#in my answer to your other ask for the character bingo

[ten-cent-sleuth]

1 for questions for fic writers!

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who has never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Ooh, this is a tough one. Of all the questions, you sent this one! 😂 (I kid, of course; I am happy to see you in my inbox again, thank you for the ask!!)

I want to say Committed to the Cause because it is my pride and joy, it is for my #1 “I keep returning to this fandom please help me” ship, and it is a shining example of what and how I like to write. One tiiiny problem: it is not published yet, so you can’t actually read it. Alternatively, Of Graves, Of Worms, and Epitaphs is another WIP I have poured my heart and soul into; it shares CttC’s exemplariness of my style/taste but shows a different side because CttC is a total AU for Philinda (from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.) while G/W/E is a S8 fix-it for GSR (from CSI; I wanted to include it for you, Mouse <3) (…sorry if you don’t ship GSR hwjfhdsjg). One tiiiny problem—can you guess what it is? xD

Not a Servant’s Dream is another AU but Addams Family meets Jane Eyre. It’s a good starting point because it’s fun, wholesome, and not too niche for the general fandom public but still makes clear my whumpy inclinations and my writing idiosyncrasies. However, it is also, uh…not published ksfhrjshgsj.

I would say my Mediatorverse is a practical introduction to my fics because the reader a) can choose from multiple fandoms to start with and b) will immediately see how self-indulgent my writing gets and how feral I am about my comfort characters, so if that ain’t their thing, they can dip early on. But of course: it is not published. :))

Basically, I tend to keep my projects close to my chest until they’re absolutely ready for the world. 😅

However, that would make for a rather unfruitful answer, so I present to you:

Never Lack, a SkippyPants one-shot, with a sequel in the works but uhh don’t hold your breath;

Nature’s Impossibilities, an MSR one-shot that I wrote for @/xfilesfanficexchange; and

Inextricably, a Lizzington one-shot, though this may be a controversial ship, w e l p.

All of these well demonstrate my wheelhouse, I’d say. Inextricably is likely the best demonstration of it, but it’s also likely the most Sus due to Lizzington lol and to some mature themes (it’s arguably the darkest of my AO3 fics, though not at all from everything I’ve written, including CttC and G/W/E). Nature’s Impossibilities shows what I can do when prompted (ily hyper-specific prompts, ily fic exchanges, ily fandom events), while Never Lack shows what I can do when completely unprompted (à la “the fic nobody asked for”). They’re both sorta conversation-heavy character study (not exactly meta character study, more like “Character B gets to ‘study’ Character A” kinda) type fics, so they’re on pretty equal footing as entries into my wheelhouse.

And I’d like to add A Galling Yoke merely for the virtue of being a multichap. It’s not quite finished yet but it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten (other than with one-shots). It’s got whump, it’s got angst, it’s got casefic, it’s got plot/world weaving (just a term I use in my head for a part of my process, idrk how to explain it though rip), it’s got lovey-dovey stuff, so lots of my trademarks. However, since it doesn’t have as many of the “magnifying glass” hijinks as I like to get into with my fic writing, I’d hesitate to call it the best introduction to Me.

Gracious, this was a long, low-key incomprehensible answer. Very sorry! In short: for a launchpad into my brand of fanfiction, I would recommend my fic Inextricably if you can stomach it, and if not, two fics would work, either Nature’s Impossibilities (this option for more weightiness/poetry/whatever) or Never Lack (this option for more random blorbo mania).

[buckets-and-trees]

Desperate [Bucky x Reader]

Fandom: MCU Title: Desperate Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 3k 

Summary: Enemies? Rivals? It's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the Winter Soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered.

Content Warnings: kidnapping, sex pollen ergo DUBIOUS CONSENT, sexual situations (named acts, non-explicit depictions of vaginal sex), medical elements (needles, IVs, experience of medical distress)

Thank You Notes: BIGGEST SHOUT OUTS to @sgt-seabass who beta loved this into what it is and @vonalyn who helped supply me with some of the vital energy I needed. This was SUPPOSED to be an answer to this little sleepover ask @povlvr had graced me with... but then it became this! Logistical Notes: Filling my eleventh square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - Y2 "Reluctant Teamwork" and @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer Week 9 which is technically a "FREE WEEK" but had sex pollen listed as one of the suggested things to play with, so... that's why we're here now.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You were an old SHIELD contact that Steve knew before Project Insight. He didn't know you well then, but you had crossed paths a few times. You were an analyst sometimes assigned to Steve's missions. You went to work for the CIA after the Triskellion takedown, where you stayed for a couple of years, before eventually moving into the private sector.

When Steve, Nat, Sam, and Wanda were outlaws on the run, they bumped into you again, and you became an ally and valuable contact in your new area of the country - and ultimately a friend. And trusted enough that you knew about Bucky - and Bucky heard about you.

Bucky didn't love that you were an element in Steve's life. He hadn't met you, hadn't been able to get his own read on you. 

He'd been wary initially about Nat, Sam, and Wanda, but he'd been able to meet them and build his own trust - and they'd all ultimately put their lives and reputations on the line for him. 

It wasn't that he was distrustful of everyone anymore and needed people to put their lives on the line to prove themselves. Those who had sided with Steve over Tony in the Zemo affair aside, he'd also learned to trust others again in Wakanda with so many of the royal family and the royal guard building relationships with him. 

But with you he didn’t know you, and so he didn't like it.

What Bucky loathed even more? 

You didn't blip out. For five years, you were there for Steve when he couldn't be. You were apparently there so much that when Steve left, he fucking said to watch out for you. The punk.

Bucky didn’t know Steve dropped in on you, too, and asked you to keep an eye out for Bucky the day he gave Sam the shield. You promised you would.

You reached out. Not immediately, but in the weeks after.

Bucky was... less than kind.

Frankly, he was surly, ungrateful, short, and rude. 

Pieces were moving and with Bucky's reappearance in the United States, the question of his future was an immediate concern. Public and government representatives were demanding trials, pardons, and all the rest.

You told him you had found an excellent contact for a lawyer.

"No, thanks, I can find my own," the words were polite, but the tone was clipped, flat, low - almost a growl. 

Being so abruptly shut down, you decided to cut the phone call first and on your terms, so you wished him luck - managing to be more polite than him, making it sound genuine - and hung up.

You called Matt Murdock yourself, and told him about Bucky's case.

You did it only because of your promise to Steve.

And a little bit because you knew you were fucking right and that Bucky needed your lawyer contact. 

Matt chuckled, told you he knew about stubbornness, and that he'd go about approaching the Winter Soldier diplomatically and professionally.

Matt pulled off the best possible pardon deal, even if not everything about it was ideal.

When Pepper decided to get back into some of the Avenger support again - after the Flag Smashers business - so she could provide some more trustworthy resources for Sam and Bucky and the old crowd, you were one of the people she ended up scouting and recruiting to come work on the direct home support team with research and tactical support. Sometimes you went into the field with the team, but usually you stayed at home base and relayed with the agents over comms. 

This was not because you weren't outstanding, but because it was clear the less time you and Bucky spent in proximity to each other, the less awkward it was for everyone else on the team. You were both professional enough to keep the animosity out of things during a mission over comms, and that was about it. 

Otherwise, it was silent treatment and resentment.

Neither of you extended the woes of your dislike for each other actively to anyone else on the team, keeping your mouths shut about your feelings, and engaging in only occasional and minimal eye-rolling when either of you was mentioned. Bucky made a point of giving you electrolyte-enhanced waters first whenever you did go into the field on a mission with them, as if you were a toddler who couldn’t take care of yourself. 

Sitting by you at a holiday dinner at Sam’s you almost thought there was a moment of thaw between you and the Winter Soldier, but you didn’t push the almost comfortable silence between you to anything more - knowing it had been long-established he only tolerated you. It was clearly only a temporary pause, meaning very little as Bucky continued to push for you not being put into the field with them. You didn’t need to be around his close scrutiny. He made getting over any initial crush you might have had on him very easy. 

Things were fine like that for a little over a year. 

And then you were abducted on your way back from a mission outside of Paris where you had been part of the local ground team, taken and smuggled out of the airport. It was not HYDRA this time, just leftover cretins who blipped away but now were back, stirring up their own operation which hoped to double down on being even more nefarious. They were interested in testing some of their new methods and resources while also trying to extract some sensitive information.

Why not kill two birds with one stone by snatching up a well-connected and informed analyst at the heart of the neo-Avengers operation?

They recovered files from debunked HYDRA facilities (hard drives were wiped, but motivated hackers knew how to dig beneath what had been wiped to recover remnants - in hindsight, SHIELD should have taken the tech to a secure location) and developed an even more concentrated and powerful form of sex pollen. They were interested in how it would be absorbed in both the aerosol and liquid forms they had developed. Why not try out both forms on you? 

The aerosol was potent enough, but not in a way that would break you for their line of inquiries.

So, they injected it right into your veins.

Compounding with what had already been ingested into your system, everything intensified, and you - much more quickly than they anticipated - moved past what may have been a state where they could've coaxed the information they wanted out of you. 

Quickly you progressed to the point where you were consumed by this toxin, your body raging and desperate for the physical activity that will get you to a sexual release and flush the toxin from your system. You were keening and moaning and crying, covered in sweat, straining painfully against your bonds, unable to focus on anything anyone said to you. 

You were incoherent and not far from feral. 

Having gone beyond the point you could be giving them intelligence, you were still useful to provide information as the test subject, and they kept you on it through an IV drip to see the limits of what an average female body could take before it was completely broken.

You had absolutely no sense of how long this went on, only that you were not even crying tears anymore, just dry sobbing and wailing, because everything in your throat, and in your veins, and in your chest, and in your vagina burned. 

It was an agony you'd never experienced in your life. 

You vaguely registered a cacophony of sound around you, but it was like it was coming to you through a long dark tunnel, distorted and distant, and you couldn’t open your eyes to see what is going on, not that you could even think to or were capable of caring about anything other than the desperate purgatory you were enduring until you finally passed out.

Bucky and Sam were nearly back to base ops in New York from the Paris mission when the news of your abduction came through, and they turned around immediately. Teams working at home and in Paris - and Bucky in the air while Sam piloted - narrowed your likely whereabouts down to two locations: somewhere near Versailles (because of course evil operations are drawn to the ideas of opulence) or a compound outside of Brussels. 

Time already against them, Sam and Bucky made the tough decision that they needed to split up so they could investigate both options as quickly as humanly possible. Sam dropped Bucky at the well-equipped safe house less than an hour away from the suspected Versailles compound and then headed to Brussels.

After arming himself to the teeth as quickly as he could, Bucky fired up the Ducati in the garage of the safehouse that had been equipped with a noise dampener by your tech engineers, punched in his navigational coordinates, and pushed to top speeds to get to there, stashing the bike half a kilometer away so he could make the rest of the approach in complete stealth.

The operation was much smaller than he anticipated, but because of its size it was almost immediately apparent to Bucky that this was where they had you, and he was also confident he would be able to drop this operation and get to you without as much trouble as he expected.

But in no way could he have predicted the state he would find you in.

He heard your agonizing cries and keening within moments of entering the facility, and he'd already dropped four agents at that point, but the excruciating pain he heard from you was its own form of torture in itself. 

He picked up the pace, tearing ruthlessly through everyone else that came between him and you.

He got the full view of the condition you were in only moments before you passed out. He quickly undid all the bindings and removed everything they had attached to monitor your vitals. He unhooked the IV drip but had the presence of mind to take the bag for testing later. It was inelegant, but he hefted you over his shoulder, and everyone else still conscious who got in his way of getting you out was incapacitated with a single kill shot.

It was close to midnight when he reached the safe house and carefully tucked you into one of the beds. He pulled a secure laptop and some of the base medical testing equipment into the bedroom and kept watch over your catatonic form while he started running tests on the substance you’d been hooked up to and sent the base data for his samples to the bioengineering team back at HQ.

Over the next hour your body experienced a few fits of violent shaking, but you didn’t rouse until almost 2am. When you did, it was with great heaving gasps, and your arms flailed, your hands grasping at the sheets, at your clothes, and then at Bucky when he appeared almost immediately at your side trying to soothe you. He had a theory he hoped wasn’t true – that he knew what was running through your veins – but it was confirmed when you clutched and pawed desperately at him. Then your eyes met his, there was a recognition but coupled with devastating desperation, and you started babbling his name and pleading, “Bucky, please, Bucky. Need. Bucky, help. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.”

He’d been in distress over you since he first heard your tortured cries hours before, and he knew you needed him.

He wouldn’t deny you. 

He knew the anguish of being a slave within one’s own mind. 

He worked both of you out of your clothes quickly, and then laid you back on the bed and crawled above you. “I gothcu, shh, I know what you need.” You cried, but with a glimmer of relief, when he sunk into your desperately wet cunt. He thrust diligently into you while you clung to his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

The first orgasm was quick, and provided a glorious wave of relief that helped, but it was not enough. 

Not even close.

For nearly two hours he let you use him, pulling him into you, riding him, kneeling under him on all fours while he wrapped an arm around your waist and took you from behind. 

It was relentless fucking until you hit the point of being utterly depleted – mercifully coinciding with when the chemicals seemed to have finally been flushed from your system with enough of the endorphins released into your bloodstream from the numberless orgasms. 

If anyone but a super soldier had found you, Bucky genuinely worried they may not have been enough to help. Seeing you at the utter extreme of limits, in dangerous territory, had shaken something inside him he wasn’t prepared to discover. There had been no question in his mind that he had to get you through it. 

He smoothed your hair off your face and let your body gently sink back into the mattress, then got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He wiped your brow first, and you sighed in relief, eyes already closed in bone-tired weariness. Bucky gently wiped the sweat from your neck, continued moving down your body, and then with a second warm cloth he’d also brought, he gently wiped away the mess of slick that had seeped down your thighs. He carefully redressed your exhausted form, sliding you back into your discarded underwear and his t-shirt that was close enough to scoop up from the floor, and tucked you into the covers. You were asleep before he had finished taking care of you.

