#I can hear Bonnie and Midnight...

[sorrowful-star-rose]

I want to cry. I want to cry so badly, but I can't. The tears are right there, yet nothing's ckmjng out.

[waynes-multiverse]

Ok hear me out. I got this idea after the episode of Dean getting his "virginity" back and hooking up with the porn star when he's digging through her dresser and finds the DVD of her ANYWAY

Best friend Dean who's been pining after you for sooo long but doesn't want to fuck it up and lose you. You're hanging out when you ask him to go grab something from your room and he's digging through your drawers looking and accidentally comes across some lingerie and now it's days later and he's so hot and bothered cuz he can't think of anything else (the boy has a serious panty kink lets be honest) and you catch him in your room going through your drawers again and OH

A/N: As I warned y'all, this is a longer DD because, well, the prompt was long, so it's not really my fault. All that backstory took on a life of its own, but I think no one will be mad about it 😅 Again, I had tons of fun with this one! You'll see 🤣

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, a ridiculous heat wave, friends to lovers (Wayne's Version), crack, a panty kink, some sneaky fluff, and some hot lovin' aka smut (oral f & face sitting)

Word Count: 4.5k (whoops)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Cruel Summer

“You open the beaches on the 4th of July, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for Christ’s sake…”

As Jaws flickered across the screen in the Dean Cave, the green-eyed hunter adjusted himself in his seat. Usually, he had perfect control over himself and his feelings for you.

But on some days – like today – when you sat right next to him on the couch in nothing but a loose t-shirt and some short sweatpants, fanning yourself with an old magazine of Busty Asian Beauties as beads of salty sweat collected on your forehead and trickled down your neck, you made it hard for him.

“God, I’m so hot,” you sighed exhaustively and sunk further into the couch cushions, lifting your shirt from your sticky skin to let some cool air to your boobs as a heat wave ravaged through Kansas.

Painfully hard.

“Dean?” You pouted with your best puppy dog look at your best friend.

“Huh?” Dean was in trance, watching you more than the movie, always on the edge of getting caught one of these days.

“We’re out of Sour Patch Kids. I have more in my nightstand. Can you get them for me please?” you asked sweetly. “I don’t wanna move. I might actually die from heat exhaustion.”

Dean sighed and wordlessly rose from his seat. He knew you always kept an array of salty and sweet midnight snacks in your room in case you got hungry and didn’t want to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Moreover, he was grateful for the break. God knows he couldn’t stand to be around you any longer, or he would’ve been too tempted to rip your clothes off and really make you sweat.

I’ll show her a damn heat exhaustion, he thought with a scoff.

Hastily grabbing the desired snack, his green eyes then caught something red and lacy sticking out from the first drawer of your dresser. The hunter knew the decent and honest thing would’ve been to just keep moving and leave your godforsaken room.

Turn around, as Bonnie Tyler sang. But for some reason, his bright eyes couldn’t resist, his curiosity overtaking him.

Dean opened the drawer with the intention to push the naughty little clothing item back into its place and out of sight. Get rid of the temptation, so to speak. It sounded like the perfect loophole. He got to touch it and look at it, but for a very heroic and noble reason – not because he was a creepy perv, violating his best friend’s privacy.

On some level, Dean knew he’d never stand a chance with you. He wasn’t good enough. He had so much baggage all his suitcases wouldn’t even fit into the bunker.

A damn touch of a pair of panties you weren’t even wearing was all he would ever get from you.

But then his fingers touched the soft and see-through material, his pads tracing every delicate scarlet thread with precision and care. It was game over for him then and there, cursing himself internally for not resisting harder as his cock twitched joyfully in his jeans.

Dean had laid his eyes on you the second you strolled with swinging hips into that diner in Wichita for your very first case together, a werewolf hunt six years ago. And he had managed to get by without an incident for years since then, even when you moved into the bunker, being rather proud of that achievement. He never wanted to lose you as a friend and didn’t dare to cross a line. Ever.

Recently, though, it became more difficult to keep his distance and not let his thoughts wander. His feelings were magma that slowly had filled a volcano over the years. Each time you did something sexy or sweet or goofy or smart, another drop was added. And now, that damn fire mountain was overdue for an eruption – no thanks to that stupid heat wave.

“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly as the hunter handed you the candy but didn’t settle back down. Instead, he stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands on the backrest.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Dean was sporting quite the boner and wouldn’t dare to come into your line of view. He was surprised he could even walk up straight and not like a caveman early in the evolution.

A hunter gathering panties.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he told you with a somber clear of his throat. As the fan carried a breeze of your perfume to his nose, his grip tightened on the couch.

You turned in your seat and looked over your shoulder at him, raising a surprised brow. “Already? But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he excused and tried his best not to look strained. He forced a tight smile to his lips while his little dude celebrated Spring Break in his jeans. “‘Sides, we’ve seen Jaws like a million times now, Y/N.”

It was a cherished summer tradition between the two of you, watching it every 4th of July.

“I guess so.” You shrugged disappointedly, watching your best friend retreat to his room. Truth was, you loved spending time with Dean and held those little traditions close to your heart.

The Winchesters were your family, the only one you ever had. And while some families wore matching pajamas on Christmas morning, you watched the first two Die Hard movies. You would watch Dean’s favorite horror movies on Halloween. Sixteen Candles and High Fidelity on your birthday, Tombstone and The Great Escape on Dean’s, and some lame-ass foreign language documentaries that you both snored through on Sam’s.

Valentine’s Day was a dreaded non-holiday for all three of you, but for the past four years, someone would leave a box of chocolate in front of your door. The salted caramel ones would always be missing, and it always came with the same Forrest Gump quote:

I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

You knew the anonymous someone was Dean, and you knew he meant it as a joke. Still, you clung to those little traditions. They might seem silly and stupid to some, but to you, they were your lifeline in a world full of darkness.

So, you felt rather saddened Dean didn’t seem to honor them anymore. It wasn’t just Jaws, either. He’d been withdrawing from you for a while, and you didn’t understand why.

Unbeknownst to you, the green-eyed hunter had kept a lacy souvenir from your room.

Now, Dean had managed to avoid you for four days. Every night since his stealthy excursion, he would lie in his bed with your stolen panties in one hand and his throbbing length in the other, feeling goddamn pathetic for sinking so low.

It was probably so low that even his memory foam mattress would remember it.

With closed eyes, he then imagined how the perky globes of your ass would look like covered in crimson lace. How you would stretch out on his bed on all fours, with your ass high in the air and wiggling in front of him. How his fingers would push the wicked material aside to push into you, taking you deep and hard while you moaned his name.

As he ruined tissue after tissue, the guilt would wash over him as soon as he was done. Call it a post-nut epiphany.

Dean knew it was wrong to think those things. He knew he only made it harder for himself to ever look you into the eyes again. Hell, he barely could do it now, even though a part of him audaciously wondered what other treasures were hiding in that drawer of yours. And more pressingly, what ultimate wealth he would find beneath your clothes. If your lingerie was gold, he’d be a creepy-ass dragon sitting on it.

So, Dean tried to avoid you as best as possible. Mostly because, well…

“God, fuck me,” you groaned exhaustively and opened the refrigerator door, leaning against it as the refreshing cold hit you from behind. On top of that, you held a big bag of frozen peas to your sweaty chest. You already wore the bare minimum – some short denims and a white tank top, your hair up in a messy bun.

“I swear underboob sweat is the worst. Just be glad you don’t have tits,” you complained. “Guys, seriously, can we invest in an AC? This heat wave is killing me! This bunker is like one giant oven…”

You watched as Dean squirmed in his seat as he ate his cereal, looking as uncomfortable as you. Surely, the boys were suffering just as badly during those sweltering temperatures, already forgoing the usual flannels and opting for plain t-shirts instead. How they were still wearing jeans was beyond you. When you first moved in, you protested against Dean’s suggestion of Naked Tuesdays, but these days, you were actually giving it a second thought.

“Well, I’m gonna drive to Kansas City today and see if I can get us an AC. Apparently, they’re all sold out, but I figured maybe with a bit of flirting and some cleavage, I can still get us one,” you explained your plan with a bright smirk and wiggled your eyebrows. “What d’you guys think, huh?”

Dean then abruptly banged his fist on the table, spilling some milk from his bowl on the surface. “For God’s sake, Y/N!”

You frowned in confusion at his unexpected outburst. “What’s up with you? Are you having a heat stroke?”

“Flirting, really?!” the hunter barked, his brow shaped into a deeply furious v.

“What’s wrong with that? Double standard much? You do it all the time to get shit,” you countered and watched his jaw clench in anger.

“I do-... not,” he remarked snappily with a fierce finger drilling into the table, clearly lacking a good argument. Sam cleared his throat in agreement with you, but that only earned him a glare. “And Jesus fucking Christ, would it hurt you to put on some goddamn clothes? You’re not even wearing a bra!”

“Did you not hear my tits rant just now? Of course I’m not! ‘Sides, those boobs are gonna get you an AC, so be a little more grateful to them,” you retorted, annoyed with his attitude. You’d think of all the people in this world, Dean Winchester would understand. (And maybe even appreciate it.) “And how can you even tell, huh?”

“‘Cause science, Y/N! You’re literally cooling your tits! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? Nipples!” he vented outrageously. “This ain’t a strip club!”

“It’s 102 degrees, Dean!” you argued, throwing your arms up. “Look, if I could, I’d even go naked, alright? It’s fucking hot!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen without any further comment.

Confused, you blinked at the younger Winchester. “What’s up with him?”

But Sam only shrugged, shaking his head. “Uhm, I don’t know,” he replied, although he could take an educated guess, suspecting his brother’s feelings for you as the culprit.

“Well, alright, I’m going to Kansas City,” you decided without wasting another thought on the older Winchester’s strange behavior. “Text me if you guys need something. I can pick it up on my way home.”

Dean knew he was in deep trouble as his bow legs bolted down the bunker’s hallways. He tried so hard to keep it together, but when he saw you, half-naked and panting in front of the fridge, he quite literally lost his coolness in this goddamn heat wave.

The green-eyed hunter understood a thing or two about torture, but this was the worst of all. He’d rather have a demon repeatedly peel off his skin in hellfire than endure a day more of this fucking madness.

If the temperatures didn’t drop soon, it would be a cruel summer ahead of him.

As Dean heard the door to the garage close, he knew you’d left for your trip and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. At least he’d get a few hours of peace.

With the best intentions, he strolled to his bedroom, but as he passed your room on his way, he found the door ajar. Whatever good motives he had up until this point, went quickly out the window right then.

His hand twitched at the thought of more riches, worse than any trigger finger and competing with a California earthquake, and well, so did the dick in his jeans. It was an addiction at this point, an obsession he couldn’t resist nor get rid off. The fact that it was forbidden and wrong only made it even more appealing. The apple in the garden of Eden.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an anonymous support group for this kind of sickness.

As unbearable shame and guilt collected in his stomach like rainwater in the gutter, his eager hands rummaged through your dresser drawer. There was purple lace and black satin, navy G-strings and white Brazilians. It was never ending, and the hunter couldn’t stop as he picked up each item and let his fantasies roam wild.

God, the things he wanted to do to you were as colorful as your rainbow full of underwear.

“Dean?!”

The green-eyed hunter froze in his place, a white lace panty still bunched up in his large palm. The hair in the back of his neck stood up in shock, a part of him refusing to turn around at the sound of your voice. He was caught red-handed, and he knew it.

