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satoruhour · 8 months

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LAUNDRY DAY

a/n: I AM ALLIVEEEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥🔥 sorry i had a crazy week! can be read as a standalone piece but based off gojo’s roommate au of here and here / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody ☆

wc: 4k

warnings: sub!gojo that turns into dom!gojo, fem!reader, fantasising? gojo is a pervert too, mentions of semi-public sex, implied somnophilia, panty sniffing, pillow / dry humping, m! masturbation, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

living with you was hard. brushing his teeth with you was hard. being around you — hard. both figuratively and—

there’s a loud sigh from you.

clearly tired from the day’s activities of ushering in freshman after freshman, you lugged your body into the bathroom. the same rehearsed words have been leaving your mouth as your cheeks hurt more and more by the hour, only to repeat it all over again the next day.

“you look like shit,” it’s muffled by the way the toothbrush is stuffed into his mouth, foam peeking out from the corners of his mouth and you’re trying not to tell your roommate (and boyfriend) to shut up — you didn’t have the energy to do, much less say anything and you certainly didn’t have time for your lover’s clever quips so late in the night.

it didn’t help that you recently had an argument too; well, trivial to him but much more major to you. it was a matter of getting gojo to keep his laundry properly and to clean up after himself once he’s gotten himself comfortable in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t want to — he was cleaning up in the first place to impress you — but now since he’s got you, it’s like he simply expects you to act as his little wife when it was a shared space. the exact argument you used against him.

“satoru— this is a shared apartment! you can’t just leave tteokbokki cups lying around with the gochujang sauce still inside! it’s going to attract cockroaches and ants!” you gesture wildly, the sheer amount of trash lying around making you even sicker than you thought possible. getting paid to usher in freshmen and then coming home to this? it felt like every cent of your hard work had gone to waste.

there’s only a grin on his face, “you’re so attractive when you’re mad, baby.”

that was another thing: the lack of seriousness that gojo possessed at times, simply talking to piss you off, simply living to be the bane of your existence. “and you’re fucking unbelievable, gojo satoru. clean up— or don’t,” you made sure to lace that last word with venom, “i don’t care.”

that seemed enough for gojo to snap out of his stupor, “no, no— princess, fuck, i’m s—” his brows furrow when he briefly spots the thickening glaze of your eyes, possibly filling with tears before you’re marching into your room to slam the door and he swears to himself. satoru had never felt embarrassment and shame and sadness like that day; having just taken a shower but his skin was sweaty and uncomfortable and his heart sat right at his feet.

gojo swears he never wants to hear you say his full name ever again.

since then, it’s been a little tense between the two of you. geto had noticed it on movie night, shoko realised you haven’t been looking at your phone as often. hell, even prof. yaga had to tell you that you were distracted way too much lately, and it’s only been two days.

satoru tried to possibly take back what he said with whatever powers he didn’t possess, but he only gets another sigh from you as you squeeze the toothpaste out and start brushing your teeth, not even sparing him one glance in the mirror.

and yet while he was the first one to start his nightly routine, he’s left to be the last again from the way he’s unable to stop staring at you, a recurring trait of his whenever you were in the same room with him. it’s a testament of how attracted he was to you — at how his shirt slips off your shoulder from how big it was because even when you were mad at him, you forgot about that little detail. gojo’s eyes trail from your exposed shoulder to your legs and back up again to your fatigued face. he skims over the shape of your eyes and down to your nose and he thinks he’s the luckiest man to be brushing his teeth beside you now, blessed with seeing such an intimate side of you even if it’s as simple as this.

until gojo’s eyes fall upon your mouth as your toothbrush is doing its job of perfect innocence, cleaning some teeth, scraping off the bacteria on your tongue, except when you’re switching it from side to side all your roommate can think about if it was his dick instead. and the thought leaves him as fast it comes.

all you do is shoot him a weird look through the mirror when gojo exclaims like he was a vampire whose skin burned under the bathroom lighting, and he regains composure with ease.

“i’m fine! fine. doing a-okay.” satoru speaks through the foam and it’s spraying everywhere and you’re too tired to care before you hear another gulp when you move your toothbrush again, “sorry! sorry— continue please.”

gojo is starstruck for an entirely different reason, now, watching the toothbrush making bulges at the side of your mouth as it moves in and out and he’s left to fantasise about the many, many times you’ve gotten him in you and the warmth of everything. he can feel himself get hard under his sweatpants when you start brushing your tongue and you gag and he wants to die standing in this 30 square foot bathroom because the last thing he wants to do is sexualise something perfectly mundane.

gojo isn’t like that (well, most of the time. can’t blame him for finding you smokin’ hot).

“what the fuck is your problem?” you’re speaking through your foamy mouth now, spitting it out and proceeding to clean up with no clue of what you do to him. satoru on the other hand — terribly excited that you’d even open your mouth to talk to him after two days of endless silent treatment.

“nothing, baby. it’s nothing, i promise.” you can’t lie at the way your heart jumps at the familiarity of it all, of being in such proximity to your lover, doing domestic things like these and the ‘baby’ and yet your pride is holding you back on everything.

you go straight to sleep, too, not wanting to entertain anything related to gojo satoru and you feel just a little bad when he looks at you with those baby blues and a sweet pout on his face. he looked especially pathetic in the bathroom, like a deer caught in headlights at just the presence of you and you want nothing more to apologise. it’s never that easy, though; you needed a promise, you needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be leaving you to clean up after him again.

all these worries are willed away when you finally fall into slumber in your own room, body craving the warmth of satoru unknowingly. you had stolen a pillow the day before and it’s been the sole source of his scent, the only thing to keep your mind sane.

gojo’s heart drops again upon seeing you already deep in sleep, thinking he had a chance to catch you before you did, but the needines for you never goes down even now. he cannot take his mind off the way you’d run your hands through his hair or tangle your legs with his, satoru’s limbs recall the memory of you playing with his fingers and how you like to curl your arms around his neck. 48 hours is enough for him to go insane, and also maybe at how your leg was propped up on his missing pillow, hugging it so tight to your chest. you hadn’t bothered to wear pants either, so all he can see is the shape of your cunt under.

he stalks into the room and kneels in front of you, finger so tempted to run along your folds and make you wet, staring a whole minute and weighing his options until decides he doesn’t deserve it, turning away and closing your door softly.

“going now, satoru.” it’s soft when you mumble it, not even wanting him to hear before you’re stopped. you’re donning the uni orientation shirt and eyebags, a soggy sandwich from yesterday staining your bag with its smell. “what?”

“made you somethin’,” gojo’s cute like this with a frilly apron and hair band, still managing to tower over you despite the adorable get-up he’s got on, “it’s a bento.”

and you wish you could just melt the pride that runs through your bones and kiss him all over, and you break just a little. a small smile and you walk up to him, grabbing the lunchbox and pecking him softly on the cheek, turning away fast enough to not catch his fangirl moment — because you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it on time if you did.

“we still have to talk later when i come back, okay?” you call out as you put on your shoes and you steal one last glance at him, “and today’s laundry day. you know what t—”

“yes ma’am!” gojo salutes and you roll your eyes with a small smile, locking the door behind you with heat on your cheeks and the pounding of your heart. it was difficult not to break when it came to satoru, when he’s trying so hard to win back your words and love, and so tonight you’ve decided after the tiring week is when you’d finally stop running away over such a small matter.

although, gojo got caught up in something way beyond your expectations even if he had his initial intentions (which involved ordering your favourite takeout and kneeling at the front door in apology).

your roommate lays around for a bit before grabbing some lunch and heading to the back room, a little extension attached to the kitchen with a tune on his lips. it’s clear he’s a little driven by your little innocent peck, a sign that maybe you weren’t so mad any more. for the next hour, satoru is contently doing the laundry with a smile, until—

the panties you threw in before showering must have fallen to the bottom of the pile, the same one he saw you wear last night and he thinks maybe the low humming buzz he heard last night wasn’t his imagination because when he picks it up he can smell your arousal. there’s a stain from the previous night and another pool of juices from this morning and he now knows that it wasn’t the kettle.

“dirty girl,” he grins, “both yesterday and this morning?” he’s thought about this for the longest time, always holding himself back because you found him weird enough even before you were dating, always letting you do your own separate load for your undergarments. but since you’ve gotten together, you were more comfortable, throwing it into the same laundry basket — the compulsion has never been this strong before.

gojo puts it up to his nose and smells like the pervert he is, among other times: teasing you with a hand down your pants when the two were over at your dorm, fucking you in the kitchen as they focused on the movie, pounding into you with the windows open, and he almost ascends at the scent of your pussy juices. there’s a spark that goes down right to his core and he palms his bulge unconsciously, coming to his senses when the washing machine beeps.

he impatiently puts in the settings and leaves, heading straight for your room and is hit with all reminders of you. the perfume you used this morning and the body wash you share with him, walking almost under a trance to your bed where he moans at the softness of the sheets as he falls face first. it doesn’t take him much to scoot to your pillows, but the need for you is just too much.

gojo grinds his cock into the bed, whining softly as he whiffs up your natural body smell, hips moving on their own accord as he manoeuvres a pillow between his legs. he humps it like a dog, groaning and moaning and the strain on his dick is just too much, balling up the undies in his hand and his body tenses at the friction.

“baby . . f-fuck—” satoru’s voice is high-pitched and choked, all the thoughts of you culminating into one big ball of desperation for you and he cums in his pants, tainting the fabric a darker colour than before. but he’s not done — his hips still move against the pillow, thrusting into the fluff as he rides out his orgasm, moans muffled by the pillow. “miss you . .”

gojo misses you more than anything, feeling so much distance even within the house that he flips over — by now the sun shines its golden rays a little less. the afternoon is winding down into a cool evening — and pulls at the waistband of his pants. he’s still sensitive, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and pumping and the sound that leaves his mouth is borderline slutty. with another smell of your cunt, he strokes his dick, using his cum as lube.

“oh . . r-right there— mhnng . .” satoru’s hips buck into his hand, squeezing and thumbing at his cock before unbundling your panties and wrapping them around his shaft. the sight drives him insane. sure, it’s one of your more everyday underwear, neutral in both design and colour but he can feel the fabric get wetter and wetter from how much cum he’s pushed out earlier and that’s enough to keep his hand pumping. “s-sweetness, cummin—”

gojo’s head makes a dent in your other pillow from how hard he was pushing it, back arching at how the warmth in his hand will never compare to your mouth or pussy. he can already feel his second orgasm approaching, your room filled with the squelch of his cock and his sounds and he shoots his load with a drawn out moan all over your panties and his stomach. his cum is always so much, dripping down his pelvis and onto his hand and also . . yours?

your boyfriend lets out the girliest scream you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, scrambling up to the headboard when he sees you hovering over his body. he accidentally kicks your chest in the process and you have to clutch it with a small “ow”, although a small smile is still present on your face.

“having fun?”

“dude, what the fuck?”

your smile drops, “dude?”

gojo suddenly has his hands moving frantically, “nonono— no, sorry, i meant baby!”

you sigh, sitting back down on your heels as you take in the sight: his still hard cock and the sweat lining his body. his bangs are wet and your eyes flit down to your soiled underwear.

“uh . . i was just borrowing it,” gojo nervously chuckles, handing the cum-filled panty to you and your brows furrow.

“darling, you can’t just give someone back their clothes with your come on it.”

and your boyfriend pouts again, “i really am sorry. and for everything else, too. for not cleaning up and for being a general bum,” this is why you also (sometimes) favoured his unseriousness when you were talking about difficult things. the amount of times you had succumbed to his touches and kisses when you were mad at him was much better than your pride. gojo brings you onto his lap like his dick wasn’t just out, and you relish in the closeness you’ve missed.

“i need you to show me you mean it, ’toru,” he lights up at the nickname he loves just as you point a finger in his face, “aht! calm down. don’t think we’re all buddy-buddy again.”

“i will try,” gojo is smooth, taking your hand into his while the other brushes the hair away from your eyes. you lean into the touch, “and i will try until you see my efforts.”

you smile at his honesty, “and i’m sorry for ignoring you as well. it was childish of me.”

gojo hums, bringing your face in to plant a kiss to your lips, “i missed you like crazy, princess.”

you laugh, “yeah i can tell, i miss you too.” you gesture to all of him and he whines softly at the joke, squeezing your waist.

“you’re not weirded out?”

his breath hitches when you move down his body and situate yourself between them, finger tracing his tip and teasing him, “why would i be? i’ve literally fucked myself wearing your shirt.”

gojo gulps loudly, “you did w-what?”

“i’m just better at not getting caught.” all words are taken from his lips then, when your mouth engulfs him and the feeling of it is just pure insanity. gojo pants and his thighs tense, a hand gathering your hair into a ponytail to keep it from interfering. his eyes fixate on the way your suck him off, recalling the last time he’s watched you do that was in a damn bathroom.

“y-your mouth—” satoru swears under his breath when you swirl your tongue around his shaft, the tip of his cock making bulges on the side of your mouth and it only leaves him calling out your name time after time.

“y’know,” you gargle on him, slurping up his cum, “i know what you were thinking starin’ at me last night.”

gojo snaps his fingers and mumbles out a shaky damn, because he can always be read like an open book. he just didn’t know he was that obvious.

“looked cute staring,” you mutter around him, “like a little puppy.”

you slap his thick length on your tongue, moaning when you feel just how heavy it is, “you just wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

gojo whines at your words, nodding, and you go back to the abuse on his dick, bobbing your head up and down as your hand plays with his balls. the other moves over his torso, at the porcelain skin there and you can feel his stomach heaving at your ministrations.

“are you close, baby?” you ask mindlessly, the lewd sounds of his fat cock in your mouth sending sensations right down to your sex as well. you never really listen to his answer, taking a deep breath and sucking in your cheeks and soon you’re deep throating your lover.

“mh— mmf . .” sounds deep from your throat as your nose buries itself in his pubes, and satoru struggles to hold your tantalising stare. he can feel his tip hit the back of your throat and his moans are quick and high-pitched.

“cumming— ’m cumming,” before you come off and you go back to your pace and gojo’s small moans descend into longer ones at the feeling. his eyes roll back right into his skull as he twitches in your mouth and soon he’s spilling right into your throat and tongue.

“baby—” satoru’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, “s-shit . .” and the sheer amount of cum always takes you off guard, sputtering over it when you drag your lips off of him. your boyfriend’s eyes are hooded and darkened, looking at how the strings of his semen droop from your mouth and connect right to his weeping tip.

“eugh, eat more veggies, ’toru. you’re bitter as fuck.” you say with a giggle, swallowing nonetheless as you wipe a hand across your mouth, “thanks for the meal.”

his spirit has certainly ascended, chest heaving and legs jelly from that mind-blowing orgasm. even he takes solace on the headboard, looking down at you with tired eyes.

“but i’m not done,” you truly weren’t, driving satoru to the brink after you’ve milked him to his limit, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way as he thrusts into you, having had a new burst of energy after seeing your confidence wane once you’ve gotten his dick in you.

it was cute — your words breaking up and staggering as you sink down for the first time after two days, reduced merely to whines as you ride him. gojo lets you have your fun for a bit before he properly flips you over, pressing down on your lower back.

“fuck yourself onto me, baby,” he can tell you’ve missed him too by how you squeeze around him, a sly grin on his face when your hips push back onto him. he sees the tight hold you have on the silk sheets and the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. “good girl . . juuust like that.”

you’re jerking forward when he slaps your ass, letting it ripple from the force of both of his hand and your hips. but he takes over soon enough, grabbing both your arms and pulling you gently off that you’re hanging limply. and even while he does that, he’s still focused on the way your lips spread to accommodate him together with a ring of white at the base of his cock.

“that feel good? huh?” gojo mumbles, loving the way you arch your back and your head lols forward, just letting him do whatever he wants to you. you’re too far gone to even quell the ache in your thighs, too distracted by the wetness of your pussy.

