#hang on lemme check something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

28.6 is the average number of monthly visits per US mobile user.

#hang on lemme check something

loregoddess · 1 year

Note

I'm currently playing the Ace Attorney trilogy on Switch. Do you have any thoughts on Case 1-5? (I certainly do but I'll make my own post in due time.)

Case 1-5 is Rise from the Ashes, right? It's been awhile since my deep-dive into AA, but I remember really loving the intrigue of that case. It's not my most beloved case (that probably goes to Turnabout Goodbyes), but I remember really enjoying the twists and turns of how the story for Rise from the Ashes unfolded. I really love Ema too, although she unfortunately doesn't make a story appearance after this for a while in the mainline games. Also it's always fun to make fun of Edgeworth's garish bright red car, which makes its debut in this case...what a hideous car, he never gets rid of it either, I love it.

#I dunno quite how far you are so I don't want to say too much #but it's a really fun case with its own tragic twists and turns #also I think it was added later after the original trilogy released or something?#hang on lemme check something #yeah it got added to the DS release of the game it wasn't part of the original GBA version #which is why there's some neat mechanics and stuff that you will NOT see in the other two original trilogy games #but if you carry on beyond the trilogy or go into some of the spinoffs you'll get to play around w/ the mechanics again #anyhow that's me neat AA trivia for the day #my AA lore is a bit rusty bc it's been a few years since I was like hyperfixed on AA but it has a dear place in my heart #good series even the later games that I like to dunk on are fun to play and have neat characters #anyhow welcome to AA I hope you enjoy your stay bc it is a lovely game series #alynnl #I still don't have an ask tag

2 notes · View notes

bluefuecoco · 1 year

Text

my friend was making fun of me for having 807 hours in stardew valley on steam, and it’s like damn.....at least i dont have 920 hours and only half the achievements, like my other friend. leave me alone

#this is said jokingly btw #the stardew grind never stops #hang on lemme check something #ok so if i play stardew for 4~ days nonstop i can catch up to my friend #or if i break it down into 8 hour days....14 days #hey why can't i get paid for grinding in stardew valley Actually

1 note · View note

slttygeto · 11 months

Text

JJK MEN AS DADS — headcanons.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥featuring: geto suguru, nanami kento and toji fushiguro.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥note: enjoy this alternate universe where everyone is okay and safe and happy.

╰┈➤ interested in sending a commission?

╰┈➤ GOJO'S VERSION

—GETO SUGURU ;

some of you might not agree with me on this but he probably never saw himself becoming a dad

sure he loves kids, they do annoy him when they’re loud and all over the place but he never thought that he would have kids

that is until you announced to him that you were pregnant, and his entire world changed

his daughter is pretty much everything to him but he doesn’t spoil her (gojo does)

he wants to teach her proper manners, the right way to communicate things and isn’t big on spoiling

and you both end up raising a sweetheart who’s in love with uncle satoru.

“baby, stay in my sights.” you heard suguru talk to your daughter as you both walked down the food aisle. she was well mannered, didn’t act up or tried to be bratty when told something (unless she was having a really bad day, which was very different).

watching your husband parent a child that looked like a mix of you both was a different kind of love. he was gentle, careful and most importantly trying to be there for her.

from taking her on daddy-daughter dates, to talking things out with her when she was mad at him or when she messed up, suguru proved himself worthy of becoming someone’s father.

“who knew someone else would come along, and you’d call them baby,” you teased the man with a small smile, letting him push the cart while you walked next to him. he shot you a playful glare before grabbing a can of tuna.

“don’t even start—i somehow got used to speaking in girl voice from being forced to attend her tea parties…” he sighs but you know it's far from a tired one. he looks at your daughter with so much love, so much adoration that your heart flutters.

you were incredibly lucky.

“tell me you love me in your girl voice, come on,”

"move."

—NANAMI KENTO;

this man was made to be a father

despite how tired he looks he always makes time for you and your girl

very lovey dovey and is very proud of referring to you two as his girls

whenever he is asked to hang out, he goes 'lemme make sure my girls dont need anything'

hes quite literally the best

most patient, loving and understanding husband/father

ever since you gave birth, kento and your daughter had a routine. you two would feed her at 8p.m when he comes back from work, he would then take her to the bathroom where he would bathe her then read her a bed time story. he would then kiss her goodnight, keep the small moon shaped light turned on before closing the door.

it was endearing because he put it on so much effort when it came to her. you knew it was the bare minimum for a father, but you were still very grateful that you married a good husband and an even better father.

both kento and your daughter were now in the bathroom. bath time usually took about twenty minutes to half an hour, and it would be filled with giggles coming from your four year old and kento's occasional chuckles. but it was oddly quiet, so you decided to go check on them.

when you opened the door, your heart melted at the sight. your daughter had fallen asleep in the bathtub, and so your husband was trying his best to get her out and dry her up before she caught a cold.

and he was doing it so quietly that you couldn't help but ask if he needed any help.

"baby, do you need help?" you whispered to the man holding the sleeping girl, lightly kissing his nape and squeezing his shoulders.

"I got this." he whispered in response, turning around and pressing a light kiss on your lips and forehead.

you watched with heart eyes as he gently woke her up to dry her hair, kissed her forehead and continued on with their routine, before it was time to say goodnight.

nanami kento was an angel sent from above.

—FUSHIGURO TOJI;

this man isn't new to parenting, in fact you knew you weren't his first wife

but you were accepting of it, helped giving the grieving man a second chance at life as he liked to say

you met megumi when he was still so young and the little boy loving you was enough reason for toji to confirm that you were indeed the right one

loving a child that wasn't yours wasn't given to everyone, toji was well aware of that

and as you watched the man parent megumi, you were a bit hesitant to announce to him your pregnancy

when you did tho, he sobbed like a baby

and twins? a boy and a girl? oh he was in for a ride

"you little rascals better let me love on my wife in peace." your husband whispered to the two sleeping babies in their cribs. it was 9p.m and they were fortunately fast asleep.

you on the other hand, were busy with your oldest.

finally after getting them in bed, you were with megumi in the kitchen asking him what you should pack for his lunch tomorrow, which the ten year old responded with what he typically always chose.

megumi wasn't a difficult child, but with the arrival of the twins, you were a bit worried that he would think you and toji no longer cared for him. dealing with twins wasn't easy, but you were aware and willingly brought two lives to his family, and were fully responsible for it.

when toji was with the twins, you would help out megumi with his homework. and when it was time to breastfeed the babies, toji would take megumi to basketball practice or engage in a random activity together.

"a juice box?" you asked while packing his lunch, which the little boy nodded at before staring at who was coming down the stairs.

"you got school tomorrow at 8?" toji asked megumi, and the little boy responded with a nod. not much of a talker.

"are they asleep?" megumi quietly asked his dad, who raised an eyebrow at him before saying 'yes' and you watched as your son fiddled with his fingers, anxious of what to say next.

"gumi, do you wanna see them?" you stepped in, a hand resting on his back. the little boy looked up at you with sparkly eyes, grateful that you understood him.

"go, and if they do wake up call me." you kissed his forehead and watched as he carefully tiptoed upstairs.

toji's eyes stayed glued on you during the entire interaction, and finally let his arms wrap around your waist once your son was upstairs before resting his forehead on your shoulder.

"thank you," he whispered out, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

"for what?" you chuckled, caressing the taller man's back.

"for making everything feel like it's worth it."

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

3K notes · View notes

ghouljams · 19 days

Note

This was giving your dad!ghost :((

Ghost does not handle any of his girls getting hurt well. He's been through actual hell and yet it's sitting in the hospital while his kid gets patched up that sends him into a spiral. So here's Cowboy!Ghost dealing with his kids getting hurt:

It happens in a split second. Mary's on the pony and then she isn't, the usually docile animal panicking and trying to get as far away from the wailing little girl as possible. Ghost vaults the fence while you try to corral the pony and skid to a stop next to his daughter. Big fat tears roll down her face, her little hand smearing snot over her cheek as her other arm hangs bent at her side. Simon's stomach churns, he knows a break when he sees one, and he's seen plenty. They've never set his nerves on edge like this one.

