#the regret is getting stronger its time to go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fallingdownhell · 7 months

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i love your recent posts but can i request hurt/comfort genshin impact xiao, wanderer, cyno where like they get into an argument about the reader being weak or something like that

although they didn't mean it, but after a few days after the argument, they see reader like training hard for them because of the fight.

Mhh, always. You know I love me a good dose of angst! And I'm sorry, but I only included two of the requested characters, because otherwise this would haven gotten way too out of hand and too much to read. Hope you're okay with that.

Characters Included: Xiao; Wanderer

Content: gender neutral reader; angst; comfort; hurt/comfort; established relationship; arguments between them and reader; shouting and cursing at reader in wanderer's scenario; Kunikuzushi/Kuni is being used for Wanderer

Word count: 2,2k words

Enjoy the read!

Xiao

You have to understand him. He's just looking out for you!

There is a clear, natural difference in strength between you and him!

He's an adeptus after all, and you're just a human! Sure, you possess a vision and you know perfectly well how to utilize it to your advantage in battle, but he's still your boyfriend! Let him be worried about you!

Honestly, he really just had your best interest and saftey in mind when he approached you one day, offering to train with you and possibly make you stronger, since he noticed your form to be a bit lacking when he watched you train.

The problem was, he told you exactly what he was thinking, no filter whatsoever. Which in turn caused you to get a bit defensive with him. That didn't sit right with Xiao, because in his eyes, he was only trying to help you.

This then resulted in a huge argument, where neither of you wanted to back down against the other.

"(Name), for the love of the Archons. Can't you see I'm only trying to help you here?"

"By berating me and telling me all the things I'm doing wrong? Without offering any advise at all? Yeah, great help.", you scoff as you turn your back to your boyfriend, trying to resume your exercise in peace. You were hoping that he would get the hint, to leave you alone. But he didn't.

"I'm really only looking out for you. You lack basic knowledge with the sword and you lack stamina as well. You're moving around too much, you make so many unnecassary movements. The hold you have on your weapon is too loose. Anyone could easily knock it out of your hand. Also-!"

"Okay! I got it!", you suddenly burst out as Xiao keeps on listing the things you're doing wrong in his eyes. It not only frustrated you, but it also made you feel so inferior.. to him and basically everyone else. You know that everyone starts out at some point. Everyone has to learn from the beginning. So why is he being so mean to you? Shouldn't he be more supporting of you as your boyfriend?

"I get it. You've made your point very clear."

You speak again, while Xiao just stares at you, mouth still hanging open. He didn't expect for you to raise your voice like this. You were usually so soft spoken.

You stared into each others eyes for a few more seconds, before you let out a sigh and placed your sword back into its sheat.

"I'm going home.", you announce as you go to grab your stuff. You collect everything and put it in your back, leaving without taking another look at him.

Suddenly, Xiao got the feeling that he made a huge mistake. Not only by "helping" you out with your training, but also as he let you go like this without having a talk with you, but something told him to let you be for the time being.

.....

Well... did he regret letting you just go like that. It has been almost a week since he last saw you, because you refused to call his name like you usually did on a daily basis.

And he was afraid of seeking you out himself, since he feared to only further sour your mood with an unannounced visit from his side. But he wanted to see you again so badly...

When the one week mark was reached without hearing anything from you, Xiao has had enough. He needed to make sure that you were okay. He was certain you would have called his name if you were in mortal danger, despite the argument at hand, but it's better to be safe than sorry. He needed to know you were still alive..

So, he teleported to your home, waiting for a few seconds in front of the door, gathering courage, before knocking on the door. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. He knocked again, but still nothing.

Xiao was about to leave again, scolding himself in his head, because of course you wouldn't open, you obviously didn't want to see him right now, when he heard noises coming from a bit further away.

Deciding to investigate, he followed the noises. And what he saw did shock him a bit..

He saw you, standing in a circle of training dummys, practicing different moves and tactics. He could tell that your hold on the blade has gotten better over the week you have been apart. In fact, everything he had critiqued about your skills seems to have improved...

