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gojos-whatnow · 3 months

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『Mornin', Dollface』⇝♡

⭒Synopsis: How does your sweet boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, wake you up after living with you for over a year?

⭒Warnings: NSFW, fluffy smut, sleepy sex, oral (f receiving), afab!reader, LOTS of praise, princess treatment, somnophilia, reader is an eepy goober

⭒Setting: Gojo's silly lil apartment away from Juju tech

⭒Notes: I guess this could technically be considered a request from a friend, but all she gave me was "MORNING SEX" so.....

How does your boyfriend wake you up most mornings? With his tongue inside you, of course.

He was always up before you. He was a teacher, after all, and you...

Well, in his words, you were "living the good life."

He had talked you into quiting your job when the two of you had moved in together. He claimed that princesses shouldn't have to work. Especially when he could just shoulder the bill for anything you asked for. And so, despite occasionally feeling like a freeloader, you went along with it.

So, with nothing to do but laze around or go out for a stroll, you slept in most mornings. Sort of. There was the fact that every morning, despite being unemployed, you were awoken at the sunrise, even before, by Satoru's head between your thighs.

This morning was no different. You awoke to your own involuntary whimper, and hot pleasure in your core. You could feel your hand fumbling against your thigh, trying to grab for something. Satoru's hair, no doubt, which you'd expect to be muscle memory by now.

A chuckle reverberated against your clit where his lips were fastened around it. His hand found yours before it could find his head, and he pulled away with his mouth, instead pressing his thumb to your nub as he spoke to you.

"You awake, pretty girl?" His seductive, but clearly still tired, voice called up to you. God, did the sound of it make you clench on nothing.

You pried your eyes open with a struggle. You were lucid enough to give him a hum, signifying you were somewhat conscious.

"Hi, baby," he murmured, pressing a few kisses to your thigh. His mouth soon found its way back to your clit, licking and sucking it just a bit harder now.

"Satoru," you whined out, still sounding more asleep than awake. Nonetheless, a dopey grin spread across his face, and he had to pull away again.

"How's my sweet girl? Did she sleep well?" He kissed across your other thigh now. "Ready to get back to it, I bet. Don't worry, once I'm done making you feel good, you can pass right back out."

You squeezed his hand, an implied way of saying 'I love you'. Satoru, being such a physically affectionate person, had started coming up with physical ways of saying such things. When words didn't seem like enough, he'd tug you close, making sure the angle was right so you could feel his heartbeat, and squeeze you in his arms. He wished he could have you with him all the time, hanging off him. He'd wear you like a backpack if it wasn't so dehumanizing, and probably frowned upon in public.

Your exhausted, barely-open eyes looked down into your boyfriend's gorgeous ones, finding they were already on you. With his free hand, he waved playfully at you, even as he continued lapping at your clit, making you whimper.

Soon, that free hand replaced his lips again, one finger tracing around your hole as his thumb worked your clit. He leaned up from between your thighs and scattered kisses across your face, nuzzling against your cheek.

"You awake yet, baby? Need me to make you feel even better?" At that, one of his long fingers slipped inside you. Easily, considering how long he'd been doing this before you woke up.

"Sato..." you murmured.

"I'm right here, Sweetheart." He gave your hand a kiss before he let go of it and slipped his arm under your waist, pulling you close to him. "Take your time waking up." He pressed his lips to your neck, leaving wet kisses against the skin.

Once he slipped another finger into you, you doubted he actually wanted you to take your time. It was only a few moments after that that you were more awake than not, arms wrapped around Satoru as you moaned against the top of his head.

Your groggy moans were so sexy to him, and the way your body was twitching, your hips rolling against his fingers involuntarily - he doubted you even knew it was happening. He could feel your slick starting to drip down his hand, and he had to tilt his head up, lips close to your ear.

"Want me to make you cum now, pretty girl? Or you want me inside you?"

"I-inside," you stuttered out, almost sounding desperate.

"That's my girl. So good to me."

You took a moment's break as he pulled his fingers out of you and tugged his boxers down. He gave himself a few strokes before lining up his tip with your entrance. He gave you a soft smile as he spoke. "Ready?"

