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marasmadness · 3 months

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Only Need You For The Oxytocin- Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

CW: season 17 section chief Emily💋, stripper!reader, erm not everything Emily does is very legal but let us all close our eyes for the time being, interrogation, enemies to less than enemies. everybody is very flirty in government buildings where they should not be! handcuffs, smut, rough sex, power dynamics (dom!emily), bondage, thigh riding, light degradation, oral sex (em receiving), choking, semi public sex

Rossi tapped his fingers against the windowsill of an interrogation room, turning to face Emily beside him. “Some of the most psychopathic men have sat in the room and started to squirm after thirty minutes. She’s been sitting in there for two hours, unphased.

“She’s not a man,” Emily mumbled, watching the woman on the other side of the glass with squinted eyes. ”I’m going to talk to her.” Emily perked up, finally growing impatient. Grabbing her jacket off the chair behind her, she slipped it on, knowing that Rossi had already turned down the thermostat in there.

"Prentiss, wait, we already drew up a profile. We won’t get anything out of her. She’ll just try to play with you.”

“Let her,’ she replied, leaving Rossi with a half-open mouth as she dipped inside the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, you’re a new one.” You smiled at the older woman who had finally walked into the room, alluding to the three other agents who had entered hours ago and quickly left. “Shame, Agent Jareau and I were having a grand old time. You could be fun too,” you commented, eyeing her up and down as she introduced herself.

Emily cleared her throat, choosing to ignore your comments. “I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU. Do you know why you’re here today?”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “Because your team wanted to have a little chit chat?”

“Bullshit, you’re too smart for this. You know why you’re here.” Ignoring the chair across from you, she opted to sit against the edge of the table. I’ve already talked to just about everyone else in your club and every other one in the city, for that matter, and they all came to one conclusion. If I needed information, you would have it. She explained calmly yet sternly as she swept her arm toward the door.

You sighed as you rested your tilted head on your palms. “You speak like this is an expectation from me, yet your men dragged me in from the parking lot on the way out of my shift and didn’t tell me anything until I was sitting in your interrogation room, like I’m the one running around committing crimes,” you said pointedly. “And don’t think I didn’t realize your old friend out there was lowering the thermostat, thinking it would get me to tell you whatever you wanted; I’m barely wearing any fucking clothes; of course I’d notice when it drops a few degrees.”

A sense of unease flashed across Emily’s face as she felt slightly guilty. She had come in headstrong, and you were right, without knowing how you ended up here in the first place. She was still standing in a room across from you, who was already on edge, so instead of rewinding, she doubled down. “So now what? You’re not going to give us the information we need to stop a serial killer because you’re offended,” she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

You just stared, watching the woman. She wore a gold watch, its face sitting on her inner wrist, which clinked against her belt buckle lightly every time she dropped her hands to her side. Underneath a long red coat that you desperately wished to be under right now, her outfit was sleek and simple: black pants, thin gold jewelry, and a black blouse with newly undone buttons. Your eyes froze on her shirt, your lips pressing into a smile."Really? Two hours of you and your team of profilers brainstorming, and the best you could come up with was that I would spit out all my information if you sent a woman twice my age in to what exactly, seduce me?” Emily looked caught off guard, and you tipped your head toward her chest. “You’re wearing three fewer buttons than when I watched you walk by this room earlier when Luke left, and a fresh coat of lipgloss.”

Emily held up her hand, leaning in closer over the table. "Okay, I get it—not the correct strategy.”

“No, you had my weaknesses spot on; just use them in a bar or a date, not an interrogation room. I’m not that gullible.” You smirked, enjoying watching Emily’s panic level rise, and then her eyes narrowed as a giggle escaped you.

Emily finally took the seat across from you, resting her forehead in her palm. “You’re giving me a headache.”

She heard you shuffle, reaching underneath the table, and eventually looked up when you tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in front of her. She suddenly snapped up in attention. Where did you get those?”

You shrugged, picking one up. “I had them on me.”

“They didn’t search you when you came in?”

You shook your head, going to light one until Emily snatched in from between your fingers. “Stand up,” she directed, dragging two fingers upward through the air as she made her way around the table. You heard her mumble something under her breath, unable to distinguish any of it other than something about doing everything herself around here.

Her hands slid delicately down your sides and along the side seams of your clothes. She hesitated at the sensation of her hands brushing against your bare waist. Clearing her throat, she removed her hands. “Moving on, I need the list of Claire Demont’s regulars; I know she handed the list down to you.”

“I don't feel entirely obligated to help you. Claire has done a lot for me. Men have done a lot of shitty stuff to her. I’m not saying murder is ever the answer, but I don’t doubt that there's a reason for her rage. Can I go home now? Last time I checked, I wasn’t guilty of anything.” You stretched back over the metal frame of the chair, waking up your stiff muscles.

“No yet, but we do have a 24-hour hold because my team is under the very strong impression that you have information regarding the case.” Emily began to trail off upon seeing your disinterested demeanor and knew she wouldn’t be getting through to you. “Look, I can’t get you out of here; the best I can offer you is that we talk in my office instead, but I better be leaving with the list of names, no exceptions, got it?”

“Fine,” you got up slowly, demonstrating restraint to hide your eagerness. Before you could breathe deeply about your new slight ounce of freedom, the agent’s hands were enclosed around both your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back. A short gasp of shock left your lips as you recognized the cold metal rings that clicked around your wrist. “I thought you said I was under arrest,” you muttered, irritated.

Emily’s chin hovered just above your shoulder as she whispered slowly in your ear, “You’re not; that was just for my entertainment.” A soft chuckle escaped her as she pulled away. Looping her fingers around the chain connecting your wrists, she tugged lightly, directing you toward the door.

Emily stepped outside much more composedly than you when you came face-to-face with three security guards outside the room. Emily knew they would be the only ones left in the building; no other agents remained, and they did not alarm her.

You heard a soft noise from over your shoulder, something you couldn’t make out but clearly Emily had. Turning your head, you found a man’s eyes roaming down your skin, almost greedily. Within seconds, Emily had dropped her coat off her shoulders and draped it over your shoulders. Pulling it closed around you, it hung down almost your entire body. Without a comment, her hand naturally fell down by her badge, and she gave a soft nod as she passed by the remaining guards, giving them no reason to question her authority.

Your heart rate sped up the farther you made it down the hallway; its loud beating suddenly became very evident beneath your chest. Peeking a glance over at Emily, she seemed collected and undeterred as she led the way to her office.

Stepping into her office, you immediately opened your mouth to speak. Before you could get a word out, Emily’s hand was over your mouth as you were pressed up against the wall beside her door as she locked it and pulled down the blinds. She eventually dropped her hand, narrowing the space between you slightly with the tilt of her head. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” She smirked before reaching over your waist to undo the cuffs, then looped them back around her belt. “Sit down,” She tossed her hand out across the office as her eyes scanned the rows of shelves lining the back of the room. You took a seat on the edge of her desk, right across from her chair. She pivoted around on her heel, setting a pen and piece of paper next to you. “Names,” she said, tapping the blank sheet with her nail.

You sighed under your breath but picked up the pen anyway, twirling it in between your fingers. Emily slid herself between her chair and your legs, dangling off her desk, before sitting back. ”Just so you know, I never knew all of Claire’s clients. When she left, she only gave me a handful of regulars' names to pass on to me.”

“That’s fine. The more she interacted with them, or the bigger impression she made on them, the more likely these men were to be targets. Do you know if she slept with any of them?”

“No, she never slept with clients, and despite contrary belief, neither did I,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes into a warning glare.

“I never said that,” Emily corrected, her voice remaining low and even throughout every interaction. “Sometimes it's just helpful to know because a man’s sex life can often tell you a lot about him.”

“If that's the information you need, you don’t need a profiler to find that out. You just need a little attention to things other than the physical act of sex.” You flipped the piece of paper in your lap around so the names were facing Emily as your pen rolled down the list. “These three are married and always want to give up control. They crave attention from the dancers but don’t do anything to draw it to themselves. They don’t demand anything; they want you to come to them. And the next handful of names have been single almost their entire lives. Most of them are possessive, and they want to spend the most time with you. They’ll tell you exactly what they want from you. Those men are typically the ones who will pay for a lap dance or two.”

Emily looked up at you, curious and slightly impressed. “You can tell me all that from a few minutes of interaction?” She asked skeptically. Your eyes skipped to the slight movements of her body, her thighs tensing against the tight fabric of her pants, and her ringer fingers closing against her palms as they rested at her side.

“Almost always, it's quite straightforward to discern if a partner is going to be possessive, controlling, desperate, or possessive.” You selected your words carefully, letting them hang in the silence between the two of you almost tauntingly.

Clearing her throat, Emily shook her head softly, causing a strand of silver hair to fall from her shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Without thinking, you slipped off her desk with languid movements, finding yourself hovering over her with knees on each side of her body. You leaned away from her, back arching, so you were suspended over the air in front of her. Within seconds, Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, pulling you farther into the chair. It wasn’t an act of politeness to keep you from falling; it was lust-filled, her bruising grip not lessening or pulling away like two strangers should. Lifting your fingers, you brushed the collar of her shirt out of the way, pressing two fingers to the warm skin beneath her collar bone. Smirking, you felt her skin pulsing against you rapidly—the telltale sound of her racing heart. Tucking her fallen hair behind her ear, you whispered softly and sweetly. “ Just proved it.”