As you rested, he continued his vigilant watch from before. You stirred an hour or so later. It was still dark, but with almost a hint that sunrise would be creeping to the edges of the windows soon. He moved to your side again, this time with water, which he pressed to your lips, helping you to set up so you could drink. You began to gulp it down, but slowed when he tried to soothe you and urged you to slow your intake.

When you were nearly done downing the glass, your eyes opened briefly, but catching Bucky’s wary gaze on you, you shut them again. Not before Bucky saw the flash of anguish, however. You scooted away and turned your back, pulling your knees up and burying your head in your arms.

Bucky wanted to reach out and touch you, but settled for softly uttering your name, trying to coax you to look at him.

You refused, consumed with shame and horror.

Your throat was thick with a different kind of agony. 

That episode of pain and innate need had ended, but this? 

This was a new hell you would have to endure. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry, and I know I owe you my life and probably all of my sanity, but please, please go. Please leave me be and don’t put me through the humiliation right now of being here only because you were resigned to helping me despite hating me. I’ll have to bear that forever, but please, just… please at least leave me to myself until we get out of here.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Fuck, I don’t hate you – I never truly hated you,” he said. It was quiet, but perfectly audible in the silence of the pre-dawn.

You raised your head tentatively.

He took a deep breath and continued. “I only kept it up to save face since I drove you to despise me and was too proud to turn it around.”

You were truly overwhelmed. You wanted to say something but had no idea how to respond to that admission, especially when you were already wrung out to the very edges of your emotional state.

“I’ve respected you for a long time now.” Bucky broke the silence.

“You have?”

“Probably more than respected you, if I’m being honest.”

You were still exhausted despite having slept for the past few hours, but you pushed your mind to think… you started to reconsider the thaw from hostility to civility, that he argued with you in group settings less, how everything had become less grudging. But you knew you’d put up your own protective walls to shield you from his scrutiny because it had hurt too much to have been spurned by him when you’d reached out to try and forge that relationship with him after Steve left initially. 

And so much of tonight had been a feverish haze, but you had small pieces that were stained into your memory, some of which were him and things you couldn’t categorize as the actions of anything less than someone who cared. 

“How do you feel about me?” you ventured. 

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes for a few long moments.

“I don’t know that I can explain it all yet – I don’t think I know the words for it, but… let me show you? No chemicals, just us, see what’s really here?” He reached out a tentative hand to cover one of yours.

You nodded.

You let him move in.

You let him kiss you.

You let him lay you down beneath him again, and this time you sunk into each other. 

You cried again, but this time from the immense emotion. You could feel it rolling off of him and pouring into you, a balm starting to fill in the anguished pieces of your soul. Your spent bodies pushed through any tiredness and desperately moved together again, relentlessly motivated this time to slake the emotional hunger growing between you. Touches that explored, that carved into memory, that expressed. 

This time when you were both only finished by exhaustion, you curled into each other and slept, feeling the beginnings of solace and true peace, a turning of the tide, and maybe the acknowledgement that emotions that had run so deeply between you two were only felt so strongly because you truly valued the other even from the beginning.

READ THE FOLLOW UP DRABBLE: UNCERTAIN AND SURE

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[princessmisery666]

Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending. 

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester. 

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own. 

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day. 

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again. 

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him. 

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.” 

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours. 

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will. 

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise? 

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later. 

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.  

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.” 

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?” 

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.” 

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension. 

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.” 

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first. 

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both. 

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play. 

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.” 

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests. 

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks. 

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.” 

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.” 

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh. 

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.” 

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.  

“That hurt?” he asks. 

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.” 

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile. 

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial. 

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s. 

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him. 

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone. 

“Hey, hi,” you answer. 

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?” 

“Yeah, sure, okay.” 

“You okay?” 

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.” 

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine. 

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.” 

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.” 

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.” 

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.” 

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.” 

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?” 

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better. 

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair. 

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.” 

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.” 

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes. 

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard. 

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.” 

“They seem like a good bunch.” 

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you. 

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them. 

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you. 

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction. 

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls. 

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.” 

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?” 

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.” 

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer. 

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.  

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?” 

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own. 

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you. 

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you. 

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.” 

“Good for them.” 

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards. 

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong. 

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you. 

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…” 

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.” 

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly. 

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away. 

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again. 

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return. 

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop. 

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door. 

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Tags info

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Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

[asterias-record-shop]

Can i have a full song with…ethan landry

dark romance, stalker!ethan, ghostface!kink

Had this idea that reader gets gifts to her apartment and it’s always anonymous, at first it’s cute gifts like flowers, chocolate or custom made playlist but then it starts to get darker like some pictures of her she wasn’t aware of or even things she lost MONTHS ago like panties, jewelry’s….it can even go darker that at some point he just snap and he send her sperm or something and he get her voice messages to confess his love and say he would kill for her (like post murder adrenaline) and one time she gets to her apartment and there’s no gifts because ethan is inside (and he’s basically the gift) and he has his ghostface costume on and maybe he makes a reveal and like he’s giggling and shit and maybe after some smutty scene ? like ugh i’m dying for this

—𓆩[secret admirer]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Ghostface! Stalker! Ethan Landry x Fem! Naive! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff, maybe slight angst?

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 5.1K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Ethan knew you were the perfect target whenever he met you. Oh you were perfect; beautiful,, sweet, funny, smart… but at the same time, so fucking stupid. He started sending you small things at first, your favorite candy and a CD with music that reminded him of you with a record player, but he needed more. He needed to make you know who he was, he needed you to love him. He couldn’t stay in the shadows anymore, and now that he’s finally sent you the biggest thing ever, he’s ready to reveal who he is - right after his first kill.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC, PLEASE BEWARE! || HEAVY MANIPULATION || READER IS EXTREMELY NAIVE || ETHAN IS VERY MANIPULATIVE || cursing & foul language || reader again is very naive || if i need to explain it, I took Kris from his real last name Kirsh || you both know each other out of this, but it’s not really mentioned until the end || voyeurism kink || toy usage || sleepy-fuck || blindfold || you’re a heavy sleeper now || creampie || cum eating || virginity loss || multiple rounds || raw sex || unprotected sex || creampie || multiple orgasms || dacryphilia || rough fuck ||

It started with a burner phone.

You were confused at first, especially because you had never seen one in real life since you had no use for one, but you kept it. You had thought maybe you could find out who it belonged to, so when it rang, you answered.

“Hi! My name is Y/N, I found this phone on my doormat, are you looking for it?”

Oh, Ethan wanted to laugh. Were you that nice? “No, I’m not… it’s a gift - for you.”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a gift… from me, your secret admirer.” Ethan smiled, the voice editor on his end making his voice come out deeper and more playful. With this new secret admirer personality, he could take on a new persona, someone confident and forward that you would fall in love with easily. “Just so I can reach you quicker.”

“Oh,” you say, smiling as you play with the burner phone. “I-I’ve never had one of these before.”

“A burner phone?”

“We-Well that too,” you say, giggling. “I meant… a secret admirer.”

“Oh,” Ethan spoke, smiling. “Well then, I’m glad to be your first.” He knew damn well you had never had a secret admirer, and it made him love it that much more.

“O-Oh… well what do I do now?”

“You take my gifts,” he responded, smiling. “I know you’ll love them, all of them. I think it will be pretty fun too.”

“Well… it won’t get like obsessive, right? Stalker-ish, I mean.” You asked, knowing that it had happened to some women in TV shows.

“Of course not, honey. Everything I send you will be harmless, I promise. I never break a promise.”

You smiled widely, nodding. “Good. I trust you… what should I call you?”

Ethan paused, humming slightly. What could you call him? “You can call me… Kris. With a K.”

“Is that your name?” You ask, tilting your head to the side as you slowly look inside of the box that the burner came in. “Oh, what’s this?”

“No, it’s not. But that’s a Polaroid of you. I know you like them, you can start a little album,” he responds, smiling. “My next gift to you will be an album. So you can keep all of the Polaroids I sent you.”

“I’d like that,” you respond, smiling as your finger goes over the picture of you getting your normal coffee at your favorite shop. “Do you know my coffee order?”

Ethan paused, smiling. Of course he knew your coffee order, he wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t want to seem that stalkery off the bat. “I’ll learn it,” he told you, his hand grazing over the to-go copy cup with your order scrawled on the side. “Get it delivered to you every morning.”

You laughed, biting your lip. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The next few months were amazing, beautiful even. It might’ve gotten a little weird, but Kris assured you that he was just moving your relationship to the next level. You’d never had a secret admirer before, so when he told you that there was nothing to worry about whenever the gifts started getting more intimate, you believed him.

“Kris, are you sure that this is okay?” You asked as he positioned himself on a nearby fire escape in an apartment he was renting. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.”

“Hey, don’t you worry about it,” Kris said, smiling as you walked out of the restroom with the lingerie he bought you on show. “I’m not asking you to do anything in it, just try it on… do you have it on?”

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper, staring at yourself in the mirror. It was nice, a beautiful corset lingerie top and some skimpy underwear that actually fit you perfectly because it was the same one you tried on in the store. “H-How did you know I was looking at this one?”

“I think I know you well enough, my love,” Ethan lied, knowing damn well he followed you into the store you went into and watched you grab it before putting it back on the display after trying it on. It was too risky to try and follow you into the dressing rooms. “Does it fit?”

“Y-Yeah…” you whisper, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, it fits perfectly.”

He could tell that it fit perfectly, pushing up your tits and wrapping around your perfect body tightly, your ass on display from the tight g-string. He stared at you as you spin around, watching you check yourself out in your mirror. He loved the way you looked at yourself, confident with that spark in your eye.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you whisper, smiling. “I love it so much.”

“Good,” Ethan smiled, cursing as his alarm went off.

“Kris? Is everything all right?” You asked, his voice getting lower as you heard dinging. “Kris?”

“Yeah, I’m okay darling, just have to go do something,” Ethan responded, shaking his head. “You just take a few pictures for me and send them, got it? I’ll give you another present tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, sighing in disappointment before smiling, trying to fake some happiness. “I hope whatever you have to do goes well.”

Ethan smiled, rubbing his hand against his growing bulge as you slowly set down your phone, going to your drawers. He had been in your room before, not that you knew, and always stole your underwear - whether they were the cotton ones or the more skimpy ones - but you opened a drawer and pulled out a book he always ignored that never seemed too interesting. Who would have a book with no title on it?

“Thank you, honey,” he responded, humming. “Just send me those pictures and I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, opening the false book to pull out the silicone vibrator you hid inside of it. “I will. Have a good day, Kris.”

Ethan choked as you pulled out the vibrator, covering his mouth as you looked at the phone you had put on speaker. “Kris? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine!” Ethan closed his drooling mouth, shaking his head. “Just send me those pictures, okay my love?”

“Okay, Kris,” you respond, humming. “W-Wait.”

“Yes?” Ethan was getting impatient, already pulling out his cock as he grabbed the Polaroid camera next to him.

“I-I uhm…” you whispered this time, clearing your throat. “I-I’ll miss you.”

Ethan paused, smiling as he slowly pumped his cock. “I’ll miss you too, Y/N. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ethan hung up, turning off his alarm that told him to start getting ready for class. At this moment, fuck his professor.

He watched as you slowly laid on the bed, the exposed crotch area of the underwear allowing you to easily slip it up and down your slit.

You gasped, groaning softly as you felt the cold silicone against your clit. It had been a while since you had last used this toy, or any toy for that matter, but that didn’t matter right now. You felt so pretty and desirable in this lingerie, you deserved this.

You gasped as you held the button at the end, whimpering when it started vibrating loudly and with a force you didn’t remember it having. Quickly, you pressed it a few more times to get it to a slower setting, soft vibrations filling the room as you swiped it up and down your cunt. It felt weird at first after you had been without it for so long, maybe even slightly uncomfortable before you slipped your fingers down to join the toy, groaning with an unconscious rut of your hips into the toy.

Your fingers slide over your wet cunt, gasping as you pressed the tip of the vibrator to your clit, groaning as you lifted your hips just a bit to get that perfect angle. It doesn’t take you long to slip a pillow under your hips just as you slide a finger into your cunt, groaning loudly as you slowly turn the vibrator in a firm circle against your clit.

It wasn’t enough though, not for what you wanted, making you tilt the vibrator to an angle to push it down so the tip was against the top of your entrance. Your other hand pushed another finger into your cunt, the end of the vibrator pressed firmly to your clit as you rolled your hips into the toy.

Would he fuck you like this? Would he use a toy until you’re a blubbering mess underneath him and begging for his cock?

The answer was yes. Kris would torture you with a toy until you’re sobbing from overstimulation, but Ethan? The Ethan that you would bring out? He wouldn’t stop when you’re overstimulated, pressing the vibrator to your swollen clit as he used your pussy like a fleshlight for his own pleasure until you were sobbing and your mascara was running down your face.

He watched through the Polaroid camera, taking a few pictures and was grateful for the fact that he changed the film case so he could take as many pictures as he wanted while his other hand pumped his cock. He groaned, watching as you pulled out your fingers and pushed the vibrator into your cunt, pumping his cock harder as he shifted his hips and pulled the camera farther back, getting both his cock right at the moment he came and the image of your pinched face as you came around the vibrator.

Your eyes rolled back, groaning loudly as your hips buck uncontrollably into the vibrator, whimpering slightly as it pushed against your sensitive cunt, holding the back of the vibrator to try and turn it off, eyes rolling back when it took too long. You panted, inhaling sharply as you let it stay inside of your cunt for a few seconds before your phone dings.

Reaching for your regular phone, you tilted your head slightly in confusion when there was no notification until another ding made you look to the side, smiling as you slowly took out the toy and walked over and grabbed it.

Kris 3:23pm

Don’t forget those pictures for me, darling.

Later that day, when you were asleep, Ethan easily snuck in through your window from the fire escape. He was a bit paranoid since last time you woke up to use the bathroom and he had to hide underneath your bed, but he had run out of your underwear from cumming all over them. He had planned to wash them, but it never worked out because there were no washing machines and dryers at the dorms and it’d look very weird doing that in a washateria.

With that though, he slipped a blindfold over your eyes and headphones over your ears, watching as you twisted slightly. He grabbed his burner phone with the voice modifier, calling you as you hummed softly. You don’t question the blindfold over your eyes, or the headphones on your head, only focusing on answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey honey,” Ethan spoke, his voice edited as he slowly kneeled over the bed. “Guess who?”