He shushes his daughter, gathers her in his arms as carefully as he can, trying not to jostle the break more than necessary. It's heart breaking to hear her cry like this, her hiccupped sobbing as she presses her face against Simon's shoulder and tells him "it hurts daddy" makes blind panic seize him. Fuck's sake he's broken arms before, he's been shot, hung by his ribs, buried alive, but somehow hearing his daughter cry twists a knife so deep in his gut it hurts worse than death always seemed to.

Simon holds her the whole way to the hospital. He lets her wipe her snot all over his shirt and soak his shoulder with her tears. His baby, his poor little girl. He should've been watching the horse, he should've been keeping a closer eye on her. He holds Mary's hand (the good one) and imagines all the worst case scenarios that could happen while you talk to the doctor. Simon almost rips the man's hand off when he touches Mary's arm and she whimpers.

Ghost sits in the ice cream shop with his daughter in a bright pink cast, watching you help her put stickers on it and thinks there's no way he can go through this again. He's bubble wrapping this girl.

A sharp cry of a scream, quickly cut off with a sniffled whine. Ghost whips the door open to see his daughter holding her fingers tight against her chest. She looks up at him with a glare that could almost rival yours as you ask what happened from the other room

"Daddy closed the door on my fingers!" Bibi yells back, her pout reinforced by the tears blossoming in her eyes.

"Baby," Simon chokes, reaching for her. Bibi turns tail and runs off to her room with a sniffle and a:

"No! I hate daddy!"

Simon feels something break in him, and drops to his knees. He presses his hands over his eyes, tries to get a grip on what's slipped loose inside him. You wander out of the baby's room to check on the situation and Simon looks up at you like he's killed someone. The hollowness in his eyes when he drops his hands makes you raise a brow. Simon takes a deep breath and you have to stuff down your smile when he tells you:

"I hurt her," with all the severity of a deathbed confession, "She hates me."

"Si..." Your lips pull tight, he doesn't appreciate your humor in his failures as a father, "she's three."

It takes a bit of coaxing to get Simon up and into the girls' room, even more to get him past the doorway once he see Bibi laying facedown on her toddler bed crying. He feels big and out of place sitting on the little bed, even more so settling a hand on his daughter's back. It feels awkward, like it isn't enough to make up for the sin he's committed. How could he ever think he could have children, he's not made for this.

She turns to look at him, pouting, it breaks his heart. "Lemme see your fingers baby," He implores, helping the little girl sit up. She holds her hand up and he carefully inspects the little digits, all red and bruised from where he'd closed the bathroom door on her. He kisses the tip of her fingers and she gives a watery little laugh. "I'm so sorry Abs," He tells his daughter pulling her into a hug as she wraps her little arms around his neck.

"I sorry too daddy," she tells him and Simon sighs with relief. She doesn't hate him. That's good.

Jackie has to be the most accident prone kid on earth and she's going to be the death of her father. He doesn't remember two being such a dangerous age, but it feels like every time he turns around the kid has knocked her head on something or tripped or- something. Simon sweeps her up out of the way before a goat can butt its head against her. She giggles as he sets her on the other side of the paddock fence and watches her run after one of the barn cats. Only to face plant into the grass.

It seizes Simon's poor heart every time, watching like a hawk as she pushes herself onto her hands and knees and gets to standing again. "Ok Dad-dy," She tells him, the same way his other two do every time they fall. No tears, just a bruise or two. Now if he could just get her to keep this "no broken bones" attitude when she needed shots...

#simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #oc: goose #oc: mary “frog” Price #oc: abigail “bibi” Price #oc: Jackie Price #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cowboy!ghost #cowboy au #baby jams #ghoul babies

695 notes · View notes

cashmoneyyysstuff · 2 months

Text

dk why but im thinkin about shoto w a sweet tooth who follows you and hangs around the kitchen waiting for the cookies you made to finish baking while staring at the oven like a kid, soooooo.. (shoto might be a bit ooc, slight super small pinch of angst but super fluffy as usual ! gn reader, mentions of food, lemme know if i missed sum else ! <3)

"sho.." shoto hums in response, eyes fixed on the oven.

"the cookies aren't gonna bake faster if you stare at 'em."

you hold back a giggle when he slowly turns to look up at you from where he's crouched down on the floor. his eyes that were practically pasted to the oven widening the slightest bit like he'd been caught doing something bad. he blinks at you, then swiftly looks away.

"i'm just checking to make sure they don't burn." he explains. you don't know if you've seen him blink more than four times the entire time you've been staring at him staring at the chocolate chip marshmallow cookies you made together. (together meaning with him watching you most of the time and occasionally mixing. as much as you love your boyfriend, he should absolutely not be trusted around food.)

"that's what we have the timer for." you quip, leaning against the kitchen cupboard and crossing your arm with a smirk.

he looks up at you, then fixes the kitchen timer sitting on the stove with a little frown that you recognize as a pout, you huff out a light laugh at his cute expression. from his miniscule facial expressions you can see he's a little embarrassed at the fact you'd outsmarted him. he turns to look at the cookies again.

"i can see when they're done baking better from here. faster than the timer can."

"oh yeah ?"

he nods "very clearly."

you snort. after looking at him for a while longer you sigh to get his attention. it works immediately and he looks up at you, eyes occasionaly trailing back to the oven towards the cookies as he waits to hear what you want.

you wordlessly spread your arms out, batting your eyelashes at him. he blinks, then a small smile grows on his handsome face in realization. he slowly walks over to you before pulling you into a comfortable hug, he huffs out a chuckle when you squeeze his waist.

shoto buries his head into your shoulder, right into the crook of your neck, and breathes you in. he’s had a habit of doing that often—if not every time you hug—and you don’t really know why he does, but you definitely don’t mind.

"you could've just told me that you wanted to try the cookies first." you tease, giggling when he huffs against your shoulder. he turns his head to speak against your neck.

"that wasn't my intention." he mumbles weakly, nosing at your neck when you scoff out a laugh.

"right. that's why you were practically glued to the oven mere seconds ago."

"i did no such thing."

"don't lie !" you reprimand, tugging at his hair lightly in joking punishment "you're not getting any cookies if you do." you hear him huff and feel a slight smirk growing against you.

"i..may have been surveying them rather closely—"

"very closely."

"—but it was simply to check." he finishes, ignoring your comment. shoto noses at your shoulder and sighs "i felt like even though you wanted to make the cookies together, i was barely able to help you with anything.." he trails off. your eyebrows furrow, and you try pull shoto out of the nest he's made for himself inside your shoulder, but shoto could be extremely stubborn when he wanted to be. his arms tighten around your waist and he his hair tickles against your cheek when he tries to shove his head inside your shoulder somehow.

you sigh, giving up your attempts to get him to look at you and simply settle on running your fingers through his hair, soothing him as he sighs contently. "sho, you helped me out lots. you always took over for me when i didn't feel like mixing anymore and helped me out with those big strong arms of yours." you feel him smile against you and your smile grows mirroring his.

" but i really wanted to help you out more, i know i'm not really good at this.." he mutters sadly, a frown grows on his face and you feel the corners of your mouth turn down as well.

"but you're real good at a lot of other things ! i'm not great at everything either." you reason, absentmindeldly twirling a strand of his hair around your finger "but i could teach you some tips and tricks, if you want."

he looks up at you at that, the smile growing on his face makes your heart race. "really ? i might be a little hard to manage." he jests, running his hands up and down your sides. his eyes brighten the more he looks at you and you're 100% sure you mirror his expression when you throw him a smug smirk.

"don't you underestimate me, mr todoroki ! you're nothing compared to what i've dealt with before."

"oh ?" he hums, lifting a brow. you nod and his smiles grows " and what, if i may ask, have you dealt with before ?" he challenges.

"that is classified information that i cannot disclose. you're just gonna have to trust me." you shoot back and press your finger to his lips, snickering when his eyes widen a fraction before he looks down at you playfully. he takes hold of your hand and presses a kiss to each of your fingertips, making fireworks go off inside your stomach.

"well then," he presses a final lingering kiss to the back of your hand with a run of his thumb against your skin. his eyes glow with mischief when he looks at you.

"i'm in your care."