You lifted yourself off of her, starting to climb back down, before her firm grip pulled you forcefully back onto her lap. Her hands slid up her back, fingers playing with the zipper that held your top together teasingly. “Ah, finish what you started, doll.” She positioned you how she wanted to, her thigh between your legs with your hands draped over her shoulders. Her nails trailed down your legs, leaving light red scratches as she tore through your thin fishnet stockings.

Her lips latched to the side of your neck, sucking bruises of red and bluish hues down to your collarbone. Her sudden tightening grip made you suck in a gasp midway through ridding her of her own shirt. “Ride.” With one hand on your waist and the other clinging to the curve of your ass, she started the rocking motion. She flexed her toned thigh, holding you roughly down on her thigh, so every slight movement initiated by her stimulated your clit through the thin fabric between you.

The fact that your breathing was already breaking into stuttered sharp inhales simply from riding her thigh had your face burning. In an attempt to hide the fact, you buried your face against her shoulder, turning away from her unwavering gaze.

She brought your rocking to a halt, stopping to rest a hand on the base of your neck until you had to pull back upright to breathe deeply enough for the stars in your vision to disappear. “Eyes on me,” she corrected without additional comment before continuing her motions.

Sensing you were close to falling apart for her, she tugged your panties to the side, pressing the pad of her thumb to your clit. “Fuck,’ you trembled against her strong frame. The older woman’s eyes suddenly darted over your shoulder, and she quickly brought her hand from between your legs up to your mouth, pushing two fingers coated in your arousal past your lips.Sensing a noise behind you, your eyes widened in fear, realizing she had given you her fingers to keep you quiet.

There was a knock on the door, and Emily didn’t appear to be as alarmed as she should be, in your opinion. “Get under my desk and stay quiet.” She husked directly in your ear, nudging you down onto your knees in front of her, and she called out. “Come in,”

Anderson entered, swiping his badge to unlock the door. “Hey, Agent Prentiss. I just noticed your light was still on and wanted to make sure everything was okay. It’s getting late.”

“I’m good, Anderson, thanks.” She smiled softly as she thanked him. Her eyes fell coolly to the papers you had scattered across her desk from sitting on it. “I’m just finishing up some case files. I’m a bit behind at the moment.” Emily shuffled forward in her chair in an attempt to hide you if Anderson stepped any closer.

Sensing that he seemed to want to linger for a moment, you reached towards Emily’s zipper, her belt already on the floor beside you from your flurry of undressing earlier. Her hands engulfed your wrists, but after a minute of protesting, she had to lift her hand back up to avoid looking like she was fighting something under the table. The opportunity for payback was being handed to you on a silver platter.

Her voice spiked up an octave as her legs clenched over your ears. Unperturbed, your tongue traced along her slit as she kept up with Anderson’s casual conversation about work and what she did when she wasn’t at the office. Her hands dropped lightly into her lap and beneath the view of her desk, but unbeknownst to the man rambling to her, she had her hands gripping at your hair, tugging harshly as your tongue swirled around her clit. She resisted the urge to look down just briefly to catch a glimpse of her arousal smeared across your mouth, hair mussed from her touch.

You picked up your pace as you heard Ansderson start moving back toward the door, which left Emily’s legs quivering as she climbed toward an orgasm with every lap and flick of your tongue. The second the door was locked behind the security guard, Emily’s hands found the back of your head, nudging your mouth into her cunt. “Fuck, you better let me come on your mouth after that little stunt, sweetheart.”

You grinned up at her from the floor, a mischievous look in your eyes as you delved back into her cunt, wrapping your lips around her clit as she moaned while orgasming on your tongue. She panted as she came back down from her high, slouching back into her chair and spreading her legs. She helped you up off the floor, fixing you up before yourself.

In the middle of it all, you picked up a pink sticky note and pen off her desk, scribbling something down. Emily’s eyes narrowed as you held out the sheet. “What is this? You were supposed to give me all the names already.”

“I did,” you said, rolling your eyes at her assumption. "This is the club address, and when I work, Stop by sometime; you do still owe me an orgasm,” you pointed out with a grin.”

“Mhm,” her eyes widened at your boldness as she held one knuckle to her lip, hiding her soft, sly grin. ”Well, I risked my job because you're a desperate little thing, so I think you owe me about three. I thought you didn’t sleep with clients.”

You shrugged and started heading for the door. “Well, there's a first time for everything, or maybe I’m just making an exception for you,’ you teased," she said, pivoting around to return her coat on her arm that you had forgotten about for a brief second.

She gave you a small head tilt. “Keep it; I’ll see you shortly anyways,’ she suggested, and you just dropped your head slightly, smiling on your way out.

"Have a good night, Agent Prentiss.”

#criminal minds #wlw smut #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss smut

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magnolia-among-the-stars · 1 month

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the last bit of us (chapter one)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2441

Playlist Song: Snap by Rosa Linn

A/N: This is a hefty intro to Eleanor but really wanted to establish her before we get angsty!

prologue / one / two / three

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The sky was still dark when my alarm clock went off. My hand slides along the mattress, slapping the snooze button. It can’t be time already. There’s no way. I snuggle deeper into the mattress and peel one eye open to squint at the cracked window. The big moon is lower in the horizon but the sun hasn’t made its known yet.

My phone starts to go off, across the room atop my bureau. “Fuck.”

I try to get the kink out of my neck when I get up. The wooden floorboards of the farmhouse creak as I shuffle past the bureau into the bathroom and shut off the alarm. The bulbs above the mirror are too bright and I have to shut my eyes for a minute to adjust. I wash my face, toss my hair into a quick braid and pull up the weather app on my phone before heading downstairs.

The coffeemaker in the kitchen is ancient but after a few taps and fiddling with the cord of the plug, it starts to gurgle. It’s a satisfying sound. While it brews, I check the living room through the archway for Carter. He’s still curled up under a small crocheted blanket on her couch where I left him last night. He’s too tall and most of his calves dangle over the arm of the couch.

“Carter, time to get up,” I call and pull my thermostat off the drying rack to fill with fresh coffee. He doesn’t move. I sigh and look down at my watch. The long spider web of cracks in the glass doesn’t distract from the face. It’s 3:19 AM. We gotta get on the road. The wind chimes are loud out on the porch. The rain should be starting soon.

“Carter,” I say again. I walk through the archway and grab the closest thing I can find and chuck the pillow at his face.

Carter startles immediately, shouting “I’m up,” in the process. He grabs for his glasses, dropped onto the coffee table.

“No you weren’t,” I say, stepping back into the kitchen to fill his thermostat. “We gotta go, the storm should be rolling in any time now and Birdie will murder us if we’re late.” When I turn to look at him, he’s sliding his rain boots back on.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot. I thought you were Birdie’s boss,” he says, hand on his chest to fey surprise.

“It’s too early for your sarcasm. C’mon.” The entryway into the house is cluttered with a few pairs of boots and sneakers, my raincoat and denim jacket along with a variety of hats hanging from the hooks. I stare at the wooden loveseat under the coat hooks while sliding on my boots. I can only see the bottom half of the painted heart on the backing.

“El, anytime you want to get moving,” Carter says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

I blink a little, standing up and grabbing my own backpack. “Fuck you.”

The farmhouse sits out in the middle of an open field in Guthrie, Oklahoma. The barn doors shudder a little from the wind and I can see my dad’s red beat up Dodge Ram on the lawn. I smile a little, pushing the screen door open. It squeals as I unlock the door to my truck and slide in. The engine stutters a little when it comes to life and we whip out onto the road.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks me, taking a sip of his coffee. A bump in the road causes the truck to jump and a little splatters on him. “Ah jeez.” He tries to wipe at it and I can’t help but chuckle.

“Not really,” I shake my head. I reach for the radio, turning the dial so I can hear the morning station. There’s a new Luke Combs song playing and I tap my fingers a little to the beat. “Too much on the brain with this project.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware El but you always have too much on the brain,” he says.

“Well someone has to do work on this team,” I joke, smirking at him.

It’s not a lie. Ever since Charlie and I had gotten our first big contract with FEMA, I had been in nonstop work mode. Throwing myself into each project a little deeper than the last. It was probably worrisome how much time I spent at the warehouse, elbow deep in some new tech but I couldn’t help myself. It was a safe and mindless space, fixing and tinkering.

We drive down the long stretch of dirt through the fields and I peer up at the sky again. There’s a loud ringing in the cab of the truck and I glance over at Carter, peering down at his phone. “It’s Birdie,” he says. “She says we’re late.”

I grin a little, shaking my head as the warehouse comes into view. The freshly painted sign on the building reads TempestEdge Innovations. I push the button on the callbox and the military grade barrier raises to allow me to drive through. I swing around the side of the building to the open garage door. It’s just about 3:46 AM.