"Yeah," you let out, letting your eyes wonder down his body. He was absolutely gorgeous, from head to toe, and all yours every morning. How? You didn't have a damn clue.

His length pushed in embarrassingly easy, and he leaned down, laying against your chest. His hand found one of yours and held it gently, while his other arm snaked back under you and held you close.

"How's that feel? Doesn't hurt, right?"

"No, feels good," you responded, feeling the walls of your cunt gently clench around him. He groaned softly against your skin, then leaned up and smiled at you, kissing your cheek a few times.

"Ready for me to move?"

"Mhm."

At your confirmation, he carefully drug his hips back and forth, going slow to start. You let out a quiet mewl at the friction, gripping onto Satoru with weak, tired hands. He let out gruff hums against your neck, knowing how much you loved it when you could hear him. Your cunt was still clamping around him lovingly, and he could feel himself already getting close. Telling from your moans, though, you had to be too.

"Getting close, Sweetheart?"

"Mhm!" You gasped out.

"Me too."

From there, it only took a few more, quicker, thrusts to send you both over the edge. You grabbed aimlessly against Satoru's back, just looking for somewhere to hang on (and accidentally leave a few scratches over the ones from most other mornings), and stuffed your face into his shoulder to muffle yourself. Meanwhile, he did the opposite, making sure you heard every groan he let out as he painted your insides.

As you both caught your breath, you felt your boyfriend relax, going limp and stuffing his face into the nearest part of you, which happened to be your chest. He kept his arms wrapped around you, using them to squeeze you close you him and kiss across your skin.

The two of you laid like that for a few moments, with your nails scratching at Satoru's scalp in a way that made his eyes want to roll. After only 5 minutes, though, you were asleep again. Your boyfriend looked at you, a smile of adoration on his face before he leaned up to kiss your forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Love of my life."

He got up and got ready to go to Jujutsu Tech, cleaning the both of you up in the process. He shot your sleeping figure one last glance before exiting the room, wishing he could sleep in with you.

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dniosamu · 1 day

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Youre so gorgeous kiss me pls plspls ong!!! Youre so pretty andgroegous and your eyes are so pretty and why are you kinda hot when you yell woah awooga!!!

(Ooc: hi mod silly goober this is one of the in character anon asks that dazai sends smetimes that i told you abt jut so yk!! :3)

thank you, Dazai. I appreciate the compliment. You're not so bad looking yourself. He meant handsome.

#bsd rp #bsd chuuya #bsd roleplay #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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duckymcdoorknob · 2 months

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LATE VALENTINE’S POST BC IM A GOOBER AND GOT MYSELF SICK

I literally love him sm and haven’t even met him in lore yet.

Lyney my beloved I just wanna 😘😘😘😚💋😚😚😘💋😗😙😚😙😙😙💋

I just wanna give him kissies until he’s giggly and smiley and-

Under Lock and Key

Ships: Lyney x Gn!reader

Warnings: FLUFF AND FLUSTERED LYNEY

Prompt: It’s Valentine’s Day, and your lover wants to show you just how much he adores you.

Tags: Genshin taglist .3. @ticklish-n-stuff @chrimsss

You couldn’t help but chuckle when Lyney’s gloved hands covered your eyes. It didn’t take a genius to know that it was him… You almost immediately recognized the cologne he was fond of wearing.

“Hello, Lyney,” you cooed.

“Aww, how’dja know it was me?” the magician pouted.

“I’m a psychic! And my next prediction is that you’re going to show me something.” You heard him chuckling before sighing.

“Do you trust me, Mon Cher?” His voice was hushed, and you felt his fingers twitch a bit over your eyes.

“With my whole life, amour,” you answered.

“Stand up, and let me guide you,” Lyney demanded in that smooth voice that always left you swooning. “Let me be your eyes and close your own… I will lead you to what I wish to show you.”

His protective demand left you dizzy and breathless. Nonetheless, you rose to your feet and closed your eyes. You felt his hands leave their place over your face and take your own. Suddenly, you felt yourself being dragged forward; you gave into the momentum and trudged along.