“What are you doing in my room?” you prompted, suspiciously cocking an eyebrow. It looked fairly obvious what your best friend was up to, but you didn’t want to accuse him right away, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Frankly, it was quite unbelievable.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean replied and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held up his hands like a criminal during an arrest, the evidence still in his grasp.

“Well, it looks like you’re snooping through my lingerie,” you pointed out bluntly.

Dean nodded, guilt-ridden and reluctant. “I can explain.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m waiting…”

“Right, uhm…”

“Oh, before you scramble for an answer, you should know, though, that I’m aware a pair of red lace panties is missing, and I know the washer didn’t eat them,” you said and raised an expectant brow.

You had a feeling your pervy best friend was behind the mystery of the missing item. Now you knew for sure.

“Man, I always knew you were a kinky son of a bitch, but this is a new level, Dean,” you scolded.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame, scratching the nape of his neck. “Look, uhm, there’s no good excuse. I know I fucked up here. I’ll sleep in a motel tonight until I find my own place. You can stay here with Sam, alright? I’ll move out and won’t bother you anymore.”

As he tried to brush past you, you blocked his exit and grabbed his arm. “So, you’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have? I don’t wanna make you more uncomfortable,” he stated without glancing at you once. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see the disappointment and disgust there. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Oh, so wrong,” you agreed. “I just figured you wouldn’t run away like a coward and take your punishment like a man, you know? Aren’t you at all curious what I’m wearing right now?”

That was when Dean’s juniper eyes slowly wandered to you and caught your gaze for the first time. You smirked as his breathing became heavy and his look darkened and filled with lust. It seemed like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his goddamn bare teeth like a wild animal.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m dreaming,” he admitted, his deep voice part harsh swallow and part nervous chuckle.

“Neither,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

Carefully, you leaned closer, your hands reaching up to cup his scruffy cheeks. Noses nuzzled as your lips ghosted against his with a daring grin. You wouldn’t go further; it was up to Dean to make that final decision.

And then, as no more than a mere second ticked by on the clock, the hunter crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so scorching it made the current heat wave look like an ice age. If you thought you were hot before, now it felt like you were burning in a wildfire.

Dean roughly pushed you against the door, his kiss all teeth and tongue in an uncontrollable frenzy. His dick was hard and thick, straining against his jeans and rubbing along your thigh. Pantingly, you gasped for air and grabbed his hand, guiding it down your body and into your shorts.

“Feel that?” you asked mischievously as his fingers dug through your soaked folds and collected the arousal he caused. A wanton growl left his plush lips. “All for you, baby. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“Shit, yeah, so bad…” Dean rasped huskily against your throat as he worshipped his path down your body, forcing your shirt up till his wet tongue rolled over your pert and still cold nipple.

“Gonna make it up to me, huh? Show me how sorry you are?” you prompted, your fingers raking through his sandy blond and soft hair, eliciting a groan from him every time you tugged a little harder.

Teeth pinched your skin, tongue cherished your taste, and lips left your throat bruised. It was equal parts hot, sweaty, messy, naughty, dirty, and sticky as your bodies rutted against one another, looking for dire release.

With swollen and plumper than before lips, he came back up for air and found your eyes. He kissed you with heated passion once more as if he couldn’t resist to touch you over and over again. He had to restrain himself to be able to speak.

“So, uhm, you sure about this?” Dean asked between labored breaths with an insecure gleam in his green eyes. “‘Cause if we go further, I don’t think I can stop. And I don’t mean just this time but ever… If you want this to be a one time thing, you gotta tell me, sweetheart, so I can mentally prepare myself. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, you know? Not that I care either way… Well, that’s not true. I do care. A lot… But, you know, you’re you, and I’m me, so I’m not delusional. I know there’s no way you would–”

You interrupted his babbling with a kiss, causing the hunter to lose his words. You looked deeply into his eyes and offered him a small smile of comfort.

“Dean, listen to me, okay? ‘Cause this is very important,” you urged, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

He nodded, gulping anxiously. “O-Okay.”

“You’re incredible,” you said and watched him inhale sharply at your words, blinking at you in disbelief. “Absolutely fucking bonkers incredible. You’re right – you’re you. And thank God you are, because you’re the best, funniest, smartest, kindest, and goddamn hottest man I’ve ever met. I’m tired of you not seeing that. As my boyfriend, I really need to you to see that, alright?”

As Dean pensively took in your words, his brow began to furrow. “Boyfriend?”

The corners of your mouth rose to a beam. “Yeah, boyfriend,” you confirmed. “That’s what you want, right? ‘Cause I’d really like that, too.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah… That’s what I want.” Dean nodded eagerly before another swallow followed. “I mean, among other things…”

You bit your lip, smirking. “What other things?”

“Well, uhm…”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, his lips impatiently claiming yours instead. He pressed you hungrily back against the door, massive hands sliding down your sides till they hooked into the hem of your denim shorts and ripped them down to your ankles, leaving you only covered in teal lace. He growled shamelessly at the sight, his thick digits eagerly diving inside.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groaned into your ear, thumbing furiously at your clit. “Every hour of every day…”

“We can do that,” you agreed with a giggle, your arms locking around his neck, fingers carding through his hair in the back.

“Wanna feel your mouth around my–” The last word was muffled as he ravaged your neck, but you understood where he was going with this.

“You can do that,” you said with a smile.

“And fuck, I want you to ride my face,” he declared. That demand left you speechless, making even Dean stop for a minute and look at you. “Too far?”

You shook your head and smirked. “I can do that.”

Before Dean’s mind could fathom your words, you shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. When you stood before him, slotted between his muscular legs, his gaze trailed up and down your body, memorizing every beautiful curve. As your fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, however, the hunter stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on, sweetheart. Don’t you dare take those off,” he told you, his hands rapaciously reaching out to you.

You played with the hem of your top and smirked, your tongue licking over your lips. “What about this? On or off?”

“Off,” he shot back faster than a bullet leaving a barrel.

“You first,” you demanded and grinned. “Remember, this is still your punishment.”

“God, I love getting punished,” Dean mumbled and slipped out of his shirt. He then swiftly shimmied out of his jeans, discarding each item carelessly around the room.

He then took a deep breath as he tugged the waistband of his boxers, his erection already fighting its way out. “Well, here goes nothing,” the hunter said and pulled his underwear down.

You tilted your head to see his hard cock from a better angle as it sprang against his stomach. Your lips parted in anticipation, wondering what he’d taste like on your tongue and how deep you’d be able to take him. You guessed there’d be a struggle ahead, considering how huge and wide he was.

“Oh, I would not call that monster nothing,” you commented with a scoff, your pussy throbbing with need. “Explains all that BDE.”

Dean blushed. It was cute to watch. “Thank you.”

Giggling, you removed your shirt and tossed it at his face, blinding him for a second. You used that momentum to slide onto the bed and straddle his torso. As his eyes finally found you again, he almost choked on his spit when he gazed up at your perfect tits above him. A primal grunt escaped his throat.

With a mesmerized sparkle in his eyes, his hands trailed up your body and cupped your breasts, massaging them roughly as your panties grew damper by the minute. He then pulled you down to his lips and kissed you breathless before he left them with a boyish smirk on his freckled face.

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

And as if his words hadn’t been enough motivation, his hands wandered to palm your ass and hauled you closer to his mouth. He was an impatient one – or maybe he’d waited years for this and was finally tired of it.

Your knees sunk into the mattress on either side of his stubborn head. His fingers dented your flesh as they grabbed onto your thighs. Yours held onto the headboard for support. You tried not to look down, because then you’d see his big lopsided and full of excitement grin.

The same one he had when you found a diner in Kentucky that advertised the biggest burger in America (it wasn’t). The same one he had when he thought he had run into a member of Metallica at a gas station outside of Phoenix (he didn’t). The same one he had when you and Sam gifted him his own beer brewing station for his last birthday (which tasted horrible, but neither you nor Sam had the heart to tell him).

And now, he had that same grin when he was about to be with you.

As your pussy dripped above him, Dean couldn’t hold back his lewd groans any longer. You didn’t even have to lower yourself; he just dragged you down onto his face all to eagerly. His fingers swiped your panties to the side, and before you could even adjust your grip on the bedpost, his tongue darted into your soaked channel as deeply as he could and sucked you goddamn dry.

With several whimpers, you clenched around his wet muscle. If you were water in the desert, he was parched and drinking to survive.

His nose was buried in your folds, rubbing deliciously against your clit as he lapped your pussy in a vicious attack that left you squirming and moaning to a pornographic degree above him. Because Dean was just that – pure porn.

Instinctively and irresistibly, you ground your cunt against him, the vibrations of his keen groans against your sensitive flesh rocking you to the edge of your climax. He ate you out and devoured you like that damn gigantic burger in Kentucky. And as you dared to blink down and watch him in action, he had the audacity to devilishly smirk up at you with the crinkles around his green eyes alone, gauging your every reaction to his touches as if you were a goddamn movie on a silver screen.

You trembled and quivered and screamed as your orgasm electrified every molecule in your body. You white-knuckled the wood in your grip, your body only held up by Dean’s strong arms because God knows your weak legs were useless now.

As wave after wave washed over you, Dean drank every drop of yours, his tongue never getting enough of your taste. The sounds that filled the room were carnal and obscene.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed blissfully and lifted off his face and captured his swollen and red lips in a grateful kiss, your palms finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Your drenched and sensitive cunt settled on his thighs as an egregiously large erection poked your belly and tempted you further.

Dean smirked up at you, all satisfied and confident with his achievement. “I think we have a slight problem, though.”

Your brow knitted, your heart tightening with anxiety. Had you been as disappointing as the burger, beer, and that fake Metallica band member?

But Dean only grinned teasingly at your confused face. “There’s no way I learned my lesson here.”

You snorted and sought out his lips, the kiss giving you a taste of yourself. “We’ll work on that. I might have to nickname you Jaws after this,” you joked.

“Can’t wait for you to explain that one to Sammy.” Dean snorted, chuckling. “Now, how about you hop on again, but this time a little further south, huh?” he proposed with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive twitch of his cock for emphasis.

You giggled with a few nods. “I can do that.”

Was it worth the words? 😝

For all you newcomers and as a general reminder, Dirty Drabbles are always open. I still have quite a few left, but you're welcome to send more in, and we'll add it to the collection at some point 😎🔥

PUT YOUR DIRTY THOUGHTS HERE

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[readwritealldayallnight]

Right With You

Captain John Price x Reader

wc: 2.5k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“By the time our lass is done with ‘em, they’ll never even know wha’ happened!” The enthusiastic Sergeant seated to your left reiterates, receiving a series of nods in agreement from those also in attendance to the briefing.

Soap’s eyes wander to and from everyone in the room, seeing the approval in their faces, until he lands on that of his Captain’s. While everyone else is looking at Soap after hearing his recap of the plan, Price’s gaze is fixated solely on your expression.

The Sergeant turns and finds a look of what might be apprehension across your face, perhaps hesitation?

“You’d be completely safe, bonnie. We’d never let anythin’ happen to ya.” He quickly attempts to cover all his bases, believing that he is reassuring your potential doubts. “There’ll be eyes all over the bloody place. Watchin’ out for ya.”

“We just can’t have you armed. It’ll give ya away if anyone notices.” Ghost pitches in from where he’s sat in the shadowed corner, arms crossed across his chest as though he’s bored from this meeting, contrary to the steadfast attention he’s been paying.

You nod to yourself, eyes downcast on your fidgeting hands in front of you. In theory, the mission is simple enough.