“feel s— s’good, satoru—!” you moan out and like always satoru is indecisive in everything, now tugging you up to rest chest to back. “g’na cum!”

your legs spread more and more as your lover keeps you tightly pressed against him, an arm around your neck and the other, waist. wordlessly, he guides your face to the side, meeting your mouth in a sloppy, drooling kiss and his hips stutter at the way you mewl into his mouth.

“that right, princess?” he asks into your lips, relishing in your face contorting in pleasure. eyes reaching heaven and your mouth parted cutely even more when he props a leg up and his cockhead presses against your cervix ever so lightly.

“y—yeah . .” it’s a mix between a whine and a moan before the only rub of your clit from satoru’s hand sends you reeling and you’re trembling in his hold. you can feel your juices coat his length just as he cums as well, too obsessed with the way your cunt feels aeons better than his pathetic hand. he litters your skin with groans of his own, continue to fuck his cum back into you as you milk him dry with ropes and ropes of semen painting your womb white.

“good little girl,” he hums, and you sigh at the feeling of him cumming again, sensing him removing himself with you with an obscene pop! and you want to continue. you’re already moving your hips yet again, begging with small please’s but the happy-go-lucky song of the dryer interrupts the both of you. you scowl.

gojo laughs into your neck, and you’re left grumbling as he sets you down gently, letting you catch your breath before he presses a kiss to your sweaty cheek.

“i’ll handle it, baby,” satoru made a promise to you and he’ll keep it. he hurriedly pulls his sweatpants over his bottom half, “you just rest up.”

it’s not even two minutes later that you already miss him, trotting over to the laundry room in nothing but his shirt and you just watch as he removes the clothes with a certain tranquillity and delicateness that you’d like to see this sight more often and all you can muster in the moment is your arms around his middle.

and the sweetness of the moment is immediately ruined by gojo, “let’s fuck here. whaddya say?”

your roommate and lover can only grin when you turn him around to smack him (“it’s!” slap “not!” slap “sanitary!” slap “here!” slap), finally happy everything’s back to normal. satoru simply presses a kiss to your temple.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk thirsts #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you

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sensitivegoblin · 1 year

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#…..what is the point #every time I think I’m taking a step forward into healing #i fuck up.#i seriously hate myself more than anything #i try and I try and I try and I try but I can never change #it’s taking all my strength to not kill myself right in the bathroom rn #i just wanna grab one of her nice CLEAN kitchen knives and end it all #i keep going to say angry mean stuff then deleting it #cus I honestly just truly hate myself everything is my fucking fault #God I wanna feel the satisfaction of finally stabbing myself over and over and over #until I’ve finally fixed everything.#they say they’d fall apart without me it’s not true #I’m the cause of everything wrong and no matter how hard I try nothing works #i wanna plummet the knife into my chest and feel my heart stop beating #‘nothing’s happening to you’ if any of my fucking family stepped into my brain for one day they wouldn’t make it #I’m tired of being the only one who cares

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year

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Only You, Darling

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel begins to worry about his unborn child, considering his spider DNA and history of losing people, he worries if things are only meant for the worst.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Dark Red” by Steve Lacy. When I tell you about the grip Miguel has on me! I love this man.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 982

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, pregnancy, light angst, established relationship, mentions of cheating, mentions of intercourse, swearing, little paranoia, very fluffy…

You stared at the positive test. You remained still before looking back at the other five positive tests. Your breathing became ragged as you knew Miguel would be home in a few hours.

You still had some time left, hide the evidence and find a way to explain it to Miguel. He thought that it was almost impossible to get you pregnant, which is why you hoped it wouldn’t make him think of the worst. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.

You begin cleaning up the torn boxes and used tests, throwing them in the small garbage bin without a second thought. You shouldn’t be worried about this now, you should be worried if Miguel was going to make it home on time or late, again.

But all the silence scared you to death as there was no way to calm you. Nothing would stop you from pacing around the living room. What felt like minutes were hours, and when your head snapped in the direction of a thud coming from your shared room. You cursed to yourself, knowing only one person to take the window instead of the front door.

“(Y/n)!” You heard him call out.

You choke on your words for a few seconds before finally being able to speak, “...I’m in the living room!”

You could practically hear him let out a sigh of relief as you heard his footsteps from your room and to the living room, seeing him still in his costume, “I thought you went out for a run again.”

“Well, I do know how much you hate them.”

“Because you take them during the night, I’ve told you how dangerous it is.” He comes to you, placing a quick kiss on your lips before pulling back, “I’m going to get washed up.” He walks to the bathroom but stops and looks over his shoulder, “Care to join me?”

“Well I-”

“That’s fine.” Miguel tells you, “But I could use someone to wash my back.”

“Miguel-”

And he sped to the bathroom, tired but… Shit! You never took out the trash!

“Miguel!” You call out again but no answer. You were too late, he’s already in the bathroom. You still had time, all you needed to was not freeze in place and open the damn door! But you can’t. You didn’t have the right to keep this information from Miguel, he deserves to know.

While you left him in the bathroom, you sat on your shared bed, waiting for him…

It’s been a half-hour. No sound of the shower turning on or anything from the bathroom. But your heart drops, hearing the door open and Miguel comes to the room, test in hand as his eyes tell his whole expression.

“I-”

“I know you didn’t cheat on me.” He whispers, setting the test on the dresser, “But how long have you known for?”

“Just this morning, a few hours after you left for work.” You answer.

“Just this morning?”

“Just this morning.” You repeat, looking into his eyes.

Miguel takes a deep breath, “Okay, okay.” But then he grabs a duffle bag from your closet and sets it on the bed, he pulls open your drawer and starts filing the bag up, “You can’t stay here.” He answers before you say anything.

“Listen to me, Miguel.”

“It’s not safe for you here.”

“Miguel-”

“I’m a danger and you know it.”

“Miguel!” You grab his wrist, “Stop. You know damn well I trust you with my life. You may think that’s the worst thing I ever said but I mean it. I know you have the strength to protect me, I love you Miguel and I promised to stand by you no matter what happens. So please, don’t push me away.”

“It’s not that I’m a danger to you, I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything, Miguel. And I’m hoping that you will let me give it all to you.” Feeling his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as if it was his last day.

The next couple of weeks were filled with doctor visits and holded up at home. It’s not like you didn’t stay home before, it’s just Miguel wanted to be sure you were in a safe location and that it would be your shared home.

“Did you take-?”

“My prenatals?” You finish his question, placing a kiss on his forehead, “Yes I did.” You kissed him again, “You don’t gotta worry about me, Miguel. With the doctor visits and the pills, I’m doing just fine.”

“I know.” Miguel sat on the couch while you sat on his lap, you felt his hands come to your stomach, “Does the doctor know when you would start showing?”

“In a couple more weeks but it’s different for everyone.” You tell him, feeling him nuzzle into your neck. You feel his hands rub your stomach, “Are you okay, Miguel?”

He hums, nodding into your shoulder, “It’s just… What if I’m a horrible father?”

“Don’t you dare say that!” You get up, turn your body to face him and sit back down, “I know you’ll be a wonderful father, Miguel. No matter what anyone says. And I know that this child will love you.”

He looks at you and slowly, a smile forms, “This is what I’m talking about.” He lays his head on your chest.

“What do you mean?” You ask. Then you look at his ears, the tip of them being red, “Miguel?”

“I think we should have more kids.”

Your hands come to his hair, “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He suddenly grabs your shoulders tightly and he snaps his head up, “Seriously?!”

You burst out laughing, “Of course!” You speak in between laughter, “I want nothing more than to start a family with you.” You calm down.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You’ll always have me.”

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man x y/n #spider man #spider man across the spider verse #spider man x reader #spider man x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader

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odoraful · 2 months

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𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒

characters: diluc, wanderer, childe content: sfw, modern au, established relationship, fluff !! a/n: i was scouring pinterest looking the most fitting inspo rooms for each of them hehe

Diluc

Your shared home is an old-fashioned but charming house with a tiled roof and a brick archway leading to the entrance of the door. Diluc has a good eye for style — all the furniture pieces you select together are warm and elegant, perfectly matching with the vintage style home.

He’s a bit of a craftsman, and when you moved in he custom built bookshelves just for you. Your house has traces of Diluc’s handiwork: a wooden tissue box cover, tile coasters, a ceramic chess set.

Being a peak acts of service man, if he notices that there’s something inconveniencing you that can be mended, he’ll try to find a way to fix it. That wooden chair that wobbled yesterday when you sat down on it? The next day, it’s miraculously levelled. Always struggling to find your keys before you leave the house? There are now little hooks on the wall where you can easily hang them. He doesn’t make a huge show of it, but you’ll always kiss him on the cheek and say that you should repay him with something.

“There’s no need. Seeing you happy is more than enough for me.” He replies, running a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning red.

The house is IMPECCABLY cleaned — the chores are shared out between the two of you, and the both of you work like a well-oiled machine. He’ll insist that you shouldn’t carry anything too heavy though! He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself :(

One of the things that Diluc wouldn’t ever trade is getting the chance to cuddle with you in the evening on the couch. He’ll let you play with his hair and try out different styles, comforted by the feeling of your fingers running through it.

Sometimes, he’ll come home late from work tired and perhaps a bit grumpy, but the sight of you will change his mood completely.

At the sound of jangling keys and the front door creaking shut, you rush out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

“(Y/N), I’m home!” You hear Diluc’s voice call out to you.

The day had felt far too long for him, and with far too many headaches for him to deal with. The only thing that he looked forward to at the end of it all was to see you again.

Hearing the patter of your slippers, he looks up. It takes everything within him to keep composed at your appearance. Having just gotten out of a hot shower, your cheeks were tinted pink, hair still damp and slicked. Diluc’s eyes trailed to your clothes, a matching pair of flannel shirt and shorts. He loosens his tie, suddenly finding his breath stuck in his throat. It baffled him how gorgeous you were even in pyjamas.

Wordlessly, he reaches towards you. You look down at his hands and see as they fasten the remaining top two buttons of your sleeping shirt. In your hurry to greet him at the door, you forgot to dress properly.

“I can’t believe I missed that...” You sheepishly say, observing his hands as they linger on your shirt. Your senses told you something was off. “Did you have troubles at work today?”

The worry in your eyes melts his heart. Of course you were the one to peer through him and know exactly how he was feeling.

“A few clientele at the bar today were-” He sighs, still fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt, recalling the events of the day, “-difficult to manage to say the least.” He lifts his head to meet his gaze. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

Your arms instinctually wrap around him and he collapses into them. Tightening your embrace, he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Diluc, I just took a shower.” You say with a light giggle, trying to pull your hair away from his face.

He feels your breath close to his ear and he wishes he could have recorded that laugh for himself to hear it over and over again.

“I could tell.” He breathes deeply. “Is this a new shampoo?”

“Well yes, but what I meant from that is that my hair is still wet!”

You feel him smile against you. “It doesn’t bother me. Just a few more seconds, please. I need to recharge.”

Wanderer

You share an apartment together since you travel to and from the same university. Although you’re studying different degrees and have different schedules, you’ll both make an effort to spend time together at home during the weekdays.

You and Wanderer leave little notes cheering each other on and stick them to the walls or the fridge before you leave, or sneak them into pencil cases or onto laptop screens. He has a small box on his desk where he collects all your notes, neatly folding them up to preserve them.

Wanderer enjoys having the home quite minimalist. Just the essentials will do, but the two of you do splurge a bit more on your study space — the comfiest chairs, wide desks, tactile keyboards — anything to liven up having to do assignments all the time.

When you’re feeling too tired or distracted from your own studies, you’ll walk over to his desk and try to sit on his lap while he works. He’ll attempt to exert some self-control and reject your wishes, but eventually gives in after seeing your pout.

“Just because you’re distracted doesn’t give you any right to bother me.” He grumbles, resting his chin on your head.

He warns you that if you do decide to put plants in the house, you are responsible for them. Little do you know that he’s secretly also invested in their health. On mornings when you’re in a rush and forget to water them, he’ll spritz them with your spray bottle thinking to himself: If you died (Y/N) would be devastated, so don’t even think about it.

His favourite room is the bedroom. It’s a place for both of you to escape the stresses of being a student and relax together.

The alarm clock beeps and you wiggle in bed, reaching over a hand to quickly silence it. Bright sun filters in through the curtains, its light diffusing into the room.

You force your eyes open and sit up, your body bent over like a crooked branch. Movement beside you pulls your attention as Wanderer shifts in his sleep. You can’t deny how pretty he looks even at rest. His long lashes fanned out under closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath. His expression is that of pure peace. You know that’ll soon disappear when you both need to properly wake up and prepare for classes.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up,” you whisper, carefully coaxing him from slumber.

Wanderer opens his bleary eyes ever so slightly, then immediately closes them. He mumbles something of refusal. You roll your eyes in resignation. When it comes to sleep, he acts like a child sometimes. You turn to get out of bed.

Two arms wrap around your waist and yank you back. You stumble into the sheets with a yelp. Wanderer adjusts the blanket over you and pulls you closer to him with one hand.

“Not yet.” His voice is low and scratchy, his words slurred. “Want more time in bed… with you.”

You sigh softly, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair to detangle it. “You do this almost every morning. You’re never going to attend your lectures on time.”

He replies by nuzzling into your neck, and you hear nothing but his slow breaths. His peers would have sooner called identity fraud than believe the stony and scholarly Wanderer to be this clingy and affectionate in the morning. However, in the privacy of just you, it’s become easy for him to let down his guard.

“Don’t try to get out of this by pretending to be asleep.” You say, deadpan.

There’s a stutter in his breathing as you catch his obvious charade.

“Stop worrying. I’ll just watch the recording.” He finally responds.

You realise in a fluster just how close your faces are, barely inches apart. As if sensing this, Wanderer opens his eyes once again, this time there’s a glint of mischief in them.

He taps his forehead lightly against your own. “And besides, why would I want to spend my mornings in a noisy lecture hall when I can be with you in peace and quiet?”

Childe

You’ve been living together for a while now, and your home has transformed into what can only be described as organised chaos.

If Childe kept up with his interior designing eagerness, it would have been complete maximalism, but you were there to contain his excitement and still ensure your home was still practical.

The two of you love collecting pillows, plushies and blankets, which adds even more to the cosiness! However, one day you tried to sit down on the couch and realised it was more pillows than actual seat space. In a fit of laughter, you and Childe ruled that you would rotate between different cushions every so often so you could get your couch back.

Childe will still come home with flowers or sweets (sometimes both) as gifts for you on random nights. He’ll stand on the doorstep looking like a lovesick teenage boy asking his crush out on a date. Taking them from his hands, you’ll ask what the occasion is.

“Well, there isn’t a particular occasion.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Celebrating you should be an everyday thing.”

Board game nights are taken very seriously. You have a bookshelf filled with different types of them. Whether it’s a classic game of UNO or Jenga, or something a little more strategic, he's always hyper-competitive. You also have special punishments for if one of you loses, which are harmless but maybe a little embarrassing (One of his favourite punishments for you is ‘For the entire day tomorrow, Childe will only call (Y/N) by the cheesiest pet names’).

MASSIVE kitchen since he loves to cook. He keeps a book of recipes from his mum and has since added new ones of his own that he has shared with you.

“Could you come over here, baby?”

You follow your partner’s voice and the scent of something freshly baked into the kitchen.

Childe is standing behind the counter, his face in deep focus. He takes one of an array of heart-shaped biscuits and dips half of it in a bowl of chocolate before placing it on a lined baking sheet. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his forearms. His muscular build is sharply juxtaposed by the cream-coloured apron tied around himself, which has a little teddy bear embroidered in its centre.

You approach the kitchen bench, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are they ready yet? Can I try one?” You eagerly ask.

“Not quite, I need help dipping the rest of these into chocolate.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, shaking the tension out of them.

“That being said,” he grins, extending a hand towards you across the kitchen bench as an offer, “would you do me the honour of being my baking assistant for a little?”

Chuckling at his dramatics, you delicately place your hand in his like royalty. “I’d be delighted to help.”

Childe guides you to his side and helps you put on your apron. As he ties the strings together, he relays the instructions to you.