The magician guided you through the streets by your hands. His acquaintances waved to him and he beamed back at them and you two continued along the sidewalk.

You had only been together for about four months, but you already knew that you were head over heels for him. “Soooo… where are you taking me, amour?” You inquired with a small smile.

Lyney turned around to answer, but his breath caught in his throat. The sunlight was hitting you just the right way, and you were shining in its rays.

“Lyney?”

“I- just- don’t move,” he demanded in a sheepish voice.

“Now you sound like your brother.” You chuckled once more, shaking your head

A few more seconds passed and still no words were spoken. You peeked open your eyes and were met with your lover’s blushing face. It seemed as if Lyney knew that he was already in love with you as well…

“Hey don’t open-“ The magician gaped at you as you stared at him. Your eyes glittered in the soft glow of the sunlight.

“What?”

Silence.

A dopey smile grew on your face as you chuckled. “What?!”

The blonde exhaled breathlessly. “I’ve truly been smiled upon by the archons. Your beauty is unmatched, Mon Ange.”

“Such a smooth talker,” you murmured, grabbing his cheeks and kissing his forehead. You stuck out your hand once more. “Now, didn’t you want to show me something?”

Lyney nodded his head and smiled, taking your hand. “Close your eyes!”

Once again, the two of you were on your way. Suddenly, you began to hear the sound of tranquil waters below. Granted, they were quite far from you, but you could steal hear the peaceful sound of trickling ripples.

“You’re not going to throw me in the lake; are you?” you asked with a chuckle.

Your love snorted and fell into a fit of the beautiful laughter you’ve always so loved to hear. “No, my rosebud, I will not throw you into the lake.” He paused and chuckled again. “But if you wish to jump together, that is a different story. How about it?”

A fond exhale from you in return gave Lyney the answer he wished.

“Okay, now you can open your eyes.”

When you fluttered your eyes open, you saw the gorgeous waters of your homeland, the court, Marcotte Station, and your beloved.

“Oh, Lyney…” you whispered, “It’s beautiful.”

“That isn’t all of it, amour.” The magician fumbled in his pocket, his fingers lacing around the objects within. “Hold out your hand.”

You obliged, feeling a cold, metal object being placed on your palm. When you looked down, your eyes locked onto a small, brown padlock, which had yours and Lyney’s initials carved into it. “A lock?”

Your lover stood closer to you, draping his arm around your waist. “It’s ours for us to lock on the fence here.”

Before you could question, he spoke again.

“I want everyone to see that we belong to one another”

Your face warmed as you gaped at him, your hand completely still, thumb grazing over the small object. “Yeah…?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

Your hand clasped around the object as you threw your arms around Lyney. He giggled as you cradled his face and peppered kisses all over it.

Eventually, the two of you knelt down in front of the chain-link fence that oversaw the water. The magician cupped your hand as you snapped the lock into place. He pulled the key out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Just in case if-“

You didn’t even let him finish the sentence before you threw the key into the water below as hard as you could. “I will never change my mind.”

Without words, Lyney pressed your foreheads together as he smiled. “This was the best thing I could think of. I thought it might have been too early to propose to you.”

You kiss his forehead and turned back to look at the lock. “I wouldn’t have thought it was too early, dummy.”

When you turned back around, Lyney was on one knee and holding a small, velvet box. He snapped it open to reveal a shimmering ring.

“Then let’s make it official.”

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

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lenavonschweetz · 10 months

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Hunter Insert

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.

Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut. It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics! Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!

You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school. The tall goober took to you immediately. Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time. You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business. He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question. When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father. You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing. A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in. You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.

After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up. It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in. Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had. You even became an incredibly capable hunter. Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started. Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.

And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.

At first, the fans were harmless. There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.

He lied, obviously.

Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce.

The art was amazing. Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent. But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works. It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once. It even got you to start reading the books!

And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!

Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother. Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post. Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst. Ship. EVER!”

Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them). You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did. Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped. Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

----------

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now. The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise. A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last. They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.