I slide out of the truck as the door to the garage closes behind me. “You’re late,” Birdie’s voice echoes across the warehouse.

“Birdie, give me a break, I had to make four repairs last night before we left,” I say, walking toward the tall blonde woman. Her hair is pulled snug up into a ballerina bun, a clipboard held to the fleece of her vest. “Not all of us go for a run a 2 AM to start our day.”

She scoffs and shoves me playfully. “Maybe you should give it a try.”

We grin, making our way deeper into the warehouse where all of our desks are crowded together with a few computers. Tables of spare parts, design blueprints and drawings and our small kitchen are scattered throughout the space. Beyond that, my engineering floor houses large models and mock ups that sit large and wide.

I drop my bag at my desk and smile at the photo frame on the corner. It’s from graduation at OSU. We’re all making funny faces at the camera, hugging each other tightly. I tap on my keyboard to wake the screen, noticing my phone buzzing in my pocket. I ignore it and look up, “How’s everyone doing this morning?” I ask.

“Morning E,” Palmer, our Meteorologist says when she looks up over her computer screen. She gnaws on her lip, auburn brows raised. “I don’t think this classifies as morning quite yet.”

“I mean, dawn, maybe?” Sean says, walking up from behind me with a coffee mug in hand. It’s white with rope lettering that spells out This ain’t my first rodeo! Sean walks over to Birdie who is looking over her clipboard, comparing it to the large chalkboard we wheeled over to her corner of the office. She’s talking to herself as he kisses her head on the way to his desk.

“Dawn is defined by a sun rising in the sky,” Carter remarks, tapping away on his computer. “Definitely not dawn yet.”

We’re interrupted by Charlie, stepping into the office space with her phone pressed to her ear. “Alright, yes. I can definitely get out there next week. Thank you so much, have a wonderful day,” Charlie says. She smiles at everyone. “Alright team, let’s get this test going.”

Everyone slides up from their desk chairs, grabs their tablets and walkies and heads to the back of the warehouse. We slide on our swanky mesh neon vests, easily identifiable out in the storm. Sean slides the back door open and we step out onto the ramp. The rain has started and it’s coming down sideways, like a thick curtain across the landscape. A few hundred feet from the warehouse, a row of buildings line up on either side.

“Alright, we all remember safety procedures?” Birdie asks, looking over her clipboard. There’s a chorus of noise and Birdie grumbles. “C’mon people, we’re all about to bunker separately for the tornado. Do we all remember safety procedures?”

“Birdie, we’ve done these bunkering tests a few times now, c’mon,” I say.

With our current contact, we started trying to build new infrastructures on different buildings to withstand a tornado in the hopes to help families and businesses not fall into a pit of financial burden from having to rebuild. It was the biggest project yet and took us nearly six months just to build the fake town with different materials and different methods. The only way to collect data around the structural integrity of the buildings was to bunker into each of the different variations.

Palmer had tracked cells moving toward the area and we were certain an EF2 was heading straight for us. Which was a perfect opportunity to split up again and see how well the buildings held up. It would be our third test trial. It’s not the smartest move but growing up with two crazy famous storm chasers? Kind of breeds crazy.

The winds start to pick up and I look up at the debris and dust kicking up in the air. “Alright guys, let’s head out,” I say, turning on my radio. We take off in different directions, saying goodbyes and waving each other off through the harsh winds. While Charlie stays safe inside the warehouse, Birdie takes to the gas station, Sean the grocery store. Palmer heads to the farm house tucked behind everything and Carter yells “Stay safe” as he turns into the doctor’s office. I head the furthest down the road to the bar & grille.

I look up the doors behind me, moving to the safety corner where all the monitors are. I slide into my space and settle in, logging into our tracking system on the tablet to type in my notes. I can barely hear the wind outside and pull my walkie talkie from my waist. “Alright, I am settled and am clear. See you guys on the other side.”

I wait, anxiously tapping my foot as I watch the footage off the street for the incoming destruction. But ten minutes passed with no noise whatsoever. I glance up and toward the door, confused. I tap the storm tracker, noticing the pattern of movement for the storm diminishing. I click the button of the walkie with my thumb. “P, am I reading right that the storm choked itself out? Over,” I say, watching the monitor again.

“The winds are dying down, I think it missed us,” Palmer calls back.

“Let’s hold for another five minutes to be cautious,” Birdie’s voice crackles. But five minutes pass with no movement. Birdie calls that we’re clear and I head out of the building. The sun is starting to rise, illuminating the fields with a golden glow as if there hadn’t been 40 to 60 mile an hour winds and rain only a little while ago.

“We woke up at the ass crack of dawn for this?” Carter groans.

“Not dawn,” Palmer corrects, walking in step with us back to the warehouse. Birdie wraps her arm around Sean’s waist as they step ahead of us.

“The conditions seemed perfect,” Birdie says, shrugging. “All we can really hope for.”

The door slides open to the warehouse to reveal Charlie. She’s got this fixed look on her face as if she just stepped in dog shit. “We’ll get the next one Charlie, no need to fuss. They know that we can’t control the conditions of the storms,” I point to the sky and pat her on the shoulder.

“That’s not what soured my mood,” she says. She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs.

My eyebrows knit together in confusion as the team steps passed us, back to our desks. “What is it?”

“Someone’s out at the gate,” she says, nodding to the opposite end of the warehouse. “Someone’s here? No one comes here.”

“Oh, if only,” Charlie says. She turns on her heel, heading to the door on the other side of the building. I rack my brain for people who know the warehouse. We had some rich investors who would stop by trying to buy us out, our clients and FEMA reps that would come our way to see new tech and some family but, Mom and Dad would’ve called me before showing up. Curiosity kills the team and I hear their chairs scrap against the floor. Loud footsteps follow us as Charlie shoves the door open with a knowing look.

I step around her and peer out at the gated entrance to see a suped up red Dodge rumbling idle. The engine turns off after a moment and the driver side door swings open. I see his cowboy boots before I see him. He’s wearing a stupid flannel and his stupid backwards baseball cap. Tyler. He takes off his sunglasses, expression is hard to read. He’s not showing his normally beaming pearl whites that I caught a few times while passing Carter’s viewing of their YouTube videos. His face is stiff, uncomfortable as he rests his hands on his hips. What takes me by surprise is the young woman who steps out of the passenger side.

I don’t notice my feet are moving until I realize how far away Birdie’s “Son of a bitch” is. I don’t even realize how fast I’m moving or how close Tyler is. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask when I’m close enough that I could throw a rock if I wanted to. And I wanted to.

He looks down, trying to collect his thoughts. I can see the gears turning in his brain, trying to figure out what to say to me. He rubs at his jaw, nearly smiling and leaning up against the door of the truck. His eyes sparkled a little. “Hi El.” Bold to go with charm.

“That’s all you have to say? Hi El?” I cross my arms across my chest, staring him down. He’s insane.

Tyler purses his lips, gaze softening as he takes me in. He turns to look at the woman, now having moved in front of the hood of the car. “Kate,” his drawl is still thick with an enthusiasm that can’t be rivaled. “Meet Eleanor. Eleanor Owens.”

“I prefer to go by Harding these days,” I retort.

“Owens…you mean–,” the woman – Kate – stutters a little.

“Wife,” I state, turning to look at her. “He means wife.”

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#twisters #tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens imagines #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x oc #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #the last bit of us fic

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h4ndwr1tten · 5 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

featuring: roommate!satoru x reader

cw: fluff really, strong language? kinda suggestive.

the sudden, thundering sound of what seemed to be a crash had you jolting awake. you immediately sat upright and reached over to your lamp, switching it on and scanning your room on high alert. glancing over at your digital alarm clock, you found that it was only 1:03 in the winter morning. what kind of asshole would partake in destructing something this late?

the first person to come into mind was satoru, your roommate. he tends to stay up as late as possible doing the most random and stupid shit he could thing of. once, you caught him trying to fit himself into the shared washing machine at 3 am. but you remembered that earlier, you were going to confront him about how he left his used boxers and socks on the bathroom floor after his shower. when you stormed into his room, however, he was surprisingly in deep sleep.

so if satoru was slumped, where did the noise come from?

you debated leaving your bed for your safety or staying there, also for your safety, but ultimately decided on quickly checking the apartment for something unusual. quietly groaning, you forced yourself out of bed and into the hallway.

you hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, making you firmly believe it was an inconsiderate neighbor. nothing felt off and you weren't experiencing any sense of doom, so you returned to your bed and knocked right out.

only, an hour later, you woke up freezing. your room felt like pure ice and your body felt like you had been dipped into an ice bath. when did it get so damn cold? you thought, pulling your blanket higher up your body. it was snowing outside, but the cold shouldn't have been able to be felt with the heater on.

you tried to go back to sleep, but you only found yourself shivering despite the blanket. you rubbed your legs together in an attempt to warm you up, but it didn't seem to work. you huffed, irritated and uncomfortable by the temperature change.

getting up for the second time, you threw your blanket over your shoulders and went into the hallway to check the thermostat. there, you found satoru, also checking the temperature.