573 notes · View notes

prettys0bbing · 1 month

Note

just read ur gymcrush!rafe jerking off blurb… all i can think about is steamy sauna sex with rafe now 😔

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“is it okay if i join you?” you ask him gently, holding a towel around yourself while giving him the shy smile he loves so much. “huh?” he responds, not wanting to make his previous actions obvious. you point to a spot on the bench next to him, tilting your head to the side. he clears his throat and nods, gaining his composure back. you sit next to him, loosening your grip around the towel and letting it loosely hang around you. “it really does get hot fast doesn’t it?” you point out, trying your best to fill the silence.

rafe snaps himself out of staring at the peek of your chest that he’s getting to answer you. “it’s a sauna, that’s its job.” he says flatly, before noticing how your face falls. you move a little further on the bench, leaning back to stretch your arm out before wincing. “you okay?” he asks immediately. “yeah i think so. i just fucked my shoulder a little bit i think.” you say, reaching a hand behind your back to rub your shoulder. “let me see.” you look at him shocked for a moment, before turning your back to him and moving your hair out of the way. “lemme know if i go too hard.” he mumbles, placing one of his hands on your shoulder blade.

as rafe starts to give you a massage, you can feel the tension leaving your muscle. his fingers dig a little deeper into your body and you let out a soft moan. rafe freezes immediately, replaying the sound over and over in his mind. “are you done?” you ask softly, no clue what’s going on with him. he shakes his head before continuing his movements. “you uh- you distracted me.” he admits, enjoying the way your skin feels underneath his fingers. you giggle softly, looking up at him with doe eyes. “your hands feel really nice.”

“yeah?” rafe grunts, already struggling to keep his cool while watching your towel loosen from around your body. after a few moments, it begins to unravel before you catch it. “is it okay if i just take this off for a minute? i don’t want it to get in your way at all. “im not gonna complain.” he admits, leaning on one of his hands as he watches you. you blush slightly, placing the towel next to you and leaving you in just your undergarments. you turn to face him, tilting your head to the side as you watch his eyes drink in your body. “see something you like?” you joke, trying to stop the heat rising in your body. “yeah, all of it.” rafe moves closer to you as he speaks, not stopping until he’s right next to you. “you know what you’re doing don’t you? you want me just as much as i want you.” he teases, watching the way your thighs squeeze together as he speaks.

“no clue what you’re talking about.” you lie, breath hitching as his hand lightly traces over your thigh. “yea? so you don’t want me to touch you?” he asks, taking his hand away. before he can fully move away, you grab his hand. “maybe..i do want you. if i did, what would happen?” you look at him, still slightly nervous and in disbelief. “if you did, id open these pretty legs and check how wet you are for me. then id play with your pussy, letting you know just how good i am. and then id take you right here to make sure i live up to all your fantasies.” he whispers, trailing his fingers along a wet spot on your underwear.

you shudder, feeling the slight pressure he’s using. he looks at you while hooking a finger underneath the band of your panties and you nod. he pulls them down with a swift motion before using two of his fingers to swipe along your slit. “so fuckin wet for me. you really want it huh?” he teases, leaning you back along the bench as he spreads you out and watches you clench around nothing. rafe uses his thumb and presses light circles into your clit, watching how you begin to squirm underneath him. without stopping, he slips one of his fingers into you, sliding in effortlessly and making you arch your back at the intrusion. he adds another one before he begins slowly pumping his hand into you, causing you to whine loudly. “gonna have to be quieter than that baby.” he teases, speeding his movements up.

“fuck rafe, i need more of you.” you beg, grabbing onto the bench as his thumb presses into you harder. “all you had to do was ask.” he grants your wish, thrusting into you harder as he curls his fingers up slightly. he palms himself through his underwear, his towel long abandoned on the floor. he can feel you clenching around his fingers, squeezing him tightly. “that feel good huh? you like that?” he asks in a teasing tone, loving the way you react. he can feel you getting close and pulls his hand out, ignoring your complaints as he taps his fingers on your mouth, signaling for you to open up. you listen, opening your mouth and letting him shove his fingers into your tongue.

you lick his fingers clean while he uses his free hand to pull his underwear down. rafe wraps his hand around his cock, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and steadying himself by grabbing onto your hip as he lines himself up with your entrance. he stares down as he pushes himself in, drinking in your sweet moans as he stretches you out. “gotta be quieter baby. everyones gonna hear you falling apart on my cock.” you nod, biting on your lip to keep yourself from crying out as he drills into you. you can feel your release quickly approaching, already close from his actions before. “gonna cum rafe!” you moan, making him cover your mouth with one of his hands as he continues to fuck into you.

he can feel his own release catching up to him with the way you’re squeezing around him. “fuck baby. cmon, cum all over my cock. show me how good it is.” he grunts. you arch up against him, body spasming as your release finally hits you. he can feel you practically milking him as you clench around him, your hands scratching along his back as he helps you ride out your high. he can feel his stomach tighten as he spills into you, coating your insides. you both freeze for a moment, the gravity of the situation hitting you before he pulls his hand away from your mouth. “that was better than my fantasies.” you breath out, looking at him with a fucked out grin.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#mayspeaks! ˚✧₊⁎#rafe cameron #obx x reader #obx #obx smut #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut

428 notes · View notes

pettydollie · 5 months

Note

Dad Bakugo x mom reader - I need more children in my life 😭✋🏾

def calls his kid "squirt" and "buddy"

in mY universe, he has a boy and a girl bc he needs the best of both worlds

CALLS YOU "MA" GOODNIGHT

we all know he wakes up really early, earlier than you even, so he's the one to check on the babies/kids every morning to see if they're ok :)

definitely keeps schedules of you and your kids days like exams, report cards, if they're going to a friend's house, etc

yk how most kids tend to be like "ewwww" whenever their parents kiss?? not ur kids nono. first of all, your son is the quieter one. not that he's not talkative, he just has a little bit of a hard time expressing himself. anyhow, his sister is very loud. but either way, they both think its sweet. your daughter even said something like "i hope my husband kisses me like that" once (when she was an older kid tho lol)

your son goes to talk to you a lot. he adores you so so much. but one day when he wanted to hang out with you, you weren't home. you were busy running errands while katsuki was at home watching tv. your son started crying and katsuki was like wtf?? eventually, your son grew accustomed to speaking to katsuki. as he got older, he actually talked to him more than you.

teaches your son how to be a man :,) katsuki knew he was bitchy in his younger years and he didn't want either of his kids to be like him. he taught them both manners and how to properly have a conversation.

little pitter patter of their feet ran into your guys' shared bedroom on christmas morning and began jumping your bed. katsuki groaned and rubbed his eyes aggressively. "it's christmas, mommy!" your little boy shouted. "wake up daddy!!" your daughter shouted in his ear. "alright alright you rugrats"

at your daughter's kindergarten graduation (idk if everyone had this but i did lmao), katsuki was tearing up and although he tried to hide it, he had to remain the strong one while comforting you while you bawled your eyes out.

p.s your daughter is the oldest

when she brought home her first boyfriend... ooo chile

i see a lot of people writing how katsuki would act up but tbh in his older years, i think he'd be a lot more mature. he'd greet the dude politely and treat him like he would any of her friends

btw lemme just say: your daughter is a mommy AND daddy's girl. she loves u both insanely

honestly while eating dinner with the boyfriend or something, katsuki would be very blunt and not pay too much mind to him LMAOO he'd be like "'tis is great, doll" as if you don't cook dinner every week and it's only when your daughter brings up how he wants to work at katsuki's angency, where he perks up

"oh shit, no kiddin'?" and you smack his arm lightly.

well this changes everything! he practically gave the kid his blessing. "welcome to the family son"

your son doesn't really care about them together, he just doesn't wanna see his big sis get hurt. lets say that your son is 15 and your daughter is 17. "so, bf/n. have you fucked her?"

you almost spit out your drink like a cartoon. your daughter is shook, katsuki's rage from UA is all coming back to him, and the boyf is scared for his life

you, katsuki, and your daughter have a little talk after dinner

"use condoms" kats stated. "i- WH- nono you can have sex next year." you corrected but ur daughter is like huh?? "wha why next year?" you scoff. "because you'll be a legal adult thats why." "no offense, momma, but that's really dumb. when did you and dad start having sex?" she folded her arms. katsuki shrugged. "like i said, use condoms."

you and your daughter gossip like crazy alr?? ur like the gilmore girls except you're married and didn't get pregnant at 16 (almost)

and this is nothing new to katsuki, he's heard u guys gossip trillions of times. but when he found out you guys talked abouy HIM TOO??

he busts into the room. your daughter squeals and runs behind you. "hi honeyy-" he shushes you, "you guys talkin' shit 'bout me?" "nope" you guys say in unison. "there's this other guy, uh.."