But Dean snored over all of them.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Dee.” You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Dee!” You snap, louder now. Nothing. “Dean!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked! Maybe-

Yeah, no, there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone. Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes. Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic. Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search. It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be? You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Dean x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile. With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up. Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room. As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed. As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours. When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away. Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt. He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room. Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building. It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office. You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it. It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam. You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning. Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life. But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,” Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier. There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day. “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep. It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table. He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more. Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips. Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in. Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result. You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view. It’s sinful, to say the least. You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet. Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way. His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin. You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence. A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away. Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?” His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.” You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper. You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain. When had he woken up? When had he snuck up behind you? How much had he read over your shoulder?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further. When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear. “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he? You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you. Dean makes comments like that all the time. That’s just how he is with you! Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you. Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?” He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels. Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded. He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?” OH MY GOD, you mentally scream. Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t? Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had. That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom. The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?” You screech, gripping your phone tighter. You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue. “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!” Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?” He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you. “I didn’t mean to! I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…” He clears his throat. “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.” He deadpans, eyebrows raised. “In explicit detail. It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine! It’s porn, are you happy?” You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you. A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”

“I don’t know!” You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout. “It’s embarrassing. You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Y/N, I would never out you like that.” You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?” He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.” He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really? Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’tyoudare!” The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh? Then what should I do?” His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze. “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.” You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him. Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Y/N.” He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Dean, please-” A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone. “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders. The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties. To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading. But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair. He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.” He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle. “What’s so funny?” Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had. Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?” He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared. You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, baby?” He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips. You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care. He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!” You huff, getting ever so impatient. He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned. A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.

You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready?” He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips. Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!” You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home. Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.” He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.” He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing. “I, uh, think you’re good to move.” You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips. When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly. “Oh, yeah. Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns. Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face. Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!” He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly. He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally. Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight. “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.” He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Dean,” You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him. The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own. His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face. Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom. You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,” He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you. As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time. You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table. “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?” He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Dee. But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours. Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, baby?” He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?” You hum, sleep tickling at your mind. That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Destiel?”

FIN

#Winchester #Winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #hunter reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #spn reader insert #reader insert #dean Winchester reader insert #lena writes

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sunderlust · 2 years

Text

won't you keep lettin' me love you for a long time (rooster)

masterlist

pairing: rooster x f!reader

synopsis: you drive rooster home after one too many margaritas

warnings: fluff, smidge of angst (mentions of grief, death, bradley losing his parents)

wc: ~2k

note: a wise person - aka may - once told me to never scrap your writing, even if you’ll never use it again. I was gonna backspace the first draft of this - actually wrote it for another angsty Jake what’s new - but then rooster inspiration struck (roospiration, if you will) (actually don’t that just looks like perspiration) (I mean I’d love to have rooster’s sweat- nvm)

sorry long ramble aside here’s something short and sweet after my last angsty fic 💕

“You’re way too good of a friend to me,” Rooster grins sloppily as he slumps over the bartop in front of you. Honestly, he’s pretty lucky they had just wiped down the counter. At any other moment, it’d be sticky with beer and sweet and sour and he’d run the risk of getting a pistachio shell stuck to his mustache.

“Yeah, perhaps I am,” you half-seriously agree with a smile and slide a full glass of ice water towards him, then lean back in your own chair to observe a drunk Rooster trying to manage a few gulps while smiling like a goober at the colorful liquor bottles lined up on the shelf.

The bar’s been long empty, most aviators having taken their leave thirty minutes after the last call. Bradley usually heads out earlier than this - doesn’t like staying out late and messing up his perfectly curated bedtime routine. But tonight was a reunion of sorts with his old classmates, and they went through quite a few margaritas.

You joined about an hour ago, and Bradley immediately elected to sit with you and engage in wonderfully mindless chit-chat. You’re not complaining at all - every moment you can spend with the gorgeous aviator is a moment to cherish. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to get all the gossip on his current students at TOPGUN - like the three that are involved in a devastating love triangle that’s most definitely exacerbated by Bradley always grouping them - a move he most certainly took out of Pete Mitchell’s book (“They need to focus on the job, not distract themselves with high school theatrics,” he ranted to you earlier).