You giggle, shrugging as you go to twist on the bed before he holds your hips. You gasped making him laugh, your voice echoing in your ears before his thumbs firmly slid over your pelvis bone. “Hey darling… darling, it’s me. It’s me.”

“Wh-Why are you here, Kris? Y-You’re scaring me,” you say, his shushing making you shiver as his thumbs slide down to your wet cunt covered only by your thin cotton panties. “Kris?”

“I’m here, honey, it’s me,” he said, licking his lips as he pressed his thumbs down firmly. “Got my hands here, baby. Rubbing you nicely. I just… I couldn’t hold back anymore, my love. Do you want me to leave? I’ll… I’ll leave if you want me to.”

He really wasn’t going to, honestly — if you wanted him to leave.

“No,” you respond, your hands swatting at the air before he caught your wrist and guided it to his chest. “Why did you wait so long? Why now?”

“Because,” Ethan whispered, his voice cutting out slightly as he slowly slipped down your panties. “I couldn’t hold back.”

“A-Are you… are you going to do something?”

“Like what?” He asked you, his lips softly pressing to your hip bone. “Can I… do something? I’ll be nice. I’ll be so nice, honey, nice and gentle.”

“Yes… yes, please,” you whispered, groaning as his thumbs slowly pulled apart your pussy lips and he stared at the wetness already leaking out.

He groaned as he stood, going into that same drawer you put the hollow book and taking out your vibrator, pushing it into his mouth with a loud groan.

“K-Kris? Is everything okay?”

“Don’t say that name,” Ethan’s voice came out more rough then he meant it to when he pulled the toy out of his mouth, cursing softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound that way… I just… it’s not my real name and I’d rather you moan my real name rather than that one. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, I understand,” you whimpered as he slowly kneeled in between your spread legs, taking the vibrator and slowly turning it on. “Wh-What’s that?”

“You don’t know?” Ethan laughed, pushing the vibrator between your folds and easily sliding it up and down your soaked cunt. He watched your face pinch, mouth falling open as your nose scrunched, wishing he could see your pretty eyes. Were they snapped open or squeezed shut?

They were squeezed shut, your thighs already shaking as your hands squeeze the sheets and your hips buck into the silicone. You gasped, the vibrations clear over your headphones as his mouth sucked on your clit, tongue lapping as he let his saliva gather.

On the other hand, Ethan was focusing on not cumming. He watched your hands dig into the sheets, your hips bucking with each flick of his tongue to that sensitive bundle of nerves that was just fucking delectable right now. Ethan was enjoying the fact he was making you feel good without even touching you, the vibrator doing all the work as he easily slipped it inside of you, thrusting it in and out as you moaned loudly.

He wasn’t even sure if you knew how loud you were being, your hands quickly finding their way to his hair and pulling him closer as his other hand held your thigh over his shoulder. He could feel you rocking your hips into the vibrator, your fingers threading through his curls and tugging slightly to hear him groan against your cunt.

It makes you gasp, the vibrations traveling straight through your clit to your spine, your stomach clenching as you rut your hips into the air. He groaned, gasping as he nudged his nose to your low puffy clit, pushing his tongue down to your entrance where the vibrator was handle deep inside of you.

He could hear your moans filling the room, unable to see the tears pricking your eyes from pleasure. You had never taken the vibrator this deep, his hand movements languid and lazy making you desperate.

Ethan was desperate so see the way your cunt clenched and fluttered, staring at each erotic movement. He was so tempted to stick his tongue in there with the toy, but he knew it would leave that unfamiliar feeling on his slick muscle, so he decided against it. Besides, he took enough pleasure listening to your moans and watching your cunt flutter when you started to get closer to your release.

Still though, as much as he loved watching you get off for something he was doing, he couldn’t cum. He wanted to, but he couldn’t, not if it wasn’t going to be inside of you and if you weren’t looking at him.

“Are you close, darling?”

“Y-Yes!” You screamed out, groaning. “Fuck, yes!”

You could feel the vibrator press to the perfect spot inside of you, your mouth falling open when the knot finally snapped and you came around the toy, screaming so loudly you could hear yourself. Your voice was definitely deeper than you thought it would be.

“K-Kris? Was that me?”

He turned off the toy with a soft curse, pressing a kiss to your clit as he slowly pulled it out. He watched your hands slowly pull out of his hair as he turned off the vibrator, thumbs pressing against his face as you pressed your lips together firmly. It makes Ethan’s brows pull together as his face scrunches, confused before you start to giggle.

“Well, I can’t see you… so I wanted to try to memorize your face with my hands,” you say, smiling. “Your skin is soft.”

“You can see me soon, my love,” Ethan whispered, slowly leaning forward so that his face was close to yours. You smiled as he nudged his wet nose against yours, his lips softly ghosting over yours as you inhaled shakily. “I promise you.”

You inhaled as you pulled him closer, humming as his fingers trail over your hips, his lips softly pressing to yours. His lips make you gasp, soft but slightly chapped, perfect against yours as you wrap your legs around his waist, softly rolling your hips against his hard cock making him groan loudly against your mouth.

“Won’t you fuck me, Kris? Please?”

“I can’t,” Ethan mumbled, humming. “I want you to see my face when I fuck you.”

You inhale, nodding as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “Uhm… if you don’t want me to call you Kris, what should I call you?”

“You won’t have to call me that anymore, I’ll give you my real name soon, I promise.”

And with that, he pushed the vibrator right back into you, turning it onto its highest setting to watch your face scrunch, determined to stare at your face until he could see tears.

The next morning, Ethan gave you your usual coffee and pastry at your doorstep, a smile on your face as you called him while you ate.

“You should come by again tonight,” you suggest, biting into your pastry. “I could uhm… I could do something for you.”

“Oh yeah?” He laughed, pumping his cock. He had been edging himself since yesterday when he saw you, humming. “You’re already doing something for me, darling. You just keep talking.”

You paused, gasping. Was he… masturbating?

“Kr-Kris, are you-”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that?” Ethan almost got turned off, if it wasn’t for you stuttering. “What do you think I’m doing, baby?”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

“I’m getting your present ready,” he smirked down at the acrylic container already almost filled up with his cum, the last few releases already almost filling it up. “I think you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” You asked, perking up as you finished up your coffee. “I-Is it something nice?”

“Oh yeah baby,” he laughed, cursing as he finally came, spurting it inside of the container as he grunted, cleaning up the side and sliding his finger over the side. “I think you’ll like it. I’ll have it at your door soon, my love.”

You smiled, nodding. “Right… right, okay. I’ll see you soon… darling.”

“We’ll see.”

You waited by the door as soon as he hung up, pacing desperately to be there as soon as he knocked. You gasped when there was a soft knock against your door, quickly opening the door and looking around to try and see if you could see someone in the hall, but there wasn’t.

You sighed when you looked down, a small box tied with a bow that you slowly grabbed and set on your table after locking the door. You answered it as you started opening the box, confused when you saw a small container. “What is it?”

“Oh, you already opened it, you’re so impatient,” he laughed, leaning against the wall of the room he rented right next to yours. “Are we going to act like you didn’t try to look for me? Running to the door like that.”

“H-How did you know that?” You asked, staring at the door. “I… did I miss you?”

“Just about,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Why don’t you open that container for me?”

“Oh… okay,” you whisper, slowly opening it and taking a slight sniff, nose scrunching. “Is it a lotion?”

He laughed, staring down at his cock that was already getting hard. “I mean… I guess it’s more… edible.”

“I can eat it?”

He hummed, listening to your actions as close as he could.

You lift it to your lips, slowly dipping your tongue inside and your nose scrunching when you tasted the salty substance. “What is it?”

“Something special I made for you,” he laughed, shaking his head. “You enjoy that, alright?”

“Can I cook with it?”

Ethan laughed again before his phone dings, cursing. “No, honey, it’s meant to be eaten on its own, but I have to go, okay? I’ll see you tonight.”

“Can I see you?”

He paused, sighing. “We’ll see. I love you.”

“I… I love you too.”

He hung up, groaning when he saw a text from his sister. At least you had a class today, so you wouldn’t be suspected as the murderer.

That night, you still couldn’t figure out what that thing Kris gave you was, or you didn’t want to figure it out. You had an inference after you dipped your finger inside and scooped more into your mouth, but you blocked it out as soon as you thought of it. He wouldn’t be like that, would he?

When someone knocked, you looked at your phone, the number 10:32 bright on your normal screen. He wouldn’t leave a gift this late, would he?

Slowly, you walked over and peaked out the hole, face scrunching in confusion when you didn’t see anyone. It was stupid, yes, opening the door, gasping as you were pushed inside, face forward against your wall. For fucks sake, what kind of luck was this?

“Stop! Please, stop, I’m a college student – I don’t have anything!” It was true, you were waist deep in student debt, what could they want from you?

You could feel tears pricking your eyes as his hands paw at your waist, red stained fingers making you whimper before he starts to laugh. You had definitely heard that laugh before.

“Kr-Kris?”

“What did I say about that name?” His hands push into the front of your underwear, a gasp falling from your lips before it turns into a loud groan when his fingers graze your still sensitive clit. “I guess… now you can know my real name.”

You gasped at his voice, groaning as you pressed your forehead to the wall, his lips grazing your ear. “Wh-What is it?”

“Ethan.”

You paused, quickly turning around with a gasp when you saw the pretty face of the guy from one of your classes that you always looked at for a little too long. “Ethan… Ethan.”

“You like saying it, don’t you? Then you’re going to love moaning it,” he mumbled, watching your hips rut from his fingers grazing over your clit again, your body squirming against the walls as he laughed, easily pulling off your bottoms and underwear. “I’m so glad I used this pussy until you were sobbing last night, preparing you for my cock. Gonna use you until you’re a sobbing mess and you’re addicted to my cock. I’ve waited way too long to fuck you, and right now, I really need it.”

“E-Ethan-!” You screamed out as he picked you up, gasping as he threw you over his shoulder, walking straight to your room and throwing you onto the bed. “Wh-What happened?”

He looked down at the stupid Ghostface robe he’d have to take off to fuck you, with more clothes underneath, cursing. “Don’t worry, honey, you don’t have to worry about that. I took care of it.”

“Are you all right?” You asked, sitting up as he took off his clothes, stripping down to nothing as he crawled over your body.

“Don’t worry about that, my love,” he whispered, smiling down at you. “You just get ready to feel the most pleasure you’ll ever feel in your life, okay?”

“W-Wait!” You pressed your hands to his chest, panting underneath him. “I’m… I’m a virgin, Ethan. Please, please be gentle.”

He pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours as he held your face with one hand, the other pushing down to your cunt and sliding down your folds, gathering your wetness. He groaned as he easily slipped a finger into your cunt, your walls immediately clamping down as he imagined your pussy fluttering like he saw last night.

“I promise you baby, you don’t want me to be gentle. I’ll make you feel so good, I swear.”

You inhaled, nodding as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

You gasped as he pulled his fingers out of you, watching as he slowly grabbed his hard cock, his tip an angry red and dripping precum, wasting no time pushing into your cunt. You gasped, groaning loudly as he slowly pushed into you, eyes rolling back as your eyes prick with tears of pain. It felt weird and hurt slightly, but it wasn’t anything compared to when he pushed the vibrator into you last night and watched you cum over and over again last night, so many times you lost count.

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” he groaned, pulling out to watch the moonlight reflect off his arousal covered cock, a choked sound leaving your mouth when you saw it. Were you really that wet? “You feel better than I could ever imagine, fuck!”

You were too overstimulated from yesterday, his thrusts rough and quick though still sloppy, his first time being in your cunt making him unhinged. How could he hold back when you were so wet and tight, clamping down on his shaft perfectly and barely letting him pull out? Fuck, he couldn’t stop now.

You held onto his shoulders, groaning loudly as you rut your hips into his, Ethan’s hands finding the backs of your thighs and pulling them around his waist with a loud grunt. Your nails drag down his back, loud whines leaving your lips as his tip abuses your cervix, hitting with each rough thrust as he pressed his mouth to your neck. “Fuck!”

His voice was broken and strained as your hips begin to move unconsciously, desperate to hit that high as his tongue dragged down your neck, already marking your skin up with hickies. He was so desperate, hips speeding up as he neared his climax, loud groans falling from his mouth as you cursed.

“F-Fuck, fuck Ethan! Please, please, it’s too much!” You sobbed, desperate for more just as much as you were desperate for a break. Your mind was blurry and hazy, mixing the wires of pain and pleasure, unsure whether to stop or keep going.

He laughed as he pulled away, leaning forward to kiss your lips, wiping your eyes as he paused his hips just for a second, desperate to control himself. He inhaled, finally finding a steady rhythm even though he was so close to cumming, desperate to make sure you found pleasure. "It's okay to cry, darling, I know it's out of pleasure. Come on, show me how good I make you feel. Cry for me."

Oh, that’s all you needed.

You sobbed as he finally thrusted one last time, a loud groan falling from his lips, his cum filling your deepest parts and pushing past your cervix enough to make your vision go white and a scream of his name fall from your lips. He doesn’t let you take a breath, easily flipping your limp body over to thrust his hips against your ass, turning into rolls in desperation as he pushes his fingers over your arms to follow up to your hands, intertwining your fingers as you sobbed from pleasure.

It was too much, his movements never stopping as he squeezed your hands, tongue trailing over your cheek. He smeared blood across your skin, not that you noticed, his mouth and teeth marking up your skin with hickies and bite marks, determined to show everyone else in the world you were his.

He pulled one hand away from yours, pushing it down to squeeze your ass in his hand, giving you a soft slap to make you regain focus back on him. “What are you thinking about, my love? You should only be thinking about my cock.”

Oh and you were. How long had you been in this position, how many times had you come and clenched around his cunt in desperation, signaling your body cumming around his length?

“I am, I am! I am, holy fuck you feel so good, fuck Ethan!”

He leaned down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as your knuckles go white, eyes rolling back as previous tears fall into your open mouth making you taste the salty liquid, his teeth marking you once again. “You’re mine, darling. You belong to me.”

