a successful day.

Even so, he was exhausted. It was such a relief when the bunker he currently shared with Roy came into view. (Technically, they also shared it with Kori, but she was off-planet at the moment.) Either way, Jason was just happy to be home, however temporary or empty it may be.

The lights were mostly off, which was likely for the best; he could feel a headache coming on. The moment he was inside, he pulled off his helmet, shaking out his hair and running a hand through it. He tossed the helmet and his jacket onto the old couch they'd fished from the dump, before making his way towards the only room emitting a faint glow.

It was relatively small, with a single frosted-glass window high up in the wall, leading out into an alleyway above. The bunker was underground; better to remain undetected. The walls themselves were solid concrete, though riddled with cracks. The ceiling leaked when it rained, so there were a few buckets or bowls scattered beneath the heavy stains. Everything in the room had to be strategically placed in order to remain dry.

Despite the rundown, ramshackle foundation, this was their work room. Tools and spare parts were carelessly left about; finished and half-finished projects were stored in stacked boxes away from the leaks; everything was disorganized in an orderly fashion.

And there in the middle of everything, sitting at a long table and tinkering with some kind of gadget, was the reason Jason had gone to that room in the first place.

Roy was hunched over, his brow furrowed in concentration. His eyes shined as he worked, fascination and determination emanating from him.

Jason rested against the doorframe for a moment, affectionately watching him deep in his current fixation. A small smile slipped onto his face; he's so beautiful, he thought to himself.

Roy finally caught notice of him out of the corner of his eye. Turning in his swivel chair, he grinned brightly at the man in the doorway.

"Heya, Jaybird," he greeted, setting down a screwdriver. Upon taking in Jason's visible exhaustion, he opened his arms invitingly. "C'mere, you."

Gratefully, Jason wandered over and sat by Roy's feet, laying his head on his lap. His thighs were warm and soft, comfortable like the best pillow Jason had ever rested on in his life. Although, that wasn't the only part he was looking forward to.

As Roy resumed working, one of his hands played with Jason's hair, gently carressing his scalp. Jason sighed contentedly, relaxing into his soft touch. Roy's nails lightly scratched behind his ears, chasing away that initial headache.

This was one of the few moments when Jason could let his guard down. His mind fogged over, devoid of any stressful thought, focused only on the gentle tingles awarded to him by Roy's hands. It was bliss; free, unburdened bliss.

Jason wrapped his arms around Roy's torso, pulling himself slightly closer, melting into him. His warmth sent a wave of calm over the undead outlaw, the strong scent of whiskey and motor oil filling his nose. He felt light as air right here, like putty in Roy's hands; nothing could ever harm him again, so long as he remained.

A low, contented rumble in his throat prompted an affectionate laugh from the archer.

"Did you just purr?" He chuckled, running his thumb over Jason's jaw.

"Mmph," he grunted in response, too bleary to form words. Roy laughed again, an angelic melody to Jason's ears.

"Someone had a long day, huh," he teased. He lightly traced his nails over Jason's neck, inducing a shiver through his spine. "At least this means you'll have no trouble sleeping tonight."

"...'s alright, now that 'm with you."

Pink dusted Roy's cheeks as he registered the uncharacteristically sweet words; he really was tired. A fond smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at the dark-haired man in his lap. He's so beautiful, Roy thought.

As he dragged his fingers slowly back up Jason's neck, he felt a light trembling. It took him a second to realize that it was not the ground shaking, but Jason. A twinge of concern sparked in his mind, though the shaking stopped once his fingers reached Jason's hair again.

That was... interesting.

Peering at what he could see of Jason's face, he repeated the motion. Jason's shoulders tensed ever so slightly, shaking beneath his touch. His ears burned red, and a reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Out of curiosity, Roy continued to trace his neck, watching his reactions closely. When he'd stop, so would Jason's trembling shoulders. Conversely, when he continued...

A puff of laughter escaped the typically-stoic man, his shoulders hunching to protect his sensitive skin.

Aha. A slow grin overtook Roy's face, gleeful at this realization. He's ticklish.

Somehow, for as long as the red-head had known Jason, he'd never once considered it, much less tested or asked. Even while at the manor, none of his several siblings had ever tickled Jason in Roy's presence.

That didn't matter at the moment; no, for the moment, Roy had him right where he wanted him.

"Jason~" His voice had a sing-songy cadence to it. The man tensed as Roy freed up his other hand, then started gently kneading into the knots in his shoulders. "Are you hiding something from me?"