Some top-notch drug lord is meant to be hosting quite the soirée in a few evenings time. And while narcotics are not the 141’s concern, the solid intel that a known and highly wanted arms dealer will be in attendance, well that is the 141’s business.

As the newest member of the team, you’d never come in contact with the target of this operation, though your fellow task force members apparently had. This left their chances of sneaking into the mansion undetected at a much poorer odd. And while it wasn’t strictly necessary for the mission to be kept as quiet as possible, it was widely understood that the less of a scene you could all cause, the better.

It was decided then that you, were likely the team’s best chance of sneaking into the gala undetected, distracting the target long enough to get him alone, where the rest of your teammates would be ready and waiting.

You’d been in much riskier, more dangerous situations that this one before. The lack of being armed wasn’t what had you on edge about this mission. But you weren’t so ready to admit your concern in front of everyone yet.

“Ultimately, it’s your choice.” Price’s commanding voice comes from the head of the meeting table, continuing to look at no one but you for confirmation on your feelings. “We’ll find another way in if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“No, no. I’m just- processing over here. No, I agree. This plan makes the most sense. I say we do it.” You state, receiving a friendly pat on the shoulder from Soap, who starts drawling on about how he knew you had it in ya.

The rest of the briefing is spent going over details, pulling up blueprints of the location, creating plans A, B, through to Z, and all the while, you can feel your Captain steady gaze pressed upon you, almost as if he knows you’re hiding something.

It’s well past midnight when John hears the faintest of rapping at his closed door. He should’ve been out of his office hours ago, paperwork be damned. But he finds himself mulling over the upcoming mission, wanting to find any discrepancy or indication that the intel they received was anything but absolutely correct. He hates sending his men into situations based off shoddy intel, and though he does trust this source, he’d never forgive himself for putting you into danger when he could have prevented it.

He glances up, tempted to pretend as though the lamp on his desk isn’t obviously turned on and visible through the shade of the blind he has pulled down over the door’s small window. However it’s then that he notices the shadow of the figure stood outside, and it’s much smaller than any of his Sergeants or his Lieutenant, or anyone else that might usually come knocking at this late hour.

“Come in.” He orders, loud enough for you to hear. He fights to keep the smile off his face when he sees your timid figure slowly open the door, eyes glancing up at him and then back down to your shoes as you shut it behind you. He’s glad you came. He had half a mind to go looking for you tonight himself, ultimately deciding to put it off until tomorrow. Glancing at his watch, he supposes it is technically tomorrow.

He greets you by your name. Not your position, not your nickname or even by your last name, but your first name. He’s pleased to see the faint blush spreading across the tips of your ears and the apple of your cheeks, as you continue to try avoiding his eye contact.

“I’m sorry to bother you Cap-”

“You know you’re never a bother.” He cuts you off with a slight raise of his hand, wanting to reassure you that you’re okay to be here. “It is a little late though, don’t ya think?” He tilts his chin towards one of the free seats in front of his desk, indicating he wants you to sit.

“I just-” you say, smoothing out the fabric of your fatigues as though you’re comforting yourself. “I was hoping to talk to you about the mission.” Finally you meet his eyes, and though he is your superior, your commanding officer, your Captain, he knows he’ll give you anything you want so long as you’re looking at him with those eyes. He shouldn’t be so lenient with you, acting as though you can pick and choose which missions you’ll work on at liberty. But he can’t help it with you.

“It’s like I said before, love,” he finds himself internally cringing at his use of the pet name. It’s not the first time he’s caught himself calling you terms of endearment. Yet another thing he cannot seem to control around you. “If you’re not confident walking in unarmed then we can-”

“Oh, no! That- that’s not it actually.” It’s your turn to cut him off, surprising him slightly. He figured you were more comfortable admitting your reluctance in front of just him, rather than all the lads, and that’s what brought you here tonight. “There’s um, another aspect that’s uh, kind of got me just a bit worried.”

“What’s that?” He instantly poses the question, eyebrows furrowed, sitting up straighter in his chair. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, he wants to correct it as soon as possible.

“This is so stupid, um- I know that it’s a fancier event, right? And that people are going to be uh, expected to dance, right?” The Captain’s not sure he’s ever seen your cheeks turn so red before as he listens to your attempt at an explanation. If he wasn’t so confused he would find it downright adorable. “Like, fancy dancing, right?”

“I- I believe there’s going to be dancing yes. Usually there are at these types of things…” he mentions, unsure of where you’re going with this train of thought. “Suppose you could consider it to be ‘fancy dancing’.” He adds with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Right. Well sir I- I’m just worried I’m going to give us away and that the mission will be a failure and people will get hurt because of me and I would never want to put anyone in a-”

“Woah. Woah.” Price interrupts you once more, bringing your rant to a halt. “Sorry love, I think I’m missing somethin’ here. How would-”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

Oh. Oh.

That’s… not what he was expecting you to say.

“Dance.” He says, as if the word is suddenly somehow foreign on his tongue. “You don’t know how…”

“No sir. I don’t.” You say, gaze averting back down to yours hands as though this is something to be embarrassed about. “At least, certainly not the fancy dances they’re going to be doing at a gala. I’m sorry sir, I should’ve said something earlier. Soon as they ask me to dance it’ll be-”

“I’ll teach ya.”

Oh.

Well that’s not what you were expecting him to say. You’d shown up at his office, expecting him to scold you for keeping something so childish from him and the team, and that plans would have to be changed. You were certainly not expecting your Captain to offer you private dance lessons.

“What?”

“Can’t say I know ‘em all. An’ I’m certainly rusty, but I could show you how to waltz at the least. Tha’s probably the one those muppets will know.” John runs his hand through the scruff of his beard, thinking it over. If that truly is your biggest concern, he’ll stay awake all night watching dance instructor videos to put your worries at ease. “Again, that’s only if you’re comfortable with…”

“I guess that could work. I don’t need to look like a professional or anything, I just don’t want to blow our cover by stepping on anyone’s toes, literally.” You agree with him, finding a satisfied smile working its way onto his face at your words.

“Is that what had you so worried, sweet girl?” Now he really shouldn’t be calling you names like that, but when it’s this easy for him to solve your problems, this easy to erase the worry from your face and replace it with a smile, well forgive him but he just can’t help himself sometimes.

“Hey! It was a valid concern, okay?” You throw back at him, sitting up straighter in your seat as well, returning to the usual playful banter the two of you usually partake in during these rare moments alone. He chuckles at you, unable to hide his contentment with your quick switch in moods.

“You’re absolutely right. Never doubted you.” He tells you, gazing at your own content visage now.

“So how do we start this?”

“Hm?”

“The dancing? How should we-?”

“Oh, yes. Right. Well um, do you at least know how to position yourself for a waltz?” He slowly rises from his chair, readjusting the tuck of his shirt into his pants, watching as you spring up to your feet as well. He comes around the desk to stand closer to you, perhaps only now realizing the situation he’s put himself into. If he’s going to teach you to dance, he’s going to have to be closer to you than he ever has before. He swallows hard, coming closer to you.

“I mean, I think we hold hands and my other one goes somewhere up here?” You stick one arm out to the side, the other lifting up as if to mimic holding his shoulder.

“S’about right.” He finally steps closer enough that the two of you are only about a foot apart, close enough proximity that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes. He takes your smaller hand, placing onto his shoulder with a delicacy you’ve never experienced before. Your breath hitches momentarily, and you hope he doesn’t notice. His other hand is reach out to fix your straight elbow, bending it slightly, sliding his digits along the soft skin of your inner forearm, before his palm meets your own, clasping it firmly.

“Your hands’ll go there like that. Good. And my other hand goes, uh-” he finds himself hesitating for a split second. The stoic military Captain, temporarily mortified at the prospect of putting his hand on your delicate waist. But apparently this is what the job asks of him right now, and so he painstakingly slowly inches his large grasp onto your side. Now you’re certain there’s no way he doesn’t hear your tiny gasp at the feeling of his hands on you like this.

“Every waltz has a leader and a follower.” He informs you after clearing his throat.

“I can assume which position you’ll take, Captain.” You murmur, attempting to bring some lightheartedness back into what has seemingly turned into a tense, heated exchange. He offers you as sincere of a chuckle as he can offer, but now he’s thinking about you, and the word positions, and he’s quickly losing focus of the task at hand.

“Aye, I’ll take the lead, yes.” He confirms your suspicion, squeezing your hand in his. “Now, if ya wanna just look at your feet for this part, tha’s alright. You’re goin’ to want to follow my steps…” He leads you through the first movements, taking a step back, directing you to follow with your own step forward, telling you how you should be landing on your foot. He introduces you to the concept of a 3-count tempo, slowing his instructions down when he can tell you’re not following. Next he’s adding a basic turn to the dance, watching as your face slowly begins to light up, realizing you’re not half as bad at this whole dancing thing as you thought, especially with an attentive teacher like Price teaching you.

Over the next hour and a half, you and Price are shoving the furniture in his office up against the walls, creating a makeshift dance space in the middle for the two of you. In actuality, you’d learned the movements well enough within the first half hour, and it could have been left at that. But in spite of that fact, as well as the increasingly late hour, there was an unspoken understanding between you and John. That neither of you were willing to part ways yet. Hell, you were actually having genuine, pure fun for once, you certainly weren’t going to stop to go to bed.

Especially not when that fun included your handsome Captain holding you in his muscular arms, spinning you around and smirking every time he forced a laugh out of you. Especially not when the position for a waltz somehow shifted into both your arms being looped around John’s neck, his own wide palms now on both sides of your waist, situated a little too low to technically be appropriate, and the space existing between your two bodies has become non-existent.

Certainly not when your soft swaying around the room, gazing into each other’s eyes with soft satisfied smiles upon your faces, morphs into standing still, squeezing one another a little more firmly, and hot breaths meeting in the middle.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, letting him hold you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. What you are sure of, is that when your faces both slowly find themselves leaning in towards another, and your forehead meets his own, he must see something in your eyes that tells him everything he needs to know. Because the next thing you know, just as you’re whispering his name, your captain lets out a soft groan before both his palms are holding your face and brings your lips to meet his own.

Part 2

[original-szajnie]

Klonnie Weekend 2025: Fake Dating

It starts, as these things often do in her life, with a threat.

Bonnie is on her way home from her first actual date she’s been on since Jeremy kissed a ghost. Probably her first actual date, period, she considers with a twinge. Nothing special, just burgers and fries at the Grill—but she’s feeling kind of good. Lip gloss still intact. Curls still bouncing. And then—

“Witch.”

She freezes, one hand tightening around the strap of her purse. There’s mace inside, but she knows that won’t do any good. The night air had been warm against her skin, scented with honeysuckle and the last ghost of spring rain, but now she feels a shiver run up her spine.

“Witch,” he repeats like she hadn’t heard him the first time. Like her fight or flight hadn’t just kicked into overdrive and he can’t hear the frantic tattoo of her heart. She takes a breath, turning slowly.

And, yup, there he is.

Klaus ‘kill everyone you’ve ever loved’ Mikaelson standing beneath the shadows of a broken street-lamp, calm and terrible and annoyingly unruffled for midnight.

“Hybrid,” she greets in return, because why not.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

For a moment, he says nothing more. Just lets his gaze sweep her from head to foot in an indolent appraisal that has her spine snapping tight and magic humming beneath her skin.

That twitch becomes a smirk. “Relax, little witch. I’m not here to fight.”

“Then what are you here for?” She asks.

“I need your assistance,” he says, like it was a favor, like he hadn’t attempted to murder her best friend less than a year ago and threatened to dismember her in at least three different ways.

She folds her arms. “Why would I help you?”