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“I’m going to show you, darling, and I’m going to show the whole fucking world – starting by your neighbors knowing my name.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡

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© asterias-record-shop

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow Timestamp: I Love You

Summary: Sam tells Y/N that he loves her for the first time. This is basically PWP.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Jared Padalecki Character for @j3bingo 

Warnings: flirting, kissing, smut, fingering, hand job, p in v.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: My first journey into Sam smut… please be kind 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up with The Widow here!

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

SAM’S POV

“Hey, Dean,” Sam says as he answers his phone.

“Sammy, you better not bail on me tonight,” Dean grumbles, getting straight to the point as always.

“I’ll be there,” he responds. Honestly, the week he’s had at work, meeting his dad and brother at a bar on a Friday night is the last thing he wants or needs right now. A night lounging in sweats, eating Chinese food, and watching a movie he didn’t need to use too much brain power for, is what he really wants to be doing.

“Good. Just checking. Can only get you away from the office if it’s for your girl these days, so…” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles. “Sorry about that. She, uh…” he trails off with a chuckle, lost in thoughts of his girlfriend.

“I know, Sammy,” Dean says, and Sam can hear the smile in his older brother’s voice. “She can’t come, right?” he checks. 

“No, it’s her friend’s birthday, so they’re having a girls night,” Sam says, sounding slightly less enthusiastic than he meant to. 

“What’s the matter? Y/N got you so pussy whipped already that you can’t stand the thought of being away from her for one night?” Dean laughs, and Sam chuckles along with him.

His brother isn’t completely wrong. He and Y/N have been dating for almost three months and are blissfully in the honeymoon period of their relationship, where they can’t get enough of each other or bear to be apart for too long.

“No, it’s… I’m just tired, is all. It’s been a long week at the office. And it’s the firm’s family day tomorrow, so I’ll see Y/N then, anyway.”

“That’s right. She’s meeting all the big guns for the first time! Are you nervous?” Dean asks, and Sam sighs loudly.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be. I mean, who cares if they like her, right? Because I do, and that’s all that matters. It’s just… if I want to make partner one day, things like stable relationships and who your other half is seems to have a say in it,” Sam admits.

“They’re gonna love her, man. I think it’d be hard for anyone not to fall in love with her,” Dean reassures him. “You found a good one, Sammy. Hold onto her.”

“I know, I will.”

Despite his earlier reluctance to spend the night in a bar with his dad and brother, Sam is having a great time. With work and Y/N, it’d been a while since he’s spent this much time with them, making him feel a little guilty.

Sam’s worries about his dad and Dean teasing him about ‘his girl’ are quickly dampened when his dad asks if things are serious between them. Both men had smiled and clapped him on the back at his confirmation that it was and that he was confident she was it for him. The only slightly teasing remark so far has been from his dad.

“Better start saving for a ring, son,” John chuckles.

With both men grinning at him like idiots, Sam feels a hand slide across his shoulders. “I’m flattered, but I have a girlfriend,” he says without turning around.

“No, I’m flattered,” Y/N responds, and he smiles before turning to face his girlfriend. “And very reassured.”

“Hey, baby. What are you doing here? I thought girls’ night was across town?” Sam asks as he stands to kiss her.

“Well,” Y/N huffs with a roll of her eyes. “It was, and we were having a great time, but Charlie dragged us all the way over here because she found out the girl she’s crushing on works here. And, you know, can’t say no to the birthday girl!”

“Well, can’t say I’m not happy about that,” Sam chuckles, placing his arm around her shoulders. “You look beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you,” she smiles and glances down his body before she speaks again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear plaid before. I like it. It’s a good look on you,” she stretches up on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

“Noted,” Sam chuckles, and Y/N giggles.

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this lovey-dovey bullcrap. Makes me wanna vomit,” Dean winks to show his jest and stands from the table. “Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?”

“No, thanks,” Y/N shakes her head. “I have one waiting for me at my table and probably three tequila shots by now. I just wanted to come over and say hi.”

“Do you, uh, wanna come to my place when you’re, you know?” Sam asks quietly, hoping it’s quiet enough that only she can hear him. His dad’s chuckle and Dean’s slap on the back, and a “Get it, Sammy!” make him want a hole to open in the ground and swallow him.

Y/N laughs, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment before he watches her take a deep breath and pull herself together.

“I’d love to, Sam. But the cardinal rule of girls night is that you can’t bail on girls night. Especially for a guy. You know that, right? It’s the whole ‘chicks before dicks’ thing. So, there is no way I’m getting to sneak away from that,” Y/N points to the table of women laughing loudly and downing shots, “before midnight.”

“I’ll wait up,” Sam grins charmingly with a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, watching Y/N’s facial expressions intently as she takes in and interprets his meaning.

“Well, alright then. Guess I’ll see you later,” Y/N said, biting on her plump bottom lip.

“Yeah, you will. Have a good night, baby,” Sam leans down and presses another kiss to her lips.

“You too,” Y/N smirks, pulling Sam down by the lapels of his shirt for one last kiss. “It was good to see you again, John,” she smiles as she reluctantly parts from Sam.

“And you, sweetheart,” John smiles. “You’ll be over for dinner on Sunday, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Y/N returns his smile before turning her attention to the eldest Winchester son. “Dean, that table,” she gestures in the general direction of where her friends are, “is out of bounds.”

“What? But why? Come on, Y/N! There are some real hotties over—” Dean tries, but Y/N’s warning scowl and raised eyebrow make him back down.

“I mean it, Dean! I don’t want my friends badgering me for your number, or with questions about what they did wrong, or asking me to ask Sam to ask you why you didn’t call,” Y/N chuckles.

“Fine,” Dean huffs in resignation before walking over to the bar.

“Good. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

Y/N’S POV

12:45am

The cab pulls away from the curb, and you walk up the path to Sam’s house. Stopping at the door, you take a second to fluff your hair. You’ve never been like this before; never bothering too much about your appearance and certainly never for a guy. Still, you found yourself touching up your makeup and perfume before leaving the bar to come over here, making sure you look perfect for him.

You ring the doorbell and nervously shuffle from foot to foot, wondering if the butterflies you feel with Sam will ever go away. You hope not, as the flutter turns into a swarm when you hear the door unlocking.

“Hey, baby,” Sam smirks, eyes slowly taking in every inch of you. “Glad you came.”

“Well,” you grin as Sam steps to the side, inviting you into his home. “I know what kinda night I’m in for, and I would be a fool to miss out on this.” You trail your fingers up his chest, grab the neck of his t-shirt, and pull him down to meet your lips, kicking the door closed behind you.

Sam pushes his tongue into your mouth and shoves you against the door. He quickly turns the lock, shutting you in for the night. The kiss is hot and heavy, and you whimper as his fingers tug at the zip of your dress.

You shimmy the material down your body and let it pool at your feet, leaving you only in cobalt blue lace underwear. Sam growls, grabbing your thighs and pulling you up his body. You wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, as his lips find their place on your cleavage, licking and sucking your skin.

Sam’s hand trails up your back and into your hair, pulling it hard enough to force your head back and gain access to your neck. He sucks and nips gently, cautious not to leave a mark, knowing tomorrow is an important day for both of you.

“Sam,” you groan, and fuck, is it the neediest and most pathetic you’ve ever heard yourself. “Need you.”

“Yeah?” Sam rasps, his voice deepened with lust. “Right here, baby?”

“Yes,” you gasp, already breathless, and he’s barely touched you yet.

Sliding his hand over your thigh and pushing it between your bodies, Sam pulls your underwear to the side and, without warning, shoves two fingers inside you. He barely lets you adjust to the intrusion as he immediately begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your tight, wet channel, smirking as you moan his name. 

Curling his fingers inside you, he watches your head fall back and thump against the door. “Fuck,” you grunt, your hands dropping from his shoulders and desperately fumbling with his belt. You love it when Sam builds the pleasure and teases you, but you can’t, not tonight. Tonight you need him now.

“Hey, what’s the hurry, baby? We’ve got all night,” Sam chuckles, but you don’t stop undoing his pants, finally pulling his belt loose and moving quickly to the button on his jeans.

With his jeans finally undone, your hand delves into his boxers and finds their prize. Sam is already fully hard, and you grip his cock and pump your fist as best you can while pinned against his door.

Sam growls when your thumb swipes over his sensitive head, turning you on even more. The wet sound that gets louder and louder with every pump of his fingers inside you should embarrass you, but instead, you moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Sam groans lowly into your ear. “I need to be in you.”

“Yes! Please, Sam,” you whimper as his fingers suddenly leave you empty and wanting. He pulls your hands off his cock and teases your clit with its tip before he pushes inside you in one slow thrust.

“Shit,” you whine, still not used to his generous length stretching and filling you so completely. You’ve never had anyone reach so deeply within you, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

Sam holds himself fully sheathed inside you, this time allowing your fluttering walls time to stretch to accommodate him, and his lips find yours in a passionate kiss that’s all teeth and tongue.

The second you feel yourself relax around him, he pulls out to the tip and slams back in, punching the air from your lungs. He doesn’t let up, pounding into you ferociously, and your high builds quickly.

Sam’s large hands grip your thighs, and you groan loudly, trying to remember to choose a long dress or pants to wear tomorrow because you can already feel bruises forming where his fingertips are digging into your soft muscle.

It’s become one of your favourite things; the colourful little bruises that litter your skin thanks to his groping hands. He’s an animal in the bedroom, but when it’s over, he always places soft kisses on every mark he leaves in his carnal state.

“Sam, I’m close,” you whine as you slide your hands into his hair and tug on the long strands.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know. I can feel it,” Sam says through gritted teeth. Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you, and you growl in frustration, tugging his hair harder to emphasise your displeasure.

“What the—? Sam, come on! I was nearly there!” You whine, pouting at him when he chuckles, tightening his grip on you and walking towards the sofa.

“I know, and I wanna watch you,” Sam smirks, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“Watch me?” you murmur breathlessly.

“I wanna watch you come, and I wanna do it while you ride me.” Sam’s lopsided smirk creates another pool of wetness in your core, and you seem to have lost the ability to speak. “Is that alright, baby?” You nod and gulp, your words still failing you.

“Alright,” Sam says as he unwraps your legs from his waist and puts you down on shaky legs. He pulls your underwear down enough that it falls to your feet before ridding himself of all his clothing.

“Then get riding.” He smacks your ass, sits on the couch, and waits for you to climb onto his lap. You stretch your arms behind your back, ready to unclasp your bra, but Sam clicking his tongue stops you.

“Uh uh, baby. Leave it on,” Sam grins, and you smirk as you finally climb onto his lap and take his cock in your hand, placing it at your entrance and sinking down slowly. When your skin meets his, your head falls back with a gasp.

Sam’s hands drag up your body, pausing to toy with your nipples behind the blue lace. He slides the straps down your shoulders, exposing your hardening buds to the cool air briefly before his lips cover one and his hand the other.

Raising your hips up and down his length, you find a rhythm and angle that lets you feel every ridge of him glide perfectly between your walls, hitting all the right spots and making you see stars.

“Sam, baby, I…” You grind your hips through your orgasm, and Sam grunts as your walls clench him.

“That’s it, good girl,” Sam murmurs, kissing your sweat-slicked chest. “Hold onto me, baby.” He takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders; you know it’s his turn now, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Sam lifts you and lays you on the couch, moving your hands from his shoulders and placing them above your head, trapping them with just one of his own. His other hand grips your thigh and pushes it, forcing your legs to open wide for him.

The first thrust is heaven, hitting everywhere all at once, and you and Sam’s grunting confirms that your walls are still fluttering, clenching, and sucking him in.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” Sam groans, his hips moving impossibly faster and pushing in deeper and deeper.

Your eyes roll, and you scream Sam’s name as he sends you soaring over the edge again, taking him with you.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Sam gasps, grinding himself into you, and you feel his release coat your quivering walls. “Fuck, my girl’s got a good pussy. So fucking good, baby.” You’d giggle at his praise if you hadn’t lost the ability to breathe, let alone speak.

Sam drops his head to your chest, kissing over every inch as he grinds against your cervix. You moan with every twitch of him inside you, and when his kisses turn to bites and sucks, you add a high neckline to the list of requirements for tomorrow’s outfit.

He lets go of your hands, and they instantly go to him, wrapping around his back and holding him against you for a little longer.

“I love you,” Sam says, leaving your breasts alone to look at you.

“Yeah?” you smile widely. It’s the first time either of you has said it, and it feels good. It feels right. “You’re not just saying that in your post-orgasmic haze?” you chuckle.

“No. I have for a while now. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Sam.”

Tags: @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @octoberclidan @nelachu2423 @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

[beneathashadytree]

MESSING AROUND - JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA X READER

Warnings : just two teens being in love and all over each other, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : puppy love n fluff <3

Word count : 1.1K words

Additional notes : This came to me in a dream. Love the idea of teenagers being sneaky and lazy teehee

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

They tiredly rubbed at their eyes. What was this, the tenth, or the hundredth time at this? In all cases, it felt like it was a never-ending cycle that they were doomed to stay in.

“Josuke, would it really kill you to study for an hour straight?” Nudging the textbook on the coffee table, they tried to bring his attention back to the long-forgotten syllabus. “We’ve got a quiz in 3 days.”

“Still plenty of time, if you ask me,” he shrugged, not looking away from the television screen where he was trying to beat his high score (again) in one of his video games. “That’s a whole, uh, 72 hours.”

“If you hesitated while doing simple math, then I fear how you’ll face a few calculus problems.” Rolling their eyes, they sidled up to his back. “Come on. Didn’t Miss Tomoko threaten to smash the console if you don’t get at least a B+? With the looks of things, we’ll be lucky if you pass at all.”

Still without looking at them, he scowled. “First off, thanks for your obvious belief in me.” He could be petty when he wanted to, and this seemed like one of the times he wanted to pout and get snarky. “Second of all, she wouldn’t.”

At that, they arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? Did you forget that time she threw the television out of the window to keep her word when you flunked that history test?”

A few moments of silence, save for the sound effects coming from his game, and the furious tapping of buttons. “Alright, maybe she will. But still, we have a lot of time to go through the material.”