#gonna probably make this a separate thingy where its like one part is when the kids were little and one where they're older #just so its more organized bc this was all over the place #katsuki fluff #katsuki #bakugo #bakugo x reader #dad bakugo #dad bakugou #mom reader #fem reader #mha #mha x reader #𝓴𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓲 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

696 notes · View notes

doctorbitchcrxft · 3 days

Text

Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)

Word Count: 6125

Series Rewrite Masterlist

After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.

Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“What?” you whispered.

“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.

Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.

“Start what up?” you asked.

“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.

Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.

“Alright, just remember you started it.”

“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”

“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.

“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Dean—!”

“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.

“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.

“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” you asked.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.

“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.

“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.

“Where’d you find those?” you asked.

The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”

“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.

“HellHoundsLair.com.”

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.

“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”

“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.

“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”

You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.

***

The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to.

“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.

“That’s the one,” answered Dean.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.

“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.

Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” you questioned.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

‘Oh, that’s just great.’

“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.

“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

***

You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.

“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”

Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”

“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door.

“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”

“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”

“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”

You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.

Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”

Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.

“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.

You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him.

He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”

Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.

Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”

A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.

“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said.

The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.

“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Professional what?”

The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.

The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.

“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.

You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”

“Amateurs.”

You and Dean immediately lost interest.

Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.

“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.

“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.

“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.

“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.

Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”

“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—”

“By itself,” Harry finished.

“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.

“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.

“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”

A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”

***

You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town.

“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.

“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”

“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?”

His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Hell House.”

***

Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head.

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.

You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”

You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.”

You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”

You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference.

“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.

You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”

“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.

“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.

“...I double dare you.”

Sam just shook his head and continued walking.

You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight.

“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”

Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”

Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother.

You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.

“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust.

“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.

You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“But Dean.”

“Hm.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.

Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”

You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He just grunted in response.

***

The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”

“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.

“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”

“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”

***

Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.

“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.

“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.

“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”

You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter.

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea,” you responded.

***

The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.

His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”

“So?” Dean said.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.

“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”

Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.

“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.

“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”

“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke.

“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.

“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”

Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.

“Where we going?” Dean questioned.

“To find a copy store.”

Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughed and walked after you.

“You did this?!” Sam called.

The only response he got was a laugh from his brother.

“You're a friggin jerk!”

“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.

***

After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.

“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”

You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said.

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”

Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”

Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.

“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.

“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”

Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”

“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.

You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”

“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.

“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”

“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.

“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.

You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally,” Ed nodded.

Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”

“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.

Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly.

Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”

***

You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord.

You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”

Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”

“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.

“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.

You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”

Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”

Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”

“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.

“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.

Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”

Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”

You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”

“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”

“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”

Dean grunted, “Fine.”

***

Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.

You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.

“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.

“I don't know,” Sam answered.

“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.

You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.

“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.

“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up.

“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders.

He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door.

“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.

“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.

Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.

“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.

“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.

Sam and Dean appeared behind you.

“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.

“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.

The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.

“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”

Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.

“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.

“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.

You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway,

“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.

“Guys! Help!” you screamed.

Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.

“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”

Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.

“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.

“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said.

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.

“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged.

You turned back to the house and watched it burn.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.

***

You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.

“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”

You cringed.

“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.

“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car.

“And create the RPG,” Harry added.

“The what?” Dean asked.

“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”

You forced a smile at him.

“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.

“What's that,” prompted Dean.

“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.

“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”

Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.

“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.

“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth

a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

171 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 8 months

Note

Hey look at that! That's your stepdad!Joel 😁

roadside (set in the past)

700 words, stepdad!Joel x f!reader

stepdad masterlist

A/N: Alright, I guess I'm doing another alt timeline where he gets in trouble, damnit 😭. SUMMARY: Alt. ending to uber. WARNINGS: I8+ PWP, groping, BJ, mutual touching, humiliation, the usual baiting/pressure from reader.

You feel a damp spot under your palm as you grope him through his joggers. When you reach into his waistband and feel the smooth skin of his shaft for the first time, he swerves, and red and blue lights flash behind you. "FUCK. Happy now?"

The cops make him do a field sobriety test and his massive erection is tenting his sweats the whole time. Holding his arms straight out with his hair sticking every which way, his tight white t-shirt rides up and his silhouette in the red and blue lights looks like a slutty scarecrow with a raging hard-on. The cops get a kick out of it. Combined with the little damp spot, it's obvious the real reason he swerved, but they cuff him for a few minutes just to teach him a lesson while they give you both a lecture about how there's a time and a place. Then when he's uncuffed, he can finally adjust himself. One of the cops nods toward Joel's crotch and says, "shouldn't drive with that big'a distraction" and fails to suppress a smirk. "If ya needa finish, just put on your hazards, k?"

The cops laugh as they get in their patrol car and drive off. You get in the car in silence and put on the hazards then reach for his cock again. He throws your wrist away and you say "you heard him, c'mon." He shakes his head, jaw clenched, glasses beginning to fog up, refusing to look at you.

"Just lemme get it wet for you," you plead.

"FUCK," he yells and bangs the steering wheel. "God damnit," he mutters and checks you out. "Fuck," he whispers and tilts his seat all the way back.

He buries his eyes in the crook of his elbow, bulging arm muscles straining his sleeves, and his shirt rides up again, exposing his happy trail. You take his hard cock out and inhale his musk, memorizing the scent. Your clit twitches and you just barely move his smooth, warm skin over the stiff shaft as you admire it. God, he has a nice one. It could be used a sex toy mold, no shit. You lick from base to tip then swirl your tongue around the tip and he gasps as you take his length into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat. You suck and tongue him hard, and before long he's moaning, and his chest is rising and falling with heavier breaths.

"Alright," he grumbles when he's close, and you keep going. "That's enough," he snaps. Then he pulls up his shirt, takes his cock from you, pumps it twice, and begins to release with a shudder. You clench your thighs together as you watch and the sight alone almost makes you cum untouched.

Holy shit, the cum. The look on his face. His brows furrowed, eyes pinched shut, mouth hanging open with rope after rope making a mess of his tummy.

"Holy shit," you mutter, knowing that whatever happens, this is something you won't forget. Your cunt spasms just thinking about what if you were on his dick right now getting all of that pumped into you. You reach between your legs and rub yourself for a frantic 10 seconds. Holding a breast with your other hand, then you moan. And Jesus, he's just now finishing. When you moan, he shoves his hand under you to catch your release. He's catching his breath, hand soaked between your legs, and says "it aint happeninn, sweetheart," slowly withdrawing his hand which goes straight to his nose and mouth.

You use your balled up stockings to dry yourself off, then he yanks them away from you and stuffs them in his pocket. He puts the seat back up, starts the car, and drives you home in silence with his t-shirt sticking to the massive trail of cum on his stomach.

--------

For another alt timeline of stepdad getting in trouble, see "what if you bailed Joel out for indecent exposure?" 😭

NOTE: In SD canon you, don't jack him off or blow him until subsequent parts of the story.