"cold?" he asked, his voice raspy from probably having been woken up to the same thing.

you hummed in response, watching silently as he tried to figure out what was wrong. he tapped at a few times, pressed the buttons every second, until he noticed that the temperature of the heater wasn't changing.

"it's broken."

oh.

"what? the thermostat?" you question, a little densely, but to be fair, it was 2 in the morning.

"no, the heater," satoru replied, tapping at his lips in thought.

that made a lot more sense. the weather from antarctica couldn't have just magically moved in with you. but did this have to do with the loud bang from earlier?

"satoru," you begin, "i woke up an hour ago because there was a bang, but i checked and nothing seemed broken inside here."

satoru hummed, turning away from the wall and to you. he opened his mouth to speak and you anticipated it, but instead, you watched as his eyes trailed down your frame, eyes falling onto your body. he was silent for a few seconds, visibly gulping. his face felt warm. could you see his pink-tinted cheeks in the dim lighting?

clearing his throat, satoru turned away and pretended to observe the thermostat, mumbling, "yeah, that might have... that might've been it."

confused, you look down at your body to find what elicited his behavior. it took you a second, but you noticed your hardened nipples poking out through your shirt. you forgot that was a thing. your eyes widened and you quickly folded your arms and blanket over your chest, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

"what do we do now?" you asked, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

"how many blankets do you have?"

fuck, they're all in the laundry.

"one."

satoru side-eyed you, slowly turning to face you, his face deadpan.

"they're in the laundry!" you raised your hands in defense, effectively dropping the blanket to the ground.

it seemed to have caught satoru's attention because of the way his eyes moved down to the ground. then slowly up your figure, as if drinking in every part of you. your arms were still hiding your chest and you didn't look all that great right now, considering you were only in pajama pants and a baggy tee. but the way he looked at you made you feel like it was more than just the attire.

you shifted your weight onto one foot, warmth creeping up your neck. you had always felt some sort of attraction towards your roommate, but considering how insanely attractive he was, you thought that he would never even think of seeing you the same way.

but gosh, the way he eyed you like the most valuable treasure there ever was. the way there seemed to be a sort of want, desire burning in his eyes. that was enough to make you question his feelings.

"satoru?" you call, growing antsy under his gaze.

"sleep in my room," he suggests casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"what...?"

he sighed, probably wondering if you were stupid, or deaf, or both. "the heating's down, and it's only going to get colder from here. i say that because we are both mature, grown adults, we sleep in the same bed because right now, shared body heat is likely the only thing that's going to keep us from freezing."

you were stunned, to say the least. that's the most and longest sensible thing to come out of satoru's mouth ever. had he thought of this before?

"i guess you're right," you mumbled, face flushed. "but wouldn't it be awkward?"

"it'll only be awkward if you make it awkward," satoru retorted, opening the door to his room and waiting for you to enter. "we're mature, right?"

you walked into his ridiculously messy room, sighing, "i am, but i don't know about you."

"hey!"

you flopped down onto satoru's bed, a lingering warmth around it from before he got up. your heart began to beat a little faster as he approached the bed, the fact that you were actually about to sleep with someone you've dreamed of sleeping with before.

"y/n?" satoru called out, breaking your stare at the floor.

"yeah?"

"that's my side of the bed."

you blush furiously, scrambling to the opposite side, muttering, "oh, sorry."

but once you were there, satoru goes, "that's also my side."

you snap your head at him, glaring. "what do you mean, this is also your side?"

"i sleep in the middle."

"are you serious?" you sigh, growing uncomfortable.

"yep," satoru said, popping the p and sprawling out across the bed like a starfish. his once (and extremely rare) seriousness was gone, and he was back to his irritating antics.

you sat at the very edge of the bed, nearly sliding off, uncomfortable in the silence. satoru's eyes were closed and his breathing seemed to have relaxed, and you wondered if he was asleep. you wondered if he really meant what he said by sharing the bed too.

"satoru?" you murmured, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"mph?"

standing up, you uttered, "i can just go back to my room, i don't wanna bother you. i'll get warm eventually."

you weren't lying. even though sleeping in his bed felt like a really good idea, both for your comfort and desire, you would hate to be a bother to him.

peeking an eye open, satoru reached for your hand and grasped it, pulling you back down.

"i'm joking, y/n," he sighed, slightly muffled by his pillows. "get in here."

he fixed his position, then opened his blanket to beckon you in. you frowned, snapping, "you basically just said there's no room for me after suggesting we share the bed."

despite that, you still found yourself crawling into the warmth of his sheets. you kept yourself at the edge, though, still afraid of taking up his personal space.

it's quiet for a moment again. you raise the blanket just up to the underside of your nose, nervously picking at the pillowcase. his scent engulfed you; a mix of his cologne and natural musk, with a faint hint of detergent. you realize this is real.

satoru sighs, and to your surprise, he throws his arm around your torso and pulls you into him, your back now pressed against his front. he doesn't take off his arm, but instead, gently runs his cold hand along your stomach as if comforting you.

"i was just messing with you," he mumbles, drowsiness in his voice. "but i'm sorry, you big baby."

realizing what he said, you elbowed him in the ribs, but not too hard to actually hurt him. satoru let out a fake whine, both of you laughing quietly after.

silence fills the two of you, the only noises being shared breathing and city noise from outside. it's quiet, but it's comfortable.

you roll over onto your other side to face satoru, finding him with his eyes already shut and brows barely pinched. even in the dark, you can still make out the outline of his perfect features, from his long lashes to his cold-nipped lips. you'd trace them if you could, but you refrained out of fear of waking him up and the fact that you were in no position to be touching him like that.

"i can feel you staring at me," satoru mumbles, fatigued huskiness in his voice.

you blush, grateful for the lack of light in the room, whispering an apology.

satoru opens his eyes, a faint smile sitting atop his lips. "i know i'm insanely handsome, but sleep," he teased.

"i was actually looking at that fat, glow in the dark pimple on your forehead, but okay," you snort, scooting in closer to satoru's warmth.

his hand darts to his forehead, yelping, "actually??"

you giggle, "no. sleep."

"you suck," he sighs, chuckling before bringing his hand back to around you.

you slowly slide your arm under his and wrap it around his torso, your nerves and hesitation fading when he doesn't make a move to remove you. satoru whispers a goodnight, lips ever so slightly brushing against your forehead. you whisper it back, and sleep comes over the both of you.

maybe the heater should stay broken...

note — gave up on my layout D:

m. list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff

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superblysubpar · 4 months

Text

thank you so much for requesting @retrosabers soooooooooooooo...idk what this is. but it turned into a makeup sex, kind of angry with steve, to I guess, the beginnings of the "How Sweet It Is AU" for me?? - you could just read this as stand alone smut, but please read the warnings below if you're unfamiliar with that AU and don't want a pretty big surprise at the end!

2,119 words

warnings: mentions of wearing Steve's boxers, SMUT (piv intercourse - creampie, angry/makeup sex & all the language and actions that may go with it - some kingish steve vocabulary if you will)| pregnant reader announcement - see How Sweet It Is AU warnings for more | my blog is 18+

Late Summer, Early Fall, 1986

Your fingers slip from his neck and shoulders, sweat slicked tan skin there making the bright red of the scratches you made brighter. Angrier.

They match the mood - the deep lines between his brows, the pout of your lips, the brutal punch of his thrust inside of you, the clench of your jaw so you don’t do something satisfying like scream his name or fuck, say sorry.

Neither of you can remember what started it now. You said something bratty, he said something even more so. Sharp tones and stressful weeks. Cupboards and drawers with volume and slams worthy of a battle of the bands. Silent tooth brushing while glaring at one another in the mirror sessions, and purposeful, childish things, like making only enough coffee for one cup each morning.

Not that you had even wanted any today.

The sun was brutal, the AC was busted, and Steve had found you lying on the hard kitchen floor, practically naked, and sipping something out of a blue, glass mason jar that was sweating more than you.

He’d swallowed at the sight of your stomach and arms fully on display, the curve of lace over your chest, his boxers rolled over your thighs too high to be decent if you stood. Perhaps Steve could have taken the gesture of you wearing next to nothing as a white flag, but all he could think about was how hot he was, how tight the tie was around his neck, and how he was mad at you for a reason he didn’t even remember.

Steve stepped over to the thermostat and without opening your eyes you called, “No difference.”

“When’s the last time you checked?” He grumbled under his breath, tapping at it with a roll of his eyes. “No difference.”

“Right,” you propped up on your elbows, glaring at him as you snapped, “Like I just said.”

He looked right at you for what felt like the first time in years, when really it had only been a day or two. But the sight of eyes that were honey turned hard, though just as sticky as they lingered on your own, had something in your chest warming.

Steve glanced down at your body again as he yanked at his tie, throwing it on the counter before taking on his naturally annoyed position of hands on his hips. His fingers flexed against them while his head tilted in a way that exposed his throat more, made it easy to follow his swallow or the bead of sweat curving down his jaw. It made you want to curse whatever god created this man, and that was before he opened his mouth with a tone bitchy enough to match his pose.