“Hold on, wait,” Bradley suddenly says, then springs himself upright and focuses hard on you. “If I squint just right...” he screws up his face, almost going cross-eyed. “I can see two of you!” Bradley’s mustache quirks with his smile, and his entire face lights up like the sun. “Goddamn. What a sight.”

“You’re hammered,” you scoff in an attempt to conceal how much the term of endearment affects you, how it makes your entire body feel warm and tingly because you secretly love it when he’s this open and brazen with you, tossing out flirtatious remarks with no hidden agenda besides trying to put a smile on your face.

“I’m not hammered - they call me Rooster,” he replies breezily and you swat at his shoulder, turning away to hide your smile and raising your other hand to flag someone down to close out Bradley’s tab.

After handing over your card (despite Bradley’s drunken attempts to sway the bartender against letting you pay) - you finally stand up. “Need a lift back home?” you ask him with a teasing lilt to your voice. It’s a rhetorical question - he’s got no other way home besides an overpriced Uber - but he still hums thoughtfully. Slowly, he lifts his head and surveys you while drumming his fingers on the wood.

“I.... think that would be best,” he declares, determinedly slapping the counter and attempting to slide off the barstool in a suave manner - it looks more like Bambi on ice, but you can’t deny that it’s still incredibly endearing. He looks up to flash a brilliant, a bit lopsided smile at you. “I’ll see if ‘Nix can pick me up early to grab my car in the morning.”

You laugh, slide your purse off from the back of the chair, and think to yourself about how he’ll have to find out for himself tomorrow that he didn’t even drive here.

Your car rolls to a stop right outside a quaint, one-story bungalow, and you shift into park before unlocking the door and sitting patiently. Bradley’s quiet - as he’d been the entire ride home - and you chance a brief look at him. He’s sitting up, now looking straight back at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Evidently, there are one too many thoughts running around in his tequila-addled brain.

“You okay?” you ask him, eyes seeking out his in the darkness of one AM.

A few seconds of silence roll by, each ticking louder with your beating heart. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Think I may have had a bit too much.”

“I’ll say,” you snort. “You didn’t even say anything when someone queued up Foghat earlier.”

“Fuck Foghat,” Bradley groans out and leans back against the headrest. “And fuck Jake for ruining a perfectly decent song.”

You hum reassuringly and eye his dark figure carefully, watch the shadow of his chest rise and fall steadily, and find yourself matching his breathing. “You sure you’re alright?”

His head lolls to the side as he appraises you. Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I just...” he trails off, fingers tapping mindlessly on the console. “You’re my best friend,” he says at last. “And you’re so... good”

Bradley shifts into the tiniest sliver of light, eyes glinting with the reflection of the street lamp glowing outside. You hold your breath, not sure if he can even see you or what he means by it, or what will come out of his mouth. “You’re so kind and good to everyone. Even me. And I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you,” he says with so much sincerity your heart breaks at him thinking that he’s not deserving of benevolence, friendship, or even love.

You open your mouth to object, to reassure him that it’s very much the opposite, but he beats you to it with words that make your heart bounce around wildly in your chest, yearning to jump right out and press up against his. “I wish my mom and dad got to meet you.”

It punches all the air out of you, and you just sit and look at him solemnly, somehow at a loss for words.

Bradley has carried grief with him since he was four years old. One day, he’s learning about all the different species of dinosaurs from a book his uncle had gifted him, and the next day, he finds out that his dad won’t be coming home, and he’s discovered something new - a little thing called loss. And years later, loss greets him once again with a bittersweet kiss on both cheeks as it tears away his loving mother and his traitorous Uncle Pete. And for some time, it’s just Bradley and his grief, the dynamic duo, a force to be reckoned with as he swears to uphold his father’s legacy, to make Carole and Goose proud (even Maverick, on a subatomic level).

You know some time back, he figured out why Mav pulled his papers - to appease Carole, sweet Carole, who didn’t want her son to see the same fate as Goose. You know Bradley wonders if his parents would be disappointed in him for still following his dreams. The worst part about losing his parents is that he’ll never know how they’d feel about the man he’s become. It’s especially easy for him to believe he hasn’t done enough.

“Bradley,“ you start, throat closing up as your mind races, as you search for the right sequence of reassuring words. “I think you deserve the world.”