#stepdad!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #stepdad!joel miller #joel miller drabble #stepdad!joel ☠️#joel miller fanfic #toxicanonymity ☠️

490 notes · View notes

seokjinsonlyone · 2 months

Note

How do you think each of the members are like as a best friend? I'm curious as to your take. You always somehow get them spot on.

a/n: first of all,,, thank you!!! second idk if this is what you was looking for but it turned out to be a luh calm mini headcanon,,, lemme know what u think 🫢

namjoon:

wants to hang out 24/7; always tries to make you be friends with his other friends so he can have one huge super group of friends to hang out with all the time

lowkey your biggest opp; like you’ll be having a heart to heart ranting about your life and what’s going on and “why is it always me? 😩” and then he’ll read you for filth detailing exactly why whatever’s happening is happening and what you need to do to fix it; and you sitting there like 🤥 because you was just tryna complain

perpetually busy but will literally drop whatever he’s doing the second you say you need him

seokjin:

people wonder if y’all are even friends because all you do is bicker because neither of you can fight the urge to play devil’s advocate on every single subject

the type to be the brother you never wanted; always tryna scare your boo things away; loves either going to your family home or having you at his; randomly puts you in headlocks to assert dominance; posts awful 0.5 pics of you on his close friends story

he may play with you but he don’t play about you; he can be mean to you because he loves you but it’s a no for everyone else; 100% not afraid to check someone who say something slick about you

yoongi:

likes to buy you random gifts in lieu of actually expressing affection

takes pride in being your bestie; if anyone else claims to be your best friend he’s gonna look at them funny and give them some push back; goes to you later on to confirm that He is in fact your best friend as if you’re not allowed to have more than one

regardless of whether it’s his cup of tea or not when you want to do something with him he always goes along with it

hoseok:

sends or tags you in every single video he finds even slightly amusing and expects you to react to them all; (bonus) you’d definitely make one of those muni long made for me videos

the one you call when you’re bored at work and y’all stay on the phone yapping for the rest of your shift

your shopping buddy!; sometimes you’ll both order a stuff online or maybe you’ll go thrifting or to target or something and then go back to his place and do a lil fashion show with all the stuff you bought

jimin:

would have the type of relationship with you that makes prospective partners suspicious because y’all are too close; it’s not your fault that people don’t understand y’all soul ties!!

the devil on your shoulder at all times; he’s the one you go to when you want validation to do something you know you shouldn’t do

whatever someone tells jimin they sign up to telling you too; you’re a package deal <3; there’s an actual tea party that takes place once a month that’s dedicated to spilling tea

taehyung:

the type to stick beside you no matter what; doesn’t matter how wrong you are no one gon ever catch him on anyone else’s side

has an uncanny ability to talk you into his harebrained schemes so you’re always getting into escapades and shenanigans

follows you on spotify to monitor and critique what you’re listening to; you’ll get random screenshots of what you’re listening to and what he thinks you should be listening to; never admits when you put him on to an artist or song

jungkook:

a fellow dnd warrior; may not have your back immediately but he will always have it eventually

you speak in terms of tiktok audios and obscure references of things that happen in your day to day life that were unreal

y’all will agree to go on a diet together and then proceed to watch mukbang/cooking videos for 3 hours and end up breaking the diet within a day of starting it

#ask #ask of interest #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts headcanons #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fluff #yoongi x reader #hoseok fic #jimin fanfiction #taehyung x you #jungkook fanfic

257 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 14 days

Note

Can we have some subrry with an oral fixation please? Even a tiny blurb 🩷 I’m on my knees

HELL YEAH I CAN

I haven’t done subrry in a bit so lemme do that

Check out our Patreon !

Warnings- sub!H, mommy kink, messy H, he’s a lil nasty tbh, slight degrading 😈

——

“Please. Please let me have it, I promise I’ll make it good.” His voice was strained as Y/N kneeled above his face. It was a beautiful sight, seeing the man near tears as he begged for her to sit on his face.

“I know you will, pet. You always do such a good job for me. But you gave me a little bit of back talk earlier, didn’t you?” She crooned, cupping his cheek as she looked over him. “Not so nice t’me because you’re greedy. Aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I just- I promise, I didn’t mean it.” He whimpered, hands smoothing over her thighs, leaning his face to kiss her palm. “Never want to upset you. I jus’ missed you so much, and I wanted to taste you so bad. Wasn’t hungry for anything but you.” It had been particularly bratty of him to push the food away that she had made, but anyone who had tasted Y/N knew that he couldn’t be blamed for it.

It was always something she found to be incredible. How deceiving appearances could really be. The larger man faltering at the moment her eyes narrowed or falling to pieces when her hand tightened on the back of his neck, or digging her nails in his skin and making his knees weak. To anyone else who saw them, the assumption would be that he was the man in charge. He was the Dom type, with his tattoos and tall stature. His cocky little smirk and overly confident words, the swagger he had when he walked into the room- his energy owned people the minute they met him. Little did they know that behind the curtains, his eyes glazed over with tears as he plead his case. Desperation clinging to his tone as he begged for her to sit on his face, to taste what he’s been missing. The handsome, charming man with a larger than life aura was a whimpery little sub when his back hit the mattress- or his knees hit the floor.

“But you need to eat before we play, because I need you to have your strength. How else are you gonna be able to take 3 orgasms, huh?” She cooed, the condescending tone going right to his cock, the twitch of it making her pout. “I brought the pretty strap with me, but I dunno if you really deserve it.”

“No!” He cried. “I do, I deserve it, I swear. Mommy, please.” Tears bubbled in those pretty eyes, fear coating his features at the idea of his pleasure being taken away. At the same time, his cock was drooling with precum, making a stringy mess of his belly at the concept. A lot of those things contradicted one another, and yet Y/N found a way to hang it both in the balance. He loved his pleasure, but he loved pain. Being edged was his favorite thing, he thinks, and the girl on top of him did it better than anyone he had ever met.

“Prove it.” She sighed. “Get to work and make me cum, and then I’ll consider if you deserve to get fucked.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He bleated, pulling her back down onto his face with little hesitation. There was no fear about how messy his face would be, his eager tongue splitting her slit and lapping over her entrance with a broken moan. The heady taste, the way her hands tightened in his hair, he knew this was where he belonged.

He’d always enjoyed eating pussy, but Y/N’s in particular had unleashed a whole new beast in him. A desperate, messy, needy beast that didn’t mind getting sloppy with it when he got the chance to taste her. No semblance of hiding the whimpery moans he let out at the taste of her coating his tongue, hands wrapping around her thighs and pulling her down firmly so he could feel the weight of her on his face. This was what grounded him, being lost in her drippy cunt.

“Careful, Puppy.” She whispered, holding onto the headboard with one hand while the other kept purchase in his hair. “Know you’re a bit of a slut but we can’t have you suffocating. Or would you like that?” The cadence changed, a slow roll of her hips making her swollen pearl brush against the tip of her nose and his tongue slip into her entrance, making her sigh with pleasure.

“Suffocate me. Use me. I’m yours, Mommy. Use my mouth.” The words were muffled as he spoke against her cunt, the wet sounds of his mouth filling the room. It was deprived, nasty even, but it only served to get his cock harder. The tip was swollen and dribbling and he knew it had to be twitching up a storm on his stomach, but his focus was trying to make her cum. Yes, his balls were full and his ass was plugged, making him even more sensitive than he would have been, but she would take care of him.

Or she wouldn’t, and he’d be made to wait another day to cum.

“That’s right, sweet baby. You’re mine to use and to fuck. God, you’ve got such a nice mouth.” She moaned, eyes fluttering shut as she rutted over his face until his mouth caught her clit. “Suck on that, pretty boy. Suck on that clit, show me how desperate for it you really are.”

He tried to respond but it came out as a garbled moan, fingers digging into her ass as he shook his head back and forth a few times before suckling her clit right into his mouth. There was no hint of his shy demeanor from before, moaning like a little bitch as he helped her rock on his face. “Oh- oh, there you go, Puppy. Keep that up. Such a fuckin’ whore.” Y/N laughed, tugging harshly on his hair to get him closer. It would cut off the air for a moment, but it only made him more aroused. “Go on and make me cum, Puppy, or you aren’t getting that perky little ass fucked.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry smut #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry blurbs #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles au #harry styles one shots

151 notes · View notes

i-am-hungry-24-7 · 27 days

Text

[Counting Down To Heaven] TF141*Reader

They wait outside the operation room for your emergency op to finish, they try to stay awake, but tiredness eventually drags them into a dream.

cw: gore and wound mentioned

Price (fear of his job will put u in danger)

He opens the door, coming back home is the thing bracing him through the grueling mission, because it means coming back to you.