“Three days. Half of one you’ve already wasted, mind you.” They sighed, carefully wrapping their arms around his midsection and snuggling up to his broad back. A cheap trick, yes, but how else would they grab his attention without outright snatching the controller from his hands? “C’mon, Josuke. Miss Tomoko asked me to come over while she was out for this reason. I don’t wanna let her down, y’know?”

Josuke audibly swallowed, and they had to hold back a smug laugh. They had him right where they wanted him. “H-hey, who are you dating, me or my mom?”

They snorted, teasingly squeezing his waist. “My supposed-boyfriend’s got me right with him, and he’s been practically ignoring me for two hours. I’d say the answer’s currently neither of you.”

Instantly, the controller flew all across the room, landing somewhere unknown as his character on the screen crashed into explosives and died. Bingo, they wickedly thought to themself as Josuke finally turned around in their arms, his handsome face blocking out the ‘GAME OVER!’ flashing behind him.

Heavy eyebrows furrowed and lower lip jutted in a subconscious pout, he leaned in, caging them against the back of the sofa with his arms. “Dirty move.”

“You fell for it, though.” Grinning, they hooked their arms around his neck, tugging him a little closer. “Can’t believe I had to fight for your attention this long.”

“It slipped my mind that we’re finally alone,” he moaned pitifully, nudging their nose with his. “Next time I get distracted from you, punch me in the balls.” At the sinister look he saw in their eyes, he pulled back for a second, alarm on his face. “On second thought, I take that back. Don’t.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Cocking their head to the side, they toyed with a few loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck. It was so rare to see his hair anything other than immaculately styled, so the rare chances that they got to touch the soft strands were deeply cherished—by the both of them, it seemed, if the current redness of Josuke’s cheeks was anything to go by. “Or would you rather I keep my hands on you?”

Their boyfriend buried his face in their neck, partially out of embarrassment, and partially out of a desire to press achingly gentle kisses against their exposed skin. “Mm, I don’t know,” he mumbled, “So long as you’re not too rough with me, I’d prefer that, yeah.”

“Oh? So you like to be treated gently, big guy?” Their voice came out a little breathy as he lightly nipped at that one spot on their neck, and they hoped that it wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had them weak in his arms. Just a little more…

More kisses rained down on them, trailing up to their jaw and sucking at the skin there, just lightly enough to tease them without leaving a mark. A sigh escaped their lips, and their hands trailed down his back, gripping at his yellow tank top in hopes of regaining their sanity. Strong arms embraced them tightly, and arched their back into him.

“Yeah, so what?” he mumbled against the corner of their lips. “Got a problem with that?”

At the very last second before their lips met, they turned their face to the other side and pulled away. “Actually, I do. Because we’re not doing anything at all until you finish studying chapters one through four.”

Groaning, Josuke made to reach out for them as they slipped from his embrace and began to walk off. “Babe, you can’t be serious—“

“I am,” they coolly said, as if they hadn’t been seconds away from pulling him ontop of them. “Would you like me to call your mom and tell her you’re fooling around instead of getting your shit done?”

He shuddered, visibly recoiling at the thought and slumping back in place. “Don’t. She’ll probably put a ban on you ever visiting me when she’s out.”

Still a little shaken up and their nerves slightly tattered by the onslaught of intimacy, they hurried to his room, calling out behind them in a sing-song voice. “Well, these calculus problems aren’t gonna solve themselves!”

Collapsing onto his bed, they muffled a laugh as they heard him swearing and slamming his heavy notebook open, grumbling under his breath the entire time. In the meantime, they curled up into his freshly-made sheets and snuggled their head into his fluffy pillow.

“It smells like him,” they whispered to themself, their face flushed as they squeezed the pillow a little. Somehow, having their boyfriend’s familiar scent surrounding them from everywhere warmed them up to their fingertips, and sent their heart racing in their ribcage. “Wish he’d hurry up and join me before Miss Tomoko gets home…”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @boorishbrambling

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[lilyginnyblackv2]

Daughter Daddies - 10-Year Time Skip - Sub vs Dub Comparison

I’m going to make a proper post for both Episodes 11 and 12, but I wanted to make a short, separate post for the Daughter Daddies segment of Buddy Daddies in Episode12. Having watched this scene in both sub and dub, I’m thinking the disconnect that some people are getting from the character interactions here are from a combination of two things:

1. The one degree of separation that comes about from listening to one language but reading the interaction in another. We know which characters are saying what words and we can see the way the characters are emoting and interacting with each other, but there is still a disconnect with the language being spoken and the translation being read.

2. The sub translations for Buddy Daddies have been extremely good. But having watched the series both subbed and dubbed, I feel that the dub translation comes out a bit more on top. I think that comes from the fact that there is a little more freedom and wiggle room to work with and dub translations tend to fit spoken language better/more, while sub translations tend to lean more into written language and direct translations a bit more. In most cases, these differences don’t really matter, but with this 10 Year Time Skip scene in Buddy Daddies, I really do think it makes all the difference.

And I think that disconnect that some people feel from that time skip scene is due to the combination of these two factors. It resulted in the sub not really being able to capture the back-and-forth/play off of each other nature of Kazuki, Rei, and Miri in the scene that the English dub is able to properly capture. There is a flow there between the three characters that you can hear in the Japanese, but can’t quite see happening in the subtitles. 

I’ll try to show that aspect as clearly as I can in this comparison post, but I also highly suggest just giving the Daughter Daddies segment in Ep. 12 a watch in the English dub to really see (and hear) what I mean. 

Anyway, let’s dive in!

-----

There really isn’t much difference in the scene where Miri is up in her room and Kazuki calls her down, so I’ll start with when Miri is down in the diner area with Kazuki and Rei.

Sub Miri: Papa Rei! Papa Kazu! Ta-dah! (Rei & Kazu: Oh!) Well?

Sub Rei: A high school student.

Sub Miri: Bingo!

------

Dub Miri: Papa Rei! Papa Kazuki! Ta-dah! (Rei: Nice!, Kazu: Hey!) How do I look?

Dub Rei: Like a high school student.

Dub Miri: Ding-ding-ding! (They had her say this with the Santa snow art scene too).

Thoughts: It’s small, but the addition of Kazuki and Rei actually say things like “Nice!” and “Hey!” (a “Hey” like in “Hey! Looking good!”) and having Miri ask specifically how she looks, instead of just “Well” and having that question be connected to Rei’s answer with “Like” instead of just “A high school student” helps with the flow and connectiveness of the scene.

Sub Kazu: I’m so glad you didn’t break bad! 

Sub Miri: What in the heck?

----

Dub Kazu: I’m so relieved that you never ended up breaking bad!

Dub Miri: Huh? Breaking bad...?

Thoughts: It’s small, but by having Miri repeat the “breaking bad” part as a question also helps with that flow I was talking about above and with it feeling like a more connected conversation.

Sub Kazu: When you’re a parent, there’s so much to worry about. The ten years I spent since opening this diner really paid off!

Dub Kazu: You don’t know what it’s like! Parents have so much to worry about! That’s why I decided to open this diner ten years ago, and devote my life to honest work for your sake.

Sub Rei: Honest work?

Sub Miri: Didn’t you slip out yesterday to go drinking with a girl again?

Sub Kazu: That doesn’t count!

----

Dub Rei: Really?

Dub Miri: I seem to recall someone cutting out early yesterday to go drinking with the ladies.

Dub Kazu: Sorry, what was that?

Thoughts: In the Japanese, Rei does parrot back, “Honest work?” like he does in the sub, but I feel that comes across a bit differently than it does in English. Here the “Really?” sounds a bit more teasing and being more general, and feels less accusatory in nature, more just disbelieving about Kazuki’s statement in general. 

Meanwhile, Miri’s English dub statement clarifies that the doubt that both Rei and Miri express in regards to “honest work” is very specifically about the fact that Kazuki left work early, not that he was drinking with a lady or ladies. Also, Miri saying “drinking with the ladies,” makes it clear that he was likely at a Fairy Lips like establishment and really just out for drinks with them. Not on a date with a lady in particular or anything like that.

The Fairy Lips establishment worked in a similar way as a hostess bar, just with a gambling aspect as well, so nothing sexual (as in sexual acts) are actually allowed (though, I have no doubt that they do sometimes happen at establishments like that). But the true appeal of those places are the illusions of sex and just female company in general. 

Sub Rei: Miri. Eat.

-----

Dub Rei: Eat up, Miri. 

Thoughts: By having Rei say, “Eat up, Miri,” instead of just “Miri. Eat,” the feel comes off less like a command and more like a general statement that the food is ready for her to eat. There’s a softness to “Eat up, Miri.” Still a command in some ways, but gentler. I also think that in English, one word verbal commands always come off as could and harsh on some level, while in Japanese having a verb just existing on its own is way more common and therefore doesn’t hold the same sort of feel to it. Of course, since we know Rei as a character, we also know that Rei doesn’t mean anything harsh by “Miri. Eat,” but there is likely still a left over feeling of coldness or distance there.

----

The Rei and Miri exchange of her saying thanks for the food, him asking her how it is, and her saying it’s yummy as always is pretty much the same as the sub without any substantial changes or differences. Basically, nothing worth mentioning here.

Sub Kazu: I’m glad you got a signature dish with that toast, but shouldn’t you expand your repertoire a little?

Sub Rei: But why?

Sub Kazu: Ever the one-trick pony...

Sub Miri: Hey, it’s fine! Since Papa Rei’s the best!

----

Dub Kazu: Listen, I know the toast is your signature dish, and that’s great, but shouldn’t you expand your repertoire?

Dub Rei: What for?

Dub Kazu: You are such a one-trick pony.

Dub Miri: Hey! There’s nothing wrong with that. The important thing is that his one-trick pony is yummy!

Thoughts: The use of “listen,” and “that’s great” definitely makes Kazuki’s statement to Rei feel more like general constructive criticism, while Miri’s words in the dub come off more like a warm teasing (like this is possibly a conversation that they’ve had before, lol). Kazuki’s “You are such a one-trick pony” statement also comes off more as more as a warm, sentimental line sort of thing.

The sub translation comes off a bit colder. The way Kazuki’s first line is structured sounds more like just general criticism, as does the “ever” part in his one-trick pony line. Miri’s line as feels less connected, even though it is still on topic, so the comradery feel found in the dub is less present. Of course, tone also matters here and I think the dub really allows for the more teasing and warm tone of the scene to come across than the sub does since, as I mentioned, there is a bit of a disconnect with subs that isn’t as present with dubs.

Sub Kazu: It’s fine like this, right?

Sub Miri: It’s not! Come on, we’re family!

Sub Rei: Family?

Sub Kazu: Can’t be helped, right?

Sub Rei: Hey-!

-----

Dub Kazu: Can’t we make it work like this?

Dub Miri: No way! C’mon, we’re family, aren’t we?

Dub Rei: Well, are we?

Dub Kazu: Get over here, you big lug!

Dub Rei: Hey-!

Thoughts: The dub translation makes things a bit clearer by adding more words and context. In the sub, Kazuki just questions, “It’s fine like this” but what is meant by “it”? The dub line makes the “it” easier to figure out. Adding “can’t we,” “make,” and “work” together with the it makes it clear that the “it” here is referring specifically to the photo arrangement that they had going on (Kazuki and Rei on either side of Miri).

Miri’s lines are largely the same, but by adding “aren’t we?” to the end of it, and then having Rei parrot that with a “well” in front of it, gives a feeling of Rei and Miri sort of coming together in solidarity on this, a little teasing on their end. And Kazuki just going all in on it, with the dub giving him a line that implies a lot of sentimentality on Kazuki’s part towards Rei. “Big lug” is a term of endearment, and implies someone (usually a man) with a strong physique, but a gentle personality, which does fit Rei. 

The Japanese does have Kazuki saying the Japanese equivalent of “can’t be helped,” but...A lot of Japanese translators view that translation of the phrase as being overused and not necessarily the best translation all the time based on situation and context. And this would be one situation and context where I think it doesn’t quite work. 

Kazuki is being put on the spot by both Rei and Miri, “we are a family, right,” him saying otherwise wouldn’t be right and they all know that, while Miri has made it clear that they can’t do their usual photo arrangement, they have to try something new. So, yes, in a sense there is “no helping” the situation. But by the way Kazuki latches onto Rei,bringing him into a one-armed hug, and the huge smile on his face, we know this isn’t a sort of ‘-sigh- can’t be helped!’ kind of situation that that phrase often implies in English.

The dub translation of choosing to translate that as “Get over here, you big lug!” easily implies that Kazuki has accepted this new arrangement for their photo and that they are, of course, a family. The dub has Kazuki use a slangy term of endearment, because that is within his personality. He uses slang and overfamiliar grammar and words, so he would say something like that.

I think the dub does a great job of capturing this new change in the Kurusu family! <3 

[hurtcomfort-bingo]

All the Hurt and Comfort You Need

Hurt and Comfort is a fanwork genre that includes the physical pain or emotional discomfort of one character, who is then cared for by another character or by themselves.

Our main event is the Hurt and Comfort Bingo, where you can sign up and receive a 1x5, 3x3, or 5x5 bingo card. This bingo event is for creators who wish to create under this genre! It can also be used to explore variations of it, such as Hurt No Comfort, and Comfort No Hurt.

Our mini event is the Pick Your Poison, where you can receive a 2x3 bingo card. And where you get to choose your prompts under three categories: Poison, Symptom, and Result.

Want to sign up for the bingo?

Head here for the Hurt and Comfort Bingo!

Head here for the Pick Your Poison Bingo!

Other stuff!

Curious on a TLDR of everything? Peak into our Carrd!

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@thebigbangblogproject

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

I Love You

Summary:Written for the Sweet & Spicy Hurt/Comfort Bingo.

Set after Httyd 2. Hiccup has a minor accident in the forge and Astrid is there to help.

Warnings: Blood

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 636

Prompts: Blood Loss to Words of Affirmation

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Toothless, Stormfly

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Author's Notes: Been thinking a lot about Hiccup's self-esteem issues as of late.

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

He was working in the forge, sharpening a dagger for his betrothed. She sat nearby, waiting for him to finish so she could accompany him to his home for dinner, where the other Dragon Riders were. Their dragons waited for them outside.