Have you been training relentlessly this entire time??

This made him feel even more bad about this entire argument. He wanted to help you, not make you overexert yourself like this, just to prove something to him..

Deciding that it was finally time to talk, he approached you. You heard the footsteps coming your direction and turned towards them. Surprised to see Xiao there, you stopped in the middle of your session, facing him.

It was quiet for a few seconds as he arrived in front of you, and when you couldn't take it anymore, you decided to speak up again.

"What? Here to berate me even more?" It sounded way more sarcastic and hurtful than you had intended it to, and you saw Xiao flinch the slightest bit at your words, but you didn't back down from them.

"No..", Xiao answered weakly.

"I'm here to apologize." His words left you surprised, not expecting this at all.

"I didn't realize how much my words were hurting you. That was never my intention, (Name). I.. I'm just worried about you. There is a clear difference in skill, after all, but I shouldn't have been like this to you. I sincerely apologize for the way I treated you."

You have been with Xiao long enough to know two things. First, he was being completely honest with you. You could tell by the tone in his voice and the way he tried to look into your eyes, while also trying to avoid them at the same time, feeling embarrassed about being this vulnerable with someone.

Second, you knew just how hard it was for him to be honest and vulnerable with you. Saying this must have caused so much for him to do, yet he did it anyway.. for you.

For a second, you stood there and stared at him, before sighing and walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his body in a warm, comfortable hug. He did not hesitate for a second before doing the same, having missed this feeling dearly for the past week.

"I don't mind you helping me or giving me advise.. but maybe don't be so brash and insulting about it. Okay?"

He nodded, promising you to be more careful with his words from now on.

Wanderer

You sighed with relief as the Ruin guard in front of you collapsed and shattered into its parts, the cut on your side hurting a bit when you breathed, but it wasn't bleeding too bad, so the wound must not be too bad, either.

You were usually not that easy to surprise, but for some reason, you overlooked that particular ancient machine, resulting in it getting a hit on you before it was taken down.

Though, you were not the one responsible for taking it down. The actual reason was flying in from behind it, your boyfriend, Kuni. And while you were smiling at him, wanting to thank him for his help, he had a scowl on your face as he landed in front of you.

"What the hell were you thinking, Idiot? You would be dead now if it weren't for me being here!", he shouted as soon as he landed, not letting you get a word in.

You were taken aback by his harsh words and tone, staring at him, which only made him even more agitated.

"The hell? You don't even have an excuse! How can you be so fucking careless? I know you're weak but I wouldn't have thought of you being this stupid as well!"

You heard each and every single one of his words, and they all stung right in your chest. You were aware of the difference in power between you two, but that didn't mean you were incompetent with your polearm. You've trained long and hard to get to the point where you are now, and you were proud of yourself for it.

When you looked into his eyes again, you could see a bit of shock behind them, like he was surprised himself that the words actually left his lips.

You waited a few seconds, to see if he would apologize to you or take them back, but nothing came. Kuni's pride hindered him from doing the right thing..

"I see. If that's what you think of me, I won't be in your way again."

The words sounded cold when they left your lips, and Kunikuzushi flinched ever so slightly when hearing them, but you didn't react to it. Instead, you turned and walked away from him without acknowledging his presence any longer.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Where are you going?", he shouted after you, but no response. Then, he chased after you, but when he noticed that you were still ignoring him, he gave up on it, figuring that it would be best to leave you alone for the time being.

Surely, you would come crawling back to him soon enough... right?

....

Two weeks.

The incident has happened two weeks ago. And for those two weeks, he did not hear or see anything of you, whatsoever.

He was so sure that you wouldn't even survive a week without him before coming back and apologizing, but it seemed like he was wrong this time.

And he hated to admit this, even to himself, but.. he missed you. Missed your stupid, cheerful smile, your laugh and the way you always made his day better, just by spending time with him.

After about a week and a half, he began to think, that maybe, this time, he was actually the one in the wrong. That maybe, he took it too far with his words this time around.

Maybe.. he should be the one to apologize to you.