To his amusement, Jason squirmed a little, though didn't move away. With just the tips of his fingers, Roy traced shapes into his back. Lightly, he clawed his nails up Jason's spine, watching in satisfaction as he started shaking again, cracking a rare smile.

"Gosh, you're so tense," Roy teased, now gently tapping his fingers one at a time out towards Jason's shoulder blades. The latter tightened his grip around Roy's waist, hiding his face deeper into the mechanic's thighs. "You should really relax a little."

Roy experimentally skittered his fingers under Jason's arms. They immediately clamped down, pinning his hands there. A small smirk spread across the red-head's face as he continued to lightly wriggle his fingers in the space.

This time, he got another breath of laughter as Jason tensed against him. He squirmed up, away from Roy's lingering hands, but they only fell to tweak his ribs.

Finally, Jason had to pull back, letting go of Roy and leaning away. "Quit beheing a dihick," he warned, nervous giggles slipping into his words.

Roy only moved out of his chair to push Jason in response, making him lose his balance. The second his back hit the floor, Roy straddled his pelvis, a devious grin adorning his features.

"You haven’t seen me be a dick, yet," he replied, hovering his fingers over Jason's stomach. The red-faced man below hugged himself protectively, more nervous giggles spilling over his lips. Roy cocked his head. "I'm not even touching you."

"Shuhut up," Jason retorted, hiding his face in his hands. That unintentionally left his torso open and defenseless. Roy took advantage of the opportunity, fluttering his fingers over his stomach.

Jason's hands shot down to grab Roy's wrists, though it did little to halt the fingers from digging into his hips.

Roy couldn't help but laugh along as Jason threw his head back and arched his spine. His cheeks puffed, and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep in his own laughter. The blush had spread over his ears too, now, only making him cuter in Roy's humble opinion.

"I can't believe you would hide this from me, Jaybird," he teased, pinching his way up Jason's sides. Clearly, the grip on his wrists tried to hold him at bay, but every little poke drained the strength from Jason's arms. "I mean, look at your face! You're so cute~"

"Stohohohop thahat!" Jason protested, shaking his head defiantly. "Ihihi am nohohohot!!"

"Aw, don't say that about yourself, Jay." Roy tugged his shirt loose from where it was tucked into his pants, slipping his fingers beneath the cloth. A startled yelp escaped Jason as he tried to push his wrists away (unsuccessfully). "You're absolutely adorable."

His fingers traced over Jason's defined abs, drawing out those giggles from before. He enjoyed how Jason jerked and trembled when he continuously poked up and down his sides.

"Ahahack!!" Jason squeaked, hunching his shoulders. "Quihihit being so mehehean!"

"I can't believe how ticklish you are, seriously." Roy ignored his plea, dancing his fingers over Jason's belly button and hips. "You're almost as red as your helmet right now! Oh my gosh, this is amazing."

With a sudden burst of strength, Jason surged forward. He bucked his hips to throw Roy off balance before grabbing his shoulders and rolling him over, switching their positions. Pinning Roy's wrists on either side of his head, he grinned devilishly down at the startled red-head.

"What about you, huh?" Jason's husky voice sent a shudder through Roy's body, and he stared wide-eyed up into his determined grey irises.

"U-uhm, I- what a-about me?" Roy swallowed hard, breaking away from Jason's intense gaze.

The dark-haired man's grin widened, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "How ticklish are you, Speedy? Why don’t we find out, hm?"

"Wahait, wait, I'm sorr-EEEEE!!!" Roy screeched as Jason's hands darted down to his underarms, digging into the soft skin. "Jahahay, plehehehease!!"

"What's the problem?" Jason teased, leaning his face closer to the squirming mechanic beneath him. "Can't take what you dish out?"

"Nohoho!!" Roy shook his head frantically, trying to wriggle out from under Jason's weight to no avail. "St-*hic*- stohohohop ihihit!!"

"Aww," Jason cooed, moving his hands down to Roy's hips. His thumbs kneaded into the crevices of his pelvis, eliciting a squeal quickly followed by hiccup-riddled giggles. "Who's red now, you little shit? Huh? Who's red now?"

"I haHAte yohohou!!" Roy's voice cracked as he pathetically batted at Jason's hands, which were now quickly traveling up his sides.