“Can you put a shirt on?”

The bite of his question made your eyes narrow, made you stick out your peachy, lace covered chest more just to spite him. His gaze returned to yours, challenging, fire burning between you both making his gaze molten - pure lava that was sure to consume you before you even had the thought of running from it.

You stood as he harshly unbuttoned the white button down he was dressed in, revealing dark chest hair and the gold chain nestled there, both threatening to make you fold first, but you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

His finger’s movements slowed as they worked at the cuffs when you set your glass on the counter. As you took a step closer, then another, you both refused to break eye contact until your chests were almost touching and your chin tipped up at him in your own challenge back.

“Make me.”

The space between your lips buzzed, his cupid’s bow mocking you, the heave of your chest doing the same to him.

Maybe you tilted higher first, maybe he bent lower, but your lips crashed into each other - literally.

Teeth against plush bottom lips and noses bumping, hands gripping at each other like you’re about to push the other off, yet you both only get closer.

Steve pants into your mouth, his fingers dig into the skin just below your ribs as he pushes you in a direction clumsily, till your back is hitting the counter and you can feel how hard he already is as he pulls your hips against his own.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of making any noise when his thumb brushes over a hard nipple through lace, or when his tongue meets yours. He doesn’t give you any either when you pull a little hard at the hair at the back of his head and roll your hips.

Neither of you say a word or let your faces show any sign that this is all exactly what you want, what you need when he pushes at the boxers and lets them fall to the floor as he lifts you onto the counter or when you pull and push at his belt and dress slacks enough to free his length.

Steve slips up a little when you wrap your hand around him, his head thrown back and teeth digging into his lip, fists forming against the counter next to your thighs with each slow tug.

“What’s the matter Steve?” Faux pouting lips form the coy question while your hand pumps faster. You smirk when Steve lets loose a shaky exhale on your next words. “You wanna tell me how good it feels? How turned on you are right now? How sor-“

You inhale sharply when his thumbs spread you and a low rumble leaves his lips, too close to your ear, “Oh babe…me? I think if anyone here is turned on it’s-fuck.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pushing him closer so his tip hits your entrance, your hand glides it through your folds dripping around him already, teasing at your clit then back down.

“Speaking of fuck-oh.”

Your brows knit together, lips clamp shut as he slides into you slowly. His chest is heaving, white button down open so you could scrape you nails down the gray tank top revealed to you now, but you don’t. Your eyelashes are fluttering, fingers slipping against the counter and back arching so he could go deeper.

He doesn’t.

Steve keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, only giving you just enough to make you angry. Your cheeks grow hot, spine tingling, tongue pushing against your teeth with every glide in, silently willing, begging, him to go deeper.

Your clit throbs, heels dig into him, but Steve stands firm, watching you closely, waiting till you look up at him.

One damp strand of brown hair falls over his forehead, while eyes soften towards you again. Sweat rolls down his temple, each pulse of his steady heartbeat making his cologne sharper, mint and cedar distracting you, placating you. When you grip at his shoulders, finally touching him again, he exhales as his name leaves you in a whisper.

“Steve,” your fingers grip the collar of his button down, “More.”

As your hands slip, nails curling into his chest, Steve finally gives you more.

Then he stops.

Pressed against you, he inhales slow and steady, watching you. His arms flex around yours as his palms press to the cool counter, ignoring how thrilled he is to feel you fluttering around him fully now.

He grins, finally, when a whine bubbles out of your throat at the lack of movement. He can’t help himself, raising his pitch and mocking your words earlier, “What’s the matter? Wanna tell me how good it feels? Wanna tell me you’re sor-“

“I said more,” you gasp around the words, rolling your hips until his hands fly to them and hold them in place.

Steve looks at you seriously, black lust filled pupils taken over his gaze, and his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he speaks, like he’s debating his words.

“I did give you more. Want something else? Gonna have to be specific babe. Maybe use a word that starts with ‘P’ and ends with leas-“

“Fucking, fuck me, Harrington!” You grip the cotton tank between your fingers, voice hot and body hotter and only getting more so when he throws his head back in a laugh. A laugh which only makes you clench around him more and spurring him on.

“Harrington?! Did you just call me Harrington and then tell me to fuck you?!” He grins wider, his perfect smile on display, like he just can’t help himself.

“Would you prefer King Ste-ohmygod!”

Steve pulls out and thrusts into you hard, his forehead furrowed as his mouth searches for yours. You meet him in a kiss that starts with another gasp as he sets a brutal pace. Your fingers slip around his neck and he lays over you so your back is against the counter. His hands drag you to the edge still, so his hips can meet yours over and over again as his tongue works at the seam of your lips once more.

He slows his kiss down, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling, breath exhaled against your cheek through his nose as your back arches and your nails leave their marks. Steve keeps thrusting, coarse hair hitting your clit that only aches for more when he releases your mouth. Lips kiss bitten and parting in shock when he speaks down to you with a deep and hoarse gravel, chest heaving as his nails scratch down your thigh.

“Am I fucking you good enough, honey?” He pushes at your legs, bending them up and towards your chest so you do cry out as he somehow gets more inside of you, “Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

He rolls his hips, a thumb pressed to your clit and you break, the lava creeping closer.

Steve groans when you gasp a yes, a more.

He thrusts faster, hands skating over your body, pulling and tugging you closer to him, lips brushing against your jaw then your neck as he speaks.

“Wanna come for me baby? Feels like you do, this pussy’s just crying around me.”

You gasp at the filth coming out of him, hating that it only makes him slip inside of you easier, faster.

Steve lets your legs fall, guiding one around his hip and the other pressed next to your head, his torso rising so his gaze can stay on where your bodies meet with an intensity you haven’t quite seen before. He looks like an older version of a Steve you met a long time ago.

Realizing now, his pants aren’t even down, his shirt only just unbuttoned, chain glistening in damp chest hair. His forearm veins and shoulders flex with determination you used to see on a court, jaw pulsing, and his brow sweating, but no longer furrowed - like he knows he’s won. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, tongue between his lips as his thumb swipes over your clit in a large figure eight and you jolt. His hand reflexively pushes your shoulder down, while he keeps working on the swollen nerves in time with his thrusts.

Each pass, each thrust, is a clock counting down drowning out a crowd for him, knowing if he just keeps going, he’ll make it. For you, it’s lava gaining ground, inches from your demise, the heat licking at your body now enough for you to cry out his name just like an adoring fan.

Steve grunts, brow furrowed again so he can focus on what he’s trying to say.

“Oh, it’s first name basis again, yeah? Did that good of a job? An-another slut satisfied with their fuck from Harrington?”

You cry out a yes, literally, your orgasm breaking over you in multiple releases. You clench around him, thighs tightening on his hips and Steve’s rhythm stutters as you take everything he gives you. The rush of every pent up emotion makes it’s way over your lash lines. Angry tears, sad tears, relieved tears. Maybe delirious as you start laughing, fingers swiping at them and Steve’s head whips up.

He slips out of you with a wince, his fingers catching the tears and his forehead furrowed with worry now, “Baby, babe. Hey, hey, hey, what’s-I’m sorry, that was too far, I thought you-“

“Steve,” you hiccup, fingers catching his, eyes doing the same to worried and back to warm honey irises.

He waits, thumbs soothing over yours only pausing when you speak again. The scratches on his neck and shoulders pink now, less angry - sorry. They match the pink lips that part, the cheeks that stand out behind tear tracks. They still match the mood.

Softer.

Sweeter.

Just like the words leaving your lips.

“I’m pregnant.”

#superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar's writing #How Sweet It Is AU #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb

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grenade-maid · 4 months

Text

Man, I think what makes me so sad about Guilty Gear is just knowing that there won't ever be anything quite like it. The cultural soup that spawned it just doesn't exist anymore. The edgy 90s counterculture boom can't really be replicated. Doom is something you run on thermostats and microwaves, Mortal Kombat is something your brother's friends played in college, spiked leather and heavy metal are things anyone might be into, arcades have been dead longer than they were alive, everyone is aware of JoJo. Everything that was shocking, transgressive, and exciting then is now pretty normal (if still beloved--nay, more beloved, even). They even made a new Matrix movie about this feeling. And the thing is, there were a lot of fighting games tapping into the same things as Guilty Gear was. They all died in obscurity, and Guilty Gear is the lone survivor, carrying the DNA of a cultural moment but unable to propagate, being the last of its species. Sol Badguy is a perfect protagonist for it, in that sense.