Klaus opens his mouth—almost certainly to offer some graphic promise of death or dismemberment—but she cuts him off. “You know what, don’t. I get it. Carnage, pain, everyone I love in pieces. Classic. What is it this time? Linking spell? Did you lock Elijah in a coffin and lose the key?”

She has no idea where this sass is coming from and the survival instinct in her brain is screaming at her to ‘shut up’ but every time she quips, that mouth twitches and she can see the faintest hint of…dimples?

“Nothing so terrible,” he replies, tone light. “A bit of your witchy blood, a small incantation, and then—poof—you’re free to resume whatever terribly dull life you’re leading.” He holds an arm out as if to usher her along.

She blinks. “What? Now?”

”No time like the present.”

Bonnie grumbles, under her breath, just the teeniest bit defiant, because damn it, she’s tired, and she wants a good night’s sleep, and really was it so much to ask that date night not be a bust—when Klaus’s next words stop her mid-ramble.

“You smell like grease.”

She looks at him, eyes narrowing. “I smell like Daisy.”

“Yes, your floral perfume is there, as is your usual, inviting earthy scent. But you do smell like grease and burgers.”

She had an earthy scene? It was ‘inviting’? Nevermind that. “I was at the Grill.” Why is she explaining herself to him?

”The Grill.” His lip curls. “For a date?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He pauses again, looks at the empty street, then back to her. Then, disdainful: “And where is this date of yours?”

”Trevor has practi—“

”Trevor?” Klaus seems positively revolted by the name. “Trevor?” Klaus repeats, like the word itself is offensive. “You let a boy named Trevor take you on a date?”

Bonnie crosses her arms tighter. “It’s not that serious.”

“Clearly,” he mutters. “He abandoned you at the curb and didn’t even walk you to your door.”

Bonnie scowls. “Like I was saying—he has practice in the morning.”

Klaus’s eyes narrow. “So he left you alone. At night. After burgers. In Mystic Falls. Where half the population seems to be supernatural and the other half perpetually under threat.”

She blinks. “…Are you lecturing me right now?”

“No,” he says, too quickly. “But if I were, it would be well deserved.”

“Oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “This is not happening.”

Klaus takes a deliberate step closer, hands clasped behind his back like some academic lecturer about to give a lesson. “Dating as a concept emerged in the early 20th century, particularly in the 1920s. This shift was influenced by factors like women's increased participation in society, and their involvement in selecting partners without familial obligations.”

Oh. Shit. It is a lecture.

“A date should be a celebration of that choice,” he continued. “Something more than meat and mediocrity. A date, when done right, is the art of showing appreciation. Of anticipation.” He let his gaze wander over her face, lingering on her lips before back to her eyes. “The beginning of seduction.”

She ignores the way heat creeps up her neck, into her cheeks. the way her pulse is still racing, but not from fear…more like the anticipation he’s told her about. And she absolutely ignores the way her mouth feels heavy under his gaze, lips wanting to part.

“No wonder we couldn’t tell you apart from Alaric,” she comments, taking a step back. “Giving lectures nobody asked for.” She turns toward her front door. “Look, it’s late. Some of us aren’t nocturnal, so if it’s not life or death, I’m going to bed. You’ll get your blood and your spell tomorrow.”

He doesn’t grab her arm. Doesn’t halt her, so she takes that as permission. She barely makes it up the step before his voice halts her again, lower now, silk-wrapped iron: “Let me show you.”

She holds the key in the knob, but doesn’t turn. “Show me what?”

“What it should be. A date. Not a sloppy imitation done by the likes of boys named Trevor.”

Bonnie glances at him over her shoulder, trying to decide if he’s actually serious. He is. Of course he is. His expression is maddeningly sincere, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that feels a little too close to temptation.

“You want to take me on a date?”

“Not a real one,” he clarifies. “A demonstration. A model. One you can hold up against future offers and reject them accordingly.”

She sighs, turning the key. Honestly, she doesn’t have the energy for this. “You’re doing this to mock me.”

“I’m doing this,” Klaus says smoothly, “because it is offensive to the very concept of courtship that someone like you doesn’t know what it should feel like.”

“Goodnight, Klaus.” She steps through, closing the door behind her. She locks it for good measure.

He doesn’t follow. Doesn’t press. Which, in hindsight, should’ve been the first clue.

The next evening, Bonnie lights a candle on her nightstand, just like Grams taught her. Mugwort and bay for clarity, lavender to soothe. She’s in an oversized Metallica T-shirt, hair twisted up, just beginning to cue up an old episode of Criminal Minds when she feels it—the subtle flex of power against her magic.

There’s a knock.

Polite, for once. Which is exactly why it unnerves her.

She debates on ignoring it.

She’s already sent him her blood, cast the spell—a simple binding on a grimoire—preventing anyone but him (and oddly, herself) from opening it.

He knocks again. Three short, evenly spaced raps.

Bonnie sighs, blowing a curl from her eyes and opens the door. She’s tempted to tell him that she’s going to start charging by the hour. He can afford it. But all of her snark dies in her throat the moment she sees him.

Klaus stands on her porch in tailored dark clothes—not quite a suit, but deliberate. Dark slacks, a crisp open collar, sleeves rolled to the forearm. In his hands: a lush bouquet of dusky red peonies and soft white jasmine. They smell like twilight and stolen things.

“I said no,” Bonnie says automatically, though it lacks any heat.

He tilts his head. “Odd. I didn’t hear ‘no’. I heard: ‘Goodnight, Klaus.’”

He’s technically correct, which is her least favorite kind of correct. She’s about to tell him no, in no uncertain terms, when he continues.

“I’m already here, love. Terrible form to deny me now.” He holds the flowers toward her.

They are gorgeous, full, flawless blooms and rich heady scent. It’s the first time anyone has ever gotten her any.

She should toss them into the bin.

Instead, she takes them with a muttered, “You’re insufferable.”

He grins. “Still not a no.”

”You’re not going to let this go are you?”

He doesn’t respond, but it’s on his face.

Bonnie shakes her head. “Fine. Wait here.” She’s not about to invite him in.

When she returns, it’s in a cream-colored blouse edged in lace, tucked into a flowy patterned skirt that swirls when she walks. Her hair is down, loose, natural, around her shoulders. She doesn’t bother with make-up or jewelry.

This isn’t really a date.

It’s a lesson.

She’ll treat it as such.

Which turns out to be harder than it sounds.

Because when Klaus sees her—his expression shifts. Not his usual appraising calculation—something quieter. A little softer. Like the sight of her in moonlight and lace might actually be beautiful.

“Ready?” he asks, voice dipped low.

Bonnie inhales and exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He offers his arm.

She doesn’t take it—not at first—but then he cocks his head, eyebrow raised in challenge.

She tosses him a look, but links her elbow through his, annoyed at how natural it feels. The scent of his cologne is faint—spiced woods and something wilder. She breathes it in before she can stop herself.

She expects a car, chandeliers, a compelled maître d’. Something grotesquely extravagant, probably featuring a string quartet and gold utensils. Something that shows how unlimited his influence actually is. A show of arrogance.

So she’s surprised when Klaus walks her two blocks down the street, cutting across a small wooden bridge near the edge of town. He leads her through a narrow, pebbled trail behind the old library. When the path opens up, her breath catches.

It’s a clearing tucked beneath a canopy of weeping willows, their branches sweeping low and silver in the moonlight. It smells like crushed herbs, clean earth, and something sweet—berries, maybe. Or honey.

The grass is soft and wild, the ground scattered with dandelions and moss. In the center is a picnic blanket—thick, deep red, clean despite the earth—and set atop it are small lanterns glowing like fireflies.

On the blanket: fresh bread, a jar of dark jam, cold chicken sliced and wrapped neatly in wax paper. Cheese. Tiny peaches. A bottle of wine, no label, no cork—sealed with wax.

Bonnie stops short.

Klaus watches her reaction the way a painter watches a canvas take color. “The Grill is beneath you,” is all he says.

She really doesn’t know what to say to that so she keeps her silence.

He holds her hand as she lowers herself to the blanket—keeping her steady. After that it’s a handful of small things that ripple through the night.

He pours the wine for her. Offers a cloth napkin. Cuts the peach with the knife she was eyeing but didn’t want to reach for.

“This,” Klaus murmurs, handing her the fruit, “is only one form of appreciation.”

“Food as appreciation? I can see that,” she says, biting into a slice.

He hums. “Most people don’t.”

She hates that she kind of agrees with him. Most people overlook the little gestures.

They eat slowly. The chicken is seasoned with something fragrant—rosemary or maybe thyme. The bread is soft. The cheese, sharp. Bonnie lets herself enjoy it, a little. She hasn’t had a meal that hadn’t involved a microwave in longer than she can remember.

When they talk, it’s not about the usual things. No magic. No threats. No blood.

Klaus tells her about Florence in the 1500s and how Italian peaches used to be bitter until witches started grafting sweetness into the skin. She listens in spite of herself. Finds his occasional biting commentary both snobbish and amusing.

She thinks, briefly, he looks almost human like this.

So when he asks, “What do you think about?”

She answers.

Maybe because it’s not real.

There’s no pressure to perform. No masks to wear. No expectations to meet.

She doesn’t have to be the strong one for him. The one who doesn’t ask—who gives.

She tells him about Grams. About how quiet the kitchen feels now and how sometimes, the smell of jasmine makes her cry without knowing why. She tells him that she used to dream of traveling the world, but now she just dreams of finding a small place in it.

He listens. Like she’s the only thing that matters.

And that, more than anything, is what undoes her.

Not the wine. Not the food. Not even the way the moonlight threads silver through his lashes.

It’s that he sees her. And seems to like what he sees.

She doesn’t trust it.

But, for tonight, for this moment, she lets herself have it.

By the time he walks her back into town, the moon is low and the shadows are long. The wine has left her warm. Drowsy.

He doesn’t leave her at the curb. He walks her all the way to her porch.

“Well,” she says, clearing her throat. “Thanks for the fake date.”

Klaus arches a brow. “Fake?”

“I mean—model. Example? Lesson.” She settles on.

His eyes gleam. “The night’s not over,” he tells her, stepping forward, just close enough for her to feel the heat of him. “And for clarification—this part,” he says, voice velvet-dark, “is very real.”

He leans in, slow and deliberate. And he kisses her.

Not a demand. Not a possession. Just a touch—warm, slow, reverent.

Like she’s something precious.

Like he’s tasting the possibility of something he hasn’t dared name.

And Bonnie…Bonnie lets him.

For a second too long, maybe. Or maybe just long enough.

He tastes like peaches and wine.

When she finally pulls back, it’s not with a slap or a spell or even a warning.

It’s with a soft exhale. A breath they both feel.

She opens her eyes, and he’s still watching her—closely. Carefully.

His expression isn’t smug. It isn’t triumphant. It’s something… else. Almost hesitant. Like he was expecting the slap or the spell.

A heartbeat passes, then another, and finally he whispers, “Goodnight, Bonnie,” quiet and sure.

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t trust her voice.

Just steps back through the door and closes it quietly. She doesn’t lock it.

[ohbo-ohno]

Johnny being allowed to fuck but not cum all week because he pissed simon off, he tries bargaining with reader at one point to just - ease the cockring off , simon won't notice it'll be fine. Reader doesn't even have a chance to consider it before Johnny ripped out of her and is muzzled because bad dogs need to keep quiet

hm. you shot me dead with this one. like. what am i supposed to do with myself now?