And yet, it took him a few more days to overcome his stupidly high pride and actually follow through with his thoughts.

Nahida, who knew all about the situation from Kuni himself, smiled and nodded proudly as the puppet went to leave the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

He first searched for you at your home, but you couldn't be found there. Then, he went on a stroll through the city, hoping to run into you along the way, but that too, proofed to be without success.

His last hope was the adventurers guild, and that someone hopefully has seen you there.

And luck was on his side this time, as some other members told him about how you have constantly been taking commission after commission for the past few days.

Feeling his worries for you rise again, he went to the locations given to him, hoping to find you there.

About an hour or so later, he spotted you at the location of the third commission you took, standing next to a defeated ruin drake while facing another one head on.

He had half a mind to rush over and take care of it for you, but something in him told him to let you handle it yourself. So he watched with bated breath as you easily took care of the machine, letting it fall to the ground while you remained completely unharmed.

That's when he really realized what his words might have caused for you. You are by no means a sheltered human, you're capable of defending yourself, and very well so.

As you were checking the defeated drakes for useful stuff, he came out of his 'hiding spot', walking directly to you. You noticed him approaching but chose to ignore him still. In fact, you've noticed his presence in the middle of the fight, but decided not to call him out and see what he would do.

When he arrived, he just stood next to you in silence for a while, watching you. But when you still wouldn't acknowledge him, he decided to speak up.

"(Name)... I... I'm sorry..", he mumbled quietly. He felt embarrassed, not used to acting like the bigger person, but he was in the wrong here, so he had to do this, no matter what.

The words out of Kuni's mouth caught you by surprise, your head swirling around to look at him, finally.

Kunikuzushi didn't know what else to say right now, so he stayed silent, hoping you would understand how difficult this was for him right now.

"..I'm not weak.", you answered him quietly as well, fully facing him now, but your posture and tone seemed a bit more open and calmer now.

"..I know."

He may not be the best with words, but somehow, you always understood what he wanted to say, anyways. It has always been this way between you. It was one of the many things he loved so much about you.

And that's how it was this time, too. He quietly thanked the Gods when he pulled you into his arms again, holding you for the first time in what had felt like an eternity.

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atinycafe · 11 months

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"ew! i have a boyfriend, so hands off," you slur, your words tumbling out in a jumble. you wobble in the grasp of the larger guy, who effortlessly holds you.

mingi lets out a sigh as you try to break free from his embrace. the man is naturally stronger than you, with his muscles showing off the hours spent at the gym. moreover, the alcohol in your system makes your feeble attempts to push him away even more pointless.

"tiny, i'm tired and you're totally wasted," he says, crouching down to fix the mini skirt that's riding up on your bare thighs. "let me take you home."

"my boyfriend's on his way. he's gonna kick your ass," you groan, slapping his hand away from your thigh. he chuckles at the sight, the same hand you just hit now gently stroking your hair, offering you comfort as the impending migraine creeps up on you.

"hey baby, look at me," he shushes you and he grips your chin, making you meet his gaze. he examines every single feature of your face, noticing how the glitter that was once on your eyelids has now found its way to your cheekbones. with his thumbs, he gently removes the specks, and you instinctively close your eyes, feeling a pleasant tingle where his touch lingers.

"don't call me that, am not your baby," you retort with a scrunch of your nose and he can't help but find you utterly adorable even though the disgusted action was directed at him. mingi clicks his tongue disapprovingly, looking down at you. he's tired, and you had convinced him to go out tonight, promising a good time since it had been ages since you both went out together. he agreed, unable to resist your begging, completely smitten with you. but now, as he reflects on his actions, he's starting to regret it a little.