The living room is full of the sweet scent of fresh-baked cookies, he hums and calls out your name, putting his hat down and walks inward, not realizing the soothing yellow light turns off itself behind him.

He frowns when he feels the air is freezingly cold he frowns, and he realizes something the moment he turns the knob on the door of you two’s bedroom

The house is too quiet, eerily silent.

His cry stucks in his throat when his eyes land on your figure, lying in the blood pool, cloudy eyes looking straightly into his.

As he drops to his knee and crawls to your side, he recognizes there’s something in his grasp.

A tactical knife dripping blood, gripped in his hand, and it suits the slash wound across your throat.

Soap (fear of being overconfident)

He tells you everything’s okay, all his plans will lead to success, don’t worry, just follow behind him.

So he never looks back to check on you during the battle, eyes lock on his enemies, adrenaline pumping through his body, heartbeats deafening, and makes him unaware of the sound of your footsteps disappears.

It’s too late when he turns around and can’t find you, the thick fog surrounding him obscures his sight, so he just runs as fast as he can towards the only tunnel with lights in the end.

Only be welcomed by your body hanging high on the tree by his enemy, but after a blink, he isn’t standing at the same spot.

He’s tying the rope around your neck and unable to stop himself.

Gaz (fear of having wrong decision)

“Give me a donut, thanks babe.” You say to him with a smile, and he leans down to press a kiss on your cheek then walks into the coffee shop.

He waits for quite a while, finally getting his order, and can’t wait to meet you outside and see your delighted face when you’re enjoying your favorite dessert.

but when he pushes open the door, all he can see is blood, gun, corpse.

Battlefield.

He yells your name immediately, trying to search for you as he rushes between countless dead bodies.

Until he spots clothes with a familiar pattern peeking out under one of the remnants that he dashes to its side, pawing at the rocks and glass even if they cut open his palms, he doesn’t care, and finally, you reveal from the gravel, with a gunshot wound right on your temple.

What he only can do is carefully hug you in his arms and regret his decision — leaving you alone.

Ghost (fear of losing his love because of himself)

He’s washing his hands, water pouring from the sink, but none of the blood is getting off of his skin.

He scrubs his hands, harder and rougher, until his skin is broken, and his blood combines with yours from the scratches scattering across his hands.

He raises his head and smashes the mirror above because no matter what he does, the blood just stains his palms.

When he finally takes a good look at the shattered mirror, he sees you in it.

Bloody and pale, lifeless. Glints no longer exist in your eye, and he crumbles to the floor with a desperate sob.

202 notes · View notes

arieslost · 2 months

Note

Omg thank you so much for writing my Oscar x stressed reader I felt like I related so much and your writing is just too tear I loveeeee it ❤️

I was wondering if you could do maybe like on Oscar x like a sick reader or something like that I literally have the worst flue and stomach bug atm

Thank so much -❤️❤️

i’m so glad you liked it!! i hope you’re feeling better by time i post this :((

sick day | op81

you always prided yourself in going long stretches of time without getting sick, and if you did, it was only a mild cold that went away within a day or two. so, when you woke up one morning with a sore throat, you ignored it. when your nose got stuffy, you ignored it. when the uncharacteristic headache hit you, you popped some ibuprofen and called it a day.

but then you wake up the next morning and instantly know that this isn’t just a cold. the high temperature flashing back at you on the thermometer only confirms it, and unfortunately you can’t ignore this. not if you don’t want oscar to get sick too. so, when you crawl back into bed and he goes to kiss your forehead like he does every morning, you shy away from him.

“i might be sick,” you manage to croak out.

“might be?” oscar frowns. “honey, you sound like me when i first hit puberty.”

you try to glare at him, but what he said was kind of funny and your huff of laughter turns into a coughing fit that sounds nothing short of excruciating. you think you see oscar physically recoil out of the corner of your eye.

“why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he asks once you down a few sips of water.

“because i never get sick!” you exclaim, raising a hand to your head when it pounds courtesy of your own voice. “now i’m a hazard for myself, and you. actually, you probably shouldn’t be this close to me. go away.”

you start pushing him out of the bed with your foot, and he stifles his own laughter as he gets up. “stay there, okay? i’ll take care of you.”

“no, no, i don’t want you to get sick. just leave me here and let me sweat it out or something.” you wave him off, trying to act casual, and then you cough again. “ow.”

“i’ll make tea. does your stomach hurt?” you shake your head no in response. “some toast and eggs too, then.” you open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. “and you can’t stop me because the only way to do that is to physically kick me out, and you can’t touch me. otherwise i’ll get sick.”

“i hate you,” you grumble, even though you don’t think you’ve ever loved him more than you do in this moment.

“hang tight, baby. i’ll take care of you.” he blows you a kiss and hurries out of the room.

“don’t burn the toast!” you yell after him, immediately regretting it as your throat feels like it’s on fire the more you talk.

within the next ten minutes, you feel like you’ve sweat through your pajamas, and the sheets feel damp underneath your body. he comes to check on you and only needs to take one look at you to know something’s wrong.

“what is it?”

“i’m just… really hot. and everything feels icky.” you complain.

“okay, baby. can you sit up?” he asks, reaching for a hair tie on your nightstand. “where’s your comb?”

“top drawer.” you say as you push yourself up. “you better not come near me.”

“what are you gonna do about it? cough on me? come on,” he gestures for you to lean forward a little so he can brush your hair. “don’t worry about me. let me take care of you, yeah? no more arguing.”

“fine. but only because it hurts to talk.” you acquiesce, eyes falling shut at the tingles every brush of the comb through your hair sends to your scalp. “feels nice.”

“good,” you can hear the smile in your boyfriend’s voice as he gently gathers your hair up into a ponytail and carefully ties the elastic. “lemme get you some clothes, and then let’s go out to the couch, hmm?”

you want to tell him no, you don’t want to contaminate anything else, but you also don’t want to stay here in a puddle of your own sweat, so you let him help you change into a pair of his sweats and an old t-shirt, and because he’s being so sweet, you don’t pull away from him when he takes your hand and leads you out to the living room.

you situate yourself on the couch, clutching your water bottle in your hands for dear life. not necessarily because you feel like drinking it, but because it’s cold and it feels good. meanwhile, oscar is bustling around looking like he’s doing five things at once. one moment he’s moving the eggs around in the pan, the next he’s getting sheets out of the linen closet, and then he’s in the bathroom with the sink running.

“i could get used to this,” you tease, managing to not sound completely miserable as he brings over two cool cloths. one goes on your neck, and the other rests against your forehead. “ah, my fever’s already gone.”

“nice try,” oscar says, adjusting the cloth on your forehead a little. “eggs are almost done, you ready to eat?”

“are you gonna feed me?” you bat your eyelashes at him, and promptly have your second coughing fit of the morning.

“i might have to, you can barely talk without almost coughing up a lung.” he moves into the kitchen and begins making up a plate for you, followed by pouring hot water into a mug and placing the tea bag in before adding some honey and stirring it. “i didn’t burn the toast, so i expect a five star rating.”

“we’ll see about that,” you say, eagerly accepting the mug of tea when he holds it out and taking a long sip. even though it’s hot, it feels incredible as it goes down your throat. “i’m willing to give you bonus points for the tea.”

“that doesn’t count, i didn’t actually make that. c’mon, have some food.” he takes the mug from you and replaces it with the plate of toast and eggs.

you eat without complaint, but your nose being so stuffy kind of takes away from your ability to taste. all the same, you make your reactions as enthusiastic as possible. oscar’s a pretty decent cook, you both know it, but it’s been a running bit in your relationship to smack talk his skills in the kitchen.

“thanks, oz.” you say quietly when you’re done eating and you’ve drank two cups of tea. “i feel a lot better already.”

“you look sleepy,” he points out, flipping both cloths so the cooler sides can be on your skin.

“no, ‘m fine.” you disagree, even though you can feel yourself sinking back into the couch and your eyelids getting heavy.

“take a nap, honey. you’ll feel even better if you let your body rest.” he stands up to clear your dishes, and you stop him by weakly grabbing the bottom of his shirt. “what’s the matter?”

“nothing, just… want you to stay.”