1.4k of smut below the cut. cw: rough puppy play, itty bitty tiny second of cbt, edging/denial, simon is real real mean to johnny

something about johnny being in trouble and not being allowed to cum in you but trying anyway.... oh he's horrible

maybe this is after he was a little too rough with you (like that ask where he fucked up your wrist, or something similar) and he's in deep shit with simon. not only is he allowed to fuck you, simon makes him fuck you at least once a day. lines up behind johnny and moves his hips for him, doesn't even let him thrust on his own, guides every tiny little twitch. tugs him out right at the last second, makes johnny watch as he comes inside you. spends the whole time calling him bad, says if he could just learn to fucking listen for once he could mount you properly

johnny spends the whole week in misery. guy can barely sit down, he just wants to hump fucking everything. simon tells him he can't sit on the furniture when he's so drippy :( makes him sit on the floor instead - or he can let you clean johnny up, but no coming. does he want to be edged again or kneel between his legs like the mutt he is?

jacks him off in the shower in the morning, stopping right before he comes. leaves him crying and makes johnny wash his hair. has you cockwarm him for a bit, to make sure he stays completely hard. makes johnny eat you out til you're nearly knocked out, jacks him off slowly and stops every time you come.

he's nearly done with his punishment when he fucking breaks. it's a night simon isn't meant to be home until after midnight. you'd gone to bed earlier than johnny, wake up to him at you back, nose nudging your cheekbone and hard cock thrusting against your back.

"just gonna- just gonna fuck you, bonnie, 'k?"

"johnny?" you murmur, still half asleep. "but... simon said-"

"simon isn't fucking here," he snarls back, and you feel his bared teeth press against his shoulder. "he won't know. i'll be quick, ok, lass? just gotta... gotta cum, then you go back to sleep, yeah?"

"johnny," you'd whine again, getting a little squirmy in your spot as you feel his hands work at his own dick, then feel him start to slide in without any prep. "john- ow..."

"hush," he breathes heavily in your ear, hips already starting to work. you can feel how quickly his heart beats against you back. "i'll eat you out after, just let me... just..."

he doesn't speak after that, and neither do you. he's fast, needy, you can tell he's only gonna last a few minutes. you're still half-asleep, lost in the comforting warmth of your blankets and pillows, can't do anything but lay limp like a doll for him and relish in the pleasure.

you don't hear simon come in. one minute johnny is thrusting away inside of you, the next he's being ripped off, a sharp yelp coming from his lips followed by a long drawn out whine.

"bad fucking boy," you hear simon snarl over your shoulder, the sound of a slap echoing through the air. "you that fucking lost in your instincts, dog? can't think with nothin' but your dick - you see a pussy and fuck it, that's it huh? can't even listen to a simple command from your master. useless mutt."

you turn your head to the side, sleep clearing from your head at the sight of johnny crumpled to his knees, simon tall and proud above him. you can see the shine of tears on johnny's cheeks with the little light from the doorway.

"simon- simon-"

"no," simon's tone is merciless, his boot coming to rest on johnny's rock-hard dick and pushing down. "that's not what bad boys get to call me."

another whine, a plaintive "master..."

you see johnny's hips work a little, tiny thrusts against the sole of the boot. simon's scowl grows, backhanding johnny with bruising force and sending him sprawling to the floor. "why are you speaking? dogs don't fucking talk."

he stares down at johnny for another moment, both of them taking great heaving breaths. finally, he sighs loud and angry. "fine. i was going easy on you, mutt, was tryin' to be nice. but clearly you don't deserve nice."

he stalks over to their closet, yanking open a drawer you know holds the mean toys - the ones you don't like nearly as much as the others. he grabs something silver and shiny, storm back over to johnny and hauls him up by the hair.

johnny scrambles to follow, but simon doesn't give him a chance to stand. just drags his weight to the bed, throws him onto his back nearly on top of your legs.

you squeak a little, simon's aggressive energy something you're not entirely comfortable being so close to. you curl your legs up, folding into a little ball against the pillows as you stare at the two of them with wide eyes.

simon glances over to you at the sound, eyes softening behind his mask immediately. "oh, love, you're not in trouble. you couldn't stop the mutt from fucking you, huh? don't worry. we'll get him punished and i'll take care of you."

johnny whines again and starts wiggling around, eyes squeezed shut as his hips desperately thrust, looking for any sort of sensation. simon's attention slams back to him, a growl rumbling from his throat as he cups johnny's dick in one hand.

"gotta get you soft, dog," he growls, and you see his hand moving around a bit until he's got johnny's balls in a vice-grip. "the ring wasn't enough for a horny bitch like you, we'll see how you like the cage."

johnny's past words, can only writhe on the bed with little animal noises slipping past his lips. simon doesn't give him any leeway, doesn't give him comfort when he starts to sob a little, just keeps squeezing.

once he's apparently soft enough, simon is quick and methodical about locking johnny's cock up. almost impersonal.

"there," he grunts when he stands up to stare down at johnny. he lands a slap to johnny's dick, gets the smaller man jolting and crying out. "in your cage now. you're not sleeping in bed with us people until you prove you can handle it."

johnny hardly struggles as simon forces him to his knees, kicking at his side to guide him to the crate looming in the corner of the room.

just moments later simon's at the bed with you. he tugs the mask off now (knows you like it sometimes, but also knows it scares you a little - rarely wears it outside of punishments) and crawls on top of you, hands soft and slow as he coaxes you to stretch out back on the bed.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low and just for you. "you're a good girl. can't help what the mutt does, huh? i know, i know. i'll take care of you now, fuck you right."

there are whines from the corner as simon flips you onto your stomach. he lifts you up to your knees, everything soft as he rubs your pussy a few times before slipping his cock into you.

he's always so heavy. you sink further into the bed when he gives you his weight, little moan slipping past your lips as your eyes roll back in your head. johnny gets louder.

"yeah, there you go. good girl, baby, so good for me, huh?"

simon fucks you deep and slow. no rush whatsoever, just nice and languid. you'd probably fall asleep if not for johnny's increasingly desperate noises, the sound of his crate rocking against the wall as he does something in there.

at one point simon sighs all annoyed into your ear, pulls out without warning. you whine and he pets a hand over your hair, whisps "just give me a second, doll, gotta shut the dog up and then i'll finish you off" before walking away.

you don't open your eyes, but you hear simon moving around the room. hear him spit, "makin' me fucking muzzle you because you can't shut up. nothing but a goddamn animal, are you?"

when simon fucks you again, johnny is silent.

he brings you to a slow and easy orgasm, fingers stroking at your achy clit. finishes inside you at nearly the same time.

he tucks you into his arms after, curls you into him and sighs, the sound all satisfied man. you fall asleep like that, johnny's predicament the furthest thing from your mind.

[pong03]

Go-to dates headcanons pt. 2

Pt. 1

Vagastrom pretend its yellow

if you like what you read and want me to write any of these more in depth just request and I will.

Leo taking cute photos of each other Leo may act aloof, and like he's too cool for you, but the photos he takes of you show how beautiful you are in his eyes. His eyes glitter with pride looking at his work and he smiles up at you. Not relishing for long before bluntly demanding, “okay now take one of me,” he pauses, “make me look as good as you look,” avoiding eye contact after the half disguised compliment before posing for the camera. After you take half a million photos he excitedly looks over your shoulder at them. “Wow, you must really like me to make me look this good,” he says with a smirk. He continues to praise your work and remarks he's glad he took you because you took better photos than even Sho.

Sho going for midnight drives 

After a busy day Sho invites you to go on a ride with him to buy some ingredients for a new dish he wants to test for a new special. It's already sundown by the time you two leave. You two arrive at the grocery store only to find it closed up. You're quick to apologize about getting their so late. Sho shrugs and reassures you, "it's not your fault we left so late, lets just do something else," he grabs your hand and walks back to Bonnie. "You're not too tired, right" you nod and he smiles, "good to hear." Afterwards you two sneak back into Sho's dorm and sleep there it being too late for you to want to go back to the Clementina dorm, especially not wanting Sho to have to walk you all the way there. In the morning unsurprisingly, Leo casually strolls in and finds you two together too shocked to even acknowledge, rudely waking you two up. "um... okay...? I thought I would have heard you come in" and with his snide comment he leaves.

Mido dinner and a movie

He’s simple, but sweet going with a typical date to take you on. Bringing you a small gift each time you two meet for a date. He’s quiet and can be quite shy about holding your hand waiting for you to initiate. He always plans to go to the movie first because it gives him something to talk about, even still, he's quiet. He sits smiling subtly, admiring you as you eat. He insists on paying, of course, and walking you home no matter how much you insist you don't want to be a burden. On special days he will surprise you by taking you to get desert after and you can trick him to go to the bathroom so you can pay for him. Although after one or two times he will catch on and only will feign innocence to serve your ego.

[yandere----fandoms8790]

Hi! I saw you did a yan!withered bonnie x insomniac darling, but can you do the opposite, and instead, yan!withered bonnie and a hypersomniac darling? (Hypersomnia is basically borderline narcolepsy, with no matter how much you sleep, your still overly tired, and consistently sleeping way more than normal)

Sure, but I think I may have either lost or gained some knowledge about writing, ya'll decide for yourselves.

Yandere!Withered Bonnie x Hypersomniac!Reader/Darling

The very definition of a worried mother would be likely to describe this man, he would worry about you consistently, thinking you're an Insomniac instead of hypersomniac

Did I forget to mention the fact he's most likely going to try to steal some sleeping pills from the drug store? No? Okay, he would do such a thing, thinking you're an insomniac, but to his surprise, you're hypersomniac

Once he's figured out you're hypersomniac, he'll baby you to no end, and when I say 'baby' I literally mean BABY you, he'll wait on you hand and foot, he'll try to feed you and give you water, he'll try to get you to sleep more often, he might even try to burp you if he thinks about it(joke lol, I have terrible humor)

If he's feeling energetic then he'll most likely try to feed you something like sugar, if you've got ADHD or ADD or something of that nature, to hype you up, If that don't work, uh....Well, he gets kinda upset because he wants to play and you don't, so, therefore he'll bug you until you play with him

He's most likely one of the best options you have here if you're hypersomniac, he loves you, and if anyone messes with or bully's you...He'll beat the stew outta them

Small story for those of you looking for another story from me or just for Yandere!Withered Bonnie in general:

It was midnight, 12:00A.M., you were in the office and, as usual, you were tired as heck. Not because you didn't get sleep last night, because you did, you just have a slight problem, you're an Hypersomniac, so you you're still tired as heck.

It was time for your shift to begin, and as usual, you just sit there, checking the camera's, keeping a check on everything as well as the Animatronics. It was the third night, meaning most of the animatronics were active all except for the Withered animatronics, or so you thought.

As if on cue, the bell for your shift rand out, causing you to jolt awake and look around frantically, you would see no one, but that doesn't always mean something isn't there.

Going through your shift, fending of the animatronics and staying alive, it reached 3:00AM. Signaling more newcomers, albeit you don't know that.

You go to check the camera's, only to have them knocked out of your hand by something. You only have a matter of seconds until you get pinned down to the desk.

As you look up, you find yourself face-to-face with one of the Withered animatronics, Withered Bonnie, He was a blueish-purple, his glowing eyes red as human blood, wires sticking out of his suit from his endoskeleton, his right arm torn off with wires only remaining, his left hand with nothing but an endoskeleton hand, his lower half with rips and his feet nothing but endoskeleton.

He tried to say something to you, but his voice box was broken. The next thing you know you were being carried out of the office and over to a secluded room.