"Feeling's mutual, punk." There was a new glint in Jason's eyes as he plunged his fingers back into Roy's underarms. The red-head squirmed and thrashed beneath him, desperately kicking his legs. He threw his head back against the floor, gritting his teeth as he tried to retain some semblance of dignity.

With his neck now exposed, Jason seized the opportunity. He took a deep breath, then buried his face in the crook of Roy's neck, blowing a loud rasberry into it. The volume of that was nothing compared to the volume of Roy's shriek, which reverberated off of the exposed water pipe attached to the ceiling.

"NAHAhahoho!!" He writhed under Jason's touch, nuzzling against his cheek to try and push his head away. Jason didn't budge, peppering little kisses over his neck and jaw before once again blowing into the crook of his neck. "Dihick!! Yohohou're such a dihihihick!!"

"You started it," Jason retorted against his skin, now nibbling at his ear. His hands slipped out of Roy's underarms and down his ribs, dancing in the little crevices between each bone. "I'm simply returning the favor."

"Jahahay, plehehehease!!" He begged, pushing against his chest. "Cahan’t breheheheathe!!"

"Alright, alright," Jason sighed, sitting back and crossing his arms. Roy hugged himself, still giggling uncontrollably. "Now, what have we learned?"

Roy regained his breath, the giggles slowly puttering out. "Fuck around and find out?"

Jason planted a kiss on his forehead before unstraddling him and rising to his feet. "Pretty much," he shrugged, offering a hand. Roy took it, pulling himself up. Jason tugged him closer, wrapping a hand around his waist.

Roy rested his hand behind Jason's neck, tipping his head to lean his forehead again his own. "You're cute," he teased.

Jason slipped Roy's hand out from behind his neck and kissed the palm, closing his eyes. "And you're a little fucker who doesn't know when to quit."

The red-head laughed, rolling his eyes. "Right, the stubborn one here is me."

"What's this, an attitude?" Jason taunted, opening his eyes to peer at Roy. "Try me, Speedy; see where it gets you; I can go for round two."

He tweaked his hip, and Roy jumped away. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he grinned, catching Jason's wrist.

"Uhuh, I'm sure.”

#DC #batman #batfamily #jason todd #roy harper #jayroy #red hood #arsenal #sfw tickling community #tickle content #tickle fluff #tickle fic #tickle fight #t word community #t word #t word content

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flutteringfable · 9 months

Text

i’m having corrupted and dragon (you decide if those are separate aus or not) venti on the brain uh…. rb/comment with your finest headcanons and/or fic recs,,,,

here’s some hcs as payment <3

dragon venti!!

has dark blue horns and a tail. his tail has feathers and scales, think kinda like dvalins!

purrs when he’s happy!!!! i love the idea of him wrapped around you and purring so loud he sounds like a motor

will pull you close with his tail if he’s feeling protective. just wraps it around your waist and *yoink*

also just likes having his tail wrapped around you in general. it’s very soft, and his tail scales are more like those of a snake, so it’s surprisingly comfortable!

he can keep his wings hidden with his magic, but sometimes if he’s especially excited or irritated they’ll appear so he can flap them.

has some scales on his face and in various places on his body. depending on how much dragon he’s showing, they get sharper or softer. typically they’re snakelike, like his tail scales.

he’s really warm, despite not having fire abilities. if you’re cold, he’s happy to sprawl out on top of you and act as a blanket!

likes to make nests out of blankets and your clothes. missing a favorite shirt? well, too bad, it’s venti’s now.

dragons are typically protective of their nests, even if they know the person approaching doesn’t mean any harm, but venti is immediately happy to let you snuggle up in his. sometimes asks if there’s anything you’d like added, since you spend so much time napping with him there.

corrupted venti!!

gonna preface this by saying i do NOT have a background in writing possessive/yandere characters so sorry if this turns out a little cringe or not as spicy and edgy as you’d like lmao

despite being corrupt, he’s still the god of freedom. you’re never restrained from exploring or hanging out with other people, but venti does request that you at least let him know when you leave.

likes to be around you whenever he can, probably scares people a little as he stares at them from behind or beside you.

loves days when he can have you all to himself. don’t expect to get up at a reasonable time; venti’s gonna hold you so close that the comfort (and basically being trapped) will keep you in bed.

since you’re around him so much, you probably end up falling into corruption as well. maybe not as majorly as venti, but still enough to notice.

will protect you at all costs. will show up literally anywhere and everywhere to keep you safe, and celestia help whoever or whatever decided to attack you, because venti won’t be offering mercy.