“of course, baby. one second.” he’s quick to put your dishes in the sink before he’s back at your side, and you waste no time in slumping against him. “are you sure you want to cuddle? you feel pretty hot still.”

“i’m always hot, you tell me all the time.”

he sighs, knowing he won’t win this unless he wants to deal with you being sick and annoyed that he won’t do what you want. “touché, honey.”

you don’t answer, so wrapped up in the comfort oscar gives you even though you’re still hot and he’s often your personal heater. strangely enough, his body heat combats the fever heat in a way that’s so nice you don’t even really notice yourself losing consciousness. meanwhile, oscar leans back against the couch, making sure the washcloth stays put against your head and your ponytail doesn’t fall out when you shift in your sleep.

of course, he ends up getting sick a week later, but you’re quick to drop everything and take care of him, just like he did for you.

word count: 1,340

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: i once again hate this ending but we move!! thank you for sending this in!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#aries answers #anon <3 #request #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

386 notes · View notes

roronoacherries · 10 months

Note

its obvious zoro has medical play kink and you can't change my mind

this is filling my mind with the most ungodly thoughts. but you’re absolutely right anon. zoro x nurse is always the way.

it's a good thing he's so reckless, he thinks, because it lands him in the medical bay, under the care of your gentle hands more often. he enjoys seeing your stern, focused expression as you bandage him up — nothing like the usual, persistent smile that tugs at your lips.

he finds delight in the way you tend to him, your cold hands leaving feather touches along his bare skin. part of him wants to hold them in his and warm them up; another part of him wants to feel them dig into his skin, pushing him back against the exam table, forcing him to rest and let you make him feel good. doctor's orders.

"are you ever going to learn to be more careful?" you give the bandage too harsh of a tug and the swordsman winces, but it doesn't keep away the smirk on his lips.

"why should i when i've got this pretty thing to take care of me?" his fingers push a strand of hair behind your ear and you close your eyes to enjoy the feeling for just a second before opening them to shoot him a glare.

"i'll make sure to relay that message to chopper." you finish wrapping the bandage and turn to leave but the swordsman's voice pulls you back.

"c'mere," he hums, the trace of an apology hanging on his lips. it isn’t enough and you’re more than tempted to ignore him and leave anyway.

but you can't help but give in.

you stand between his legs obediently, but the contempt in your eyes persists.

“don’t i get a treat? f’r being a good patient,” zoro smirks, his hands resting on your hips.

“good patients try not to get themselves killed,” you mutter, but you let drag his lips along your jaw anyway.

and he’ll get his treat because you can never find it in you to say no to him. you’ll end up sitting between his legs, drooling over his cock or whining as he grips your thighs and satisfies his hunger.

and if you’re feeling generous, you’ll let him strip you of your clothes — leaving only that white apron he loves — and bend you over to use you as he pleases.

he murmurs the prettiest things in your ear as he presses against you. "my little nurse 's takin' care of me so well."

you can't quite stay mad at him after he's made you feel so heavenly, especially not when he thanks you so sweetly for the remedy. "feelin' better already," the swordsman quips, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

he whispers something about you having to let him play doctor someday and the thought alone is almost enough to make you whimper.

“just lemme know when mama needs a full check-up.”

#another thing that has been collecting dust in my drafts #zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #୨⎯ pedacito de sol ☼

606 notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 4 months

Note

May I possibly ask for headcaons for the brothers with a MC does not speak like at all? Like Zero words unless they’re in a position where they absolutely have to talk? Sorry for late request.

First, sorry that I still have so many requests in my inbox, and I kinda disappeared for two weeks. I was feeling kinda uninspired for a bit. None of the requests were fully clicking in my brain, but I tried. I hope you'll end up seeing this and will enjoy it, anon.

Reacting to an MC who doesn't speak unless necessary headcanons (the demon brothers)

(Suggestive for some: Lucifer, Asmodeus, Belphegor)

(Warning: Belphie's last headcanon has some creepy, messed up, dubcon-ish vibes)

Word Count: +2,600

Lucifer

He gets pissed off by it for the stupidest, most irrational reasons. When he lectures and nags you, he takes your lack of response as a sign that you were ignoring him or don’t care what he has to say. If he’s just trying to chat with you, and you don’t respond verbally, he assumes you’re uninterested in him. Lucifer gets especially upset when he asks you a question and you respond non-verbally (shaking or nodding your head, shrugging, pointing) – even if you’re answering him properly. All of it hurts his pride, and he’ll huff and pout about it all day.

I know he’s like the dad of the group, but if you don’t explain why you don’t talk, he’ll be so childish about it. He might even resort to giving you the silent treatment in return.

His annoyance is eased a bit when he sees that it’s not just him you don’t talk to.

You’ll confuse the poor man so much if you’re comfortable texting him. How is he supposed to take that? So, you’ll chat with him in messages, but you won’t actually speak to him? He’ll wonder if you’re mute and just never brought it up – but he hopes not, because then he would feel like an ass for getting mad.

Assumes that you’re just nervous or scared, so he tries to interrogate you for the answer. At least he’s smart enough to ask only yes or no questions.

You’re better off just explaining to him that you don’t speak unless you have to. He won’t push for your reasoning – although he’s curious. Eventually, he figures, you’ll let him know.

It’s still frustrating from time to time after he understands that it’s just how you are, but he can appreciate the quiet.

Definitely takes advantage of it to vent to you. However, he wishes you’d stop glaring at him when he does something wrong. It’s hard to enjoy the perk of you not scolding him when you’re burning holes into him.

The closer you get, the more he wants to hear your voice. You can’t tell me this man wouldn’t try to get you alone and tease you until you spoke to him, and then say some cocky shit like “There we go. Let me hear your voice. I can be the only one you share those sounds with.” Put him in horny jail.

Mammon

He doesn’t understand you. Even if you explain that it’s just how you are – even if you had a perfectly rational explanation for why (other than just not wanting to), Mammon wouldn’t get it. “How could ya not wanna talk to me, the Great Mammon?”

He’s always chatting or arguing with someone, so the idea of just sitting silently is unsettling for him. When you’re quiet, he starts to worry about whether you’re enjoying hanging out with him, so he’ll often glance over at you, scanning your face for any hints of your feelings. And, honestly, he gets pretty good at picking up on your particular expressions and body language.

Mammon feels weird about being the only one talking, so he tends to ask permission and check in more often. “Can I bend your ear for a bit?” / “Ya mind if I talk during our movie?” / “Just lemme know if I’m gettin’ on ya nerves or somethin’. I don’t gotta talk.” If you welcome him talking to you, he’ll be overjoyed – albeit a bit over-confident. “Damn right. I knew ya couldn’t get bored of the Great Mammon.”

After the pact, he loves that you are sparing with the “stay” command. He can only imagine how bad it would be if you used it whenever he got slightly out of hand.

However, he also gets bummed that you don’t really stick up for him when his brothers are insulting him. The comfort from you holding his hand or offering him physical reassurance is nice, but sometimes he wants more.

Feels sad that he can’t hear any praise or kindness you offer him through messages directly from your lips. He might bring it up and ask you to say something nice to him – especially after a rough day. “Ya can’t blame a demon for wantin’ to hear ya say it. Just for today? Come on.”

If he gets you to say his name (or really anything at all) in private, he’ll beg you to say it again and again. He wants to savor the sound of your voice and engrave it in his mind.

Leviathan

Take the older two’s insecurity and doubt, add it up, and multiply it by 23. He assumes you hate him at first – and his first response to that is “yeah. Fair.”

He gets so consumed by self-pity that it takes him longer than it should to realize that you’re like that with everyone. You aren’t singling him out just because you hate the shut-in otaku – although he doesn’t rule out that you still might hate him.

That worry doesn’t go away until you two start texting more often. You actually seem interested in engaging with him. A part of him still thinks that it’s just wishful thinking on his end.

He needs to get confirmation that you just don’t talk unless necessary – for whatever reason. Like Lucifer, he won’t push you for a reason. He’d love for you to open up and tell him if you have one, but you don’t have to. Once he knows that, he’ll be a lot more comfortable around you.