“You just need to dip half of the biscuit into chocolate, and then add some sprinkles on top before it sets.” He tightens the bow around your waist to secure it.

How hard could that be? You think, nodding along to his words.

Demoing an example, Childe deftly coats half of the biscuit. Angling it just right, the chocolate drips off and evens itself out, leaving a perfect covered half. After placing it on the tray and adding the finishing touch of sprinkles, he gestures for you to try it yourself.

You confidently take one biscuit and dunk it.

“Ah!”

Underestimating its consistency, when you lift the biscuit, the chocolate slowly spreads onto the other half of the heart and drips onto your fingers. You quickly place it onto the baking sheet. Childe stifles his laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“My one looks so much worse compared to yours…” you mutter, licking your fingers to remove the evidence of your unsuccessful attempt.

Seeing the frown on your face, he gently bumps your shoulder with his own in encouragement. “Don’t say that! I think your one has a lot more charm.” He says, adding the sprinkles onto your heart. “I’ll run some extra baking classes with you to build up your skills, how does that sound?”

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

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

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

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soullessdianthus · 10 months

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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 "𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭" 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲

Summary: Your boyfriend returns from the latest deployment and you're ready to spend a nice evening together. But his past haunts him especially during the night while you lay in his arms.

A/N: I needed comfort, okay? HE NEEDED IT. That's it, just snuggling and stuff. Enjoy.

Warnings: generally comfort/fluff, mentions of miliatry and related PTSD, a hint of past intercourse

Word count: 1.3k

When he finally arrived at the apartament and locked the doors behind his hunched back, Simon let out a loud sigh. The tips of his coarse fingers brushed against the blonde hair on his occiput. He put down black hockey bag and made his way to the living room.

━ Simon!

A voice so familiar and heartwarming made his tired body spark with a dash of joy. He turned around to face you just in time, as your legs wrapped around his hips in a cheerful hop.

He caught you by your thighs and hoisted even higher to secure your form.

━ Missed you too, luv. ━ Simon stated happily, when you pressed a soft kiss onto the new scar on his jawline. Perhaps, it was one of the old ones, but you hadn’t noticed it earlier? You couldn’t remember, if the little detail was there before his deployment on the other side of the world.

Simon slowly put you down onto the floor, a subtle smile forming on his lips. You, on the other hand, were a breathing and living spark of joy.

━ Go take a shower, I’ll be waiting with dinner. ━ You instructed him, as your eyes roamed over his toned body, searching for any serious injuries.

━ I reek, eh?

The blonde man placed his palms over the sides of your pretty face just as he leaned to kiss your forehead. Riley inhaled the lovely scent of your hair - it made him feel home.

━ Just a little ━ you said jokingly, looking up into your boyfriend’s dark eyes. His almost black gaze usually scared people, reminding them of nothingness. But you thought he had beautiful eyes. The most beautiful you’d ever seen. ━ Go on.

You gently pulled his hand towards the cozy bathroom, encouraging him to take a warm shower. The room was still steamy as you ran a bath for yourself not so long ago. The ends of your hair still curled due to wetness.

Simon took a look over the counter and saw already prepared clean clothes, folded impeccably and smelling of your favorite detergent. He looked in the mirror and reminded himself how lucky he was to have you.

Around fifteen minutes passed and your lieutenant joined you in the kitchen. His strong arms sneaked from behind, entangling around your waist. Simon hummed, being curious about the delicious smell.

━ It’s just some pasta with pesto, something easily digestible for the night. ━ You explained, sprinkling the ingredients with some grated cheese. Simon never complained about your cooking, it was impeccable. The two of you enjoyed preparing meals together if his work allowed some time for that.

Both of you sat down to the dining table, close to each other. He ate and listened patiently as you flooded him with the latest gossip from your work, neighborhood or mutual friends.

You never asked him about his missions if he hadn’t addressed the subject himself. You knew the toll the work had on him. And not only the military assignments. Simon went through a lot of tough things in his life, leaving him with a post traumatic stress disorder that resurfaced in the most random moments.

But you were there for him, always.

━ You wanna pick out the movie? I’m going to change, okay? ━ You suggested your boyfriend, when you finished the meal and cleaned afterwards. Simon nodded, approving of such plans.

He was a man simple to please.

You returned to him - a blonde man sitting comfortably on the couch, his eyes lingering up and down your form - particularly your hips flirtatiously swaying to the sides. You changed into the pastel blue nightgown he bought you last year. It was silk, a material which poured between one’s fingers.

Just like you, between Simon’s fingers on a stormy night, when he pressed his forehead to yours, taking in each short breath you gasped out in pleasure. He savored them, so the lieutenant could recall them when he was away on a mission.

You sat down on the couch next to him. But before you could make yourself comfortable, Simon pulled your bare legs over his lap. Your cheek rested upon his collarbone, a delicate palm spreaded across his chest.

Oh, how much you missed him. All of him.

His body was pleasantly radiating warmth. Simon’s slowed and steady breathing, which raised the ribcage of his, eventually lulled you to sleep. It was a tough week for both of you.

You meant to spend that evening with him, talking about the things he missed while deployment. But it was hard to fight the sweet sleep, when Simon snuck one of his hands over your scalp and began to gently rub your head.

It wasn’t long before he noticed - your body stilled, muscles absolutely relaxed against him. Simon let you lay beside him until the movie ended. It was the right time to go to bed.

You woke up, feeling his arms scooping under your knees and head. The urge to shift and stand up on your own legs was suppressed by his calm approach.

━ I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep. ━ You apologized to him, the tone of your voice dreamy, half-asleep, while he carried both of you to the bedroom.

━ ‘s okay. I’ve got you.

The night was calm. Beside the pouring rain, heavy droplets banging on the windows and its sill - a charm of the country you lived in. The tapping melody brought the both of you a deep sleep, your body clinging to Simon’s chest.

It always felt safe - falling asleep next to him, when the person was the most vulnerable. At the beginning of your relationship, the soldier found it hard to sleep through the whole night peacefully. But as the time passed by, he grew to be more comfortable around his partner. Such thing as sleep was… quite intimate to lieutenant Riley.

But there were nights, more difficult and frightening than the others, when the horror of Ghost’s past resurfaced.

He was sweating, each muscle flexing for a painful amount of time. But it was his heavy breathing, muffled whispers that woke you up.

You slowly pulled away and sat on the bed beside him. Always next to him. At first, you wanted to rub his tattooed forearm, but deep down you knew, that sudden touch can startle him even more.

━ Simon? ━ Your sweet, sleepy voice echoed somewhere in his consciousness, slowly pulling him out of the bloodshed. ━ Simon. You’re home.

Simon.

His dark eyes finally shot open as he inhaled sharply. Almost like he just had sleep apnea’s attack. Which you knew wasn’t the real cause.

━ Fuck ━ the blonde groaned, wiping his eyes. ━ Sorry, luv.

━ It’s okay. Do you need something? Water, pills?

You offered him help, at least as much as you could actually help to ease his pain. Now, when he was awake, your gentle touch began to caress his arm.

━ Just you.

Simon waited until you laid back down. And when you did so, he pressed his head into your collarbones and cleavage. Both of his limbs wrapped around your upper body, pulling you closer. His nose was almost squashed with your ribcage, but it didn’t matter. As long as he could feel your sweet smell.

Your palms wandered for a while over his occiput, massaging his aching head and brushing through his blonde hair.

Only when you felt his breaths slow down and when his heartbeat droped, you managed to fall back asleep. Knowing he managed to push his nightmares aside for you.

His home.

#reader insert #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2

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wosoamazing · 1 month

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Allergic Pt 2

Warnings: Sickness, Flu, Vomiting A/N: Sorry it's only short, just a bit busy and also know this was wanted so thought short was better than nothing. Italics = Spanish

You woke up to Alexia’s gentle shaking, “y/n, get up” you just wanted to sleep, the itchiness and hives had gone but you still felt sick and tired, you groaned and rolled to face the opposite direction. “We need to go to the doctor, you need to get up,” “Can’t I just sleep?” You moaned, “Sì, after we see the doctor.” Reluctantly you got dressed and into the car.

“We’ll need to send her for an allergy test, but I think it's just one of your simple everyday Allergic reactions.” Alexia huffed at his response, before dragging you out early, you convinced her to let you go to training and watch, you told her you would get bored at home.

_____

You were sitting on the floor in the gym, next to Mapi, watching the girls train, when you started to feel really sick again and before you could warn anyone you were throwing up all over the ground and Mapi.

Everyone turned around and saw the commotion, Alexia immediately came over to you to comfort you, while Ingrid was helping Mapi up, Lucy was grabbing a bucket and the rest of the girls were directed out by Kiera and Aitana.

“Do you need anything? Any help?” Kiera asked coming back in, “Can you get the medics, I doubt very much that this is a simple allergic reaction.” Alexia asked as she rubbed your back as you continued to throw up, you had started to sway slightly, becoming weaker, as you heaved your stomach contents up. As you finally finished throwing up your knees suddenly buckled underneath you, and Alexia caught you lowering you to the ground, she sat behind you, supporting you as your full body weight leant against her.

“Ale,” you breathed out weakly “I know Bebita, it's okay, I’m here, the medics will come and see what is wrong, we’ll fix you up and get you feeling better. But I’m here, and I won't leave you again until you’re 100% better.”

One of the medics came in and did some checks, “I think she also has the flu, we will give her some anti-nausea medication so hopefully she stops vomiting as she is getting dehydrated, but you should take her home, and just try to get her to sleep it off.”

_____

“Don’t worry it’s just us,” Alexia announced as she helped you walk into the house and over to the couch, Olga came out of her office to see what was happening,

“Oh, is everything okay, why are you home?” “Bebita is sick, she threw up on Mapi, the doctors said it's probably the flu too, so they gave her anti-nausea medication, said to bring her home and get her to sleep, and fluids,” Alexia rattled off going through her mental checklist.

“No but why are you home? You knew I was working from home today, I could’ve picked y/n/n up,” Olga was surprised Alexia had brought you home, usually she would call Olga to pick you up if you ever needed to leave earlier than her for some reason, it was unlike Alexia to miss training for any reason, especially considering it was the first training day since the game on the weekend. “Bebita is sick,” Alexia snapped at her girlfriend, perplexed.

“Okay,” Olga said, not knowing how to respond to her girlfriend's absurdity. As Alexia went to sit down next to you Olga gave her a stern look, even though you had a shower to get cleaned up at training, however Alexia hadn’t bothered, her one focus being on you and getting you better, meaning she was still sweaty and gross from training. “Shower,” Olga ordered as she pointed to the general direction of their bathroom, Alexia pouted at her girlfriends orders, “now,” she quickly scampered off to their bedroom, which caused you to laugh, however laughing wasn’t a good idea as your laughter quickly turned into a coughing fit, “It’s okay, don’t worry,” Olga reassured you as she sat down next to you and rubbed your back, “water,” she said as handed you your bottle after you had finished coughing. After you had finished drinking you moved so that you could lay down, you were on your stomach and your head was in her lap, she adjusted her position so you would be more comfortable and she turned one of the current games on as she started to softly scratch your back with one hand, with the other she messaged Alexia, asking her to get somethings you would most likely need before she came back.

“Ale are you okay?” Olga asked as Alexia walked back into the lounge with everything Olga had requested for you, she was looking a little flushed and also a little pale. “I’m fine,” she huffed out in annoyance, “do you want anything? I’m going to get a drink for y/n,” she said, voice raspier than usual, “I’m okay, thank you,” Olga replied with a soft smile, not wanting to push her girlfriend further.

A harsh cough was heard from the kitchen and it suddenly all made sense, to Olga. “Can I go stay with Mapi and Ingrid?” you asked as you shifted your position so you could look at her, sick Alexia was definitely not someone people would choose to be around normally let alone when you yourself were sick.

“I’ll message them,” as she finished talking and went to reach for her phone, a few more harsh coughs were heard from the kitchen, “are you sure you’re fine?” “As I said before, I am absolutely fine.”

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #barca women #barca femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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artificial-transmutations · 4 months

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Your stories and images are beyond incredible. My favorite blog on tumblr BY FAR. Truly incredible work. I guess it’s kind of selfish, so absolutely so absolutely no worries, at the very least I got to tell you how much I appreciate and love your content. But I’m a short, nerdy, thin, art student in college right now. I’m tired of being in the closet, I’m tired of being a push over, Im tired of being weak and submissive, I’m tired of being a virgin, and I wanna change. Maybe you could help with a story by turning me into one of those jaw dropping beautiful confident men that you make the pictures of, I would very much appreciate it. But no worries if you can’t, I just love your content!

Confidence

Nathaniel sighed quietly, as he came over his hairless stomach. Of course, he had to be quiet! The dorm walls were paper-thin, and he certainly didn't want the guys from the neighboring dorm rooms to hear him. He looked at the website once more, with the story and the hot buff men before he closed the incognito browser tab and proceeded to clean himself up.

When he looked into the bathroom mirror, he sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of sadness. There really wasn't anything remotely impressive about him. He was thin and weak, and pathetic really. If it wasn't for his lack of boobs and his sorry excuse for a dick, he could very well pass as a woman. In fact, he had been mistakenly called "Madame" more than once, and one time, he had even been asked "how his transition was going".

No, Nathan was a cis man, just not a very impressive one. He was gay, of course, and loved to look at 'real' men while jerking his small cock. Most of the time, he fantasized about some hairy brute rough-handling him, pushing his face against the bed and fucking his tiny ass into submission. However, even though the thought was exciting to Nathan, he even more wished to *be* such a man. The rational part of Nathan knew that both fantasies would not happen anytime, though. It was physically impossible to just *become* a 'real man', and it was impossible for Nathan to even admit to anyone that he was gay. So, he would probably just stay a closeted virgin forever - doomed to masturbate to some kinky stories he was so embarrassed about that he only dared to look at them from an incognito browser tab.

He sighed a third time when he crawled into bed. Perhaps someday he would accept his fate.

Nathan was already almost asleep when he heard the firework starting outside. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. What a way to start the new year.

The next morning, Nathan was feeling a bit better. Of course, his deep-rooted unhappiness still lingered within him, but Nathan decided to try and enjoy the day. He liked new year’s days. Everyone usually was at home after having celebrated the whole night which meant that the world outside was very quiet. Not much happened on New Year’s Day.

Nathan decided to go to a nearby cafe. There, with a steaming mug of hot chocolate next to him, he got out his drawing utensils and looked around the place. There weren't too many people. An older couple sat together, the man reading a book, and the woman reading a magazine, while an elderly lady sat at the counter. She was probably the owner. However, there was one more guy, a young adult like Nathan, who sat on a nearby table all by himself and was playing on his phone. He had his chair tilted back a bit, stabilizing himself against the wall and rocking a bit. He had earphones in his ear, so he was probably listening to music while doing so.

Nathan's first instinct was to draw the old couple, but then he looked at the other young man again. He looked a bit like one of those men from the internet, the kind that Nathan would fantasize about. Just a bit. The other man wasn't burly and muscular and assertive, but instead he had a lean, fit build. Nathan was a bad judge of character, especially without having spoken to the person in question, but the young man didn't look particularly assertive or dominant either. So, all in all, not too much like the men Nathan longed for on the internet. But still, he had a certain charm to him. Nathan liked the fit, lean body and the aura of positivity the man seemed to exude and wanted to capture that on paper.

Nathan began sketching the man, while occasionally looking up, making sure the man wouldn't notice. However, it was hard to keep his eyes off the guy. Every now and then, he would laugh a bit or make a funny face when watching something on his phone, which Nathan couldn't help but find very attractive.

He was just working on drawing the man's hands, when Nathan suddenly heard someone address him.

"Hey, what are you drawing?" The voice didn't sound rude or unfriendly, but plainly interested. Still, Nathan flinched visibly. The attractive man on the other table had removed one earplug and turned towards Nathan.

"Uh, sorry?" stuttered Nathan, not quite sure how to react. The guy pointed at Nathan's drawing pad and smiled: "You're an artist?"