"fuck, you're lucky i love you," he mutters quietly, playfully pinching your cheek. he crouches down, bringing his face closer to yours. your wide eyes gaze up at him, filled with uncertainty, wondering why this "stranger" is getting closer to you. "don't you recognize me tiny? you're breaking my heart." mingi says, taking your hand and guiding it to his hair. without thinking, you instinctively tug at the strands, as if it's a reflex ingrained in your mind. "you begged me to dye my hair this color and you don't recognize me?"

he watches with delight as recognition flickers in your eyes upon seeing his blond locks, and your face breaks into a wide, toothy grin. bursting into fits of giggles, you exclaim, "mingi!!!" and leap into his sturdy arms, as if it's been ages since you last saw him. taken aback, he grabs hold of you, momentarily stumbling backward in surprise. he erupts into laughter, declaring, "there she is." with one hand supporting you beneath your behind, your legs wrap around his waist. he then bends down to retrieve the pink heels that slipped off your feet during the leap, and you tighten your grip around him, laughing uncontrollably as you almost lose balance, but his hold remains strong.

"let's get you home tiny," mingi murmurs, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you. closing your eyes, you surrender to sleep, trusting him to guide you back home safely.

masterlist

#soft hours #ateez #mingi #x reader #fluff #blurb #headcannon #soft thoughts #scenarios #x you #x y/n #x yn #imagines #drabble

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runabout-river · 8 months

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The Incongruence of his Life and Death - How the 6-Eyes will Die and Gojo Satoru will Live

Chapter 236 seems perfectly crafted for a farewell to an important character. But while reading it for the first, second and third time, I couldn't help but feel that something was not only missing but purposefully left out: Gojo's care for his students and the goals he had set for himself as an adult.

In the departure for the afterlife, where the souls of his dead friends have gathered at an airport, Gojo is back to being a teenager with everyone else also being their younger self, or in the case of Haibara and Toji, their selves when they died.

Gojo talks about his fight with Sukuna, how unbelievably strong he was and how much he had trained to best him but still he lost and he had no true regrets on that. The fight had been fun even if it was a shame that he couldn't bring Sukuna to go all out on him.

Later he tells Yaga, calling him principal, that he thought that all sorcerers died with regret, implying that he doesn't feel any regret right now after having lost to Sukuna. When Sukuna tells Gojo that he won't forget him as long as he lives because of how well he fought, we see Gojo smiling at that while lying bisected on the ground.

This entire scene, especially at the airport and the reverence about the fight is completely at odds with Gojo's character growth and the life he lived as an adult.

It's no coincidence that everyone is more than 10 years younger here because only teenage Gojo would go out without any regrets after a good fight he lost. This Gojo we see at the airport could've very well been the Gojo that lost his first fight against Toji.

But it isn't teenage Gojo, someone who only had a perverse self-satisfaction about Jujutsu and did it for the kick of it instead of protecting others with it, who died.

It's adult Gojo, who dedicated his life to protect others and his students and who fostered them to become as strong as him and did everything so they could grow unhindered and enjoy life especially their youth, who is lying cut in two on the ground.

This love for fighting alone only entered Gojo's mind past the middle of the Shinjuku Showdown when he realized that he might lose this fight and after he was reminded of fucking Toji again. Gojo was brought back to the time of his teenage self when he lost against an opponent who was stronger than him.

But what about the actual Gojo? Teacher Gojo? Would he die without any regrets? Absolutely not. His regrets would actually be too much to count.

He left his students and the world with a murderer stronger than him, ensuring widespread destruction and immense death, first and foremost of everyone he left behind that meant something to him.

Gojo let it happen that Megumi, the person he went into this fight to save, who was the child that started his evolution into a teacher, the son of the man who made him to what he is today; Gojo let it happen that Megumi became his executioner.

(And is Geto without regrets? Is Gojo without any regrets that Kenjaku is desecrating his friend's body to destroy Japan? Isn't there any fear that Kenjaku might take Gojo's dead body as his next vessel? Where is the regret in that?)

When we strip the airport scene from its serenity and the good feelings of a happy ending it evokes, we're left with nothing but pure arrogance the dead have over the suffering of the living. So they get to enjoy peace while everyone else is devastated and about to get slaughtered?

Is that justifiable because everyone will be dead anyway and then they can all enjoy the afterlife together? Except Megumi of course, who'll be Sukuna's vessel for centuries if not millennia and who'll suffer in hell for that long after having killed not only his sister but his teacher and his friends in the future, too.