At the end of the day, there's just no real analogue. The genre of musclebound blood soaked anime it was drawing from like Fist of the North Star, Bastard! and Ninja Scroll don't really exist anymore. Rockstars of the hotel thrashing middle finger waving hard drinking hard partying variety don't really exist in the same way, either. Very few recent album covers would make for good stage backgrounds. There isn't really an "underground" subculture or counterculture--we're all just in different niches that are one online search away from each other. Nobody has to "introduce" you to metal, you don't have to know a guy, just look up a few whole discographies and listen on your commute. Fighting games themselves are a firmly established genre with it's own self selecting population--in the 90s it was pretty common for basically anyone to casually try a few rounds of Tekken or have some version of street fighter at home. That's not really the case anymore, and, as such, fighting games need to be designed differently and more thoughtfully than they used to be.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!None of these are bad things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But it does mean that any attempt to do something in the same vein as Guilty Gear will necessarily be a pastiche. Hell, even Guilty Gear itself was pastiche by the time of XX. This isn't a bad thing either--I'm loving Little Goody Two Shoes, for example, which is the most lavish and loving throwback to 90s shojo and 00s RPG Maker horror games. But it would still be different. Because even the most loving reference or recreation, even the ones that surpass the quality of the originals, can't replace the spirit of expressing something quintessential to your current moment, whatever that moment is.

The moment that I cherish cause I grew up in its shadow is long gone. I don't know if there's anything in the current moment that could speak to me in the same way. Most of my favorite all time games, manga, anime, etc etc all came out in the last few years, so this isn't about old shit being better. I guess most of what I love that's currently being made just didn't lend itself well to riffing on in the same way. Unfortunately, high passion rock operas screaming your feelings just lend themselves perfectly to kickass games, and those aren't in vogue like they used to be. And, ultimately, on a strictly personal level, I'll never be 15 again, being shown the sickest shit I've ever seen before a D&D game for the first time.

#op

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bagopucks · 1 year

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N. Hischier - Comfy

✄————————————

Nico Hischier x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Flirty seductive Nico, copious amounts of fluff

Had this one in the notes app, was saving it for an occasion where I might not have had inspo or requests, but seeing as somebody wanted some Nico content and it’s too late/early to be coming up with a story line- here it is!

—————————————

Post-game evenings had always been my favorites. The nights Nico and I lay curled up in bed while he held me, or talked my ear off while I tried to sleep. Nights when Nico came home with so much energy, I never exactly knew what to do with him. Energetic post-game Nico was alright.

But calm, relaxed, content, post-game Nico? It was like hitting a gold mine. Those nights when he came home, dropped his duffel inside the door, and forgot the world to be in my arms. Those were the nights I specifically looked forward to. I always anticipated them. I loved Nico no matter what mood he came home in, but I preferred some over others.

I sat on the couch, my kindle in my lap as my feet rested on the wooden coffee table. Despite the cool weather outside, it was warm in the house. When Nico and I got a place together in the suburbs, I insisted we share custody over the thermostat. So far, we have not come to a comfortable compromise. Our days were often spent adjusting the temperature as we walked through the house doing our own thing. It became a subconscious action. I’d turn the heat up. Nico would walk by hours later to turn the AC on.

Then I’d go back later on to turn the AC off and the heat up higher because of the chill in the house.

Then Nico would come back looking like he was dying of a heat stroke, turn the heat off, and the AC on.

When he was away for games? I always had the heat on.

The game had been playing on the tv, an oddly scheduled middle of the afternoon event. By the time it had ended, the time was nearing 6:00. Prime time for a good sunset. I never really watched it, but I enjoyed the glow it cast through the open curtains of the living room.

My foot tapped occasionally, impatient to get to the good part of a book I began to lose faith in. It was bad enough I couldn’t physically see my progress, but not being able to flip to a whole middle page and read ahead was even worse.

I heard a key jingle in the lock, a smirk formed on my lips as my attention was easily distracted from my book.

“Baby?” Nico’s voice called before it stopped short. He spotted me on the couch, and when I looked up, I knew tonight was one of those nights. My heart fluttered.

Nico stood there with a grin on his lips, his damp hair hidden beneath a ball cap. His suit looked like he barely even got it on before walking out the arena door.

I shut my kindle off and set it to the side, stood from the couch, and met Nico by the door. He dropped his bag so both hands could capture my hips.

“Nic.” I leaned up onto the tips of my toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Nico hummed as he pulled away. I quickly slipped his hat off his head and tossed it on top of his bag.

“I was thinking about an ice bath?” Oh how delightful it sounded, but I was in no mood to sit down in the bath. Perhaps a bit too lazy to know I’d have to wash myself when I already got a shower that day.

“I’ll sit with you.” I whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar bone. “Wine too?” He couldn’t tell if that meant I was joining him or not, but he didn’t ask.

“Try one of our unopened bottles.”

I smiled to myself, whisking away into the kitchen to find what I needed. I snatched up mixing bowl for the ice, going to the freezer to scoop out a hefty amount. Then I grabbed a bottle of unopened wine, and two glasses, before I had gone to meet my lover in the master bathroom.

I passed the thermostat without taking note of the fact that it had been turned down.

“Ice and Wine.” I showed off the bottle as I entered the bathroom and set them aside. Nico was seated on the lip of the bathtub, having moved the shower curtain out of the tub. He was trying to find a good chilled temperature for the bath water. I smiled at the sight of him and approached slowly, my hand on his shoulder brought his gaze up to mine.

“I’ll sit in here with you, but Nico I don’t think I’m getting in the bath.” His face fell. I pushed a strand of his beautiful brown hair from his forehead.

“You’ll be okay without me. I told you I’d sit right here. You can tell me all about your game.”

“You always get in with me.” Nico rested his hands on the backs of my thighs. “Is something wrong?”

Amusement flashed across my face in the form of a smile and an eye roll.

“I get in the warm baths with you. Not the ice cold muscle relaxing baths.” I pulled away and Nico huffed before plugging the drain so the tub could fill.

“I still relax your muscles in the warm baths.” His comment was sly. Spoken with a straight face, but he knew what he was hinting at. As did I.

I turned back to him and chuckled softly.

“Not tonight Nico.” We were both too physically exhausted to have any fun, and I didn’t particularly mind. My mind wasn’t in that headspace anyway. His didn’t seem to be either, despite the comment that was made.

Nico turned to face me, parting his legs as I stepped between them. I slipped the suit jacket from his shoulders, careful to grip the fabric and pull it up swiftly before a sleeve hit the bottom of the tub.

“Good hands.” He decided to be cheeky. I smiled and ruffled his hair.

“The best hands.” I confirmed playfully as I tossed his suit jacket toward the counter. Half of it landed there before the heavier portion hanging off dragged it to the floor.

“Hands that could-“

“Hands that will not.” I cut him off as I unbuttoned his shirt. Perhaps he was in a bit of a friskier mood than I first thought.

“Fine, I give up.” Nico sighed out. I abandoned the few buttons left, not wanting to bend over and give him any more ideas. He must have caught on to the fact that I wasn’t going any further, because he moved to finish the job before I had turned to grab the bowl of ice from the counter top.

I heard his shirt drop to the floor, and I caught a bit of the fabric on my toe to drag it away from the tub as I turned back around.

Nico shirtless was always a sight to behold. When he was standing, his abs were on full display. Not the most toned, but also not lacking in definition. He was a strong guy, but by no means ripped. I loved the way his body looked. Not chiseled to perfection, but smooth like a marble statue. And comfortable to lay on.

I pursed my lips at the sight and shook my head in the process. Nico’s lips pulled into a bright smile. He knew what I was looking at. He loved to be admired as much as he loved to be touched. Not in an egotistical way, but more so in a rewarding way. He worked hard on his body, and to know his girlfriend loved it.. well that was all the gratification he needed.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come in with me?” His words were taunting, as if he tried to clue me in on something I was missing out on. I shook my head at his antics, stepping forward again and leaning sideways over him to dump the ice into the bath. A few of the chilly drops splashed up and landed on his back. Nico jolted at the feeling, one of his hands clasped my leg out of sheer surprise.

“You sure you wanna get in there?” I returned the attitude, stepping back and leaning forward, leaving space between us but still eye level with him.

“It’s good for the muscles.” His words weren’t exactly a yes, but I reached out and placed a hand on his chest. I gave a firm shove, and Nico about had a heart attack as he tried to catch himself from falling back into the water.

“That’s mean!” He let out a laugh as he sprang up. He hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near the water after my little trick.

“Teasing your lover is meaner.” I set the bowl back on the counter. I leaned back against the cabinets and reached for the wine bottle, only to pause when I noticed the cork. Nico made his way over. He went to grab my hips before I raised the bottle in between us. His mischievous eyes lowered to the bottle, pursing his lips before sighing.

“You wanna be useful?” Caramel brown irises meeting my own. He looked offended, but I knew he was only playing a part.

“Brutal.” Nico took the bottle from my hands, and quickly disappeared from the bathroom. I shut the lid of the toilet in the meantime, and grabbed two towels. One that I put on the counter for Nico, and one that I laid out on the floor by the bath tub.

When Nico returned, the bottle was open and a prideful smile resided on his lips.

“My hero,” I fawned as I snatched the bottle from his hand.

“I try.” I turned back to the counter and grabbed the wine glasses, setting them both on the edge before filling them with a generous amount of the hopefully sweet alcohol. I heard Nico slip off his pants. When I turned back around, I realized he hadn’t bothered taking the time to take off his pants and his boxers one after the other.

I choked on my own breath. Caught off guard, but also amused by the way he stood there, hands held out by his sides with that smirk on his face that just said, ‘you’re sure?’