Levi loves that you’ll just let him go on and on about his interests. He’ll even leave you lengthy voice messages and patiently wait for a response. However, his insecurity gets the better of him, and he establishes a system with you so you can get him to shut up whenever (if ever) he’s being too much for you. It’s something simple like putting both hands up during a conversation or texting a stop sign to signal that you need him to pause.

Often texts you while you’re in the same room (much to everyone’s, especially Lucifer’s, annoyance) or messages you through games. You’ve both gotten lectured by Lucifer multiple times about not having your phones out at the dinner table.

The first time he gets you to laugh out loud at one of his messages, he falls so hard. He’ll be a flustered mess and immediately get upset that he didn’t capture such a beautiful moment on video.

Satan

He notices that you don’t talk unless necessary quicker than the others, so he’s not particularly offended that you don’t speak to him.

Probably the most understanding and willing to meet you where you’re at. He won’t try to get you to talk. Instead, he’ll try to incorporate different forms of nonverbal communication with you. Satan will try to learn some sign language with you as to develop more communication options that don’t require you to speak.

He’s good about asking yes or no questions and remains patient with you while you try to communicate with him.

It feels personal to him that your feelings are taken into consideration, and you’re given the tools and time you need to express yourself. Satan still remembers all the times he wished someone had been more patient with him when he was angry or hurt.

He’ll also communicate with you via text even when you’re in the same room. It’s a win-win. You’re free to respond however you wish, and he gets to hold a secret conversation with you. It makes it easier to plot his pranks on Lucifer with you, too. Lucifer can’t overhear any plots if you two don’t speak. However, he gets incredibly shy when he’s texting you and someone points out that he has a smile on his face. He’ll blush and get all indignant. “Shut up. I was watching videos of cats.” Which is, of course, a blatant lie. If he was, he’d be trying to show the videos off while gushing about the cats.

Satan will often try to communicate with you through books. He’ll share his books with you, often leaving notes inside that you can respond to – sometimes in the margins, but often on cat-themed note cards that he tucked between pages. Also, he would 100% write letters to you. Sure, he could say that to your face or in a text, but it wouldn’t be the same.

However, sometimes, especially when he’s on the verge of a rage-induced rampage, he just wants to hear your voice. He wants to hear you comforting and soothing him as he tries to calm down. He wants to hear you praise him. He wants to hear you whisper his name.

Asmodeus

He could talk enough for the both of you. Although he probably still talks less than Levi, Asmo has enough gossip to keep you entertained for hours. He could go on and on about nothing, just spilling ideas out for you to examine.

He doesn’t get why you don’t speak to him much, and it takes him a while to realize that you’re like that with everyone. “Aww, too stunned by my beauty to speak? Go on, you can praise me if you want. I only bite if you ask me to.”

If you shake your head “no” in response to him, he’ll be so insulted. You’ll have to explain soon after because Asmo will be pouty for days if he thinks you just don’t want to talk to him, Asmodeus, the cutest being to ever grace the Devildom.

After you explain to him that you don’t talk unless necessary (and that it’s not just him you don’t talk to), he’ll perk up cheerfully. “Oh, why didn’t you just say – oh. Well, never mind that. I’m just so glad you’re not immune to my charm.”

He appreciates it when you’re willing to listen to him. Even if you don’t respond to him verbally, he feels heard. Occasionally, he’ll ask to vent to you if he knows that your one-sided conversation is mostly going to consist of complaints.

He’ll text you a lot – often including a bunch of stickers, voice messages, and videos. In part, he’s hoping one day you’ll send him a voice message or video so he can have a file of your voice saved on his D.D.D. forever.

Pushes you to talk sometimes because he worries that he puts all the weight of his stress onto you. He doesn’t understand how you get your feelings out without talking, so he’s worried about you being all pent up. If you really won’t talk, he may try to drag you along during some of his stress-relief activities (spa days, shopping sprees, and I kind of headcanon that he would box on occasion just so he can punch something).

Definitely still flirts with you. However, instead of waiting for a response, he watches your expressions. “Well, if you’re ever feeling stressed, you can talk to me. And if you still don’t want to talk, pull me to a bed, and I’ll make you moan instead.”

Beelzebub

He’s not a big talker himself, but the absolute silence from you makes him uneasy. At first, he assumed you might be more of a listener like him, but after he sees someone try to strike up a conversation (or if he tries himself), he realizes that isn’t the case.

Wonders if he makes you uncomfortable. Usually, others don’t approach him or talk to him because he’s intimidating. So, maybe that’s the case with you, too? If one of his brothers mentions that you don’t talk to them when he’s around, Beel might question if you’re afraid of all demons.

He’s surprisingly nervous when he tries to ask. He’ll bring you an offering of delicious snacks, asking if you want to share with him. (In his head, no one who offers good food should be seen as scary.) If you accept, he’ll smile and wait for you to try it before awkwardly asking, “Hey, MC, are you scared of me? Do you not like demons?”

He will be overjoyed when you shake your head “no.” “That’s a relief. But why don’t you want to talk to me or my brothers?”

You’ll probably have to find some way to explain it to him eventually. He’ll let you off if all you do in that moment is shrug, but his “oh” in response will sound so sad. He’s smart enough to send a text later, asking if messages were an okay way to communicate instead.

Once he understands that you just don’t talk, Beel’s pretty chill about it. He still likes spending time with you – especially now that he knows you don’t dislike him. You don’t have to talk to enjoy meals with him or watch movies or exercise together.

He’s the least likely to crave the sound of your voice. That isn’t to say he wouldn’t appreciate it, but communicating through messages and physical touch is plenty for him. A tight hug, holding his hand, a kiss, caressing his arm – all of it speaks to him just as sweetly.

Belphegor

It takes him longer than it should to realize you don’t talk. Partly because of this, he’s pretty chill about it at first. He likes that you don’t nag him about sleeping too much or not listening in class or dumping his chores on his brothers.

Doesn’t notice until he asks you something and you don’t speak. He would probably be using you as a pillow when he starts chatting before he drifts off to sleep. His eyes would be closed as he awaits your response. Nothing. Annoyed, he would open one eye to see why in the Devildom you’re ignoring him.

“What, not interested in talking to me?” Nod. “That’s rude – but I’ll let it go this time since you’re such a comfy pillow.” Belphie would snuggle into you. Then, it would hit him. “Have you ever spoken to me?” Shake. “Really?” Nod. “Why not?” Shrug. “You can speak, right?” Nod. Belphie would scoff and finally fall asleep.

He (thinks he) gets it: talking is such a bother sometimes. He doesn’t assume he did anything wrong, especially if you’re letting him cuddle with you.

Belphie loves napping on you in relative silence. You can still stargaze with him while he offers free lectures on the constellations.

His understanding doesn’t last long. Eventually, he hates that you don’t talk at all. He wants to hear your voice when he’s falling asleep. He wants you to call out his name when you wake him up (and in general). Messages don’t feel like enough. He wants to hear you praise him and tell him he’ll be okay. Reading comforting, affectionate words is nice, but he needs more.

He will tickle you to try to get you to talk – or at least tell him to stop. He’ll ask you whether you would be okay talking to him in a dream, and he would probably invade your dreams without permission, seeking out your voice.

Belphie’s the least understanding and somehow the most persistent. You’ll have to send him a strongly worded message (or be extra and tell him via a letter) or get one of his brothers (Beel, Satan, or Lucifer) to tell him he needs to chill.

Honestly, he’s horrible. If he has already developed feelings for you and you are okay with some forms of physical affection, he would push his luck – kissing you deeper and touching you wherever he pleases. “If you want me to stop, say it. Or just let me have my way until you’re screaming my name.” He says that, but he would probably stop at the first sign of resistance and apologize (but it’s still a pretty messed up thing to try).

A/N: Again, sorry I've been so unmotivated to write here - and kind of in general, too. I hope this came out alright and it will give me some momentum to keep working on requests. I'll see if I can get something else up this week. The thing is, some of the requests are so long that they're daunting to even start - so that might be part of it. But I'll shut up now.

292 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

sorrowsofsilence

can you hear me?

amhrosia

it's kind of a mess here

ayjada

UNTITLED

milliekou

Meep!

precioussmolbean

Can of beans