Those who are already dead like Nanami, they can't do anything about this conundrum anymore but Gojo was still smiling on the ground. So, after the thematic argument for why Gojo has to survive, here comes the practical part: How?

I've already covered parts of this in my chapter 236 Thoughts. Step by step:

Gojo is bisected along his abdomen, not his head

Gojo was still conscious enough to smile at Sukuna, like how Yuki was still able to make her last attack

Gojo can activate his RCT and he can make a Binding Vow as long as he isn't completely dead

We've not seen Shoko's reaction to his defeat, so we have neither a confirmation of his death nor her determination to save him

Utahime and Gramps can strengthen any healing

Angel might have abilities to aid them and Takaba has reality bending powers as long as he's funny

Why the 6-Eyes will still die.

Because it's already over for him. The 6-Eyes is not the strongest sorcerer on earth. His ultimate defense has found its match in Sukuna evolving his own technique; an evolution that Gojo is not going to catch up to.

"Are you Gojo Satoru because you're the Strongest or are you the Strongest because you're Gojo Satoru?"

Irrelevant. Sukuna is the Strongest. That title and that burden has been lifted off Gojo's shoulders. Gojo makes peace with it at the airport.

A Binding Vow with yourself always comes with a balance the universe imposes on you. What would the trade-off be for Gojo's upper and lower body to be connected again? His Eyes seems like a good bargain here.

So there you have it, my theory. The 6-Eyes lost this fight but Gojo sensei can still lead and foster his students to new heights he won't ever personally reach again. He can't just forget about them because he had a good fight, Gojo isn't a self-centred teenager anymore.

You know who was missing at the airport? Outside of Nobara, Yuki and Mai? Tsumiki. What is Gojo going to say to her? That he tried but well? Gojo isn't at the airport for his departure to the afterlife, he isn't going North, he's going South.

All of this is of course my personal feelings and interpretation. Gege might go in another direction like permanent death and flashbacks. But I'm so sure that Gege has written the airport intentionally like this. That Shoko will go to Gojo and pull him out of his death bed because he can't go out like this.

Chapter 236 is written with a sense of finality and farewell, but Gege is also really fond of misdirections and false sense of security (dread?) as we've seen just last chapter.

So, hope dies last.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #sukuna #fushiguro megumi #meta

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starlight-library · 3 months

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Take a break | LS2

pairing: logan sargent x reader

summary: its launch day for williams and your boyfriend so overwhelmed and tired you decide to give him a quick pick me up

warnings: smut: oral (f & m receiving), sorta sub!logan & dom!reader, no protection (wrap your willy sillies!), praise kink, breath play (didn't intend for that one), breeding kink, basically porn with a semi plot??

a/n: uh, haven't written smut in a long time let alone f/m smut so PLEASE be gentle with me here! also i'll admit, writing scene with eating out is NOT my strong suit but i'm trying to get better! again, no proofreading, we die like men!

wc: 2.8K

Launch days were something you weren’t particularly familiar with for a multitude of reasons. The first reason was you hadn’t been a long time fan of F1 as you had recently gotten into the sport a little into the 2023 season more as something to have on in the background. The second reason is because you were so new to this world of motorsports, you had no idea what the pre-season would entail. The third reason is because the only reason you got into the world of F1 was because of your boyfriend, Logan Sargent.

You happened to be on a trip with some friends in Miami even after hearing many horror stories about how Miami usually ruins friendships. That was not you and your friends though. Instead you and your friends had made a very important note to have dedicated alone time so you all didn’t end up kill each other and it was proving to be a great key to this vacation. During your shopping, you had bumped into someone and turned around to apologize the same time Logan did. The two of you laughed and went your separate ways. You had told your friends about the encounter and how you regretted not continuing the conversation but you were too embarrassed. They reassured you that they would find this mysterious blonde man for you.