Nathan could feel the blood rushing to his face. The drawing pad was tilted towards Nathan, so his unvoluntary model could not have seen what exactly Nathan was drawing. He could - no, he should - just lie and tell him he was sketching something in the room. But he just couldn't think of anything and the time for a good answer was running out. Almost involuntarily, Nathan stuttered, with his head red like a tomato: "Uhm, yeah, kind of. I was sketching you, actually."

The guy laughed a short and friendly laugh: "Really? Cool! Can I see it?"

Nathan could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his face got even redder. This was so embarrassing! But he couldn't very well refuse now, could he? So, he placed the pad flat on the table, just as the guy came over and sat himself down on Nathan's table.

"Oh wow!", he sounded impressed. "You're really talented! It's like looking into a mirror."

"Thanks" - Nathan hated getting compliments. Not only didn't he know how to react to them, but he also found them mostly fake. He was an art student, but he wasn't that good really, at least in his own opinion. In the dictionary, there was probably a picture of Nathan right next to the entry for "Imposter Syndrome".

"But why are you drawing me?" Although Nathan had feared that this question might come up, he didn't have a good lie to answer it. It was almost as if his mouth was acting on its own, when Nathan heard himself stammer: "Uh, eh, it's because I... I find you quite handsome actually. Good-looking I mean."

Nathan wished for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth here and now. But to his big surprise, the guy just laughed again and said: "You think so? Thanks! The name's Oliver by the way." Oliver had, apparently, much less of a problem taking a compliment.

"Nathan." said Nathan and started to relax a tiny bit. However, the situation suddenly got even worse, when Oliver continued, in the same light-hearted voice. "Nice to meet you, Nathan! Are you into guys?"

Nathan froze solid. He hadn't expected that. And even worse, the answer was, of course, yes. But there was no way he could say that, was there? So, instead, he just stared at Oliver with his eyes wide open and a deer-in-headlights look.

"I mean, I'm gay - are you as well?" Oliver explained. "With the whole drawing dudes and all."

Nathan's brain had stopped working properly, so he couldn't help but nod and mumble a faint "yes".

Oliver's smile broadened and he said: "Really? Cool!"

Nathan's mind was racing. He had just admitted his homosexuality. To a complete stranger. Out of the blue. He didn't plan to come out that way, it just... happened.

A moment of awkward silence radiated from Nathan, but, thankfully, Oliver salvaged the situation pretty elegantly.

"Listen Nathan, I'll have to run now. But are you free tomorrow around 2? We could grab a coffee and you could show me some of your drawings if you like."

A spark of bravery, completely foreign to him, awakened in Nathan and he answered: "Y-yes. I think I would like that."

Oliver smiled another of his broad smiles. "Awesome! Let's meet here then tomorrow!"

With that, Oliver nodded at Nathan and left the cafe, putting in his headphone again while humming happily.

Did that really just happen? Nathan looked from the unfinished drawing towards the cafe door. Did he really just... got invited to a date? With a handsome guy named Oliver? Nathan wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. On the one hand, it was a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity. A cute and hot guy was actually interested in him! But on the other hand, there was no way he could make a good impression. How desperate had that Oliver guy to be to actually ask *him* out?

A small voice in his head insisted that he could just not show up tomorrow and avoid the whole disappointment. But the spark of bravery was still there, and Nathan fought down the feeling. No, he was going to show. If it turned out to be a disaster, he could still flee the scene - it wasn't like Oliver knew literally anything about him.

Nathan quickly packed his things and returned to his dorm room. Once he arrived, he noticed that he was completely covered in sweat of fear. His shirt showed wet spots under his arms and felt cold to the touch. Disgusted, Nathan immediately went for a shower. Only there, standing under the hot steamy water, Nathan could appreciate what happened. He got *asked out*. On a *date*. With a *guy*. Yesterday he had been certain he would die alone and lonely but then, today, he got *asked out*. Was this really a thing? Did it really happen?

He wasn't sure. He had a hard time believing it. Perhaps the whole thing was just a weird dream? A figment of his imagination. But no. The half-finished drawing was proof enough that Oliver really existed.

When Nathan exited the shower cabin, the whole bathroom was covered in steam, blinding the mirrors. Perhaps this - or the spinning of his thoughts - was the reason that he didn't notice that his hair had changed. Instead of his usual medium length brown-ish hair, he now sported a much shorter hairstyle - in a much darker color, almost black. Be it as it may - Nathan had other things on mind than checking his hair. He spent the whole afternoon and even the evening researching on how to make a good impression on a first date.

The next morning, Nathan slept in, which was pretty unusual for him. His whole frame felt weird, when he crawled out of bed. It wasn't too late, either - he had a comfortable 3 hours until the date. When he passed the bathroom mirror on his morning routine, however, he stopped for a moment. Something was... off about his face. His hair. It looked kind of... different?

Nathan stared at his reflection for a few seconds, straining his mind. Somehow, the shape of his jawbone seemed unfamiliar. And was his hair always that dark, almost black?

Finally, he shook his head. No, he was just seeing things. Of course, that was as it always had been. After having finished his bathroom business, Nathan went for a shower and prepared himself.

An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror, trying out a bunch of outfits and felt slight panic rising inside of him. None of his clothes fit very well, it was like he was cursed! It wasn't that his shirts and pants were much too big or much too small, but for some reason none of his clothes really felt comfortable. Both his favorite shirt and his usual jeans felt somewhat constricting today. Finally, Nathan just put on an outfit, and left his room.

When he entered the cafe, Oliver was already sitting there, two coffee mugs in front of him. He smiled, waved and gestured for Nathan to join him.

"Hello, Nathan!"

"H-hi." said Nathan, his nervousness returning.

"Here, I bought you a coffee!" Oliver pushed one of the mugs over the table.

"Thanks." Nathan was somewhat distracted by the ill-fitting clothes, and he could pretty much feel the nervous sweat practically pouring out of his pores.

"No problem!", said Oliver. "I was early, anyway. How are you doing today?"

"Fine." said Nathan and took a sip of his coffee, trying to hide his nervousness. He vividly remembered all the good advice he had read yesterday, but all that felt just impossible to him.

"So, you're an artist? What do you do?" Oliver asked with genuine interest.

"Well, I study art, I guess. I want to be a concept artist, you know, for games or movies or so. But, eh, right now, I'm just a student, and I'm not really that good."

"That's not how I remember it!" smiled Oliver. "Can you show me more of your work?"

Nathan nodded as he got out his sketchbook. Talking about his art was something he was comfortable with and allowed him to warm up somewhat over the course of the conversation. Oliver appeared to be quite a nice guy and had a lot of questions about drawing, so, Nathan, in turn, started to relax and talk more freely. He found out that Oliver was a veterinary technician and had a part time job at a dog shelter. That, combined with the fact that he was, in general, a really nice and positive guy, made him incredibly appealing to Nathan.

After the two had talked for a while, Oliver suddenly remarked: "You know, I really like your stubble! It really suits you!"

Stubble? What was he talking about? Nathan rarely needed to shave, but he had done so this morning, so, it was absolutely impossible that he should have visible facial hair. And yet, as he felt his chin, his fingers met with bristly short hair, so dense and long that there was no way he could have missed it this morning. Nathan found it strange, to say the least, but didn't want to make a scene in this situation. His spark of courage was a small candle flame now, as he just smiled while he felt his chin and said "Thank you!"

The two continued to chat a bit. While doing so, Nathan tried not to think too much about the fact that his clothes were, somehow, tighter than before.

Finally, Oliver's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

"Damn, it's that late already?"

"What is it?", asked Nathan.

"Oh, the dog shelter. I have a shift soon, I need to go!"

Nathan sighed inwardly. He was really enjoying the date and didn't want it to end. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Olivers hand on his. It felt... good. Good and strange, like the texture of his own hand was somewhat wrong, somewhat rougher than before. When he looked up into Oliver's eyes, he found the other man smiling.

"I really enjoyed this. You are a wonderful person, Nathan. We should do this again."

Nathan nodded. He didn't trust his voice right now.

"How about... tomorrow?", Oliver continued. "There's an art exhibition in town, perhaps you would like to go there with me?"

Nathan's heart jumped a beat. He didn't have time or courage yet to go to the exhibition and the prospect of seeing Oliver again so soon was wonderful.

"I would very much like that", Nathan replied and smiled.

"Great! Let's meet there, say at 5?"

"Sure!"

Oliver smiled his beautiful, broad smile, and stood up, leaving some money for the coffees on the table. Nathan too got up, but before he could leave, Oliver stopped him with a warm expression in his eyes. "You know, I really think I like you a lot." He said, and his hand touched Nathan's somewhat bristly cheek. Almost automatically, both of their faces drew closer to each other, until their lips met with the slightest touch. It was a chaste, short kiss, but Nathan could feel Oliver's lips smile when they broke apart.

"See you tomorrow!", said Oliver and left the cafe.

Nathan's knees felt weak, and his heart was beating rapidly. There were a thousand feeling, all happening inside him at once and Nathan needed a moment to sort through them before he was able to move again. There was a part of him that couldn't quite believe what just happened, but the biggest part was just euphoric. He basically jogged back to his home, full of a never experienced energy.

When he arrived in his room, his body was feeling even weirder than before. All of his clothes were way too tight. It was not just that he felt constricted, no, the clothes actually were much too small. He quickly got rid of them, noticing that, again, he had sweated like a pig. As Nathan glanced down on himself, he could almost see that his body was somehow different. Fitter, healthier. It was probably just his imagination, though, caused by his ecstatic mood. He briefly considered taking another shower but postponed it to tomorrow. There would be plenty of time and Nathan felt really glad and tired for today.

Nathan woke up from two different feelings the next morning. First, he felt itchy and sweaty all over his body and was subconsciously scratching himself in his sleep. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, Nathan was experiencing a severe case of morning wood. His manhood was rigid and pulsating under his sheets and was begging for attention. Nathan had a hard time remembering when he last experienced such an urgent urge to jerk off. He wasn't sure, but the memories of their kissing yesterday came to his mind as soon as he woke up, so, he couldn't resist closing his hand around his hard cock and started pumping. His hand felt rough and big, and Nathan couldn't be sure, but both length and girth of his tool seemed increased, too. However, Nathan could hardly concentrate on that due to the waves of pleasure washing over him.

It didn't take very long for Nathan to shoot a big load onto his stomach, with a moan. It was a big and sticky load, too, mixing with the little dark hairs on his stomach and chest. Nathan blinked in post-nut clarity. Hairs? He didn't have body hair.

Nathan got up quickly and went to the bathroom. Something about his perspective was off, too. It was like the ceiling was closer than it was supposed to be, and the ground further away. Once Nathan had used some toilet paper to wipe away most of the cum, he took a look at himself in the mirror. There was no denying that he looked different. He was definitely somewhat taller and broader than before. He didn't have a scale, but he was sure that he had gained quite some weight as well - not only due to the increased height and broader shoulders but also because his previous stickman-like appearance had been altered quite somewhat. All over his frame, a lean definition was visible, hinting at muscles even. His chin was covered in visible stubble and there was a bit of body hair visible, mainly on his chest and stomach as well as peeking out under his armpit.

Speaking of which, as Nathan raised his arm to look at his pits, a certain smell reached his nose. A musky, manly, slightly sweaty odor that wasn't quite unpleasant but was certainly unfamiliar.

Nathan had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. There was no denying he looked *good*. He just didn't look exactly like *himself*. And for some reason, this didn't bother Nathan quite as much as it probably should. He should be panicking or calling a doctor. People didn't just grow taller overnight or put on definition without working out. And yet, Nathan only felt a slight bit of curiosity and a weak impulse that he probably *should* work out then.

Nathan shook his head and went back to his bedroom. He didn't bother putting on clothing and tried to pass the time until afternoon. The only thing that he *really* regretted about his sudden changes was that his favorite shirt and jeans would definitely not fit anymore.

He ended up watching a bit of TV and browsing the internet, before he decided it was time to prepare himself. Finding clothes that would fit now proved to be quite a challenge, but in the end, he settled on a plain t-shirt and some cargo pants. He had bought both of them a number too big by mistake, which came in quite handy now.

Walking through the city was a strange experience. He felt good about himself and held his head high. Combined with the fact that Nathan's head was, indeed, higher than before, it was like seeing the city in a whole new perspective. Less looking at the ground and more looking straight ahead.

His new posture seemed to have another effect, too. Where before he had to avoid people, trying not to get in their way, now they seemed to be stepping aside for him, which was a foreign but not unpleasant experience.

Finally, he arrived at the exhibition and found Oliver already waiting for him. They greeted with a hug and a short kiss, both fully reciprocated by Nathan, and went inside. Although Oliver seemed to notice something was off about Nathan, he didn't mention it and apparently forgot about it quickly.

Today, Nathan found it much easier to talk to Oliver and brought up topics by himself.

The exhibition however was kind of a let-down for Nathan. Although he could judge on a rational level that the art presented here was really well-done and interesting, on a purely emotional level, Nathan found it mind-numbingly boring. The conversation steered away from the art quickly, and more towards personal matters, which was a relief. So, even though they didn't care much about the paintings around them, the two of them ended up wandering around the exhibition for hours, talking and having a good time.

During the date, however, Nathan was quickly experiencing an unfamiliar feeling. The company of Oliver was... exciting. Exciting on a sexual, primal level. Nathan's larger manhood grew semi-hard in his underwear quickly, so Nathan had to readjust himself more than once. At first, he was very self-conscious about it and tried to be as subtle as possible. However, with every push his cock needed in order not to be too obvious, Nathan actually cared less about who saw him readjust himself. He was a guy after all, and all big-dicked men had that particular problem from time to time.

Besides forming a bulge in his groin, however, his constantly semi-hard cock did one more thing: Nathan was leaking precum in his underwear. First, it was just a drop or two on an involuntary throb, but it quickly became more. His underwear was feeling damp before long, and a faint note of sexuality mixed into his still present smell.

After a while, Oliver even commented on it, in his usual upbeat way: "Hey, Nathan, I have to say, you smell pretty good. Are you using cologne?"

Nathan hadn't noticed his own smell too much. His first impulse was to apologize, but the burning campfire of courage inside of him quickly told him otherwise. Oliver didn't complain. In fact, he liked it.

So, Nathan answered with a grin: "Nope. That's just how I smell."

Oliver took another whiff of the mixture of sweat, dried cum and precum and smiled. "Well, I like it!"

Nathan wasn't quite sure how to react, and just said: "Thanks!"

The exhibition was closing down soon, and Nathan offered Oliver to accompany him to the train station, which he gladly accepted. When they parted, they kissed again. This time, it wasn't a small, timid kiss like before, but a long, sexual one that made Nathan's dick twitch like mad in the confines of his pants. Since their bodies were pressed closely together, Nathan could be sure that Oliver felt the movement against his own groin.

Only after they broke the kiss, Nathan noticed that he was now looking down on Oliver slightly. He could have sworn that Oliver had been slightly taller than him yesterday.

There was no telling on how the evening would have continued hadn't it been for Oliver's train to arrive just then. Before Oliver could board the train, however, Nathan grinned at him and said: "Dinner tomorrow? The Italian place downtown, at 6?"

"I would love that!"

They kissed again and Nathan watched as the train pulled out. Then, he went back to his dorm, whistling a happy tune. It didn't even occur to him that he had taken the initiative in asking Oliver out for a third date. The fire of confidence was burning bright inside of him.

When he came home, Nathan immediately stripped out of his clothes. Even the larger shirt had become somewhat tight. He took a short look at it. There was a wet patch under both arms from his constant sweating, and the t-shirt had adapted his smell. There was something else in the smell, though. At the chest region, there was a medium sized stain, machine oil from the smell of it. Nathan wondered briefly how he could have missed it this morning but then diverted his attention to more pressing matters. His cock was fully hard and was poking out from the waistband of his briefs. Nathan hadn't had an erection like that since puberty and, if he was honest with himself, the feeling was rather nice. Without hesitation, he closed his hand around his hard meat and gave it a few experimental pumps. A low growl escaped his mouth, and a shiver went through his body. He didn't want to go slow, he wanted to fuck. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He didn't even bother to close his curtains, as he went for it. Nathan was jacking himself off, fast and hard, growling and groaning, until he finally exploded all over his chest and face, shooting multiple loads of thick white cum everywhere.