It was peaceful and rather quiet until the moment something went wrong and he cut himself.

Hiccup shouts, pulling his hands back. The dagger drops to the floor. Astrid is on him immediately and Toothless just as fast. Stormfly squawks from outside.

“Come on, you stupid, stupid-! ARGH!” He doesn’t finish that sentence before shouting again. He knows Astrid wouldn’t have liked what he has to say. He holds his bleeding right thumb. Somehow, he cut himself near his palm.

While Toothless is still trying to take a look with his Rider pacing around the forge, Astrid searches for a clean cloth.

“Of all the stupid, dumb, idiotic things!”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” Astrid tells him and takes his hands in hers, cloth pressed to the profusely bleeding cut. It’s rather long.

Pulling a chair closer with her foot, she manhandles him onto it without releasing her hold on him once. She stands behind him, using him to lean on, her chin resting on his shoulder. They put pressure on the bleeding together, his hand on fire.

“Stupid…” He shakes his head.

“Stop that,” Astrid chastizes him. “That’s my future husband you’re talking to.”

After that, he doesn’t make another comment like it again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“It’s just an accident. It can happen to anyone and you’re not the worst person ever because you had one,” a deep sigh leaves him afterwards.

He doesn’t have much of a self-esteem. Hasn’t had one for as long as she can remember. Sadly, she knows exactly why that is. It’s gotten better throughout the years, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still say some ugly and downright cold-hearted things about himself. Like seconds ago, when he tried to call himself every word of “stupid” that he knows because the knife he was sharpening accidentally slipped a little in his grip.

The Dragon Riders have heard him open up about his insecurities, but only she and Toothless know just how bad it can be.

And as Stoick recently passed, he’s at the lowest point he’s been in years.

Valka leaving for the Wingmaidens hasn’t helped much either. She stated she wanted to confer with Atali about something, but apparently, all her son heard was that she wanted to get as far away from him possible and as quickly as she could.

He’s not doing so well.

It’s quiet as minutes pass and they hope the bleeding will stop on its own. Toothless sits in front of them, watching them and Hiccup’s hands.

Astrid places a soft kiss on his cheek. He wipes it and the other one on his sleeves, they’re wet with tears. There’s an ache in his throat and some managed to slip free, despite his efforts to repress them.

“You know I love you, right?” She asks him. The silence tense with self-deprication.

“I love you, too.”

“No, that’s not why I’m asking,” she starts. “I’m asking because I love every part of you. I love how caring and attentive you are. How passionate and smart you are. How good of a person you are. I love you right now as we’re holding your thumb and hope it stops bleeding soon. I love you and I wonder if you know that.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“I know,” eventually, that’s his answer.

Astrid kisses his cheek again as more tears fall. He doesn’t sob or sniffle, but he does take a shaky breath. Releasing his thumb, she captures him in a hug instead and holds him tight, rocking him side to side.

[nekoannie-chan]

Office

Title: Office.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Word count: 230 words.

Square: B4 “Office.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve is more comfortable in your office.

Major Tags: Fluff.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @steverogersbingo Steve Rogers Bingo round 3. SB3090.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags:@sinceimetyou@unnuevosoltransformalarealidad@navybrat817@angrythingstarlight@shield-agent78@charmed-asylum@pandaxnienke@real-fbi@smokeandnailz@white-wolf1940@tenaciousperfectionunknown@xoxonotme@bluemusickid@leyannrae@harrysthiccthighss@marvelatthisone@caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda@notyourtypicalrose@hallecarey1@nana1000night@talia-rumlow@writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare@endlesstwanted@chemtrails-club@marigoldreamer@whiskeytangofoxtrot555@here4thefanfics@theestorm@patzammit@kmc1989@somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

It was common that every time Steve went to the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, he felt uncomfortable and out of place because the technology confused him too much, so he always looked for you; it was as if you were his salvation.

From the moment you met, there was a special connection between you and Steve. So, it was normal to see you together both inside and outside of work.

However, the first time you saw him in your office, you were surprised because his office was so much better than yours. Nevertheless, he became a constant presence there.

It even got to the point where he would bring his things to work there. So when your office seemed more like his office than yours, you decided to ask.

“Steve, why do you spend so much time here?“ you questioned, breaking the silence.

“It's comfortable," he replied without taking his eyes off the document he was reading.

“Tell me the truth."

“I still don't fully understand this era and its technology, apart from the fact that you are... you are someone very special to me," he answered quickly.

Before anyone could say anything else, the door opened, you could see it was Rumlow mumbling some sort of apology, and then the door closed.

“Great, now everyone will be making rumors about us," you muttered as Steve looked at you in confusion.

[beautifulbows924]

Home

Poly!Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

AFG Bingo Masterlist

A/N: This feels like a successful attempt at transferring my sudden inspiration to paper (lol). Honestly, I’m really enjoying learning the nuances to writing these new characters! And I hope it was worth the wait for those of you who saw the sneak peak! As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1K+

Created for: @lgbtqbingo / Square Filled O3: Polyamorous Relationship.

Warnings: Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, religious undertones, vague spoilers for the books & show. (Paragraphs solely in italics are set in the past).

Loyalty may be seldom found among bastards and vagabonds, but Kaz Brekker had discovered suffering at the end of a gloved hand or the hilt of a cane served him just as well.

Dirtyhands became the stories, spoken late into the night by parents to regale the children of Ketterdam with, in case they thought it wise to stray into the tangled mess of filth the barrel had to offer. He became the whispers of an alley filled with shadows and the tight-lipped fears of those who would dare to cross him.

Rumors were as good as currency in Ketterdam, and he had heard them all. He had no eagerness to dispel them, they were all true enough.

Modesty was a commodity those without their freedom could only ever dream of, but Inej Ghafa had learned to use the nightfall of Ketterdam like a second skin.

A talent some swore must have been gifted to her by the Saints themselves.

Their rumors served her just as well. The Wraith became the whispered prayer among indentures and the grave reveal of words unspoken.

Secrets were as good as currency in Ketterdam, and she knew them all. Even his.

The rhythmic tap of your foot had become almost expected to him, comforting even. He always feigned annoyance at the action. Only internally allowing himself to wonder if you felt similarly about the sudden additional pressure of a cane against the tip of your boot.

Kaz Brekker had never believed in miracles. In luck, or Saints, or fate. But even a faithless man like him could recognize there was something of importance this moment had to offer him, and he’d never been one to turn down a deal.

He didn’t dare reach for your hand. Not here, not near the water. Not out in the open where anyone could catch sight of his failures.

Instead, he shifted his grip on his cane and poked your hand with the hilt until your fingers lightly wrapped around the crow's head, allowing him to feel the slightest pressure of added weight through his own hold.

Trying was easier than he thought it would be, especially with the sight of your half quirked smile as a lovely reward. It was a smile he had seen solely reserved for him.

He attempted to earn it as often as you’d allow.

Inej’s prayers sat heavy on her tongue.

She knew brutality. She knew the Saints would counsel mercy in a moment like this.

Yet not a word of opposition graced her lips as Kaz laid claim to the blood debt he felt he was owed.

She felt she was owed it too.

There was a past her that might have feared him once, but this was the same man that had worried if his tie was straight before he met her parents for the first time, so instead she asked, “Was this what it was like?”

The prolonged silence that came after wasn’t from the lack of context held in those six words. He was fairly certain they could retain the ability to read each other with a handkerchief stuffed in their mouths and their backs turned. He was simply attempting to discern which answer would be worse, the truth, or the lie he knew she’d see through regardless.

She slightly inclined her head toward him, the heavy scent of iron lingering around them like a stain. She watched how his gloved hands shook with boiled over rage, emotions poorly contained even in the dim light. To her, his silence had always been a response in it of itself. She wouldn’t pressure him, not now. She knew he didn’t want her to know, or perhaps—he didn’t want to relive those days for himself.

Maybe, she thought, he already was.

And as a former member of the Dregs stumbled down the alley, palm pressing hopelessly into the empty space where his crow and cup tattoo had formerly resided, searching for a sense of relief that would never follow, she wondered if that’s what Kaz Brekker’s mercy looked like.

He did spare him, after all.

Her lips bore the semblance of a smile, the only tell she provided in her knowledge of your quiet presence.

Your eyes remained steady to the horizon, face kissed with the last orange rays the sunset had to offer, patiently waiting until Ketterdam was once again cloaked in familiar darkness.

She couldn’t recall how the sun had looked that day. She was too captured by the sight of you.

The waves threatened to pull him under, a war of salt and foam just beneath his chin. He forced a pale hand to rest on the blood covered sheets, searching for reassurance, needing to communicate to himself that you were still there with them. Warm. Alive.

His other hand, gloved, loosely gripped hers. A reminder that she was there too.

Kaz Brekker had never believed in miracles. In luck, or Saints, or fate. But he believed in you, he believed in Inej, and for the first time, he prayed that was enough.

His expression shifted, lingering somewhere between exasperated and fond, a bit soft at the edges in the shared presence of those his heart had betrayed him for.

You looked similarly effected, eyes trained on Inej, committing her every feature to memory.

He did the same to you. For once, allowing himself to hope.

It’ll take time, she told herself, taking in a steadying breath as she walked to join the two of you at the bar.

“Inej”, Nina called from behind her, reminiscent of a time much different than the one they currently shared, voice low and intended for only their ears, “I once wished you could see what I did, hear each and every sound so you could understand what you were missing. But now”, she let out a light laugh, “When the three of you are together. It’s like home.”

It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since then, but Inej could still recall the words she had responded with, the confusion she had felt.

She smiled. She wasn’t that person anymore, and Nina was right.

She had found her home.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or un-tagged down below. <3

Shadow & Bone Taglist: @mxtokko

[staycalmandhugaclone]

This blog is NSFW, strictly +18yrs. I dive headfirst into trauma and gore and angst, so please consider this carefully and pay attention to warnings before reading any of my works.

Thus far, I write for Star Wars pretty exclusively, particularly The Bad Batch. I'm only just beginning to actually write things with the intent of sharing them, but requests and comments are always welcome, and all my love to rebloggers!

There are also still a few slots available in my 400 follower celebration!

If there is a trigger warning that you are concerned about but want to enjoy the story, please please please reach out! In many instances I can alter snip-its or tone things down, or at least highlight the sections in question so you can avoid them (I could do a vague summary for continuity).

Doc's Misadventures - Inspired by the prompts of Febuwhump2023, a female medic referred to as 'Doc' deals with the initial challenge of finding her place among the reluctant members of the Bad Batch. Wrought with unending struggles and both mental and physical disaster, a mutual tolerance slowly develops into acceptance and respect, and maybe something more...

OMG THERE BE FANART?! - I will absolutely add each and every bit of Doc fanart yall make to this little list, and I will love and treasure them and and you until I die!

Asks - Have a special request? Lemme know and I'll try to write you up something special to add to this lovely collection (a collection of 1 so far, but that will hopefully grow) - pspsps: my clone adoration is not limited to tbb! I'm happy to write with the others, too!

400 Follower Celebration Asks - Your OCs with various clones in various situations!

Spicy Stuff - 18+ nsfw independent fics with the boys from The Bad Batch. Minors: DNI. Everyone else: enjoy.

My Shame - WIPs that I just couldn't find the gumption to finish...

My Bingo Card - This is really for my personal reference, but can still be used to inspire Asks/Requests!

Unhinged Asks! - Collection of random asks that I've answered, both spicy and not

Prompt Lists - Choose a prompt, some characters, and whatever details yuh like, and slap that all in an Ask. We'll see what happens

I Ranted and Don't Know Where Else to Stash It - Might add more rants/ random headcanons later, maybe? This one's about the reoccurring theme of characters not allowing themselves to admit their mistakes so they double down instead

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

[buckets-and-trees]

You're such a wicked menace, Eva!

Title: Insatiable Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 1845

Summary: Your new boyfriend comes along when you pick up the keys for your new apartment and conduct the move-in inspection.

Content Warnings: explicit smut (oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, hint at overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie)

Logistical Notes: Fulfilling my February box for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky Bingo event (forehead kiss, fingering). Follows our Desperate couple but can be read as a stand alone piece.

Additional Notes: Honestly I didn't have any plans to return to our rivals-to-lovers couple from Desperate and Uncertain and Sure again so soon, but this gif hit a certain inspiration and may pull from some literal "reader insert" vibes as I'm moving into a new apartment right now... Also thoroughly inspired by this post coming across my dash today thanks to @ghotifishreads.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You couldn’t help the permanent smile on your face.

Yes, moving was going to be a hassle, and you didn’t have a clue how everything was going to fit into this tiny one-bedroom apartment, but being back in the place again, keys officially in your hands, the place really yours, standing in front of the bright living room windows that made your heart sing when you first saw the place, that feeling that this was your place warmed your whole chest again.

It was hard to break away from the light streaming in through the windows, but you turned your head to look at Bucky. “So? What do you think of the place?”

He was new to your life, too.

The kidnapping and rescue in Paris had been only a month ago. Over that month, you and Bucky had been figuring out what the revelation of your feelings for each other meant outside of a life and death situation. Parts of that were easy, other parts were trickier, but nothing that made you want to abandon ship.

“I think it’ll suit you well,” he answered. His smile was soft. You loved seeing this side of him, especially after so many years of angst and rivalry between you.

“You’re practically glowing with excitement,” he added.

Your smile grew to a grin, and you shrugged one shoulder. “It’s smaller than the place I’ve been, but I couldn’t resist all this sunlight.”

You turned around and looked at the empty living room that bled into the kitchen area. “I want to try and measure things and figure out where everything will go before the movers bring the furniture in tomorrow. I’m still worried about whether all my shelves will fit or not.”

You set your bag down on the kitchen counter and began to pull out a measuring tape, the blue painters tape you planned on using to map out the furniture shapes on the floor and rummaged for the hastily scribbled together list you’d made of your furniture dimensions.

Bucky had remained silent – he was often so silent you could forget he was present when you got immersed into something – and you spun back around to see him still in the same position across the room by the windows, studying you.

“What?”

“You know what we have to do before anything else,” he said seriously.

“What’s that?”

He licked his lips.

Oh.