None of you had to try very hard as you and your friends decided to go to a club Sunday night after the Grand Prix and it just happened to be the same one a lot of the drivers ended up going to. You ran into Logan again, literally, and this time you actually kept the conversation going. One thing lead to another (as well as finding out he was an F1 driver and causing you to go down this rabbit hole to understand his work more) and by summer break you had been on four dates before he officially asked you to be his partner. By winter break, you were comfortable enough for him to announce the relationship and even with the mixed reviews from fans neither of you let it affect your relationship. If anything, it made your relationships stronger. It helped that Alex and Lily were super supportive and helpful the moment you two went public.

Lily especially. She had been nothing but kind and supportive the moment you two went public. She went on about how sweet Logan is and how she was ecstatic for him to finally have met someone who wanted him for him and not because he was a famous world driver. She was also over the moon to have a WAG on the team (yes she even took the time to explain what was a WAG was to you) and that she finally had someone to sit with during races and chat with during events like this.

Which is how you found yourself sorta following Lily around like a lost puppy to really grasp the rope of things before the two of you found yourself huddled together as the launch happened. It was fun. There was a kid named William outside with a sign that said ‘My name is William too!’ They actually brought him in for the launch and even had him sit in the car. You smiled seeing the kid beam at the two of them and Logan happily chatting with him when he wasn’t pulled away to be in front of the camera.

After the launch, Alex and Logan were heading down to Central Park to continue filming so you and Lily decided to have a little afternoon together. You two went shopping, had lunch, and just explored as the two of you chatted about anything and everything. You guys were stopped a bit for pictures, which was expected with Lily, but you? That surprised you but also warmed your heart and you happily took the photos. Then you two arrived at the hotel and parted ways before the meet and greet where you’d probably be off to the side with her once again just watching and interacting with fans.

You were mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV when you heard a faint whirling noise before the door was opened. Looking over you saw your boyfriend and a smile tugged to your lips. Shifting, you sit next on the edge of the bed as Logan comes padding over. The smile turns into a small frown seeing the state of him. “You okay?” You ask. He grunts in response as he stands between your legs and you rub his arms soothingly.

“Come sit,” you gently pull Logan down next to you. Immediately, the American is pulling you into his lap and burying his face into your neck. Running your fingers through his hair, you kiss his temple gentle as he grumbles about how long days like this were and how tiring they were and he wanted nothing more than to stay here. You bit your lip gentle wanting to reassure him that it would be over soon but knew he had so much more socializing to do and he was near his wits end.

Then, an idea hit you.

“Tell me more,” you comment as you wiggle out of his lap and kneel behind him to give him a massage. You feel him relax under your touch and you smile gently as you continue. It’s a nice gesture but it’s mainly a distraction. When he’s relaxed enough you pull away as he continues to ramble as you slide off the bed and move to stand between his legs. Gently pushing him on the bed Logan’s let out a small huff of a laugh as he tosses an arm over his eyes. Perfect. Stripping out of your pants and panties, you crawl onto the bed and swat his arm away. The second his arm is to his side you’re swinging a leg over, trapping his head between his thighs and sitting down.

It takes a millisecond for Logan to realize what’s going on before you groan feeling his tongue on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair for purchase as he happily runs his tongue over your clit. Long slow strokes before short kitten licks. It sends a shiver of pleasure up your body as you buck your hips forward. His hands quickly find your thighs gripping tightly as he traps you. You tilt your head back groaning loudly as you roll your hips as you two find your rhythm quickly since Logan loves being between your thighs.

You let praises fall from your lips between the moans and gasps falling from your face. It should be illegal with how good Logan is from your clit to your cunt as he opens you up with his tongue. Even though you guys haven’t been together for long he had made it his mission to learn your body inside and out. How you liked him switching between slow licks and fast licks. How your eyes rolled when he teased your clit with circles before sucking. How your hips bucked when he slipped his tongue in and slowly fucked you open. How if he tilted his head back just enough he could get deeper brushing against your g-spot, causing you to throw your head back and let out the most delicious sounds. How if he switched the routine up it drove you mad and close to your orgasm which he was very much intending to do but that’s not on your agenda.