As you were being carried he started to rub your back, and you started to feel tired. 'Crap, wrong time to fall asleep, (Y/N)' you thought to yourself as he carried you away.

After getting into the secluded room he laid you down on the bed, as if knowing you were tired, and before you could protest, he shoved a pill down your throat, and you were forced to swallow it.

You began to feel tired, maybe it wasn't so bad after all, yeah?

The last thing you hear before falling asleep is Withered Bonnie managing to force out a few words: "Goodnight-night....(Y-(Y/N)..."

[lenkins]

Bonnie Looping AU

“Mudcake”

Would occur after reaching 100 loops and reaching ACT4

Automatic dialogue - Simply walking to the favour tree and initiating dialogue with Loop is enough to trigger

—

Bonnie is Bonnie and Loop is Loop! The regular Loop we all know and love, here to help you with the loops!

—

for the sake of this lets say loop calls bonnie ‘bumblebee’ cos thats what they call them in a fanfic and it makes me viscerally upset:

—

Loop: say Bumblebee… how many loops has it been again? Atleast 100 right??

(Too many)

Bonnie: Why do you want to know?

Loop: Why, surely you could’ve guessed by the gorgeous mud cake infront of you!

(You looks down at the ground to see a sorry excuse for a ‘mud cake’ between the tree roots.)

(its made of dry dirt so it keeps crumbling while loop nudges loose chunks back into place with their foot.)

Loop: this many loops, roughly two days in each… i’d say its about time for someones birthday!!

Bonnie: wha-

Bonnie: …

Bonnie: why would it be my birthday…

Loop: Bumblebee did you not hear me? more than enough days have passed for it to be your birthda-

Bonnie: SHUT UP!!

(Loop flinches at your outburst.)

Bonnie: IF IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY I’D BE AT HOME!

Bonnie: I’d be with Belle, and Dile and Za and Frin! And they’d all do something stupid like burn my cake!

Bonnie: A-and if it was my birthday, I’d be with NILLE!!

Loop: Bumblebee I-

(You push yourself up and stamp your foot into the mud cake and yell. You don’t miss how Loop flinches again.)

Bonnie: IT CANT BE MY BIRTHDAY IF IM NOT WITH NILLE- SHE NEEDS TO SEE ME GET OLDER AND GROW AND CHANGE SO SHE KNOWS I HELPED SAVE THE COUNTRY!!

Bonnie: A-And that-! And that I-!

(You’re in tears. You can’t finish your sentence.)

Loop: . . .

Loop: … I think it’s best if we have some time apart this loop. Go speak to your friends, Bumblebee. They’ll be able to help you more than I can.

(…)

Loop: I’m sorry, Bonnie.

(. . .They sound like they’re about to cry.)

(. . .)

(You sprint away from the favour tree.)

(You Don’t want to talk to Loop right now.)

———

*boom*! be subjected to my rambles of isat and writing at midnight in the apple notes app… thank you to my darling starshine who fuelled this writing with their own gut-wrenching bonnie looping ideas (planning / drawing That interaction about Nille is something you brought upon yourself)

[loopscereal]

Day 6: Rivals, First time meeting

OK!!!! With one minute to midnight to spare (for me) jajhaa

OK. Rivals. They are both inherently rival bands yes, but them two, Meg and Fred specifically, i can see as true rivals. The truly are a match for each-other musical abilities and would fuel one another to one-up the other, grow their talents due to being evenly matched with someone else. The two biggest talents of the entire school. First time meeting. I feel like they would meet at a local concert or the muelles if you want a specific fnafhs location. I feel like, and have had the headcanon, that the toys go to local shows/concerts, to study! They go out an study musicians who have "made it". Musicians who have found their audience, their sound, their methods all that. I feel like, they take the band thing very seriously, Mangle especially. So they go out and study, record video take tones of things like audience reception, techniques, how the band-mates interact and work together, the lyrics, the melody. Taking note and absorbing as much as they can to learn and become better as a band. They try and see a wide array of different bands/genres to try new things, to see if they can find something to apply to THEIR worth ethic and habits even the most unlikely of places. OK the toys go and study at local shows, cause they take this music stuff way too seriously for their own good. Fred, we already know he sneaks out to go out and sing his heart out. That gives them a place to meet properly for the first time, though, Fred would have known about the toys before hand. He should have already run into Joy himself when he took over the first time, and before that, he technically should've been watching when the Toys tried to put the animations in their place with Joys singing and Bons v Bonnie guitar battle and whatnot. He should have heard/seen Joy step up and say that the Animatronics don't deserve to have Meg waste their voice on them, and that she will handle it instead and sing.

they don't deserve Meg to "waste their voice on them." they dont deserve the best they have. I dont think Fred would let that go OR let it slide. He think he's worth and capable of meeting them at their best, he thinks he can and should go up against their best. so! he challanges Mangle to a duet the second he get the chance. He wants to see what theyve got, what was so good about them that they had to preserve their voice from people "undeserving" of hearing them. He wants to see if they live up to that lil comment that he is 100% blowing up out of proportion. He challanges The Toys, but specifcally Meg to a music/singing battle to see if hes really that good. Meg is very much NOT happy about it, he feels as though his band and he himself has taken a hit to their egos. The guitar battle was a tie at BEST and that still Meg awfully shaken and uncomofrtable, getting matched muscially in any way. Their ego is bruised. So seeing this attitude from a member of the same band makes them view Fred as incredibly arrogant. Like this band of nobodies think they're all that and can skip all the work youre supposed to do as a band to get anywhere and just topple the established groups so easily. Megs gonna take up that challange, out of frustration and anger, out of wanting to mend his own ego, oout of wanting to put this stupid band in his place as she feels they had failed to. If he had done this from the beginning maybe he wouldnt be feeling so uncertain and sour and bruised. they of course, are a match for eachothers talents, and neither of them want to admit that theyve been match in any way and leave that battle acting as if they had one that, they had some fun in the moment cause yeah they love singing, it really is their passion, but neither of them truly feel like they won and thats gonna eat away at them. Theyve both alwyas been the best, completely unrivaled, until recently. and it is uncomofortable, but absolutly awakening a competitive nature they both have within

Tldr i think they’re both crazy and ahould explode into a billion peices

theyres probably a better way to ohase all of this but i am not a writer in the slightest… i cannot soeak nicely im sorry. just know im crazy that is all

+ i think ita funny that 3 of us did meg ships with the rivals prompt. this characyers can fit so much antagonism lol

[nightmare-foundation]

ok enlighten me what is your glitchtrap michael theory . i’ve NEVER seen anyone else say this im so curious, i gotta hear the reasoning

Okay sorry this took a while to answer, I needed to put together my thoughts on this

Basically where I started with the 'Michael is Glitchtrap' theory is basically like. Process of elimination kinda?

I noticed that Glitchtrap didn't fit either William OR the Mimic. Glitchtrap is, well, not robotic from my perspective. He's sentimental for one (putting together the staffbots to look like the Aftons, the SL living room, Vanessa and Gregory directly referencing and paralleling Elizabeth and CC, etc), and doesn't really act like an ai program built to mimic things, unlike the Mimic seen in Ruin.

On top of that, Glitchtrap holds back. He has explicit rules; you have to find him, put his tapes together, and consent to merging with him (this is important). If this was William, he wouldn't bother putting together all these rules. Not only that, but Vanessa, Gregory, and Cassie are all still alive. And Glitchtraps appearance too- he's a costume, not a springlock suit. William always explicitly associated himself with spring Bonnie. Not the character, but the actual springlock suit itself.

Also, Glitchtrap knows things neither William nor the mimic WOULD know. The biggest clue is the Exotic Butters- how would William, and thus the Mimic, know about something only Michael would know?? And it goes deeper.

The color theory doesn't match up, either. William went from yellow (Midnight Motorist) -> purple (fnaf 2 and 3 minigames) -> yellow (springtrap). It's pretty clear that after William dies, he's associated with YELLOW now. His story is also over too, this was established with UCN.

Michael is sort of the opposite. The first time we see him, if you don't count fnaf 4, he's wearing purple. The next time in ffps, he's wearing yellow and blue. The natural next step is that he'd be associated with purple again. There's a LOT going on with the color theory too (yellow can mean both royalty and sickness, purple can Also be royalty and corruption, etc), in a way that connects to their stories.

Glitchtrap is purple; or, at least, his true form seen in PQ is. He's depicted as a costume deliberately; the yellow throws you off, it's not the truth. But take it off and you get a big black and purple blob. Not only that, it's a COSTUME. Michael has always, always been associated with masks, which are a part of costumes. William is associated with springlock animatronics, not costumes, even if they double as one, which says a lot to his own character.

Not only THAT, but everything since Help Wanted 1 and even the AR game has been referencing Sister Location, fnaf 4, and FFPS. Michael is the certain protagonist of ALL of these games, both directly confirmed or hinted at (yes fnaf 4 is Michael's nightmares after he actually got tortured by William post CC death, you'll have to tear this out of my cold dead hands). Michael is also repeatedly referenced in Security Breach, with the constant references to butters in sticky notes, again, only something he would know.

Also, of the main cast, Foxy is the only one that's missing. Foxy is VERY important to Michael and his character, and the different iterations of Foxy, especially Funtime Foxy and Ringmaster Foxy, are especially important. Yes I do think that each of the Funtimes represent the Aftons, and FT Foxy represents Michael. So we can gleam that Michael, similarly to his father, is a performer. He's the leader; the captain, the ringmaster, the older brother. This is hammered in with his monologue and the Security Logbook. This fits in exactly with Glitchtrap. He's theatrical, he performs, he pretends.

As for HOW Michael would've become Glitchtrap, I believe the circuit boards FazEnt got were from the computer in the ffps office. William is trapped in UCN, the Mimic was still trapped behind the wall in Ruin, and I don't think the mimic1 program existed at the time (not to mention Glitchtraps behavior doesn't fit mimic1).

Michael easily could've possessed those circuit boards on accident. You might be asking- well, Michael was dead, all of his Remnant would've burned up. And, honestly, I don't think he actually DID die at the end of SL.

Baby explicitly says "You won't die". The Scooper also injects Remnant into you, which is known to keep you alive and heal you. As for the rotting, that can easily be explained away as Michael literally being one giant walking infected wound. The scooper tore him apart stomach to throat, and Ennard went inside, tearing him apart internally. When wounds are bad enough, they rot, especially when they're left to fester and get infected. Besides, it would've been impossible to possess his own corpse. Remnant is best conducted by metal, not rotting flesh. And I doubt Ennard would've left enough of itself behind for Michael to actually control his own body.

So, Michael was likely actually alive and fully healed by FFPS. Thus, when he burned to death, he would've ended up possessing the nearest electronic things- the circuit boards in the computer. Whether or not he actually wanted to die (I don't think he did) matters; he possessed it anyways.

As for why he's now the main antagonist of the new games- well, I don't think he's evil. I think he's being affected by Agony.

Since the blob is one massive ball of leftover Agony from the rest of the animatronics, I think it's possible Glitchtrap has his own Agony too, especially if it's true that Remnant turns into Agony when burned up like I think it does. It'd explain why he's all black and goopy, since I believe Agony is described as a black, tar-like substance.

Some of Glitchtraps appearance would also be explained by Michael being him, such as the tears that are on the suit and his true form. Usually, lost souls are what have those tear tracks, like the dead kids. William has never been depicted with those same marks, EVER.

A lot of the above also explains why I don't think Glitchtrap is evil. I don't think Michael is fully sane, and Glitchtrap has a duality theme going on (purple and green are opposites on the digital spectrum). Plus, as I said, he actively holds back. He's cruel yes, and he's killed a fuck ton of people, but he sets rules and let's Vanessa, Gregory, Cassie, and for a time, Cassies dad, all live.