“Get in the bath tub before I lock you outside naked.” Nico huffed, his head dropping to look at the floor as he stomped his way over to the bath tub. It was a short distance, but he made due with the time he had to throw his little tantrum before stepping in.

I watched his whole body tense, my gaze lingered on his backside. “Take your time, Captain.” Nico’s head whipped around, but my gaze hadn’t moved. He knew I was flirting. Still, he went back to the task at hand. He lowered himself carefully into the tub, and released a shaky breath as he leaned back, his head falling back against the wall of the shower.

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help with sore muscles.” I mumbled, turning the bathroom light off and flicking the switch on the wax burner I had plugged into the outlet by the mirror. Something to emit a soft orange glow and hopefully burn the lavender scented wax cubes I had in there. I sat on the towel outside the tub, leaning against the porcelain as I rested Nico’s glass on the corner where there was a bit more surface area. His head turned to look at me, dark hair falling over equally dark eyes. A look of fondness flashed across his features.

I took a sip of my wine, patient for him to speak as he got comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could in an ice bath.

“I love you, so much.” Nico’s soft whispers landed on my heart, making it skip a beat.

“I love you too, Nico.” I took another sip of my wine before Nico grabbed his own glass. He shifted his body and rested his elbows over the edge of the tub, smiling all the while as he taste tested the new flavor of sweet wine we had yet to drink. Until now of course.

I eyed him. Nico’s features contorted as he tried to decide his thoughts on the flavor. He nodded his head, before giving a shrug. Then he looked up at me.

“Not bad.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Nico wasn’t exactly high maintenance, but he wasn’t casual either. He could be a little picky with things sometimes. Especially his wines.

“I happen to think it’s great.” I leaned in closer and rested my head against the wall. “Which means we’re getting a second bottle.”

Nico pushed his hair back as he rolled his eyes at me, trying to contain his own smile.

“You need to try Swiss wine.” His subtle excitement was everything to me.

“You need to take me to Switzerland.” I countered softly. Nico leaned forward, and I met him in the middle for a quick kiss.

“I will. I will.” He settled back into the bath tub, his hair falling into his eyes again.

“No rush though, baby.”

“I know…”

Nico tried to push back his hair, but after another failed attempt, I swiftly stood up. He watched me curiously as I walked toward the cabinet and opened it, digging through until I found one of my hair clips. When I returned to the side of the bath tub, I sat on the floor and rested my wine glass beside me. Nico seemed to catch on to what I was doing, as he dipped his head and allowed me to gather his hair back and clip it to the top of his head. He looked a little funny, but at least he could see.

“Better?” I asked, and he nodded.

“Better.”

Nico’s head eventually rested against the lip of the tub. He let out a long sigh as I took in every detail I could. His big brown eyes watched me as I studied him. Like an intricate work of writing. But I wasn’t looking for misspellings or wrong punctuation. I was looking for the well worded phrases and strategic uses of figurative language. The beauty. Not the flaws.

We spent god knows how long in the bathroom. We talked and giggled and laughed, but the energy levels had depleted significantly as time went on. Nico was still in the bath well after the ice had melted and the water adopted a room temperature feeling.

Sometime along the way, our conversations had ceased and Nico’s consciousness had slipped from him. I quietly stood up, slipping the wine glass from the edge of the tub where he’d set it. I finished off whatever he’d left, placing our glasses on the counter before I looked back at him.

His arms were folded one on top of the other on the lip of the tub, his head resting on top of them. His upper body was awkwardly turned on his side, while his lower body still laid flat. It looked uncomfortable. I grabbed my phone to check the time. Only a little past midnight. I pulled up my camera and snapped a few photos of my sleeping lover’s peaceful expression before I walked back into our bedroom. He needed a change of clothes, though I knew most nights he usually preferred to sleep in only whatever loose shorts he could find. He didn’t believe in sleeping in boxers, and quite frankly I didn’t blame him.

I grabbed a t-shirt out of our dresser, just so he’d have the option if he wanted one. I set the shirt and shorts on our bed and tossed my phone beside them. I waltzed back into the bathroom, knelt by the tub, and carefully pulled the clip out of his hair.

“Love,” I whispered before moving my hand from his hair to lightly pinch his arm. Nico shifted uncomfortably at the feeling, then tried to move his arm.

“Nico, your body’s gonna be sore, come on.” I continued to speak softly, but I did raise my voice slightly. He groaned, but eventually his eyes opened. “There we go.” I stood up and grabbed the towel I had set out for him.

Nico yawned and took a moment to wake up before he lifted his head. He eyed me as I unfolded the towel and held it open for him. He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“Sorry.” His voice was quiet and deep as he slowly got up. Nico stepped out of the bath and shivered before I closed the space between us and wrapped the towel around his lower body, making sure it was tight before I tucked the loose corner in.

“Don’t apologize for falling asleep.” I reassured before stepping past Nico. I leaned over the tub and unplugged the drain. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

He chuckled softly as his cheeks turned red. Something I didn’t take note of until I was facing him again.

“I grabbed a shirt for you.” I left the bathroom, and Nico quickly followed.

“Might need a sweatshirt. It’s freezing.” I immediately turned around after I reached the bed, glaring at Nico.

“You just took an ice bath! Of course it’s gonna be cold!” His lips pulled into a smile.

“Don’t bullshit me, Nico. Walking around here talking about how cold you are,” I rambled playfully as I turned back to the bed and grabbed his clothes. The moment I looked back at him, Nico was giggling. I threw his clothing at him and tried not to smile.

“Change, you loser.” I teased before going to find my own sleepwear. I settled on a pair of satin shorts and a matching shirt.

Nico was dressed far quicker than I was. I changed facing away from him, but when I turned back around, he was certainly staring at me.

“What is your deal tonight?” I finally asked, laughing. Incredulous.

“I don’t know,” I could recognize the bashful tone in his voice. It’s one I don’t hear often. Not since we got together. Nico had always been a quiet guy. I wouldn’t venture as far as calling him shy, but more so easily flustered. Still, I hadn’t seen him look that nervous around me in a long time. “You’re just so pretty.. I just wanted to look at you.”

Usually I was skeptical about Nico’s compliments. All of them were genuine, but sometimes it was hard to tell when he was trying to flatter me because he wanted something or not. But this one was so innocent I simply knew it was genuine. He didn’t want anything other than a smile.

“You’re so cheesy.” I grinned as I made my way around to my side of the bed. Furthest from the door because Nico insisted I was safer there in case somebody broke in.

His thoughtfulness never ceased to make me happy. I was satisfied knowing he was willing to protect me. Once upon a time, I might have claimed to be independent and happy in taking care of myself. Nothing beats being able to find the right person to surrender that job to. Maybe not full time, but Nico was certainly my protector when he was around.

“Come on, Icepop.” I spoke as I pulled the blankets back and climbed in bed. Nico didn’t have to be told twice. He was quick to join me, slipping into bed beside me and laying down with me. He pulled the blankets up over us, and I quickly found my spot curled into his side.

“Comfy?” Nico whispered. I nodded, resting my head against his chest. I lifted one of my legs to rest over his waist, and wrapped an arm around his torso. He wasn’t really that cold, but I decided not to give him grief about being a baby.

“Always comfy with you.” I spoke softly in response, pressing a kiss to his side.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #trevor zegras #jack hughes #quinn hughes

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ukonlinebathroomstore · 9 months

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#Vado taps #Bathroom Supplies Online #Vado's thermostatic mixer shower taps #bath fillers #kitchen sinks #taps collection #Vado's Exquisite Taps

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gloryhrs · 6 months

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━━ ⟡ 𝓗𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝓞𝐅𝐅, uryu i.

ᥫ᭡ o. requested by — anon. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

ᥫ᭡ i. male reader, comedy ( if you squint ) and fluff, uryu and r. are happily married and are living together (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ ), uryu tries to be upset at the r. ( he fails ), r. is “clueless” about the whole situation.

ᥫ᭡ ii. hello everyone, i’m ( seriously ) back this time and ready to get back into writing after being on a 6? month hiatus. i downloaded character ai and . . . (っ- ‸ - ς), yeah, it had a chokehold on me. but i’m glad to be back, now we’re so close to 300 followers and i’m so happy that you all have still been showing love and support to my work even when i was gone for all this time and keeping my account alive! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ now i plan on finishing up all my requests in my inbox, sorry for keeping those who requested something waiting all this time. (╥﹏╥)

Today wasn’t the best day for Uryu.

The 27 year old just blew over four hundred dollars for someone to come to his house and fix up his fan and his thermostat. Since someone couldn’t stop touching the damn things when he was sleep, which was you, his husband. And boy, was he pissed when he checked the hallway cameras and saw it was you that was constantly turning the fan on and off along with the thermostat. Damn, you couldn’t leave at least one of them alone?! Your excuse was that you were “sleepwalking” and it was the “weather demons” waking you up every two minutes of the night.