Your chest was heaving as you felt the familiar coil starting to form in your abdomen. You force yourself to let go of his hair to wedge your fingers under his and pries his hands off your thighs before you lift yourself up. Looking down, you wish you could take a picture but a mental one will do. Logan’s hair was wild against the sheets, eyes wide and pupils blown. His face was flushed a beautiful shade of pink and his mouth and chin was shiny with your juices. His fingers twitched in your hands as he stared up at you neither one daring to move as he whines. He became such a beautiful mess so quickly for you.

“Yes?”

“I need—” he gulps slightly.

“You need what?” You tease.

His mouth opens and then closes as he tries to find the words. You know exactly what he wants and you’re tempted to give it to him, “stay,” you command as your grip on his hands loosens so you can easily move off of him and slink off the bed and onto the floor.

“Sit up,” you say while stroking the inside of his thigh and he does looking down at you. Looking up at him, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and he groans tipping his head back slightly. You swirl your tongue around the tip before flattening your tongue along the underside of his cock. Hallowing your cheeks, you start to bob your head. You watch his hands start to go to your hair but stop knowing better than to touch without permission so he grabs the sheets as if it’s a life line. You place your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you continue prepping yourself. He’s babbling above you begging for more. He’s not specific with what he wants but that’s typical for him.

When you’re relaxed you happily take him down your throat, nose against his navel, and Logan throws his head back letting out a moan. Internally, you smirk at how loud he was. Usually he tried to be reserved and letting himself be focused on your pleasure but today was about him. You pull off to the tip before going straight back down and he tenses to keep himself still knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto the sheets. You continue for a bit longer before you pull off with a pop before standing.

“Lay down,” you say gesturing to the pillows and Logan scrambles laying on his back as his head hits the pillow. You wince for him since he was so close to hitting the headboard but it was a miracle he didn’t. That would’ve been one way to kill the mood and end the day for sure. Getting onto the bed, you straddle your boyfriend who’s breathing heavily from anticipation. Smirking at the mess you’ve already made of him, you grab the base of his cock and line yourself up before sliding down.

In unison you both groan as you put your hands on his chest for leverage. Once you’re bottomed out you take a moment to adjust. You start to move your hips in small circles sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as Logan turns his head to the side, groaning again.

“Babe I—”

“Shhh, I know. It’s okay,” you murmur as you run your hands over his chest, “I got you. Just lay there and let me hear all your pretty noises. Can you do that for me?”

Logan whines in response again.

“Logan.”

“Yes,” he breaths out, “Yes I—I can do that.”

“Good boy.”

Raising your hips you sink back down and tilt your head back. It’s been a while since you two have actually had time to have sex and it felt like the first time all over again. Just with how well he filled you up and it felt like a punch to the gut (pun intended…maybe). You start out with this slow rhythm hearing how Logan groaned and moaned under you whining and asking for more.

You work yourself on his cock picking up the pace as you go. You lean back, gasping at the new angle as your hands find purchase on his thighs. “Oh fuck—” you manage out between the moans. “Yes, fuck yes baby so good.” You ramble on as his head tosses to the side, hands gripping the pillows, the sheets, anything that isn’t you.

“I—fuck babe—please—” Logan gasps.

“Please what?”

“Let me touch you. Fuck. Babe. Please. Please please please,” he begs, “need to touch you. Please, shit, babe you look so good riding me, please,” He begs, “been so good for you.”

“Such a good boy,” you purr out, “okay.”

His hands fly to your hips. His eyes trained on you. How your lips are parted. The slight sweat starting to form on your forehead as your hair sticks to it. How your eyes are fluttering close.

“Let me move. Please baby,” he begs, “you’ve done so much work,” he’s rambling, “wanna make you feel good. Please let me make you feel good. God fuck babe I wanna make you feel good.”

You’re lost in your own little world as Logan rambles on. You’re so close of finding that spot and you shift to lean forward, hands back on his chest. One hand fumbles but it covers Logan’s mouth as you continue, slamming your hips down on him. Your eyes go wide and you see stars when you find it, throwing your head back as you continue. “Fuck—oh right there. Shit—” you moan out as you fall into an endless cycle of moans, groans, and cursing. You can feel Logan’s lips against your hand still moving but between your own noises and the absolutely filthy obscene noises you two were making it was drowned out.