As Nathan was catching his breath, the smell of cum was heavy in the room. God, he needed that. Ever since he met Oliver today. He wiped his face and chest with his discarded t-shirt and briefly considered if he wanted to take a shower. The smell emanating from him was rather strong now, but still, he didn't want to. Oliver seemed to like his body odor, and, if Nathan was being honest, he did so himself, too.

Nathan was woken by his alarm the next morning. As his mind came to focus, his hand reached for the smartphone automatically and dismissed the alarm. He yawned and stretched. He was really looking forward to today. Given, it was the last day before classes started again, but he was going to a third date with Oliver this evening!

When Nathan crawled out of bed and went for his bathroom, however, his body felt weird again. The muscles had become more defined over the course of the last two days and now, the whole body structure felt *strong*. The few hairs from before had become a small forest of body hair and the stubble had grown thicker. He still didn't feel the need for a shave, though.

Nathan wasn't quite sure about the whole situation. Of course, he was enjoying the change. On the other hand, ... No, fuck the other hand. This was great, plain and simple. He finished his morning business standing up while peeing, which he usually never did. But right now, it just felt *right*.

After that, he inspected his wardrobe. He had half-feared that he would need to go and buy new clothes, but apparently, overnight his wardrobe had changed as well. It was filled with sturdy cargos or work pants as well as simple shirts and the occasional overall. Good!

His underwear choice had also changed. Instead of briefs or boxers, the drawer was now filled with jockstraps. That made sense, of course - only a jockstrap would set his large dick in the right scene.

None of the clothes qualified as "clean". Sure, they had been washed before they went into the wardrobe, but permanent grease or oil stains had permeated the fabric just as Nathan's manly stink - both marks no washing machine could ever erase entirely.

Nathan grabbed one of the pants and smelled it. He couldn't help but smile. This was his smell. This was *his* smell. His manly, sweaty, dirty, horny smell. He even felt his ever-present dick twitch a bit at the smell. Nathan wasn't sure if he would ever get used to this new reality. Or if this even was the final reality.

The hours passed quickly. Nathan was keeping himself busy, playing games or listened to music. Not once did it occur to him to draw something or even look at his art. This new him wasn't particularly creative, it seemed.

Nathan's mind wandered back to the date this evening. He couldn't wait to see Oliver again. In fact, he couldn't wait for more than that. It was a third date and Nathan wanted to go all the way with Oliver. He wanted to take his ass and fuck it into oblivion.

At around 5 pm, Nathan stood in front of the Italian place, waiting for Oliver. When Oliver finally arrived, the two men greeted each other with a passionate kiss. Nathan could tell that the kiss was having an effect on Oliver, as his breathing was quicker than usual.

They went inside and sat down on a table. Almost automatically, Nathan's legs spread wide, taking up space, establishing presence and, most importantly, giving his equipment the necessary space. The *old* Nathan would have sat with his legs closed or even crossed, in order to not draw any attention to himself. However, the new Nathan didn't want to draw *less* attention.

The two chatted a bit, with the main topic of the conversation being the menu, before ordering. When he spoke, Nathan noted that his voice had dropped an octave, making his voice gravely and his laugh a low rumble. When Oliver had chosen, Nathan summoned the waiter and ordered for the both of them, his lower voice full of confidence. For Nathan, it was a large meat pizza and a beer.

"You know, I have never seen you drink before", remarked Oliver.

"I don't usually", replied Nathan. "But I thought I'd have a beer today."

"You're not driving, are you?"

"Na, I'm here on foot."

Oliver smiled his usual smile. "I'm here by car, so if you like, I can give you a ride home afterwards."

There seemed to be some subtext to this offer, but it went over Nathan's head. Not that it was necessary, because he had the exact same plans, anyway.

"Sounds great!"

A couple of minutes later, their pizzas arrived, and the two dug in.

"I really like your style, Nathan." said Oliver after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the way you dress. The way you talk. The way you act."

"Oh. Thanks."

Nathan thought for a moment before he added: "You know, I go by Nate these days."

"Nate, eh?", smiled Oliver.

"Yeah. Fits better, you know."

"I guess so. I like it a lot!"

"I like your style, too."

"What do you mean by that?", Oliver laughed.

"Just, the way you talk, the way you walk. Everything. You're cute, you know."

"Why, thank you!"

The conversation was definitely a lot more flirtatious than yesterday. When they had finished their meals, they didn't linger much longer in the restaurant but got into Oliver's car.

Nate proceeded to give Oliver directions to his home. However, at a certain crossing, he had to stop and think for a moment. He knew for a fact that his dorm was to the left. But he also knew for a fact that his *home* was to the right. Nate decided not to overthink it and directed Oliver to the right with a firm voice.

They didn't get very far from that point, when suddenly, the car stopped with a jerk.

"Damn, sorry!" said Oliver. "The engine is acting up again. It's probably too cold or something like that. I'll just try to start it up again."

When after the third try, the engine didn't start again, Nate laid a hand on Oliver's. "Let me try." he said with a confident voice and left the car. When he opened the hood, the problem became clear to him right away.

"The carburetor is a bit clogged, I'll unclog it real quick and we're ready to go."

While Oliver was staring at Nate in surprise, as the latter quickly and with trained skill removed a few parts and then, with a flex of his mighty arms, applied percussive maintenance to the part in question. After Nate had reassembled the engine, he cleaned his hands on his pants and got into the car again, filling out the passenger seat with his presence.

"It should work again for now, but I'll have to clean it thoroughly tomorrow. The thing is just old and worn down, it needs replacing soon. Just try starting the engine."

Oliver was still staring at Nate with a disbelieving look on his face. Finally, however, he tried starting the engine again, and the car did indeed start running smoothly.

"Wow, Nate, that was amazing! Where did you learn that?"

"What do you mean", grinned Nate. "That's what I do!"

Oliver stared at him for a moment. "Wait, you're a mechanic?"

"Yeah, sure, didn't I tell you when we met?"

Oliver seemed to think about it but then slowly nodded: "Yes, I... think so. Weird. I could have sworn..."

Nate shrugged and pointed down the road: "Shall we go?"

They arrived at Nate's place shortly after. He had a cheap apartment directly over the car garage where he worked. Nate did try to clean up a bit the afternoon, but the place still screamed "Manly bachelor" all over the place with the occasional beer can or jockstrap scattered around.

Neither of them had time to care, though. As soon as the door closed, the two kissed. It wasn't just a chaste, romantic kiss. This was a heated, passionate kiss, full of desire and lust. Nate took Oliver's body and pushed him against the wall, grinding their bodies together. Both were hard and their breathing was rapid. Nate's hands wandered up and down Oliver's body, squeezing and grabbing his body. His fingers were strong and forceful, and he squeezed the smaller man's buttocks and his dick with the same intensity. Oliver responded by moaning and pushing his groin against Nate's, humping him.

Suddenly, Nate broke the kiss. "Oliver, I... I want you. I want to fuck you."

Oliver didn't answer, but kissed Nate again, harder this time. Nate's tongue invaded his mouth, and the bigger man's hands were ripping Oliver's shirt and pants off him. Once Oliver's dick was free, it was enveloped by Nate's big calloused hand, and Oliver's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh god, Nate, yes!" he moaned.

Nate had enough of foreplay, and he wanted to fuck, now. Without wasting any time, he quickly pushed his pants down and pressed his dick against Oliver's. It was massive, even compared to Oliver's not insignificant size. While Nate's balls were big and heavy, his cock was thick, long, and veiny, with a fat mushroom head. It was also rock hard, and the head was already drooling precum.

With one hand, Nate stroked the two cocks together, rubbing them and smearing the precum all over his dick and Oliver's. With the other hand, he pulled Oliver close and kissed him again, a long, sensual, passionate kiss, which made Oliver moan into his mouth.

The two stood like that for a while, but finally, Nate's need to fuck was stronger than anything else.

"Bedroom. Now!" he growled and dragged the smaller man with him. Once there, Nate simply tossed him onto the bed and followed quickly, his cock pointing up. He positioned himself on top of the other man and kissed him again, their tongues dancing in their mouths.

When the kiss broke, Oliver was panting.

"You really are a big boy, huh?"

"Damn right I am."

"Oh god, I need your big dick inside of me!"

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you?"

"Please! I've wanted to feel your huge meat in me for days."

"Fuck yeah. You're gonna get it."

Nate reached under his bed and produced a bottle of lube, which he applied liberally to his dick.

"You're ready?"

"Do it, big guy."

Nate placed the head of his massive cock against the tight pucker and started to push. Slowly but steadily, his dick invaded Oliver's ass.

"Oooooooooh god, Nate, yesssssss!" moaned Oliver.

The pressure around Nate's dick was unbelievable. Oliver was clearly tight, and the way his asshole was massaging his dick felt heavenly.

Finally, Nate's dick was balls-deep inside Oliver. Both were breathing heavily, and Oliver was moaning incoherently. Nate gave him a moment to adjust and then started moving his hips, first slowly, but increasing his pace quickly. Soon, he was slamming into Oliver's ass as hard as he could, pulling almost completely out and then thrusting back inside the smaller man.

"Fuck yeah! You like that? You like my huge dick pounding your tight little ass?"

"God, yes, Nate, fuck me, fuck meeee!"

Nate was groaning and growling, a sound that came deep from his chest and made Oliver moan even louder.

"Oh shit, Nate, I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop, don't st- ooooooooh gooooooood!"

Nate felt Oliver's muscles clamp down on his dick, and that sent him over the edge. He buried his dick as deep as he could and shot a big load of cum deep into Oliver's guts.

The two of them collapsed on each other, spent but happy.

A lot had changed for Nathan in this new year. He had gotten a new body, a new job, a new identity even. But most importantly, he had found love. Nate the manly mechanic sighed. If he were to describe his feelings, looking into the future, there was only one fitting word: Confidence.

I actually generated a ton (okay, 50) of images for this story. If you want to check out the alternate versions of the different stages of Nathan/Nate, check out my tip jar, where I posted them!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #hairy #mental transformation #sweat #musk #romance

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 6 months

Text

Honey, I’m Home - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Kids; Talk of Pregnancy but Not Actually; Excessive Fluff

Summary: Rooster comes home from work and takes care of his family.

Master List

Rooster was always cautious about the idea of getting married and having kids. When he lost his mom, he pictured having a big family of his own one day. In a way, to recreate the family that he lost. But then adulthood caught up with him and insecurity creeped in. After everything that happened in his childhood, he knew the risks that came with being a naval aviator. He knew what could happen.

But there was no way that he could just let the woman who would go on to become his wife get seduced by some other unworthy sucker. He had to put a ring on her finger. There was no other option. And five years, a wedding, two kids, and a thousand other things in between, there was nothing that Rooster would have done differently.

Except marrying her the night that they met, perhaps.

And returning home after work, Bradley assumed that he would walk into Alex living out his whole terrible two phase even though he was now three while poor baby Nickie cried in the background. Bradley knew that his wife was exhausted. He knew that she was stressed. And he tried to pick up where he could.

But today, he was surprised to return to a quiet house. There was no screaming or crying. Neither the dishwasher nor the washing machine were running. And neither was the TV. Bradley walked further into the house, genuinely wondering if everyone was home when he finally spotted his family.

Nickie was asleep in his bassinet, little fists up by his head just in case if someone tried to wake him up, so that he could give them a smack. His wife laid with her head resting on her arm. Alex laid on his back with his head resting against her chest and his mouth wide open.

Bradley paused, taking more careful steps forward. He didn’t want to risk waking anyone up. They all needed their sleep.

Carefully slipping away, Bradley changed out of his uniform and into a tank top and shorts before moving around the bedroom. Picking up clothes and cleaning the attached bathroom, Bradley tried to help where he could. And when he was finished there, he headed into the kid’s bedrooms to clean up there as well.

He knew that something as small as cleaning up the toys on Alex’s floor would make his wife’s day easier and he tried to do as many small tasks as he could without the risk of waking any of them up. Running a load of laundry, Bradley walked into the living room to check on his family. With everyone still asleep, Bradley kept moving through the rooms in the house.

Checking his watch, Bradley had to assume that it was probably a better idea to just get takeout rather than risk waking his family up by moving the pots and pans around. Carefully grabbing his keys, he headed out to his car. Half an hour later, he returned with food from his wife’s favorite restaurant and slowly crept into the living room again. Everyone was still asleep, but the smell of food seemed to finally rouse his wife.

Picking up her head, she blinked blurrily and squinted towards the kitchen. She sat up a bit before she realized the position that she was in with Alex resting his head against her chest. Rooster walked over to his wife instead, both of them knowing better than to risk waking Alex. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips in greeting before pulling away.

“Have a good nap?” he asked softly.

“Seems like it,” she yawned, looking down at Alex with a small smile. “I can’t even remember how we ended up here.”

“I bought dinner. Your favorite.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, resting her head against her arm again as she stared up at her husband. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“They’re a handful.”

“You think?” she replied softly, causing Bradley to grin.

She hummed to herself before Alex started to stir against her chest. After a couple moments, he eventually woke up, whining as he rubbed his eyes dramatically.

“Hey, Bubba, are you hungry?” Rooster questioned, gently picking Alex up.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, curling up against Rooster’s shoulder.

“Alright, let’s get you some food and then back to bed, okay?”

Bradley helped Alex eat his food and once he gave Alex some water to wash it down, got him changed and into bed before Alex could fully wake up and cause a ruckus. Nickie stirred a bit but it didn’t take too much more to settle him to sleep in his crib.

And for the first time in a long time, Bradley and his wife actually sat down and ate dinner together. Just the two of them.

“I almost forgot what this was like,” she mused, reaching for her glass. “It’s been so long since it was just the two of us.”

“You know, maybe I can rope Mav into watching them for a weekend. We’ll go to a nice hotel or rent a house. And just spend the weekend in bed together.”

She shot him a look and playfully threw a scrunched up napkin at his face. Shaking her head, she reached for her glass again.

“Only if you promise to not knock me up again so soon after Nickie,” she stated. “You’ve had that look in your eye like you want another one.”

“I would eventually like another one. Hopefully a girl,” Rooster conceded, though he shot you a reassuring smile. “But you’re the quarterback. You make the final call.”

“I’ll keep you in mind for later,” you told him.

Rooster jokingly made the phone symbol with his hand and mouthed, ‘call me,’ to which you dramatically winked back.

The two of you finished your dinner together before heading up to your room. You took a quick shower while Rooster checked up on Nickie, whose bassinet was set up next to your bed. Rooster was waiting with the blanket pulled back for you. Slipping in beside your husband, you let him pull you to his chest. You were out in about fifteen seconds, still exhausted, and Rooster chuckled to himself when you started to snore, since you insisted that you never ever snored.

Rooster was about to fall asleep himself when there was a light tap on the door. Picking his head up, Rooster gently maneuvered you over so that he could slip out of bed. He walked over to the door and pulled it open to reveal Alex with his blankie in the hallway.

“Can I sleep with you and Mommy?”

“Come here, Bubba,” Rooster urged, scooping him up.

Pressing a kiss to Alex’s head, Rooster carried him over to the bed. Rooster set his son down on the bed and Alex quickly suctioned himself into Rooster’s wife’s side. Rooster brushed his son’s hair with his hand before he climbed back into bed and got himself comfortable. Smiling as he looked over at his family, Rooster rolled over and went to bed.

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jensengirl83 · 2 months

Text

At First You Don't Succeed

Dean x reader

Word Count-827

Warnings- language

Summary- Dean forgets the reader's birthday and he tries to make it up to her. But nothing he tries seems to go his way.