Your stomach flipped.

“Bucky, we can’t–”

He chuckled. “You have the keys, it’s officially your place,” he said, stalking toward you. “We absolutely can.”

Before you could utter another word, he reached for your elbow and tugged you into his arms, planting a sound kiss right on your mouth, swallowing all protest. He coaxed your lips open, and his tongue licked into your mouth, drawing an eager moan from you.

Damn, he was too good at this, you thought as your hands came up to clutch at his back.

He pressed your bodies together, and you were not surprised to feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you. One thing you had learned about Bucky over the last month was that he could be ready to have you on the turn of a dime, and he could be insatiable. That your body responded so quickly to him as well was both blessing and curse. Less than a minute and you were melting completely against him, eager for more, and you could feel the slickness already growing at your slit.

Your hands dropped down his back, but only to reach the hem of his sweater before dipping under so your fingers could eagerly climb up against his naked skin. He grinned into the kiss.

With his sweater quickly halfway up his torso, Bucky broke off the kiss momentarily to pull it up and off the rest of the way. Then he coaxed you down to the floor, spreading his sweater down on the hardwood floor and laying you gently on top of it. His body covered yours, and he began kissing you in earnest again, his vibranium arm planted next to your head while his other hand began deftly working at the buttons on the front of your blouse.

It was only another moment or two before he’d pushed your shirt open to bare your torso to him, and Bucky wasted no time in trailing his hot lips down your throat to blaze down your chest, paving a heated path between your breasts, over the band of your bra, and down your stomach. He gave your belly button a playful lick that had you gasping and a giggle bubbling up your throat.

“Bucky!”

He chuckled, and reached down to pull your shoes off as he pressed more kisses over your stomach. Then, with both shoes discarded, he knelt above you to unbutton and unzip your jeans, before pulling them down and off your legs. As your legs came back down on either side of him, his hands skimmed slowly along your inner thighs, and when they reached your core, he pressed one thumb at the base of your clothed slit and brushed it up over the damp cloth of your panties, the other thumb following just after and teasing you again there. You canted your hips up, wordlessly asking for more.

Bucky smirked, but he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and quickly pulled them off, tossing them to the side as well.

“Please,” you begged.

“Happily,” he whispered, then lowered himself down to wedge his shoulders between your thighs, pressing them wide to accommodate his broad frame. He licked a stripe up your dripping slit, moaning at the taste of you.

Your stomach swam with butterflies and your cheeks heated slightly. You had never been with anyone so unabashedly open with their desire for you as Bucky. He held nothing back when expressing his pleasure, his desire. It was a heady thing to be on the receiving end of, and you it still had you between feeling slightly flustered and drowning further in the depths of how intoxicating it was to know the effect you had on him.

He applied a second, slower lick over your folds, and then he began to kiss your lower lips the way he did your mouth, and your entire body coiled up for him, back arching, hands grabbing for his short hair, legs contracting.

“Bucky, god, yes,” the words tumbled out as you quickly began to lose more and more of your coherence.

But he was slow and torturous in his ministrations. You squirmed for more, but he held your pelvis down with one firm hand, while the other gently caressed your hip. Your fingers found his vibranium ones, and he entwined them with yours and started to fuck your cunt with his tongue.

When he heard a little whine escape from you, he began to suck your clit diligently. The orgasm that he’d been building you toward escaped from you briefly, but the switch picked right up on building that tension again, and he flicked his tongue a few times across your swollen nub as he sucked, and then you cried out as you finally tumbled over the edge of ecstasy.

He pressed a kiss to your cunt, then shifted up, quickly maneuvering his hands beneath your back to unclasp your bra and pull off your last piece of clothing. It was the only moment of reprieve he gave you, because then his mouth dipped to suck at one of your tits, and one of his hands worked into your folds, slowly stroking in and out of your tight channel. Two fingers curled into your pussy, and he quickly found one of his favorite places – that spongy spot on the front of your walls, knowing he found exactly the spot he needed as you gave a debauched moan. He slipped in a third finger, and as he sucked the hardened nub of your nipple and lapped at it, he worked to rip your second orgasm from your soul more quickly. It was clear nothing was going to deter him from his plans to ruin you in the empty apartment, and you could only be glad you were up on a floor high enough you didn’t risk any neighbors seeing in your open blinds to see the way he was taking you apart right there on the floor.

The second orgasm burst through your body unexpectedly, and it stole the breath from your lungs.

It had ripped through you so powerfully that you didn’t register the clinking sound of his belt buckle coming undone and hitting the floor as he unzipped and pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs.

But you noticed he wasn’t finished with you as he slipped one hand under your thigh and angled your hips to slot the head of his cock between your puffy folds.

You whimpered, fighting to open your eyes and plead your case as you looked into in the depths of his heated blues. Whether you were pleading for him to stop or for more, you really didn’t know or care at this point.

He hitched your leg up around his hip and slowly slid his fat cock fully into your cunt. “So damn good.”

You moaned openly, completely debauched on pleasure at this point, but clearly your pussy wouldn’t refuse him plying you with even more of it.

Deep, slow strokes.

You felt every aching inch of him as he thrust slowly in and out of your tight channel. He still made you stretch around him, and it was exquisite for both of you.

Full, so full.

In and out.

So deep inside of you now, and you could do nothing but make incoherent noises beneath him, gasping for air. “I know, sugar, I know," he murmured into the crook of your neck. "Gonna give us what we both need.”

And he fucking does, as he does every time, using your body as if he’s had you for years. He rewarded you both with an orgasm that truly leaves you boneless and breathless once he finally pushed you over the edge and then sped up his thrusts to chase his own release as your vagina squeezed around his throbbing cock. He groaned as he spilled hot ropes of cum inside of you, thrusting until he’d emptied himself in you completely. Finally, he collapsed on top of you, and pressed kisses into the crook of your neck, then along your jaw, allowing you to try and catch your breath before finally kissing your lips again.

You whined against his lips, and he rolled over, taking you with him, and letting you lay half on his chest, half against his side. He continued to kiss you lazily.

You didn’t know how long he continued to make out with you, but the sun’s rays had shifted significantly once he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you rested your head on his bare shoulder.

“It’s a good floor,” he said, almost mundanely.

You laughed softly.

“We’ll need to check the counters a little later,” he added.  

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hey hey hello can I ask.

What is your specific theories when it comes to "Hong Lu is Lin Daiyu," "Hong Lu, Don Quixote, & Outis are using fake names," and "Our Yi Sang isn't the same Yi Sang?" I saw those on the bingo sheet and I'm super curious as to what they mean.

Ok so. I'm gonna go in order from the ones I'm most confident in to the ones that I think are the most crackhead. Ok? Ok.

Under a Read More cause I get wordy. Like, Really fucking wordy and rambly.

Our Yi Sang isn't the same Yi Sang.

So, here's what we know.

According to Leviathan, Yi Sang is the main researcher behind the technology that allows access to Mirror Worlds. Faust also remarks that he used to be more talkative before he joined Limbus Company.

According to promotional material, as well as just everything he says, Mirrors and Mirror Worlds are an important theme for his character. While I haven't touched Crow's Eye View or any of the real Yi Sang's works yet, I have seen notable quotes from it that seem to hold up those themes as well.

With the recently released info on Canto IV not only being about Yi Sang, but also being longer than the three previous Cantos combined, something tells me we're going to be properly delving into Mirror Worlds and how they tie back to both Yi Sang's backstory and the main plot as a whole.

Okay, so that's all nice and all, but that doesn't answer what the fuck I mean with the Bingo space, right? I'm getting there.

Let's go back to when we first learn about Mirror Worlds in regards to the main plot, the Tutorial. Faust explains that using Mirror World identities can cause one's memories to be replaced with those of their other identities, but explicitly says that there's no danger of one's true identity being actually affected. The Sinners aren't Ships of Theseus, according to her.

Now, you could say that that's just a way to explain away how the cutscenes are unchanged despite using different identities in combat, and to that I say, Have you played any other Project Moon game? The moment they decide to give lore to why game mechanics work the way they do is the moment that lore becomes a significant part of the plot. It happened every time they had to explain why the characters you're controlling go back to life, I doubt they wouldn't do that again for something as major as the effect of Mirror Worlds on a person's identity.

With all of that said. My theory is that Yi Sang is this Ship of Theseus. He was likely the first one to properly access Mirror Worlds, which also likely means the procedures that are now in place to ensure the Sinners' safety weren't there just yet. Who is to say that Yi Sang, who is now a Sinner working for Limbus Company, and Yi Sang, the researcher who worked with Mirror Worlds, could even be considered the same person?

I don't think the exact specifics of what happened matter for this theory. Whether it's an identity swap or identity fusion or some other shit. What matters is that something happened while Yi Sang was researching Mirror Worlds, which left him with his very self and identity changed, possibly irreparably.

After all, don't you think it's interesting that Yi Sang is the only Sinner whose talksprite doesn't have his ID Card or a nameplate anywhere on his uniform? Just food for thought.

...Holy shit that got long, I promise I won't have THAT much to say on the other two you asked about SDFGHJHGF

Hong Lu, Don Quixote, and Outis are using fake names

So this is less so a concrete theory, and more just an observation I made.

All the other Sinners are directly named after their inspirations' real names. The exceptions are Yi Sang, who is named after the author; Hong Lu, who is named after the book itself/the jade the novel's protagonist used to be; Don Quixote, who is named after an alias her inspiration used; and Outis, who is named after a false nickname her inspiration used.

We're going to focus on the latter three. The fact that they're not directly named after the characters they're meant to be inspired by while still alluding to them in different ways is suspicious, especially if you consider the kinds of people they're all shown to be.

Outis is probably the most obvious example here, she's constantly acting shady, boot-licking Dante while disrespecting her fellow Sinners, and generally being quiet about the details of her past outside of making remarks about being part of a military. Even her intro states that her past is classified and that she's extremely cunning.

Don Quixote doesn't seem to be malicious in her deceit like Outis is, but something is still up with her. Her intro compares her to an actor, and her particulars say she has "Delusions of Grandeur". Not only that, but we also see her completely drop her usual personality when called out on not being genuine by the Mariachis, as well as when Vergilius threatens her with a Deal they apparently Made.

Hong Lu is... interesting. I could make a whole seperate analysis about him, but to try to keep it shorter for once, I'll note that his suspicious behavior is much more subtle. While most of the time he acts clueless and overly honest (which, let's be real, he probably genuinely is most of the time), there are also a notable amount of situations where he lies, deflects, or otherwise dodges subjects or questions when they inconvenience him. Something is definitely up with him, he's just better at hiding it.

This all culminates in a shared design feature of these three on their talksprites, that none of the other Sinners seem to have. Instead of having their ID Cards attached to their uniform, like everyone else does, they have small metal nameplates on the lapels of their jackets.

This is notable as it's something shared Only between these three characters. The other Sinners all have an ID Card attached to a visible spot on their uniform, while Yi Sang, a character who fits neither of the naming schemes since he's named after an author, has neither an ID Card or a nameplate.

Again, not necessarily a concrete theory. Just some observations that could lead to a revelation later on in the plot.

Hong Lu is Lin Daiyu

Ok this one is probably the least supported out of any of these, and the one I believe in the least.

It's like, generally accepted that Hong Lu is supposed to be based on Jia Baoyu from Dream of the Red Chamber, right? Here's the thing, I think that is still the case, but, however.

There are a few things about Hong Lu that point less in his inspiration being Baoyu, and more of it being Lin Daiyu, Baoyu's fated love interest. Not all of it, mind you, but at least some.

One, Hong Lu's eyes. Daiyu's name means blue-black jade, which Hong Lu's eyes seem to subtly, but probably deliverately referencing.

Two, Hong Lu's personality. While none of the Sinners are exactly the same as their inspirations, you can still point where some of their traits come from.

Using Rodya as an example (as Crime and Punishment is the only of the relevant books I had Fully read), her overwhelming self-confidence is very likely a reference to how book Rodion believed himself to be above man. While there are some differences (Rodya's motives are a bit more selfless compared to Rodion's, for example), the base idea of their characters is the same.

Why is this important? Well, while I haven't finished reading Dream of the Red Chamber yet, I am slowly making my way through it. And while there are some ways in which Hong Lu resembles Baoyu, there are also quite a few that things that set them apart to the point it's hard to believe Hong Lu is based only on him.

Here's the thing about Baoyu: he's a trouble maker. He throws tantrums, is highly emotional, and gets borderline treated as a sort of black sheep of his family, especially by his Father (which I will come back to).

Compare that to Hong Lu, who seems to avoid causing trouble (most of the arguments he causes seem to be completely on accident), is stoically smiling all the time to the point it can be almost unnerving, and some of his dialogue seems to imply that his family was at least decently fond of him, if not more (his comment about being "a gem of a child" in his Liu uptie story comes to mind).

Then compare that to Daiyu, who seems to be unanimously loved by her current household, tends to keep her emotions to herself, and tries to stay out of trouble while still making remarks here and there when she notices something off. (An example that comes to my mind is when someone in the family decides to gift all the girls in the Jia household some flower decorations, and Daiyu remarks how she was the last one to be given one and thus was left with leftovers.)

I don't know about you, but that sounds closer to what Hong Lu seems to be like, at least to me.

Three, remember how I mentioned Baoyu's Father? Yeah. Let's talk about that.

Hong Lu mentions his Father in one of his main menu Chatter lines, expressing excitement over being able to introduce his new friends to him.

Why is this relevant? Becuase Baoyu is terrified of his Father, it's a pretty major point that his Father is the Main person in his family that considers Baoyu a disappointment and a disgrace. And it's not something that develops later on in the novel, I'm on Chapter 10 out of 120 and it has been a prevalent thing for a few chapters now.

There are two ways I can see this being resolved. Either Hong Lu is majorly lying to himself (which honestly might not be out of the question), or Hong Lu isn't based entirely on Baoyu, but is inspired by a mix of Baoyu and Daiyu.

That was. An extremely wordy and rambly way of saying that I think Hong Lu is based on two characters instead of one. Uh. Oops.

[jttw-monkeybusiness]

Will you ever do the “and there was only one bed!” Trope ? Would Wukong be a gentleman and give it up for Sophie? Or would it turn into a battle of sorts between Wukong and Sophie ? (Not physical of course but maybe like throwing things or wit.)