#fable writes 💫#venti x reader #venti the bard #corrupted venti #dragon venti

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gallonofgoldfish · 5 days

Text

Flowers and Fireworks

Returning to business as usual on the ranch is hardly monotonous with Abby around. New faces and old trails make for good company, even if it means getting sidetracked.

Pairing: cowpoke!abby x reader (sort of)

Content: established relationship, brief cowboy ellie, fluff, poor attempts at writing southern accents (i dont even think theyre in the south), reader isn't described, sort of a part two?, author needs a cowboy partner asap, i know less about horses than before, i don't think any warnings apply

A/N: the brainrot is brainrotting. i wanted to write cowboy ellie but then got distracted by both abby and the excitement of a motor vehicle. had a very specific song stuck in my head while writing this but now icant remember what it was (something colter wall??). anyway hopefully this is a fun read even tho its not too eventful (and also was not proofread lolz). planning to have more ellie in the next part if it ever gets written bc we're going to the CLERBBBB

WC: 1508

You haven’t met her yet, but you’ve felt the tension in the air like something’s about to snap into place.

She’s the rookie. The new kid. The hotshot from some bigger, richer ranch further west with a reputation that stirs more talk than her name—whatever it might be. She’s the racer on the back of a chestnut mare in a denim jacket with rolled-up sleeves and workboots that must’ve lost their shine long before she came here.

And she’s lunging in the ring outside the stables, faded black hat crooked, casting a stubborn shadow over the leafy tattoo wrapped around her forearm. Choppy brown hair brushes her shoulders and burns a color like coffee in the dying sunlight.

Not that you care. You’ve got places to be, and she’ll fall in with the rest of the wranglers eventually.

Gravel crunches some ways down the road behind you, but Abby doesn’t kill the ATV’s engine in time to sneak up on you completely. She comes coasting down the dusty path, toothpick hanging from the corner of her mouth as she grins sideways at you and rolls to a stop.

“You talk to ‘er yet?” she asks, and the sun flashes over the lenses of her aviators when she tilts her hat out of the way.

“Not yet. You?”

Abby shakes her head. “Heard she ain’t done too much talkin’ to anyone yet.”

“Uh-huh.” You plant your hands on your hips and nod. “What else’d you hear?”

“Well, what’d you hear?”

“I asked you first.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, jerking her head at you. “Get over here and I’ll tell you.”

“You’re an ass,” you tease, but hop up onto the quad’s grate so your back leans against hers.

“What, I get one record and you think we’re some big-timers?” Abby scoffs, nudging you with her shoulder. Her braid shifts in the humid breeze. “We got work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” is all you mumble as the ATV purrs back to life and jolts towards the barns in the distance. “Tell me what you heard.”

“Not much,” admits Abby. “I mean, not much you don’t already know. She’s got just about the same story as the rest of us. Some ribbons under her belt.”

Dust kicks up from the tires, funneling right past the mudflaps to gather on your jeans. “She got a name?”

“Relax. I’m gettin’ there.” Abby leans to the side to shoot you a skeptical, if halfhearted, glance. “What’re you tryin’ to get under her belt, too?”

“Abby.”

She laughs, then turns her focus back to the road. “Ellie,” she finally says. “Ellie Williams.”

“Alright.” The smell of fuel mingles with the freshness of the tallgrass scrolling by on either side, either one a welcome break from the tinge of manure drifting in from the neighboring fields.

“Just alright?”

“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to say?” you ask. “I don’t know the girl.”

“I got a good idea.” The engine cuts again. The two of you come to a stop in the shadows just outside one of the stables, before the open sliding doors that stare right out over the mountains. Abby twists to look at you head-on. “How ‘bout you just tell me when we’re good to go?”

----------

“Y’know—” Your nose crinkles as you squint against the sun, shifting in the saddle with every step the horse beneath you takes. “I thought Manny was helpin’ you with this run.”

It’s muscle memory—tacking, adjusting, swinging up into the seat. Practiced. Routine. But it never gets old. Not the cool tones of the mountains shattering the skyline on the far side of the valley, or the steady gait of the horses as they fall into step beside one another. And definitely not Abby.

“He was,” she confirms. One hand holds the reins while the other settles her sunglasses on the brim of her hat. “‘Til he got busy.”

“With?”

The corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile. “The usual.”