Y/N sat at the table in the kitchen, sipping her coffee. She was the first one awake, giving her some time alone and time to think. Dean had gotten back to the bunker very late and crashed. It had been a rough hunt, and she knew how those always seemed to take a toll on him. But she was still a little hurt. Yesterday had been her birthday, and he’d forgotten.

“Morning, babe,” Dean’s voice rang out in the empty room.

“Morning,” she mumbled, trying to hide the hurt in her tone.

“What’s up?” he asked, knowing something was wrong. She was never that short with him. Especially when he had just returned from being away for over a week.

“Nothin’. I’m good. Did you sleep well?”

He lifted his brow in concern and confusion. He knew she was lying him, but he didn’t know what, or who, had bothered her. That was until he glanced down at his phone after he had poured his coffee.

“Fuck!” he grumbled under his breath.

He’d missed her birthday.

“What?” she asked, hearing him mumble something.

“Huh? Oh, nothing, babe. Just stubbed my toe,” he answered quickly, hoping she didn’t know he was lying, “I, uh, I’m going to go clean my guns.”

He hastily made his way out of the kitchen before she could say anything. He didn’t want to get caught in his lie or see the look of disappointment on her face he knew would surely be there. He hated to make her sad or hurt her feelings, and he had done both for sure. He was going to make it up to her, beg her forgiveness, and hope they could salvage the day. What he didn’t know was nothing he had planned would work out in his favor at all.

He had tried running her bath after leaving the kitchen that morning, only to get distracted while looking something up on his phone and the entire bathroom flooded with the overdrawn tub. The second thing he’d tried that day was making her lunch and bringing it to her in bed. The lunch part had gone fine until he was three feet from the bed, dropping the plate and spilling the food all over the floor. The giggle that left Y/N had made him mad for a second, but he would keep trying.

Trying once again, he’d gone to buy her flowers. They didn’t have her favorites, so he grabbed a bouquet of ones he thought she would think was pretty. Yet again, that had blown up in his face when he brought them home to her, reaching from behind his back, a proud grin on his face, to learn that she was allergic to that type of flower. With a huff of defeat and annoyance, he left to try one more thing.

Y/N walked into the kitchen that evening, her jaw dropping at the hurricane of ingredients and utensils strewn around the room. It was a complete mess, but she couldn’t help but smile. Standing in the middle of the chaos was Dean, holding the cake he had made her. A shy smile on his face.

“Uh,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous, “I know it’s not pretty and it probably tastes like shit, but I tried. Hopefully this isn’t going to end like everything else I tried today.”

“Dean,” she sighed happily, walking over and cupping his face in her hands, “It’s perfect.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect. I just hope you like it, sweetheart. And I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. I was just so tired from the hunt, and I just wanted to get home to you and…”

She interrupted him, crashing her lips to his, pulling away to look at him. Damn, how she loved this man. Yes, he forgot her birthday, but he always carried the world on his shoulders. She really couldn’t be mad that he forgot, considering he’d always remembered every other time. As she looked at him, the little smirk on his face, she began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He huffed, a little miffed that she was laughing at his attempt to make her birthday up to her.

“I’m sorry, but Dean, you have to admit, all the failed attempts today are a little funny.”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” he groaned, “I really tried to make it up to you, and nothing would go right.”

“Aww, babe. You did make it up to me. The fact that you tried that hard, whether it failed or not, shows me that you care. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Well, shit. If I knew that, I would’ve given up a long time ago,” he laughed when she swatted his arm, “Now, let’s eat this fugly ass cake, and then I’ll show you my last idea of how I’m going to make it up to you.”

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester

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sansaorgana · 2 months

Note

Hi! It's anon from the period thoughts hehe! I think you're spot on with all of that! Thank you :) Any chance you can do a fic with it?

Gale w/a girlfriend or wife that's having awful period cramps/day?

hiii 😘 guess who started her period today? ME 🤣 when I realised this request is next in the line to be written I laughed 😛 because it's something I'm going through at the moment, I got a bit carried away and it's quite long for a cute little fic like that haha 🥰

I have about 10 MOTA requests to write in my inbox 😅 so please, go easy with them for a while 👉🏻👈🏻 especially that requests for Feyd are open now, too 🤩

You were laying on the couch under a blanket, mindlessly watching the TV with your eyes hazy from the painkiller you had taken. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working for the pain but it was making you feel even more dazed out.

When you heard the front door opening, you sensed the feeling of guilt forming a knot in your stomach. Buck was coming back home after work and not only his house hadn’t been cleaned but also there was no dinner waiting for him on the table. You hoped he’d survive on the sandwiches but you felt bad for him.

“I’m back!” He announced his arrival but you didn’t move. You simply couldn’t.

You heard him undressing and taking his shoes off before peeking into the living room and looking at the TV.

“You’re watching this?” He asked surprised. Well, the program was stupid as hell and you were aware of it.

“I don’t want to but I can’t move to turn it off,” you admitted in a raspy, tired voice.

“Are you okay?” Buck furrowed his brows and approached the TV. He crouched down and turned it off.

“Thank you, it was starting to give me a migraine,” you admitted with a sigh.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He turned around to face you.

“I’m sorry, I have those days,” you explained.

“What days, love?”

“Ugh…” You winced at one of the cramps. “Code red, Gale. Those days,” you specified.

“Oh,” he straightened himself and put his hands on his hips, getting visibly awkward. “What can I do for you? Does it hurt a lot?”

“Yes, it does. Just leave me here alone…” You mumbled. “And don’t get angry at me because I haven’t done anything around the house. Haven’t cooked anything either,” you lowered your voice, a little scared of his reaction.

You didn’t expect your husband to be angry about such a thing. He was not like most men. But he still could get a little frustrated and irritated. You wouldn’t blame him for that but it would still feel awful to disappoint him like that.

“Hey, you don’t feel good, it’s fine,” Buck only said. “I can make myself sandwiches,” he shrugged his arms. “Have you eaten anything?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Not really, no,” you answered. “I took a painkiller but it’s not helping. It made me hazy, though.”

Buck stood there in silence for a while, looking as if he was thinking intensely about something.

“I have an idea,” he said finally. “Are you allowed to take baths in your state?” He asked and you laughed at him.

“Jesus, Gale, can you imagine not being allowed to take a bath when you’re bleeding for a few days straight?” You asked and he blushed adorably. It was quite cute how he was feeling uncomfortable with the subject of periods and how little he did know about them… yet, he still tried to help.

“Let’s run you a bath then,” he nodded.

“Gale, please…” You sighed. “Baby, you’re tired after work. Just make yourself sandwiches and get some rest, too,” you tried to stop him.

“I’m fine,” he assured you. “Come,” he approached you and picked you up bridal style with the blanket still around you. You squeezed it in your fist so it wouldn’t fall down and let him carry you to the bathroom upstairs.

Buck sat you carefully on the closed toilet seat and turned the faucet on to fill the bathtub with the warm water. He opened one of the drawers of your bathroom cabinet and hummed to himself.

“What kind of bath do you want?” He asked, unsurely.

“What do you mean by that?” You leaned back, resting your head on the cold bathroom tiles.

“You have all sorts of things here… Rose, lavender, vanilla…” He read the words on the bottles of your bath oils.

“Lavender helps,” you told him and Buck nodded his head.

He took the bottle out and you watched him carefully tilting it above the bathtub… only to pour half of it inside the water. You gasped.

“What?” He turned his head around, startled by the sound leaving your mouth.

“You’re supposed to add a few drops…” You sighed, too tired to get annoyed. Also, getting annoyed when he was trying so hard to help you would be simply unfair.

“I’m sorry… Should I run another bath now?” He asked.

“Don’t be crazy. You’ve no idea how much money you’ve just poured down there,” you let out a tired chuckle.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Buck closed the lid and put the bottle back in the drawer. “But is it safe to bathe in it now?”

“Only one way to find out, is it?” You shrugged your arms.

Buck approached you to help you stand up but you shook your head.

“No, no,” you stood up by yourself on shaky legs. “I don’t… I don’t want you to see…” You explained shyly.

“It’s just some blood, I can handle it, baby,” he assured you but he was blushing again.

“Please, just leave me here and go downstairs to eat something,” you told him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Actually, I’ll go to the store,” he stated. “I’ll buy us some proper dinner and I’ll be back in twenty minutes. You won’t drown in the meantime, will you?”

“Don’t be daft, I’m not a baby,” you smiled at him and he nodded.

Buck left the bathroom and when you were left alone there, you allowed the blanket to fall down on the floor. Then you got rid of the rest of the clothes and went inside the bathtub, sighing out of relief at the feeling of the warm water.

You were sitting there for so long that the water turned cold, however you felt too comfortable to leave. It was Buck’s soft knocking upon the door that made you finally move.

“I’m back. Are you alive there?” He asked through the door.

“Yes, I’m about to leave now,” you answered.

“Alright. I have chicken,” he told you. “Do you want tea?”

“Yes, please.”

You heard his footsteps going downstairs as you watched the water go down the drain before you stood up, grabbed a towel and dried yourself before putting dark underwear, a black nightgown and a robe that you had in the bathroom cabinet. You put the dress and underwear you had been wearing earlier to the laundry bin and picked up the blanket to fold it and take it with you downstairs to put it back in the living room.

You felt so much better after your bath, you had to admit it. Your hair was wet but you didn’t bother with drying it. It was around six in the evening and you already looked like you were about to go to sleep but you knew that Buck wouldn’t mind that at all.

And indeed, when you walked inside the kitchen, he didn’t even ask about it nor furrowed his brows at your nighttime attire. There was a chicken with mashed potatoes and a salad on the table already, alongside the tea he had made for you.

“I bought more of that lavender oil so you don’t run out of it,” Buck pointed at the unpacked groceries on the kitchen counter. “And something sweet for you,” he added. “The lady at the store was nosy, she asked me why I was buying chicken for dinner and was my wife sick so I told her the truth and she told me women like sweets when they have… those days,” his cheeks turned pink as he moved the chair for you and you sat down with a smile.

“She was right,” you told him.

“Oh, good, for a while I was scared she just wanted to swindle me to spend more money,” Buck chuckled and took a seat in front of you. “So, after all, she was helpful.”

“Yeah, I know what nosy lady you’re talking about,” you nodded at him. “She’s annoying but she’s also sweet. Hard to explain,” you giggled.

“And how do you feel now?”

“I feel much better, thank you,” you nodded and reached your hand out to caress his and give it a light squeeze before you both started to eat the chicken.

Buck was telling you about his day at work and you were listening with a slight smile. You would usually comment and ask questions or gasp at some things, demanding to know more gossip. But today you were just nodding your head and smiling, still listening but less attentively.

“I’m sorry, perhaps you’d rather eat in silence. You’ve mentioned getting a migraine before,” Buck shut his mouth suddenly.

“I would have told you if I wanted you to be quiet, baby. It’s fine,” you assured him. “And the migraine is gone now. The bath really helped me.”

“Well… I think I’ve already said everything anyway,” he laughed and stood up to get the empty plates from the table to put them in the sink. “I will wash them and you go upstairs and lay in bed. I’ll bring you the dessert when I’m done.”

“You’re absolutely the sweetest, you know that?” You asked him.

“I’m only taking care of you, darling. Like husbands do. You take care of me, too. Every day,” he looked like he didn’t understand why you were so grateful and it was making him even more special.

And he didn’t even know.

You wondered if his heart was truly so pure that he had no idea how other men could treat their wives. Whenever someone would mention some dreadful story of this sort, Buck would always widen his eyes as if he found it hard to believe. Perhaps he was truly that innocent and oblivious. Or he just couldn’t imagine being so cruel. Either way, he was a gem.

“I just love you so much,” you whispered, getting emotional. Most likely from the hormones.

“I love you, too,” he answered, a bit surprised. “Go upstairs, baby. Do you want me to carry you?”

“No, I will manage,” you stood up and kissed his cheek before leaving the kitchen.

In fact, you’d love him to carry you. But you didn’t want to bother him too much. So you just went to the bedroom and then you sighed at the sight of the freshly put white sheets. You had changed them in the morning, stupidly forgetting about your period coming soon.

With a grunt, you started to take them off. Your moves were slow and when Buck joined you upstairs, you were almost done.

“What are you doing?” He widened his eyes and put the tray he had been holding in his hands down on the vanity table.

“I put them on this morning but I have to change them now. I don’t want to stain them with blood,” you explained.

“You should have waited for me, I’ll do that,” Buck approached you and took the sheets from your hands. “Give that to me.”

“Buck, you’re a sweetheart, but I’m not dying or sick. I can do that, really,” you tried to assure him. “It’s not like it’s my first time having those days,” you explained, carefully avoiding the word period around him because you could only imagine how uncomfortable it would make him feel.

“You can help,” he agreed. “Give me the sheets you want me to put on,” he pointed to the wardrobe with his chin and you rolled your eyes before opening it and handing him the dark navy blue sheets. He gave you back the white ones and you folded them before putting them back.

When the bed was made, you sat under the cover and rested on the pillow. Your husband placed the tray in front of you and you smiled at the sight of a cake and some ice cream.

“Is it alright?” Buck asked.

“Yes, yes, it is,” you nodded with a smile and started to eat.

“By the way, I’m totally getting you a dishwasher,” he sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed and caressed your wet hair.

“Are you crazy? They're expensive!” You protested.

“But it’s going to make your life easier,” Buck pinched your cheek playfully. “You can’t say no, by the way, I’ve already made my decision.”

You didn’t say anything then and just finished eating as he watched you with admiration in his eyes. You offered him a few bites and he agreed to take them but most of the dessert was yours to eat on your own. When you were finished, you laid down, ready to take a nap. Buck took the tray from the bed and leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered softly.

“Well, then, my dreams better be of you,” you smiled at him lovingly, “if you want them to be sweet.”

Buck winked at you and went back downstairs to take the tray down. You were starting to fall asleep by the time he was back to lay down next to you and hold you close, making you feel loved and taken care of.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #*buck #lilysfiction #austin butler x reader #gale cleven x reader

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anastasiabowe · 5 months

Note

okay okay but i NEED mike praise. like him abusing your hole and telling you how good you are for him. his hands being everywhere instead of one place to show you how beautiful you are. omg im drooling 😻

Mikes cock plunged into your spasming cunt with ease at this point, you’re so out of it, the only thing in your mind is “Mike!” Your body moves on its own, and your voice is hoarse and tired from the screaming and cries from how Mike has been taking care of you.

Mikes voice was shaky and loud, you were getting closer and closer to your release with every moan and groan he let out.

“So fucking good, so fucking good, so fucking good.” He sounded like a broken record, the only thing on his mind was you, you, you.

Your pussy, your face, your body, your broken moans, your tears, your nails in his back, all of it made him feel on cloud nine.

He just couldn’t get enough of you, he kissed your lips, sucked your tits, bit your neck, he was basically feasting on you, and worshipping you like his own personal goddess.

“Doing so good f’me, such a good girl.” His words of praise sent you into another world-rocking orgasm. Your hips pulled from his never ending thrusts, and he only moved with them.

“I’m so close baby, you wanna make daddy cum?” You nodded to his more so rhetorical question.

“Then be a good girl, and stop tryna run.” He paused his thrusts, and readjusted his position. He went from laying between your legs and fucking you, to sitting up, your legs both on his shoulders, and him hitting a new angle.

“Aha!” You moan at the new position.

“Yeah? That feel good? Good, wanna make my baby happy.” He was covered in sweat, and looked so tired, but this is the moment he worked so hard to get too.

All of the edging was not in vain, he was about to cum, and cum hard.

“Ah- fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, want it inside?” You nodded continuously.

“Cum inside me, daddy!” You cried out and he damn near passed out from the feeling of your pussy.

“Giving you want you want, baby, such a good girl for me, y’deserve this, deserve everything!” He came inside of you, and you came with him.

When you think he finished, there was so much more left, he kept slowly fucking you through his long orgasm.

“Almost done baby, being so so good, gonna treat you real nice when I’m done.” He pumped into you a few more times, and his thrusts finally ceased.