You think back to the early days of getting to know him - shortly after you’d moved to San Diego and found him in some dive bar near the ocean. You remember coming back to the bar with your coworkers on Thursday nights, wistfully sending glances his way across the room and trying to muster up the courage to talk to him, ask him to hang back for a drink, ask him if he likes pancakes or waffles in the mornings because you want to know what to make for him after rocking his world (that last sentiment may have been heavily gin-fueled). It was a simple crush at first.

You recall the day he slid up next to you, bought your next drink, and asked you to join him for a round of darts (which you failed miserably at - somehow it’s much harder in real life than GamePigeon). You remember the laughter, the neverending conversation, the comforting feeling of having a new friend. A great friend - one who always lends a listening ear, makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, who brought you his mom’s famous tomato soup when you got the flu.

Phoenix says he’s usually stuck in his head and thinks too much - but in the time you’ve known him, he’s never spared a second thought when it comes to you.

In a rush, you return to the present, where he’s sitting in front of you with glistening eyes and a drunk mouth speaking words you know cross his sober mind every day. His face is crumbling with emotions that he usually keeps under lock and key because he can’t let it get in the way of his job, can’t let it mess him up when he’s flying or teaching. For whatever reason, this is the side of him that he only feels comfortable enough to show you.

Slowly, you reach over the console to interlace your fingers together and pull his hand up to your mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. He squeezes once. “You know that they’re always here,” you tell him. “Every part of them that they’ve given up has made you the wonderful man you are now. In that way, you always have them with you. And they’d be so damn proud of you. I wish I had the chance to meet them, but I know they’d agree.”

He’s nodding his head with your words as if he’s shaking them around his mind in an attempt to instill their meaning. “And...” You press another kiss to the back of his hand. “I’d say you’re my best friend, too,” you say, whispering mock-conspiratorially.

The grin that slides over his face makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, flying around wildly, completely shredding your intestines but that’s a problem for later because right now Bradley, who has to be the love of your life, is smiling like he just won the lottery, like he’s the luckiest man in the world. Suddenly he’s leaning in, reaching a hand out to brush a piece of loose hair behind your ear and then cup your cheek lovingly, and he’s kissing you like you’re the air he breathes.

You return with fervor; his mustache scrapes roughly against your nose and you can still taste the cheap sour marg mix on his tongue and you can definitely sense how drunk he is by the lack of coordination he exhibits every time your teeth clash together. But it’s real and raw and beautiful all at once, and he’s kissing you like he did the first time all those years ago, as he did on the beach when you said yes to forever, as he did months ago after you exchanged I do’s in a small but beautiful ceremony.

You’ll always prefer messy kisses over anything else, and you’ll always love Bradley with his grief wholly and unconditionally.

Bradley, now seeming to be the slightest bit soberer, breathes in deeply, pulls back slightly, slowly grazes your cheekbone with his thumb as he tries to look at you in the darkness of what must be one-fifteen now. “Thanks,” he says genuinely. Doubt is still festering its prickly self inside him, but he’s grounded now and is comfortably tethered to you.

“Always,” you promise to your best friend, to your partner, to your husband, then surge forward to press another kiss to his lips before moving to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies ardently and pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then turns to fumble for the car handle. He pauses and lowers his head to look out the window where his Bronco is parked right next to yours. “Hold up - I didn’t drive tonight?”

You stifle a laugh and grab your bag from the back seat. “Think your age is showing, honey.”

Bradley squawks out in indignation and stutters through a couple of rebuttals before sighing and burying his face in his hands. “I hate this. Why did you let me drink this much?”

“I showed up later, babe,” you tell him. “Think you can blame Jake for the margs.”

Another groan sounds out from him. “Of fucking course it’s Jake’s fault.”

With a little bit of coordinated effort, the two of you manage to walk (stumble, in Bradley’s case) up the stone pathway leading to the front porch, unlock the door, and step into your shared home together. And later that night, you lay down next to a softly snoring Bradley, think about all the moments that brought you to him, and drift away on the feeling of utter devotion.

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster one shot #rooster imagine #tgm fic #sol writes

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