“Sure.” You raise a brow. “And who’s the usual this week?”

“Beats me,” says Abby with a shrug. “Long as it ain’t you, it ain’t my problem.”

“Speak for yourself. The last usual kept leavin’ him notes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In the wrong fuckin’ bunk.”

Another grin creeps across her lips as she looks back. Gold falls over her freckled face, flooding the scar on her cheek with light.

“A little light readin’ never hurt nobody,” she teases.

“You think?” You tilt your head, unable to avoid the same expression writing itself into your features. “Then next time—”

She’s drawing away, picking up pace.

“Hey, now,” you call, but she doesn’t seem to hear. You nudge your horse’s side to urge them on. Still, though, Abby’s got a good lead. She passes under the low-hanging branches of the trees bordering the path, through a set of rusted iron gates.

Then, she flicks the reins and takes off.

“Abby!” you shout, and with no choice left but to do the same, chase after her.

A cloud of dust stirs up behind her, but you ride right through it, and soon, the trail falls away.

“I thought you said you got work to do!”

She laughs, easing up and straightening to drop back and match your pace when you slow. Tallgrass rises on either side of the makeshift path—trampled dirt and dust and the curled-up bodies of flowers unlucky enough to fall into the path of passing hooves.

“We do,” she says. “That don’t mean we can’t take our time.”

“It’ll be dark soon, yeah?”

“Not that much time.” Abby rolls her eyes and smiles. “We’re just takin’ the scenic route.”

“You know where we’re goin’?” you check.

“Just c’mon.” Turning back to the trail ahead, she nudges her horse to a quicker gait. The unbuttoned front of her flannel flutters around her, giving way to the thin white tank top underneath.

The ground slopes down, further into the field, as the sun fades over the jagged peaks. Through the yellowed straw and the waves of rippling green, pops of color appear where bright flowers have pushed through the soil and bloomed.

“You ever been this way before?” asks Abby.

You shake your head. “Not that I remember.”

The field is glowing, burning under dusk’s light. She’s glowing with it.

“Well, then.” She shoots you a wink. “You’re in for a treat.”

Just like that, she’s off again.

The rough path winds down the ridges in the hill, between weeping trees with lazy, swaying branches that force you to duck. Over wooden planks laid out across the marshier parts of the lower pastures and a bridge where a dried-up river leaves a gash in the ground. Back up another slope, another patchy flower field, another grove.

Until Abby stops to look back at you.

The Ranch sprawls over the acres of land before the two of you, windows lit in the bunkhouse and the barns and lanterns burning alongside the settled paths. The dark shapes of other hands wander like ants across the grass, while the mingling shadows of cattle fill the squares of plains just below.

“Wait,” Abby urges. The horses paw boredly at the dirt, but, like you, remain in place as the warm summer breeze snakes around you. “Heard about this from a friend last time I was in town.”

You shoot her a curious glance.

“Don’t look at me.” She waves you away, grinning, and points towards the horizon instead. “Over there.”

The first stars are peeking through the bluish parts of the sky, just where it meets the hills. There’s a flash. A burst of red sparks.

“Fireworks?” Even from afar, their light unfurls over your face.

“Sure are.” Abby falls silent as the bang from the explosion crashes, muted, through the valley. “They had some leftovers from the fourth.” She sighs, then asks: “Some view, ain’t it?”

Another smattering of colorful bursts erupts over the hills. Another chorus of pops thunder over the grass. The sky changes from one color to the next, smoke gathering in thin gray wisps along the skyline, before you look away.

The lights dance in the lenses of Abby’s aviators where they’re still sitting on her hat, but don’t quite reach her eyes. She hasn’t been watching the fireworks at all; she’s been looking at you instead.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning over to kiss her. “Some view,” you say against her lips.

“Anyway—” Clearing her throat, she straightens, then jerks her chin towards the cattle in the field below. “Race you down there.”

“Hey—”

But she’s already gone. Racing back down the hillside, still bathed in the far-off lights.

“You’re gonna owe me a drink!” she calls, though she’s already dropped out of view.

After a last glimpse at the fireworks blooming over the ranch, you pick up the reins again and turn to follow.

The flowers and the fireworks blur, blooming and bursting against the shaded countryside. Lining the hills and lighting the sky and leading you.

Leading you right back to her.

#abby tlou #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #tlou2 #cowboy abby #cowboy ellie #abby anderson fic #tlou2 fanfic #save a horse ride a cowboy

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