Also thank you again for letting me ask all these questions and such. (Your English is great by the way! I hope my stuff was comfortable to read for you💜 )

LoL I won't ✨ Because what kind of weird situation it would be that there would be only one bed? If there was then these two would figure it out somehow. Wukong can sleep outside on a tree or somewhere. I don't think they would fight over it or do anything dramatic about it. Since Sophie doesn't have romantic feelings for Wukong (yet) I feel like she would take this very chill. Wukong on the other hand might feel just a little bit intimated sleep too close to Sophie so without any weird stuff he would say that he will sleep outside or use his powers to find a place to sleep. As much as I love the "And there was one bed"- trope I need to think about this realistically :'D And you're welcome! And it's all cool! I do with all my asks that I will just not answer the ones that don't peek my interestest, not relevant to the story/characters or I find them weird (some of yall ask super weird questions that I should make a bingo out of it for fun lol). So all is good! 😊

[sameheart-sameblood]

Turn of the Tide

pairing: wojchek x f!reader

summary: wojchek discovers you've disguised yourself as a man to work aboard the demeter and agrees to keep your secret. he begins treating you different than the other crewmates and you confront him about his unfair behavior

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, mentions of reader's sad background, chest binding, fluff, me not knowing anything about ships and what happens on them

a/n: popping in to say i'm not dead, just depressed and busy lol. truly grateful to this character for pulling me out of my fic slump. im back to once again make a grumpy fictional man way softer than he was ever meant to be hahaha. also guess im obsessed with david dastmalchian now?? didn't have that on my 2023 bingo card tbh

read on ao3!

Sailors believe in many things. A red sunrise can send them into a panic, anticipating the swells and overbearing winds they’re so sure are to come. Red skies at night, however, can make even the most pessimistic crewmate believe there’s fair weather on the way. Captains refuse to set sail on Fridays, sailors place coins under the mast for good fortune and mariners daren’t whistle lest they summon a storm. Many vessels even have a cat aboard, the little creatures seen to bring luck (and sharp teeth to lessen the rat population). 

Sailors believe in many things but above all they can agree that a woman on board is bad luck. Which seems silly to you because here you are, a woman who’s been on board The Demeter for many months now. Your presence had not brought ill fortune to the vessel. In fact, the weather had remained pleasant, despite the late summer month’s usual downpours and hurricanes. 

Granted none of the crew knew you were a woman. You had disguised yourself as a man, hair cut short and chest bound tightly, but that didn’t change the fact of your sex. A life of adventure on the seas had always called to you but there was no possibility of you being granted work on a ship. The only woman allowed onboard was the carved wooden figurehead of a mermaid that decorated the bow of a vessel. There was no place for you at sea. 

Not one to take no for an answer, you found your own way to get work as a sailor. You had spent time aboard trading ships, learning the ways of the trade and earning the trust of the men you crewed alongside. Your last posting had gone so well that the captain of that ship had recommended you to a friend for your next job. 

That friend had turned out to be Captain Eliot of The Demeter. Captain Eliot and his First Mate, Wojchek, had asked you a few questions, all of which you answered confidently. The Captain was a kind man who remarked positively at your experience. The First Mate, however, was standoffish, challenging your every answer. Wojchek frowned slightly as the Captain offered you the posting and as they walked away you heard him mutter, “He’s too scrawny, Captain. He won’t be able to pull his weight.” 

Captain Eliot had only chuckled, “I thought the same thing when I hired you. Look how wrong I was. You must learn to give people chances, Mr. Wojchek.”

While you appreciated the Captain’s confidence, you made it your mission to show this Mr. Wojchek just how mistaken he was. And for a time, your life aboard the ship was simple. You performed your duties well, befriended the men, took initiative and came to be seen as one of the more ambitious members of the crew. Even Wojchek had to admit, although never to your face, that your were one of the better sailors who had worked under him. 

That good will you had earned was probably the only thing that kept the First Mate from throwing you overboard when he found out who you really were. Your secret was discovered when Wojchek had walked in on you unannounced and had discovered you securing your chest binding. After much fussing, he had threatened to toss you off at the next port. 

You had pleaded with him to show some kindness and let you stay. Eventually, Wojchek reluctantly agreed to let you remain aboard but warned that he couldn’t help you if the rest of the crew found the truth about you. You had promised him that if you were discovered, you would never let on that he had been any the wiser.

The two of you came to an uneasy agreement and work continued, albeit now with a strained air between you. The men would often remark how the first mate would give you the hardest tasks. You had to agree with them. It did feel like Wojchek was taking out his frustration on you. After one particularly grueling day where he had assigned you to a back to back deck watch, you knew you had no choice but to confront him. 

******

You find him in the tiny room assigned to the First Mate of the ship . It was one of the few luxuries he was given on the boat. Whereas you and the other sailors slept where they could in hammocks tied between posts and amongst the cargo, Wojchek had a tiny room all to himself. He even had a porthole, something he takes great pride in.  

You hear him groan as you continuously knock on the door, disrupting his peace. Footsteps approach and the door squeaks open. Wojchek grimaces down at you. 

“What is it, sailor?”

“I need to speak with you, sir.”

“I don’t have time. Neither do you. It’s nearly your watch.”

“I’m not due on deck for a good while yet.”

“We can talk later. Be on your way.”

He starts to close the door but you push against it, anger surging through you at his dismissal. You barge into his room, slamming the door behind you. Wojchek’s eyes widen for a moment, caught off guard by your boldness. But a moment later, he’s back to his usual gruff self. He glowers, backing away from you like you carry a disease he’s worried is catching. 

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“It’s not a dirty word.”

“It is when you are disguised as a man on a ship. I’ve kept your secret and I’ll continue to do so. If any of the others were to find out, though…”

“I’ve been sailing with these men for nearly a year. They’re my friends but they’re not the most observant. I think my secret is safe. Besides, if they found out…” you lead off, shrugging your shoulders. 

Wojchek’s face darkens at your blasé attitude. “You think these men are your friends? They would turn on you the second they found out the truth about you.”

“That’s not true,” you retort, “just because you hate me doesn’t mean they would.”

“When did I ever say I hate you?”

“You don’t have to. The way you treat me is proof enough. The others may not have realized I’m a woman but they have started to notice you seem to give me the worst tasks and the most watches.  They know you don’t like me. Sooner or later, they’ll really try and figure out why. You might be the one that reveals my secret to them without meaning to.”

“I don’t hate you, I…”

He looks at you. Really looks at you, something he tried not to do very often once he noticed how catching sight of you made his heart skip a beat. His shoulders tense as he stares into your bright, vulnerable eyes, so out of place in a sailor. 

“You have no idea what a life at sea does to you.” He anticipates the retort you have ready to throw at him and holds up a silencing hand, imploring you to let him finish. “You’ve been on The Demeter for almost a year. No small feat for anyone, man or woman. You’re a good sailor. One of my best. People like you all start out the same, hungry for adventure. They see a life sailing from place to place as an answer to all their problems. And for a time, they’re happy. But eventually, the work breaks you. It keeps you from your family, from your friends. People on land move on while you’re away for months, even years at a time. ” 

Wojchek pauses, all the fight leaving him. “When you come back to port, you look for those who promised they’d always be there for you but one day they don’t come back. The ship’s arrival to land no longer brings hope and the sea can no longer mend the hurt that’s inside you. ” He lowers his gaze, perhaps remembering those whom he’s lost over the years. 

“The light leaves the men’s eyes once they realize that their world has shrunk to the size of this ship. They have nowhere else they belong. It’s suffocating. They grow resentful. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to see the light leave your eyes.”

The whiplash of it all makes your head spin. You’ve been so convinced these last few months that this man hates you. Now he’s speaking to you more than he has this whole year. Not only that, it seems the worry over your wellbeing has cost him sleep. More so than a First Mate is supposed to spend worrying about a subordinate… 

The light in your eyes? Honestly, you didn’t know that was something you possessed. Maybe a glint of steely determination but you would never have called it anything akin to hope. Your life had always been hard. Being born a woman made life a constant struggle. Being born a poor one made it near impossible. 

Wojchek hasn’t moved, still close enough that you can feel the heat coming off of him in the crisp autumn night air that seeps through the tiny cracks in the ship. His eyes, however, keep jumping between your face and the floor. What he’s said has finally sunk in and along with it, his shame of wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

You keep your voice low as not to scare him. Seeing the usual rock of a man so skittish makes you approach your next words with the same precision as someone handling explosives. “I was born  in squalor to a family that saw my existence as nothing more than a burden. I spent most of my days wondering where my next meal would come from and if I’d have somewhere to sleep. I learned to deal with my lack of means. The thing I never could get over was the fact that I had no one in my life who cared if I lived or died.”

This is nothing you haven’t thought before but something about saying it aloud takes your breath away. A pressure grows in your chest as you fight the emotion that comes with revealing your own secrets. Wojchek doesn’t make it any easier, his once darting gaze now fixed intently on you. It’s your turn to avoid his dark eyes, staring at your shoes as you continue. 

“I was never truly happy until I came on The Demeter. I have food, my own bed, purpose, adventure…friends,” the last word almost doesn’t make it past your throat, now tight with emotion. “I finally feel like I have a home.”

It’s only fair that you tell him the whole of your truth seeing how he’d kept your secret for the last few months. He deserves that much. The tension in the room swirls thick but you aren’t sure if it’s because the First Mate is preparing to send you away or not. You wouldn’t blame him if he did throw you off the ship. With you gone, everything could return to the way it was. It might be better for everyone. 

You become lost in your own dark thoughts. Wojchek reaches out a hand, brushing your hair, shorn short and shaggy as part of your disguise, off of your face. You close your eyes at the touch, savoring the feel of his calloused fingers skimming so gently across your skin. All too soon, he’s pulling his hand away, remembering himself. 

“The Demeter is also the only home I’ve ever known,” Wojchek admits, “It’s a good ship and she’s been strong and true to me. If you’re sure this is where you want to be then you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

You nod your thanks, tears threatening to spill again at the relief of knowing you don’t have to leave. When they begin to roll down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them hidden, Wojchek tuts softly, “Everything will be alright, kotku.”

You may not know the meaning of the word but you can understand from the tenderness in his eyes that it’s a term of endearment in his native tongue. The realization makes you bold. 

“It’s not just the ship or the crew that make The Demeter my home. It’s you.” You force yourself to maintain eye contact with Wojchek, fighting the instinct to look away. The though that he may not return the strength of your feelings sends a shiver of fear through you but you need him to understand how you feel. 

Wojchek searches your face for some deceit but finds only raw truth. He takes a step forward mere inches between you now. His hands twitch to reach for you again but he holds himself back. Above all else, Wojchek is a professional. Just because he thinks you want him doesn’t mean he’ll take the risk of abusing the power imbalance between you. 

Instead, you take the initiative. “May I kiss you, Mr. Wojchek?” It comes out as nothing more than a whisper but he nods. You lean in, teetering on your toes, never realizing how tall he actually was until now. A particularly strong wave hits the ship and you lose your balance. Before you can lose your footing, he has you in his arms. 

Wojchek hikes you up, bringing your face level to his. Years of working the ship have made him strong as an ox and he thanks the gods that he finally has good use for the muscles that hide beneath his tunic.

You press your lips to his and it takes you a few moments to remember to breathe. The kiss is trepidatious and sweet but leaves your stomach swirling with butterflies. Wojchek’s grip tightens on you, scared he’ll find that you’ve been some sprite in his dream that the morning sun will chase away. It feels good to be pressed together like this, limbs intertwined so you’re not sure where you end and he begins.

All too soon, he breaks away, gasping slightly. It seems you weren’t the only one who forgot how breathing works. The sight of the usually stern man so undone by a chaste kiss makes you chuckle.  Your hand grazes his cheek, running over his stubble. It’s strange to remember that just an hour ago you were convinced Wojchek wanted nothing more than to throw you overboard. Now he’s holding you like he’ll never let you go. How quickly life can change for the better. 

The tranquility is broken by the banging of Olgaren resonating through the wood of the ship. Your watch will soon begin and if you aren’t there to take your post, someone will come looking for you. The ship won’t sail itself and you sigh, realizing you can’t put off your responsibilities in favor of staying with Wojchek all night. 

The First Mate groans, “Stay a little longer.”

“I’m late as it is!” You smile at his pout. It’s a new expression you’ve never seen from his before and you push him down onto his tiny bed, kissing him once again. Another bang resounds through the ship and you whine, getting back to your feet. 

“I’ll make Abrams cover your watch.” Wojchek offers, staring up at you with comically pleading eyes. 

“You’ll have a mutiny on your hands if you come between that man and his sleep. Besides, it’s only four hours. You can even come visit me on deck if you like. It’s single watch so there won’t be anyone around to wonder why we’re together.”

“Four hours?” he grumbles.

“You’re the one who assigned me double watch!” 

Wojchek leans back, watching you button your jacket, trying your best to look presentable. He can’t help but smile at the commitment to your work ethic. “I’ll be up as soon as you relieve Olgaren.”

You nod, trying to remove the smile plastered on your face but failing miserably. Hopefully Olgaren is too tired to ask questions when he sees you. “See you soon.”

You’re about to open the door when you remember something. “What does kotku mean?”

Wojchek smiles, “Little cat.”

Once again you’re struck by the sweetness of a man so eager to have the world call him unfeeling. The nickname makes sense. You yourself believe that your presence seems to bring fair weather and good luck to the boat. The Demeter might not have a four legged feline to bring fair fortune but you’re the next best thing; positive, tenacious and willing to do anything for the good of the ship and crew. 

You grin at Wojchek, who now lounges happily on his tiny bed, looking somewhat feline himself. “Are you sure you want to call me that? A ship can never be without a cat. It’s bad luck. You’ll never be rid of me.”

Wojchek smiles contentedly, blinking slowly, sleep seemingly not far off. The chances of him joining you on deck for the evening appear to be dwindling. You’d be devastated if he didn’t look so adorable. He nods, beckoning you for one last kiss goodbye. “Good. I’ll keep calling you kotku so we never have to be apart.”

******