Also, he's a WAY more successful killer than William. He's smart, and while I wouldn't call William an idiot, he's not exactly good at hiding things. He's arrogant, believes he'll never die ("I always come back!"), he's theatrical to his own detriment, etc. Even in SL it was extremely obvious he was already being questioned, and was nearly caught and jailed. He died to CHILD GHOSTS. And Vanessa and Glitchtrap have never been suspected, not ONCE.

People really like to act like Michael is stupid, but he's FAR from it. He knew what was happening in SL, and pieced things together Really Fucking Quickly (in less than a WEEK). He also likely suspected Williams crimes beforehand, and if he hadn't in fnaf 1, he definitely figured it out in SL. He also very likely created fnaf 3; the building matches ffps's confusing labyrinth layout, clearly set up to burn down, the collection of Fazbear stuff, the audio lures, and the "to you, from working architect" in the security logbook. And then he helped Henry with the FFPS location, and possibly built the Rockstar animatronics (I say this bc it's a mix of Williams and Henry's styles of animatronics; the hard outer casing, extra abilities i.e. Freddy's coin thing, but they're cute, like Henry's, BUT the Michael thing is that they're.. well, Rockstars. I also think Michael made the plans for the Glamrocks but FazEnt stole them for these reasons lmao). Michael is far, FAR from an idiot, and all of these show he's actually REALLY fucking smart, likely smart enough that William felt threatened by him (part of why he was likely sent to the SL bunker). Glitchtrap is also clearly Very Intelligent.

Another part is that Glitchtrap doesn't hurt children. In one of the SB endings, on the newspaper it says 'missing locals', not missing children. Gregory and Cassie were never directly harmed by him either. Cassie was completely safe in the mall pre-Ruin, and Gregory seemed fine too, if possessed by Glitchtrap. It's never stated that CHILDREN are hurt, only the staff.

Also Glitchtrap is,, very sentimental. Neither William nor the Mimic would be sentimental about the Aftons, but Michael WOULD. He cares deeply about his family if SL is any indication, and would explain his favoritism towards Gregory, the CC lookalike.

Glitchtrap being Michael would ALSO explain why Cassies dad (aka bonniebro) was spared, long enough for the spirits in the staffbots to get JEALOUS. After all, what exactly makes him so special? He's Michael's old friend. Neither William nor the Mimic would care.

Also springtrap is consistently depicted as terrifying and beastly. Especially in hw2, where the place burns down and Springtrap hunts you down. William would've shown himself as the pinnacle of his inventions, not a nightmarish monster.

Oh, and another note, but almost every time William is in the game, whether in the background or not, Golden Freddy aka Cassidy is always there. Fnaf 1, 2, and 3 ('shadow freddy') follow this formula, but she's not there in fnaf 4, or SL, though I imagine she's not there in FFPS because William is already trapped, and for good this time.

The same goes for Michael and the Puppet/Charlie. Charlie is in fnaf 1 (implied in fnaf 2), fnaf 2 (the party Jeremy got bit at was for Michael), fnaf 3, fnaf 4, and FFPS. The exception is SL, but I believe it's because William is dead by then.

Notice how Cassidy doesn't show up past fnaf 3, but Charlie keeps showing up as the plushies. There's near constant references to her in every. Single. Steel Wool game. It's hard to NOT see it it's so often. So it's very likely Michael is still around, and only hammers in that he's likely Glitchtrap.

Also, writing-wise, it makes sense for him to become the new antagonist since FNAF was soft-rebooted. Typically the old protagonist is still important in soft reboots, whether that's as an important historical figure or the next games/series/movies antagonist, or a driving point for the next protagonist (think Peter Parker and Tony Stark). It also fits thematically, since it'd be a really weird spin around for the new villain to be an AI (doesn't fit fnafs formula) and having William be the villain Again would just be lazy writing.

Collapses. Okay I probably missed some things BUT. That's my main points. There's WAY more that goes into a much bigger theory (like PQ is Obviously Vanessa being freed from Glitchtrap, fnafs timeline, the ghost kids are back and are wanting to free Michael, the SW games are based on I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream, etc), but that's mostly what I have for Glitchtrap Michael.

Feel free to look up everything I'm talking about, I haven't bothered to put anything up but I have all of my facts straight. I've considered pretty much every other option in order to TRY to disprove my own theory, but every single new game and book only keeps proving me right unfortunately LMAO.

I've had this theory since like... before Ruin. I've had So much time to get everything straight. I'm sad no one else sees what I see lol.

Have fun with this :3

[sorrowful-star-rose]

My thoughts are a jumbled mess right now.

[universalwhoreofthesouth]

Repudiation - MITO

Pairing: ex boyfriend! MITO x gn! reader

Genre: angst (but with a “happy” ending)

Warning(s): mito is his own individual (no ian mentions), mentions toxic relationship, mito refuses to let you go, the m in mito stands for mad man, bonnie & clyde mentions (ifykyk), slight self harm mention

A/N: I got inspired to write this because 1. I love Mito and his involvement with The Other Side lore and 2. I read pt. 1 and 2 of Set My Wings On Fire by @nirvanawrites111

A/N: Is it fucked up that I was lowkey giggling while writing this?

It was a quarter before midnight. The cold raindrops poured down from the sky, tapping against your black umbrella as you walked from your now ex boyfriend’s house. Your mind was racing although you were upset.. You weren’t as upset as you’d thought you’d be. It was more complicated than explained. When you and.. Him Mito broke up, you thought that hole in your heart could never be filled again. Too broken to fix. Too wounded to be cured. Even when you were in a new relationship, your mind was still in the past imagining that he was with you instead. You felt your chest start to close in on itself, your lungs burning, aching for a release as your eyes watered, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks like a waterfall. Fuck.

You grabbed your phone, smacking your teeth when realizing that it’s almost dead. You swallowed down your urge to scream and cause a scene despite the empty sidewalk you were occupying. You tried to think of a solution. Maybe call someone? Try to call a taxi? You only had 5 percent battery left. You go to phone a friend until you hear whistling through the rain. At first you didn’t think much of it until you recognized the tune of said whistling. A tune he created and would always mimic with his fingers or guitar.

It can’t be…

Right?

“I’ve been looking for you (Y/N)” his gravelly voice still gave your spine chills. You kept walking but you knew he would follow you like he always did.

“I know you hear me speaking to you (Y/N)” You sigh and stop walking with your back turned to him.

“How did you find me?”

“That’s not a nice way to greet your love now is it?”

“Mito.”

“I love when you say my name angel” you could hear the cheekiness in his voice, making you more frustrated.

“What do you want?”

“There’s plenty that I want but I need you. I need to fix what we had” You scoffed.

“You need me? Even after everything you’ve done to me? I’d rather die”

“I visited death many times before darling so I know that’s an exaggeration from you”

“Can you just leave me alone? You’ve already ruined my life enough”

“If I really did ruin your life, you wouldn’t be standing to tell the tale, isn’t that right?”

“You’re fucking crazy.” You feel his eyes stare daggers into your back, piercing through your skin. Then he laughed but it didn’t sound joyful.

“I’d prefer the term, misguided, but I’ll play along with your game (Y/N) since I’m crazy” The air went stiff.

“Do you want me to show you crazy?” You flinched as you felt his warm breath brush against the nape of your neck, leaving goosebumps on your skin.

“Get off of me..”

“Answer my question~”

“No, I don’t”

“What a shame. I was going to show you what I did with the cunt’s body once you left the apartment” You turn around and face him, hoping you didn’t hear what you just heard.

“You what?”

“And you wonder how I always find you. A birdie told me that you had a boyfriend but I originally thought to leave you alone until I found out what the bastard did behind your back so I took matters into my own hands but I did get a little help” A wave of nausea hit you when he smiled despite saying the most corrupt thing.

“How did you.. Why?!” Mito wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in closely.

“Because you’re mine and I always protect what’s mine”

“I’m not yours anymore Mito. You can go to jail for doing this” He smiles wickedly again.

“As if the police would catch me and as long as you don’t say a word, everything will be fine. I didn’t train a snitch, did I?” His dark eyes bored into yours, making you look away from the intense gaze.

“No.. you didn’t but this isn’t right! You killed my ex and expect me to go back to you after doing that!” You tried to push him off but it was pointless, him being twice your size in every way.

“Why would I expect something that I know is going to happen? The old (Y/N) would fawn over it”

“Well I’m not the old (Y/N) anymore, I matured”

“For the worse, you lost the fun in you” He chuckled, frustrating you.

“No, I realized that being with you would cause me nothing but hell”

“But you were happier then, no?” You bit your tongue, unable to defend yourself. You were happier with him. He took care of you when he wasn’t spiraling out of control. He loved you intensely, in ways not even a normal person can mimic. He would carve his own heart out and give it to you to prove his love for you. Though it did scare you at first, not wanting Mito to harm himself to show that he loved you but as time grew, you embraced it.

“I was happier but it only for a little while”

“So you’re saying you weren’t happy with me?”

“That’s not what-”

“Look me in my eyes when you say that.” You look back at Mito, seeing an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, instantly swallowing your words.

“Just as I thought. You’re a bad liar (Y/N). You swear up and down the street that you hate my guts and wished I left you alone but you secretly love it. You love when you’re all I think about. You enjoy corrupting my mind, you’re not innocent in this.” He hisses but his expression wasn’t anger, he was amused. You were caught, you didn’t know what to say in rebuttal. No matter how many times you said no, your heart said yes. Your heart said go back into his arms and everything will be okay. You didn’t realize that you started crying until you felt Mito’s rough hands caress your cheek, wiping your tears.

“I just.. Felt lost after we split. I didn’t know what to do”

“Neither did I, which is why I kept looking for you. You complete me (Y/N) but you kept running from me”

“Because I was afraid that everything wouldn’t be the same again” He chuckled.

“Nothing in this puny little world could make me love you any less darling. You’re my angel, the piece that makes me whole” Your heart swelled at his words.

“All I ask for is you to take me back and we try again” He takes your hand and presses his lips against your knuckle, right on the small “m” scar on your right hand.

“I want to try again” You whisper, the dead butterflies coming back to life.

[sofasoap]

Little Comfort

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: Long day at work. You had enough.

Warning : M themed. no major warning. A/N: We all need a Johnny after a long shitty day at work.

Part 3 of Little Bear series Masterlist

You slam your laptop shut, leaning back into the chair and let out a painful groan as you send out that last analysis report. 

It’s been a long painful day. The long meetings that went around in circles, going nowhere.

Piles and piles of documents and reports to finish off.

You had enough. The urge of strangling your annoying manager and workmate was interrupted by the soft shrilling sound of your ringtone.

“Hello Johnny.” 

“Hey my little bear. I assume you finished work?” 

“Just about. I am sorry I had to cancel our date night tonight.” Rubbing your eyes as you replied tiredly. You were supposed to be home hours ago, spending quality time with your boyfriend who’s only arrived home the day before from his latest deployment. Guilt starts bubbling up from your stomach. “They piled on last minute work onto me at the end of day, I couldn’t…”

Knowing you too well, he interrupted, “Don’t worry about it bonnie. Come home and I’ll take care of ya. We can just order some takeaway and have a date night at home?”

“That sounds heavenly. See you at home in ten minutes?.”

“Drive safe. Love you little bear.”