He slowly pulled out, and watched his milky white cum deep out of you. Of course, like always, he takes 2 fingers and pushed it back inside of you.

He slowly layer your legs down, and on wobbly legs, headed to the bathroom to get a warm wet rag.

He cleaned you up real nice, like he said, and himself, and then finally laid in bed with you.

“Can’t tell you enough how good you did baby, always impressing me. Need t give you some award or something.” He whispered in your ear. He then kissed below you ear, kissed your neck, kissed your jaw, your cheek, and finally he kissed your lips, as softly as he could.

He didn’t want to break his baby, you know?

Check HERE for more!

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt #five nights at Freddy’s smut #like follow reboot #anastasiabowe #Anastasiabowe 2023

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ohnococo · 2 months

Text

Fight Night: Recovery | MMA!Fighter Sukuna x F!Reader

You return home in the early hours of the morning after your celebratory night out with Sukuna. You clean each other up, as promised, and things get steamy.

✧ Notes: Hello! I’m back with more of these two. If you haven’t read my series Fight Night, please do or Sukuna may seem unusually soft here. If you have, welcome back! Anything I post for this series will be less structured, just little moments in the lives of Sukuna and reader.

✧ Warnings: Fem bodied reader, implied drinking/partying, showering, very light body worship, bathing each other, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, explicit mention of old cum being cleaned

Fight Night Masterlist

You awaken to the feel of Sukuna’s arms sliding beneath you, lifting you from where he’d deposited you on his bed. He squeezes at your upper arms, encouraging you to hang onto him as he carries you to the bathroom. It’s a difficult task, with how your body feels as though it may as well be boneless at this point, but you manage.

“Took you long enough.”

“And how long did it take me?”

You don’t have to peel open your heavy lids to know he’s smirking, knowing full well you have no clue since you were out the second your body hit the bed. In lieu of the response he wasn’t really asking for, you wrap your arms tighter around his neck, keeping yourself pressed tightly to his bare chest before he sets you down onto the closed toilet. Once he has a hand wrapped around your ankle, you find it in you to open your eyes, if only to take in the sight of Sukuna kneeling in front of you as he pulls off your shoe and tosses it aside.

“Gentle, please.”

The look he gives you threatens to inspire something in your worn out body, brows raised as if his eyes alone were telling you off for daring to boss him around. It doesn’t stop him from removing the other shoe and setting it down slightly more gently, though.

He stands and begins unbuckling his belt, followed by undoing his trousers, and you finally notice that the sound of running water is coming from the shower instead of the bathtub as you’d been expecting.

“I thought you were going to run a bath.”

He shakes his head dismissively, pushing his trousers and boxer briefs down in one go and kicking them off, “I’m too tired for all of that.”

The corners of your mouth curl upward, like he’d admitted some well kept secret with that small statement. “So you do get tired.”

“Sometimes.” It’s said simply, a thin veil of a response over the reminder that he would always keep you on your toes when it came to these things.

You lift your arms, looking up at Sukuna through your lashes and doing a little expectant wiggle.

“I’ve got to do everything, hm?”

“You promised to clean me up.”

He tilts his head and lets out a little huff, “Fair enough.”

And that’s that, as he tugs the bottom of your dress up your thighs and over your ass. It’s a job made easy by how stretched out the thick blue fabric had become over the course of the night from all the times it had been hiked up to give Sukuna the access you rarely denied him. You decide to aid him slightly, undoing the buttons at the back of your neck before stretching your arms back into the air. He pulls it over your head and off, tossing it aside with the rest of the removed clothing. Getting you naked is quick work, given how the low back of the dress had left you unable to wear a bra in the first place, and your panties had been discarded before you’d even reached the halfway point of the night.

His arms settle back onto your waist, helping you lift yourself onto your feet, and they keep their place loosely - even as you turn and take heavy steps to the shower while he follows. You can tell from his hovering hands that he half-expects you to slip or stumble with how barely-coherent you’d been earlier, but you find the little nap you’d gotten on the way home and then on his bed was enough to give you somewhat of a second wind. Still, you enjoy having his hands so near, ready to keep you steady should you need it.

You settle yourself with your back to the spray of water, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face to his chest. “Wash my hair?”

He doesn’t answer outright, instead leaning down to grab something among the products that had accumulated in the corner of his shower over the last several weeks. Your head goes with his gentle movement, not wanting to leave its comfortable spot against his firm chest, and when he straightens with shampoo in hand he sets it on the higher tiled shelf with his own products so it’s within easy reach.

As he backs you further into the falling water, you don’t expect much, but Sukuna exceeds those expectations with how gentle he is as his fingers smooth over your hair. He dips his fingertips into the thick of it, shaking lightly to make sure it’s wet all the way through before he’s picking the bottle of shampoo up again.

Were you slightly more coherent, you’d notice how his motions mimic your own from the times the two of you had showered together since you began occupying more and more of his space. Times when Sukuna quietly enjoyed your proximity, washing off sweat formed from nights spent much more sober, and much less clothed than this one had been. Though now you were drinking and fucking and dancing your way through the city just like you once had, and it left you both with a much bigger mess to clean.

Once he’s got shampoo in your hair, followed by his fingertips at your scalp making firm circles, you lean your head back into his hands, letting him cradle your head as he works. You let out a small groan and his warm breath hits your face as you open your eyes and see the look he’s giving you.

“Don’t make noises like that if you don’t want to get fucked.”

You laugh, squeezing his waist tighter with your arms, “I’m too sore.”

“Hasn’t stopped us before.”

“And I’m tired. I thought you were too?”

He dips his head down, water hitting his own hair and making you close your eyes as it cascades off of him and onto your face. His nose brushes yours as his mouth hovers close, already open and waiting for you to do the same, and once your lips are parted he speaks low into your mouth, making you listen before you have his kiss.

“It’d take a lot more than a night out to have me too tired for that.”

It has you smiling as his lips meet yours and you taste remnants of the night on his tongue. It’s enough to have you questioning whether you could possibly handle his cock one more time, but that dull sting below as his kiss has you clenching reminds you that the two of you aren’t in nearly the rush you had been during your first times partying. So you pull back, pressing your forehead to his mouth when he tries to lean in for more, and he’s satisfied to place a final kiss there before he returns to washing your hair.

He takes more care than you had anticipated, even once you melt into him further, forehead resting on his chest as he does a surprisingly thorough job. Then he’s removing his fingertips, closing his large hands from your temples to the top of your head in a makeshift headband as he tilts you back into the spray. He runs them back over your head, effectively wringing out anything left with the help of the warm water. He repeats this again, until your head is bobbing and he gathers all of your hair into a sort of ponytail, squeezing lightly as he presses a kiss to your chin.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

Despite the warning in his voice it just makes you chuckle, thoughts half-formed as his touch makes you feel more and less drunk at the same time. “I’m not gonna fall asleep standing, I’m not a horse.”

He lets out a little breath through his nose at that, but moves on otherwise with a hint of something to gnaw on in his voice, “Should I expect you to reciprocate?”

You laugh, leaning your head forward, pulling your hair out of his loosened grasp and returning your forehead to its now-familiar place against his chest. “Do you have a stepladder for that?”

He sighs, able to feign annoyance despite the apparent tiredness he’d mentioned earlier, the very tiredness you were still dubious of as you open your eyes and look down to see his heavy cock stirring with interest. “The rest of me, then.”

“That, I can manage.”

Despite your words you take your time moving from your comfortable spot, bracing yourself to be out of the reach of the warm water. Once you’re ready you tug at Sukuna’s waist, trying to move him into position, and he lets you - smile on his face at your attempts. The water only reaches his shoulders, travelling down in small streams that twist and wind along his muscle and drip off loudly to the tiles below.

You reach for his shelf and gather soap in your palm, lathering it up, and then letting it aid in slipping your hands across his neck and shoulders. With your mind set on not pushing your body too far, and on passing out as soon as possible, you try your very best to ignore the girth stirring in front of you. Sukuna knows very well what thoughts are going through your mind, and smiles as he finally releases you from his hungry gaze, busying himself with washing his own hair as you continue rubbing along his abs and down to his hips.

Your fingers work carefully through the thick hair at the base of his cock, well-dirtied with both your messes through the night, until the water rinses it clean. A glance up at him reveals him watching you again, this time with curiosity in his soft smile, to see if you’ll leave any of him ignored in an attempt to calm the beast hanging hard and heavy with water finding its own path off each of the silver beads along the underside of his cock. You slide your fingers around it entirely, working soap into the hair of his balls, delving into the space between his thighs as well. He chuckles above, drawing your eyes back up to him for a moment, then as you look back down at your task he closes his eyes and tilts his head back to rinse his hair out.

Even with his hair rinsed clean, he leaves his eyes closed and his head back, sighing when your hands slide around his hips and away from his cock as you lather up what you can reach of his back. You make your way lower, accompanied by soft suds, until you’re squeezing and rubbing at his ass.

Sukuna dips his head down to speak into your ear, sending droplets from his hair and onto your face. “I thought we were past you being frightened of it.”

“Oh, please.” You crane your neck back, separating your bodies enough for him to be sure to see the look you were giving him, squeezing his butt hard to emphasise that you were absolutely not afraid of any part of him. “I’m not scared of that thing.”

“This thing?” His smile widens enough that his eyes crinkle shut.

“Yeah.” Your smile back is as playful as you can manage with you using the last of your focus to wash him, and you offer his ass a little spank and spread his cheeks lightly as you squeeze again, a move similar to one he’d done to you many times before. “That thing.”

He closes that small distance again, tracing his tongue along the shell of your ear before whispering, “It won’t hurt you.”

“It already has.”

He leans back, a small hint of a question in his eyes that you don’t need him to ask.

“But not in a way I can’t handle.”

“Of course.” He turns around then, rinsing remnants of soap off before cleaning his cock himself while you busy yourself with washing his back more thoroughly, then his legs.

You half expect him to keep stroking himself as you bend down, rubbing at his thick muscled thighs, but he releases himself and settles his hands at his sides, stretching his neck out and enjoying the feel of your hands on him.

When you stand he’s sighing as though he’d managed to get some rest in that time, turning back to you.

“I suppose it’s your turn then?”

He brings you back under the shower head, turning you around to face the spray head on and settling his hands on your hips as he speaks low into your ear. “You’ll have to handle washing your face. I don’t think I’m quite delicate enough for that.”

You lean back against his chest, sighing at the sound of his voice in your ear. “Ryomen The King Sukuna, underestimating himself? What have I done to you?”

“What have you done, indeed.” He presses his hips forward, letting you feel his hardness against your ass, though your attention is quickly drawn to the face wash he reaches around you to place in your hand.

You take it, squeezing it into your hand and busying yourself with removing what remains of your makeup as Sukuna runs his hands over your body, lathering you up. He makes no attempt to hide how he squeezes and gropes at every part of you that he touches, quite clearly feeling you up even as he cleans the sweat and cum and sticky residue of spilled drinks off of your naked body. He catches your nipples between thick knuckles, grips at your hips and stomach, presses kisses and gentle bites down your back and to your ass as he kneels to wash your legs, only incidentally cleaning you as he indulges himself before standing to finish his work.

With your face cleaned, you lie your head back onto his chest, enjoying this feel of his hands as he rinses you clean. Once he’s kneading at your thighs, slowly making his way closer and closer to your pussy, you can practically feel his gaze down at you. You know too well that he’s waiting for the smallest word or reaction to tell him to make his touch much more targeted - as if he hadn’t been working you up from the moment you’d stepped into the shower.

His fingers finally closing in to run over your pussy send a shudder through you, and when he brings a splash of water up to aid in cleaning your sticky folds you let out a laugh, head lolling against his chest. “Now you get to see how annoying it is to clean all of that cum out of me.”

His other arm comes down to hook under your knee, lifting your leg and keeping you spread for him to dip his fingers into your entrance as you melt into his embrace.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult.” He wriggles his fingers inside of you, chuckling as you gasp, “I can go much deeper than you.”

He’s right, pulling his long fingers out and rinsing them under the water before he’s sliding them back into your depths, loosening and coaxing out any cum that hadn’t made its way down your thighs through the night. He cleans you out thoroughly but, just as expected, doesn’t stop there - movements becoming a little faster and finding their rhythm until your pussy is making sticky sounds loud enough to be heard over the spray of the shower.

You reach back to tangle a hand into his hair as he starts kissing lightly along your neck, laughing when you start rocking your hips into the gentle thrusts of his fingers.

“What was that about being too sore?”

He laughs at whatever combination of a huff and a moan that you let out, and tenses enough to have his cock prodding at your ass in a reminder that he was never quite done. This time your huff is more pronounced, giving him a taste of the internal debate you were having between how much you wanted and how much you could handle, until you’re left compromising with your own body.

“Just the tip.”

The laugh this draws from him is much more lively. “Just the tip?”

“I mean it, Sukuna.”

“If that’s what you want…”

He pulls his fingers from your pussy, letting your leg down and turning you to face him before he’s lifting it again and settling it against his hip. He traps it in place with one arm as he reaches down to line himself up, wrapping the other arm around you to help you stay up even with as tired as your body was.

Even with just the promised hint of length from him, you feel that sting, but once he’s sliding that fat tip against your spongy walls the pleasure overcomes the pain. You press your face to his chest, squeezing at his pecs and kissing the wet skin as he groans above you.

The way he’s crouched to line up your disparate heights has his muscles tensing and flexing and as he angles himself perfectly you have to concentrate hard to enjoy the view of him instead of letting your eyes roll back with the heat prickling right down to your curling toes.

You tilt your head up until your lips meet his and his breath is hot in your mouth, words mingling with your soft moans, “Just the tip?”

You can’t blame him for pressing, with the way your pussy was practically sucking at his tip as you clench and squirm on it. Still, you know your limits, including which ones you are and aren’t willing to push past, so you nod and he pulls your arms from around his body to guide your hands to his ignored length. You wrap your hands around it, giving him something more to fuck into as your heat takes him in again and again. It earns you a string of appreciative moans that you return enthusiastically, licking into his mouth to have more of what you can from him.

“Fuck, Sukuna…” You pull back to press your head to his chest, eyes screwed shut as you rock your hips into his careful movements. You loosen your grip on his length, taking just a little bit more of him in as your thighs tense and shake.

With his hands too busy holding you up, he has to nuzzle at the top of your head to get your attention, insisting that he get to watch you cum on his cock. You know that it’s what he needs, tilting your head back and locking eyes with him as he brings his mouth to yours, drinking in your moans and meeting them with low groans as he waits for that telltale clenching on his tip.

He isn’t waiting long as you let go of his cock, crying out into his mouth as you grip at his ass and pull him all the way into your heat, until your hips are flush against his. It takes him by surprise and flings him towards his end, as he lets out a broken moan, pressing deep into you as your pussy clenches and milks his cock of all he has left to give. He stills his hips as you rock against him, riding out the last of your orgasm in his arms, until his cum is sliding out around him and spattering onto the tile below while he kisses at your slackened jaw.

Your arms find their way back around his torso as you pull yourself to his chest yet again, panting against his wet skin as you shudder softly. He pulls out slowly, letting your leg down but keeping your tired body held firmly to him.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Hm?” He cranes his neck to look at your face, pressed so closely to him that only half of it is left visible, “You’ve got a new mess to clean now.”

“Nuh uh… tomorrow…”

While he’s technically right, and while it technically already is tomorrow, your orgasm has taken everything you had left and you know you’re veering ever so close to actually passing out if you don’t lie down soon.

Sukuna doesn’t need convincing to have his cum left inside of you, though, and he reaches behind you to turn off the shower. You feel yourself drifting off already as he wraps a towel around you, and you’re out completely once he lifts you up and carries you to bed.

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #mma!sukuna #mma fighter!sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #x reader #reader insert #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #my writing

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20doozers · 2 months

Text

★Wet dream★

TW: handjob, whining, whimpering, getting caught masturbating, slight somnophilia, sleepover with bill, dry orgasm, “milking” bill, bath as aftercare, overstimulation, fwb/just friends trope, use of y/n, use of sweetheart, baby, etc.