Uryu was a doctor, and he made plenty of money—but it wasn’t that part that ticked him off badly. It was the fact this wasn’t your first time doing this! Last year he went through the same situation because you kept sweating in your sleep one minute, and the next minute you would be freezing with your nose running. But Uryu knew you were sensitive to the weather, so he wasn’t upset with you about it.

But this time, as you would say, really rusted up his gears.

You were currently laying down on the couch with an apple juice and bag of chips in your hand as you watched the man fix the thermostat. As you watched him you couldn’t help but feel a pair of holes burning into your head, which was no other than your boyfriend. Maybe if I ignore him then he’ll stop looking you mentally spoke to yourself with a small form of sweat appearing on the side of your head. He couldn’t stare for long right?

10 minutes later, he was still glaring. And for someone who said he was no longer angry, he surely didn’t keep up to his word. This man had his arms crossed and was tapping his foot against the shiny wooden floors while staring you down.

“Are you still mad?”

“No, what made you say that?”

“. . . You’re literally burning holes into the side of my head, Uryu. I understand if you’re still upset, y’know.”

“I can never be mad at my beautiful husband. My gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous husband. The one I work for so he can get what he wants? The same one who not only broke the thermostat, but somehow the fan as well? No, I can never be upset at you.”

You couldn’t help but deadpan at the way he said all of this with a fake smile on his face. He was a terrible liar, his lying skills were so bad and noticeable till the point of his ears turning a dark shade of red every time he lies. Which was pretty cute, in your opinion—back in school, you would often teased him about that. And the fact he was in 15 and walking around with a middle part in his hair and his pants being jacked up to his belly button, as if he was a grown man in a child’s body.

You let out a sigh and placed your snacks down so you could make your way towards him. Once you were within his space, you immediately wrapped your arms around him—pulling him closer to your body with your head resting on his shoulder. Just like when he was a teenager, his body immediately became as stiff as a mannequin for a nearly thirty seconds. Until he realized, you were his husband, not his boyfriend anymore. His eyes completely softened and he wrapped his arms around you as well. Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel the warmth in those eyes behind those glasses.

“I’m so—”

“Don’t worry about it. I have the money for it.”

You smiled and chuckled when he said those words. This man couldn’t choose whether he wanted to be happy one minute then said the next, it was cute.

You could feel the sweat dripping from your forehead as you laid on the pillow. You hated being hot, but you didn’t want to break the thermostat or fan again and you didn’t want to make Uryu upset again, so you decided to just lay there . . . motionlessly. Your eyes sealed shut, you tried not to think about it but how the hell can you do that when you feel like your shirt is melting off your body?

As you felt yourself melting into the bed you suddenly felt a refreshing and cool breeze on your skin. Which made you relax into the bed and open your eyes almost instantly, trying to figure out where that sensation came from. When you looked up, you saw a fan in on your side of the bed, and your husband who was adjusting the settings on it as well. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the man who was focused on the fan that he didn’t even noticed you were awake.

“You’re doing that for me?” You spoke softly, your eyes holding nothing but love and admiration for the man in front of you. You felt at ease now, like you were given a cold drink of water on a hot summer day. Uryu turned his head to you with a soft smile on his lips as well before he grabbed a mini remote from the nightstand and laid it beside your pillow—you took a small glance at it and it was for the fan. It had speed settings, rotating mode, and an off button.

Instead of being upset with you all day, he decided to make your problem easier for the both of you. How considerate of him.

“Here, now we both don’t have to worry about you getting up every two minutes of the night.” You felt his lips against your forehead while you’ve already sunk deep in the bed. You could feel his presence even closer to you when you heard the bed creak and arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Oh, how you loved your husband more than anything.

#(ㅅ´ ˘ `) @gloryhrs . . . !#anime #manga #animanga #bleach #uryu ishida #bleach uryu #uryu x reader #uryuu #uryu x y/n #uryu ishida x male reader #male reader

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babydollmarauders · 2 years

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COLD — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: “Quit touching me, your feet are cold!” & “Sharing is caring, now give me the hoodie!” with Nico.

i think Nico’s body temperature is permanently damaged from the amount of time he spends on the ice. it’s the only explanation for why my fiancé keeps our house so cold. it’s an off day for him today, meaning we finally get to spend some much needed time together, but it also means that i don’t get to change the thermostat. usually i turn the temperature up once he’s left for the day, and then back down around the time he gets home so that i don’t have to freeze all day, but today, i don’t get that chance. instead i’m curled up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, my legs kicked up.

“hey, what do you want to order for lunch?” Nico asks me, coming into the living room in a t-shirt and sweatpants, a hoodie clutched in his hand, and takes a seat at the other end of the couch by my feet.

“i don’t know.” i shrug. “panera?”

“sounds good to me.” he pulls out his phone, pulling up uber eats and tapping the screen a few times. he already knows my usual order, so i don’t bother telling him what i want. he looks back up at me and speaks again. “why are you just laying here? the tv isn’t even on.”

“because i don’t wanna be in bed but i needed a blanket.” i tell him as another shiver racks my body.

“why did you need a blanket?” his brows furrow and i roll my eyes before stretching my toes out from under the blanket and pressing them against his bare arm. he jolts back and i yelp out a laugh and do it again.

“quit touching me, your feet are cold!” he laughs.

“exactly!” i exclaim. “you keep it so damn cold in this house! my toes are gonna freeze off, Neeks!”

“it’s not even that cold.” he replies, grinning. “you’re just being dramatic.”

i narrow my eyes at him before sitting up. i grab ahold of the hoodie that lays on his lap, pulling it towards me, but he pulls it back.

“that’s mine!” he chuckles.

“sharing is caring, now give me the hoodie!” i joke, pulling on it again, falling into a game of tug of war over the grey hoodie.

“go get one of yours!” he says.

“no! i like yours! they’re warmer!” i tell him, and he gives me a confused look.

“how are they warmer?” he questions through laughter. i shrug, giving one last tug on the sweatshirt and he lets go.

“i don’t know, they just are.” i say before slipping the hoodie over my head. “i win!”

he grins, crawling over to lay down beside me.

“i let you win.” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me towards him. i cuddle into his chest, my head resting over his heart, and hum in content.

“liar. you’re just a sore loser.”

#faithlynn’s 500 celly!#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nj devils #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fic #faithlynn’s writings <3

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detydia · 1 year

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Imagine Dean Winchester x You

You absolutely not in the mood to wake up.

The morning sun had barely begun to peek through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling the chill in the air that signaled the arrival of another cold morning.

"Hey, you up?" he called out, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You groaned from under the covers, your response muffled. "Mmm... don't wanna."

Dean chuckled, knowing exactly what that meant. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, grabbing his jeans from the nearby chair. "Come on, babe, we've got things to do."

***

He walked over to the small bathroom, giving a light knock on the door. "You okay in there?"

There was a long pause, and Dean frowned, growing slightly concerned. "Y/N?"

Finally, he heard your voice, groggy and barely audible. "I'm fine... just... don't wanna move."

Dean leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he looked at the closed bathroom door. "You've been in there for a while. Everything alright?"

You let out a tired sigh. "It's too cold outside the shower."

Dean chuckled softly, understanding your sentiment. "You want me to turn up the heat for you?"

You didn't respond immediately, but then he heard a faint, "Yeah, please."

Dean made his way to the thermostat and adjusted the temperature, making sure the bathroom would be warmer when you finally decided to come out. He leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers against the surface impatiently.

Minutes felt like hours as he waited, his concern growing slightly. Finally, he heard the sound of the shower turning off, followed by the bathroom door cracking open. You emerged, wrapped in a towel and with your hair dripping wet.

Your eyes were half-lidded, and you squinted at him in the dim light of the bathroom. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, concern still evident in his voice. "You alright?"

You shuffled closer, leaning against the bathroom doorway. "Yeah, just... the water was so warm. Didn't wanna come out."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at your explanation. He stepped forward, reaching out to brush a wet strand of hair away from your face. "You're such a sleepyhead."

You gave him a weak smile, your eyes barely open. "It's too early for this."

Dean's hand slid down to your arm, and he gently tugged you closer. "C'mon, let's get you warmed up."

You allowed him to guide you out of the bathroom and towards the bed. You sank down onto the mattress, shivering slightly from the change in temperature. Dean grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and draped it over your shoulders, tucking it around you like a cocoon.

"Better?" he asked, sitting down beside you.

You nodded, your eyes starting to close again. "Much."

He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You're like a little bear in hibernation."

You chuckled softly, snuggling further into the blanket. "Can't help it... it's too cozy."

Dean watched you for a moment, his heart warming at the sight of you all wrapped up and half-asleep. He couldn't deny that he found you adorable in this state – all grumpy and disheveled, yet still managing to make him smile.

"Well, if you're gonna hibernate, might as well do it properly," Dean said with a smirk, leaning over to turn off the overhead light.

The room was now bathed in the soft glow of dawn, and the warmth from the blanket and the bed created a cocoon of comfort around you. You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to Dean.

"Thanks for turning up the heat," you mumbled, your voice already growing heavy with sleep.

Dean wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "Anytime, sleepyhead."

#dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #fluff #supernatural dean #dean fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x reader fluff #supernatural

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