Hearing his soft baritone voice was enough to wash half of your stress away. He always knows how to make you feel better. You don’t know how you got so lucky to have Johnny as your boyfriend. You miss him so much during his time away, and now you are wasting precious seconds of your short time together before he gets sent away, in the office. At the thought of that, you quickly lock up the office, rushing home.

As soon as you step through the door of the house, Johnny takes the messenger bag and keys off you and ushers you straight into the bathroom.

“I got the bath ready for you. Even threw in some of your favourite bath bombs into it.” he rambled on as he helped you to undress. “Oh, before I forget,” He slapped his forehead. “What do you feel like? We have choices of…. Chinese, Thai, Italian, or… “ pointing to himself, grinning “ A MacTavish Special?” 

You burst out laughing, giving your boyfriend a playful shove, “ I might have that as a midnight snack thank you.” Letting out a soft sigh as you step into the bath,“ You pick. I’m happy with anything.” “Pizza it is then.” He gave you a quick kiss and turned to order the takeaway on his phone, leaving you soaking in a nice steamy bath. 

Nice and refreshed from the relaxing bath you just had, you plonk yourself down onto the couch. Johnny poured you a glass of wine, shaking out the blanket, carefully wrapping it around you. 

"Johnny."

"Yes bonnie?"

"... Thank you for taking care of me."

"You deserve to be pampered, my little teddy bear."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

Tag list :

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana

[bartletslesbians]

Pinned introduction/fic list post

About me/this blog: I'm in my mid-twenties and I'm from the Netherlands! My asks are open, anon included, and I love hearing any questions/thoughts/requests about different characters/ships or the fics I'm working on!

This blog is mainly about The West Wing, focusing especially on CJ, Leo, Andy, and Carol. I love rarepairs, I love femslash, I love minor characters. Currently, CJ/Andy, CJ/Carol, Andy/Amy, and Bonnie/Ginger are my favourite ships to think about! I do love CJ/Danny, and have a soft spot for the tragedy of Andy/Toby, but they're not ships I write for much.

Find me: My AO3 account is AllTheWorldIsBlind, and I'm on twitter and bluesky under the name @/bartletlesbians (same as here minus the s after bartlet due to character limits lol)

Common tags: I'm doing a very slow rewatch and writing not-very-concise thoughts about small stuff happening in the episodes under the tag tww rewatch. Other analyses and drawn out thoughts about this show and the characters are tagged tww thoughts.

The video edits and west wing memes I post and reblog are, respectively, tagged tww edits and tww memes.

I'm working on a longer fic called A Feeling so Peculiar, which is tagged as such whenever I share chapter updates or just small thoughts about what I'm writing here.

My fics: A Feeling so Peculiar is my longer WIP about CJ surviving a suicide attempt, which you can find here, and updates/more information in the tag above. Please please please read the tags and description of that one, it's heavy, for obvious reasons.

For my one-shots, I'm just adding the most basic information for each link to avoid clogging this up too much, please read the tags and description if you want to know more!

Gen fics, sorted by characters: All I ask (Leo & CJ, G, coming out) Something they can't take away (Leo & CJ, T, season 7 ED development) Run and run (Leo & CJ, G, "Leo and Jenny adopt kid CJ AU") Award season (Leo & CJ, T, misogyny and comforting words) The things we can't say (Leo & CJ, M, Hoynes related panic attack post "Stirred") Tailor-made (Leo & CJ, G, genderqueer!CJ and a bespoke suit) Make the call (Angela & CJ, T, CJ hires Angela as DCOS) No choice but to stay (Carol & CJ, G, during Rosslyn) It will be the whole truth (Toby & CJ, M, Full Disclosure post-ep) Giving her away (Toby & CJ, G, Toby gives her away at her wedding) Why'd you ask? (Toby & CJ, T, CJ comes out to him) All they keep asking me (Andy & CJ, T, Andy talks about The House) In sweetness (Josh & CJ, G, Josh meets CJ's baby) Family confessions (Jed & CJ, G, CJ comes out to him in season 7) Nice to have a friend (Sam & Carol, T, chat about CJ/Carol) For the sake of trying (Andy & Matt, T, Andy back at work post-Gaza) New beginnings (Andy, T, moving in somewhere new post-divorce) Mothers and daughters (Andy & Huck, G, a moment with trans!Huck) Father's daughter (Toby & Huck, G, talk after trans!Huck comes out)

Femslash fics (sorted by ship): Might just get away with it (CJ/Carol, E, 100.000 airplanes post-ep) Bitten (CJ/Carol, E, campaign hook-up) Meet me at midnight (CJ/Carol, T, New Year's kiss) Nothing ever happened (CJ/Carol, E, office hook-up) So far for a first kiss (CJ/Carol, T, post-Simon first kiss) Little snowmen (CJ/Carol, first kiss during Holy Night) The altar is my hips (CJ/Carol, E, period sex during Debate Camp) Fixing things (CJ/Carol, G, 5+1 that ends in a wedding) Her girl (CJ/Andy, E, D/S office hook-up) Grilled cheese and princess dresses (CJ/Andy, G, domestic fluff) A brief interruption (CJ/Andy, G, pregnancy fluff/comfort) Let me look at you (CJ/Andy, T, CJ tries a packer) Really gonna be someone (CJ/Andy, T, faith throughout the years) I see daylight (CJ/Andy, T, Tomorrow post-ep AU) Ambitions (CJ/Andy, G, First Lady CJ watching Andy be sworn in) Our maladies were such (CJ/Andy, T, CJ develops PPD, single mom AU) These kids of mine (CJ/Andy, G, driving the twins to the Bartlets) Window with a view (CJ/Andy, E, PWP with straps and squirting) Pictures to take (CJ/Andy, G, attending pride post-administration) Bribes (CJ/Andy, T, genderqueer!CJ getting ready for a date) Eleven weeks (CJ/Andy, T, anxieties and fears when CJ's pregnant) Second time's a charm (CJ/Andy, G, Andy plans to propose) History books (CJ/Andy, G, Andy is elected President) Victory tastes sweet (CJ/Amy, E, election night office hook-up) Wedding favors (CJ/Amy, E, wedding hook-up + packer) A little fun (Ellie/Andy, M, post hook-up musing) Her American dreams (Ellie/Andy, M, vignettes of their relationship) Good for a first time (Amy/Andy, E, first time after giving birth) Hot ex (Annabeth/Andy, G, Annabeth asks her on a date) Missed calls (Bonnie/Ginger, T, first kiss after Rosslyn) Secrecy (Bonnie/Ginger, G, being closeted at work) Valentine's cards (Bonnie/Carol, G, fluffy valentine's day) Two divorcees walk into a kitchen (Andy/Jenny, E, post divorce sex) Can't say no (CJ/Liz, T, Liz gets a divorce, CJ's always had a crush) Pride and politics (CJ/Andy, T, faith based initiative, closeted lives)

Het fics: Of dental hygiene and orgasms (CJ/Sam, E, kinktober fill) Never made a sound (CJ/Toby, E, office hook-up) When you know, you know (Andy/Toby, T, first meeting) Simple things (CJ/Danny, T, CJ's first period in California)

[beaft]

october 13th

happy friday the thirteenth, everyone! and to celebrate, here's that poem you probably read at school that one time! today's spooky poem is "the highwayman", a delightfully melodramatic ballad by alfred noyes. there's an analysis of it here and a sung version by loreena mckennit here. and once you've listened to that you can watch this, if you're so inclined.

THE HIGHWAYMAN

Part I

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.  The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.  the road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,    And the highwayman came riding— Riding—riding— The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin. They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.    And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard. He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred. He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there    But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord’s daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.    His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,    But he loved the landlord’s daughter, The landlord’s red-lipped daughter. Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,    Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

Part II He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon; And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came marching Marching—marching— King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door. They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead, But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed; Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side! There was death at every window; And hell at one dark window; For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride. They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest; They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast! "Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say Look for me by moonlight; Watch for me by moonlight; I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way! She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good! She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, Cold, on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest! Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast, She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again; For the road lay bare in the moonlight; Blank and bare in the moonlight; And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain. Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear; Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear? Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill, The highwayman came riding, Riding, riding! The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still! Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath, Then her finger moved in the moonlight, Her musket shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him - with her death. He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood! Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there. Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high! Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A highwayman comes riding Riding—riding— A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door. Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard, And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred; He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

—Alfred Noyes

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

DORO PESCH And ROB HALFORD Have Recorded A Cover Of 'Total Eclipse Of The Heart': 'It Sounds Really, Really Special'

During an appearance on yesterday's (Tuesday, September 12) episode of SiriusXM's "Trunk Nation With Eddie Trunk", German metal queen Doro Pesch revealed that her upcoming studio album, "Conqueress - Forever Strong And Proud", will include two separate duets with JUDAS PRIEST singer Rob Halford: the recently released cover of the PRIEST classic "Living After Midnight" and a version of the 1983 global smash hit "Total Eclipse Of The Heart", written by Jim Steinman and originally performed by the Welsh singer Bonnie Tyler.

"The record has 20 songs on it, and I think they all sound killer," Doro said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET). "And it has three duets on it, and two duets with my favorite, with Rob Halford of JUDAS PRIEST, and I can't believe it. It's so awesome to me. I was a big, big PRIEST fan, and it was my very first big tour in 1986. And [Rob and I] met [again] last year in France at Hellfest, a great festival. And then we were talking, hanging out. And then we said, 'Hey, let's do something together.' So we did two duets. And the first one is 'Living After Midnight'. That was my choice, because I loved singing it. It was always a feel-good song. And then Rob Halford said, 'I have the song I always wanted to do with you. It's 'Total Eclipse Of The Heart'.' And that came out so great. When you hear it, you can tell Rob loves the song and I'm so happy. Even two duets, man. That's more than I can ask for. I'm a lucky baby, I tell you."

Asked if "Total Eclipse Of The Heart", will be a bonus track on the album, since it didn't appear in the LP's original track listing, Doro said: "It is on the record, but it just got finished a couple of weeks ago. Actually, I delivered the record and the vinyl is already done. And then I got an e-mail. Rob Halford said, 'Hey, what about the second song?' And I thought, 'Oh, man. That's too good to be true.' And then we did the second song. And it just got done a couple of weeks ago. We will do a video for that song, and it will come out — the video and the single will come out the day the record will be released, so on the 27th of October. But it came out so awesome. And oh, man, that was just the icing on the cake. I thought I was done with record. And [PRIEST producer] Andy Sneap, he worked on it, and my guys worked on it, and it was a great teamwork. And Rob Halford sounds so great on it. It's, like, wow. It's definitely one of my absolute favorite songs of this album, and it sounds really, really special. You have to check it out. But yeah, it's brand new — just got done; mastering just got done. And video we are doing in a few weeks."

Pressed by host Eddie Trunk whether her version of "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" is "heavy", Doro said: "Yes, yes, it is heavy, and it's, like, wow. It's very heavy, but it sounds great, I think, yeah. I think it's a killer version. I always get goosebumps when I hear it. And I think other people who heard it, they thought, 'Wow.'

"I think all my dreams came true working with all these great people, all my heroes, all people who inspired me so much," Doro added. "And [PRIEST] was my very first tour in Europe in '86 when metal was so huge. And it was such a great tour. So [Rob and I] finally did something together. And we always stayed friends. So I think that makes this album even more special to me, and I think many fans will love it."

"Conqueress - Forever Strong And Proud" is described in a press release as "the result of intensive hard work that took the incomparable singer and songwriter back to studios in Miami, New York and Hamburg, amongst others. The album presents Doro at the height of her creative powers."