You were at bill’s place for a sleepover, his parents were out of town and his twin brother Tom was staying at a friends place, meaning you and bill had the house all to yourselves. Candy, movies, snacks, cuddles, etc. the night being filled with giggles and fun, the friendship bond between you two being the only focus of the night besides fun.

Eventually you two winded down, laying in bed and turning on a movie that bill was watching while you laid next to him, slowly falling asleep because you were tired. After you had fallen asleep bill was just admiring you, staring at your sleeping face as you slept peacefully. You were so beautiful. Those lips, those eyes, that skin… gosh, he just wanted to kiss you. But he couldn’t, you two were just friends, nothing more than that, or at least that’s what bill was telling himself.

When he was pulled out of his thoughts he looked down, seeing the tent in his pajama pants along with a small wet splotch of precum due to his lack of boxers beneath his pajamas. Fuck. He sat there silently, debating on whether he should go to the bathroom and quickly get rid of the problem.. but oh, you were so peaceful, and getting up would surely wake you.. He sighed, palming himself lightly through his pajama pants, biting his lips to muffle his moans and whimpers as he tried to quietly rub one out.

Yet that stimulation wasn’t enough, not to mention he was basically ruining his pajama pants. His cheeks were flushed pink and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he slowly pulled down his pajama pants just enough to pull out his cock, wrapping his pale fingers around his shaft, slowly pumping himself as he whined and moaned, his noises being muffled slightly as he bit his lip.

He was so close, his moans becoming more guttural as his head rolled back slightly, his moans becoming harder and harder to hold back as he jerked off, his hand and shaft slick with precum as he continued. Yet he was shocked when he felt your hand on his wrist, his movements halting immediately as his head shot in your direction.

You laid there almost half asleep as you pulled his hand away from his cock, wrapping your own hand around his member as you very slowly pumped him.

“Y/n… w- what are you doing..?” Bill whimpered, still trying to hold back his moans.

“You seemed like you could use some help, so I’m helping.” You hummed, acting like this behavior was normal as you jerked him off.

“H-hah.. y/nn.. please.. ‘s too much…” Bill whined, laid on his back as you pumped his cock in your hand, milking him with every amount of strength you had. He had came at least 3? 4? 5? You weren’t keeping count, and neither was he, hell he was unable to with how clouded his mind was. There were drips of drool of his chin, tears clouding his eyes, and his cock was covered in cum, so was your hand as you slowly drove him insane with the overstimulation.

“Shh.. you’re okay baby.. one more, just give me one more sweetheart..” you soothed, your hand nothing speeding up as you pumped his member faster and faster, brushing over the tip of his cock with your thumb.

Bill’s 6th and final orgasm came and went, washing over the poor boy as he let out small cries and moans of ‘ow’ and your name. You slowly worked him through his orgasm, softly shushing him as the afterglow of post nut clarity washed over him. His last orgasm had been completely dry, no cum following his orgasm from how many times he had came, his body now trembling as you got up to go get a washcloth and to clean him up.

“Are you okay sweetheart? Did I go to far?” You questioned soflty, his pale body mostly limp in your arms as he trembled, letting you gently lay him in the bathtub which was filled with warm water. He didn’t respond, just giving a small whimper as he shook his head, still overstimulated from the intensity of it all.

You gently kissed his forehead, combing your fingers through his sweat dampened hair as he lay there trembling in the warm bath water. You sat by his side the entire time, even helping him wash his hair and body due to his weakness before helping him out of the bath, draping a warm fluffy towel over him. You helped him dry off and change into some pajamas before helping him into bed as well.

You gently pulled his still trembling body against yours, shushing him quietly as you rubbed his back, his small whines and whimpers being muffled as he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

“You comfy baby?”

“Y-yeah… just a bit cold..” bill murmured, his body shivering as you kissed his head. You reached off to the side to turn on the heating blanket draped over his bed, turning it on so he could be warmer.

“That better?” You questioned softly, bill murmured a quiet ‘mhm’ before yawning, cuddling further into you as you two laid there.

Maybe you two were more than “just friends”.

AHH! I’m pretty happy with this one, it’s a gn!reader fic and my second smut ive written. Yes I reused the top images i couldn’t find more😔 love you guys💕💕

Tags: @itsmealaiah @madzandmore @cherry-rawr @jkloserdazai @goreishgorinthgoreofshits

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whimsyfinny · 4 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2564

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sorry that this one feels like a bit of a filler - but I’m seriously hoping to get some spicy content out in the next chapter so pls pls stay tuned! Also this is only proof read by myself so pls let me know of any errors!

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 4

We spent a few hours researching and looking into the First Blades whereabouts after dinner, Dean and I only making work-related conversations after the pie ordeal. Every now and then when I looked up from the book I was reading I’d catch him looking in my direction, but I was far too tired for any more confrontation - I knew he'd act like an ass if I said anything. I decided to head to bed at around midnight, unable to read more than a few words and actually process said words in my brain. As Sam was still asleep, Dean showed me to my room which was tragically opposite his, and I could only imagine the noises that I’d be hearing coming through that door. Getting ready for bed, I dug out an old boyfriends T-shirt that I was still in possession of and threw it on, making sure to remove all other items of clothing except my panties. I climbed into bed - which was surprisingly more comfortable than I’d anticipated, though the sheets smelt a little musty - and set an alarm on my phone so I could hopefully rise before the boys in the morning. The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep whisked me away, not giving me a chance to think about the wild day I’d had and the total jackass that I’d met.

My alarm rang at 5am and I crawled out of bed, dressing in yesterday’s jeans with a clean, low-cut tank top and an open flannel thrown over the top. Pulling on my boots, I ran my fingers through my hair before heading to the en suite bathroom to brush my teeth. As I turned on the tap, the pipes clanged alarmingly as a small stream of water trickled from the faucet, the harsh noise echoing around the small tiled room. “That’s not concerning at all,” I mumbled to myself, the noise finally stopping as I turned the tap off. After I’d finished brushing I headed back into the bedroom to grab my phone before leaving the room to walk wearily to the kitchen. Upon arrival, I instantly made a pot of coffee, the smell alone already helping to blow away the sleepy cobwebs in my mind. I needed food. Something good, like pancakes. So I rummaged around until I found everything I needed, starting to memorise where the brothers kept everything after spending so much time in here yesterday evening. As I whipped up the batter, I threw some bacon in a pan and placed three plates on the table, along with some mugs, the pot of coffee and a big bottle of maple syrup. As soon as I started cooking the batter, it was like I’d used a summoning spell.

“You know when I first woke up I thought that I’d dreamt you up in some sort of weirdly tame nightmare” Dean said in a deep and raspy, fresh-from-sleep tone as he paced into the room and sat at the table, rubbing his eyes.

“Is that your way of saying that I’m your dream girl, Winchester?” I teased as I poured him a mug of coffee. He smirked, not looking up at me.

“You wish darlin’.”

“I really don’t,” I turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake, taking a sip from my own mug.

I’d made a stack of maybe twelve pancakes by the time Sam arrived, greeting me with that warm smile of his as he took a seat opposite Dean.

“Good morning (Y/n), something smells amazing.”

“Good morning Sam,” I smiled back at him before I looked over at Dean, “That’s how you greet someone in the morning Dean, not by telling them they were part of your living nightmare.” Dean shrugged, taking a long drink from his coffee.

Sam gave me an almost apologetic look on his brothers behalf, saying quietly, “as charming as ever then, Dean.” As he sat down I placed the stack of pancakes along with the bacon on the table and both men’s eyes lit up, immediately picking up their cutlery.

“Help yourselves,” I said, taking a seat between them, “just leave a couple for me at least.”

Dean was the first to pile about five onto his plate along with a good portion of the bacon. Without even looking at me he placed two pancakes on my own plate as he reached for the maple syrup. Before I could ask for the bacon, it was Sam who served some up for me before giving himself whatever was left over before handing me the syrup.

“Oh, thanks guys…” I said, a little shocked at how weirdly coordinated they were with that whole task.

“You’re welcome,” they both managed to mumble out through huge mouthfuls of food. We sat in a strangely nice silence for a few minutes, the only noise to be heard was the sounds of breakfast being totally annihilated. Dean was the first to throw his cutlery down with a very satisfied groan. He stretched, his T-shirt rising slightly to show his incredibly toned abdomen.

For fucks sake.

“THAT is what powers a man up in the morning,” he said, his fingers interlaced behind his head.

“Mmm hmm,” was all I managed to get out, finding it annoyingly difficult to look away, let alone to stop my eyes from trailing to where his leather belt hugged his hips and his old denim jeans gripped the thick muscles of his thighs. A few seconds must’ve passed when he cleared his throat and my eyes snapped up to be immediately caught in that moss-green gaze. Shit. I thought maybe for a second that he didn’t notice me looking. But then the corner of his mouth twitched up into that infuriating smirk. Luckily for me, he didn’t say anything, but I watched as he dragged his gaze over my figure, similar to how I did with him. It was Sam who spoke up next and I tore my eyes away, letting out a breath as he saved me from Deans silent interrogation.

“So I read last night about a possible case,” he started to say as he finished chewing the last bit of food on his plate before pushing it away and turning towards us.

“Go on,” Dean said, leaning forwards - finally covering his exposed stomach.

“I think it’s a haunting - some sort of item possession involving a ghost. All of the accidents that have been happening seem to occur either around or directly within an old antique store that’s connected to an old auction house. I think it’s worth a look,” Sam opened his laptop that he’d placed on the seat next to him, showing us all of the research he’d done overnight. Looking at the evidence he’d piled together, I think he was on to something. I nodded.

“Sure, I’m in. I’ll go pack a bag,” I said, standing up and clearing the plates from the table.

“Hang on a second,” Dean spoke up and I immediately knew he was talking to me.

“What?”

“What makes you think you’re coming with us for this?” His brows furrowed slightly.

“Because I never get to work out in the field - Bobby always had me on book duty and I want to see some real hunting in action,” I raised my voice a little starting to get defensive.

“If Bobby never let you do field work then neither are we. You’re staying here,” his tone was stern as he downed the last of the coffee and stood up, towering over me.

“What?!” I almost shouted.

“Dean, I don’t think it’s your place to say what she can and can’t do. I say we let her come along,” Sam intervened, his voice always full of reason and reassurance. I gave him a half smile - a small, ‘thank you for sticking up for me’.

“No way. There’s no way I’m letting Bobby’s girl put herself in danger. The old bastard would find a way to make us pay if anything were to happen to her; even from beyond the grave.”

“I don’t need you taking on his role, Dean. Bobby kept me safe my whole life, just him. I’m sure the pair of you could look out for me no problem on a little ghost trip,” I chided, coming up with a plan to get Dean to agree to me coming.

“(Y/n)s right, this shouldn’t be a hard case for us - if anything this is a small break from the real hard work,” Sam stepped towards Dean, trying to reassure him.

Dean looked from Sam to myself, and when our eyes locked I let a sly smile crawl onto my lips.

“Or maybe Dean Winchester isn’t up to the challenge?” I said, holding my hands up. He frowned, opening his mouth but I spoke again before he could get his words out. “Maybe….,” I stepped towards him, now only a few inches between us, “Dean Winchester is losing his touch, and isn’t the big strong man he used to be and really won’t be able to keep me safe…?” I flashed Dean my best doe eyes and I heard him suck in a breath as I reached forwards and tugged slightly on his T-shirt, making him look down at me with his eyes flicking between mine - dilating a little. I couldn’t help but bite my lip, looking up at him through my lashes and pressing my fingertips to his chest, feeling his heart rate increase with every beat from my touch. I liked to think that I was being very ‘persuasive’.

“I think you’re right (Y/n), I don’t think Dean is up to the task. He’s definitely been losing his touch,” Sam spoke up, catching on with my game and joining in with the verbal attack on his older brother. Deans eyes snapped up to look at Sam and the almost trance-like state he was in before was shattered.

“I have NOT lost my touch!” He snapped. Sam and I looked at each other and exploded into laughing very fake laughs, clapping and wiping away a pretend tear.

“Sure thing ‘sweetheart’,” I said, “prove it - keep me safe.”

“Oh I’ll keep you safe,” Dean took the bait and barged past us, “I’ll keep you safe from your own fucking shadow.”

After a few hours of packing and travelling, we arrived in a very well manicured town - even the motel was decent. Upon checking in, we got two rooms; one for me and one for the boys.

“Let’s drop our stuff off, freshen up and meet back here in ten?” Sam said, checking his watch. It was just past 11am.

“Sure, sounds good,” I replied, and Dean just nodded in approval. Their room was further down the corridor than mine, so I watched them leave before entering my room. It was the usual layout: one double bed, cheap linens, an old TV and an under-stocked minibar. At least the decor wasn't completely brown. I dumped my bags on the floor and started to unpack some essentials. I laid my clothes out on the bed - some of these outfits may come in handy later on. For now though, I’ll just stick to what I was already wearing. Lastly I grabbed a tin that was down in the bottom of my duffle - inside was a bunch of fake IDs that Bobby insisted on making me a few years ago. I smiled, remembering him always answering the phone to the Winchesters, pretending to be their FBI boss. I was always dying to know what they were hunting when he got those phone calls. I admired them a lot back then. I shook away the memory and pocketed the IDs, marching to the bathroom and splashing some water on my face before leaving, locking the door behind me.

The boys were already waiting for me.

“You boys ready?” I asked, to which they both nodded. “Where to first?” my question was aimed at Sam, but Dean replied.

“The old antique store just down here on the corner,” he grumbled as we started walking, still unimpressed that I was tagging along. I shot him a look as he practically glared at me from the other side of Sam.

“Get over yourself Dean. I’m along for the ride so deal with it,” I snapped at him, hoping he un-rustles his jimmies quickly. I wasn’t going to let him drag me down, not when I’m excited to actually be on a case. My first ‘out in the field’ case of all things. I wanted this to be a good memory. He scrunched his face up at my words, mouthing an angry ‘I hate you’ at me, to which I flipped him off.

“Guys just behave yourselves!” Sam stopped in his tracks right as we were outside our destination. “We are professionals so we need to act like it. We’re here to do our job,” Sam said in an authoritative voice - which undeniably sounded very attractive on him. I walked a few steps ahead of them and stopped with my hand on the front door to the store.

“Sam’s right. I’m happy to be here helping these people,” I smiled a little too sweetly before throwing a dark look at Dean, “so pull your shit together Dean, you’re making us look bad.” I heard him start to protest before I pushed the door open and walked into the shop, hearing the two brothers scurrying to catch up with me. As we walked in we were greeted by an older gentleman, with a kind face, a neatly trimmed pure white beard and round specs.

“Good morning and welcome to the store,” he said, his voice soft, “Can I help you?” He looked between the three of us. The boys reached for the fake badges, but they were lost for words when I beat them to the chase - obviously being unaware that I’d come prepared. Holding my badge up for the older gent to see, I spoke without missing a beat.

“Hi! Yes you certainly can help me - I’m agent Granger and these,” I jabbed my thumb to Sam and Dean who were standing right behind me, “are agents Crabbe and Goyle. We’ve got some questions for you regarding the strange occurrences going on around here recently.”

“Of course, it’s about time these things were investigated,” the older man turned and beckoned for us to follow, which Sam did immediately. Dean and I were left behind, staring each other down. I could tell he wasn’t happy that I had a badge, and I couldn’t help but smile at that. He scowled.

“This isn’t a fucking game.”

“You’re just mad that I got one up on you so early on,” I grinned up at him, his frown not budging.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he huffed.

“I’m safe from doing you then aren’t I?” I couldn’t stop the words from spilling from my lips.

“What?” He looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head, obviously not catching on. I chuckled a little, walking past him to catch up with Sam, leaving him standing there confused.

“Don’t think too hard about it Dean, you might hurt yourself,” I called back over my shoulder.

“Fuck y- hang on- oh you BITCH!” He shouted after me as he caught on finally. I laughed, not looking back.

“Only to you Dean.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 5

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn #reader insert

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