Your body is on fire. Your legs are straining and you’re getting tired but you continue. You feel the coil forming once again and your hand drops to Logan’s throat as you wrap your hand around, squeezing slightly. He lets out a strangled gasp mostly out of shock before he moans. “You—fuck—” you breath heavily, “yes move.”

Logan did not need to be told twice. Gripping your hips tight enough that will surely leave bruises, not that you really minded, he snapped his hips up when you came down. You screamed - you’re pretty sure you did but you can’t be quiet to sure with the stars you were seeing and everything else drowning out expect Logan’s voice. He’s thanking you over and over, telling you how amazing you are and how you treat him so so well. He matches your pace and you can’t even prepare yourself as your orgasm is ripped out of you.

You grip his throat tighter and he lets out another strangled groan. Your body shakes as you continue riding him babbling about how good he’s fucking you, how pretty he is like this, how only you get to see him like this, and how only you can make him feel this good. He’s trying to speak but it’s hard and you manage to loosen your grip. He gasps for air before the words are slipping past his lips.

“Please. Oh god please let me cum. Please I’m so—I’m so fucking close. Babe. I need—” he chokes on air as tears form, “god please.”

You feel limp. You’ve slowed your own pace down but he continues with the pace. You manage an ‘yes, you can cum’ through moans and whines. It takes three more thrust before Logan’s spilling into you, head thrown back and groaning loudly as his eyes roll in the back of his head slightly. He continues to fuck you through his own orgasm before he finally comes down.

You’re both shaking slightly at this point. You force yourself to pull off of him, feeling his cum ooze out of you as you end up collapsing on top of Logan as the two of you catch your breath. Moving his hands to your hips, he gently massages them as he kisses the top of your head. You let your eyes slip close as your breathing returns to normal smiling to yourself as you listen to his heartbeat. “Better?” You ask finally breaking the comfortable silence.

“Much better. Thank you babe, I really needed that,” he says and plants a soft kiss to your hair.

“Of course. You know all you have to do is ask.”

Logan huffs a laugh out which earns an eye roll out of you. You turn your head so you can look at him and he’s smiling at you, leaning down to kiss your nose as you wiggle it. “I know,” he says, “I’m…working on it.”

“I know, and I’m proud. But with a schedule like this you have to be more keen on making sure you’re okay. Really.”

“I know. I know,” he nods as he speaks, “now come on, we gotta get cleaned up so we can go to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah,” Logan blinks, “the meet and greet starts at six. So I thought we could grab an early dinner at a little mom and pops diner I found. Come on,” he gently sits up with you still on his chest. You squeak when he’s got his arms under your ass and shifting before you two are standing legs instinctively wrapping around his waist with a grin, “I’m paying this time.”

“You paid last time!” You argue as he laughs taking you both to the bathroom to get clean before dinner.

#starlight library presents;#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargent smut #ls2 x reader #ls2 smut #logan sargent x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one smut #starlight library fanfics

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joonsytip · 2 months

Text

All Too Well || Wonwoo

Synopsis: With Wonwoo's dilemma hitting the wall and your perseverance getting stronger, will the events unfold as foreseen or the fate will turn its course?

Word Count: 2k

Third and final installment of Wonwoo drabble series (set in the Withering for You universe but can be read as a standalone drabble series).

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Say Don't Go | So It Goes | All Too Well

It's been a week since Wonwoo has seen you. When he woke up that fateful day along with nothing but the void you, it didn't take him long to recollect the happenings from within the car to his sheets. The slightly recovered bruises on his knuckles and the bloodstains on his bedroom wall are the witnesses of the frenzy state he was in, still is.

The guilt of sleeping with you eats him up. The regret of getting wasted and causing the slip of his true feelings and also his dick into you, makes him wanna get swallowed by the ground. He hates that his subconscious mind was conscious enough to hear your sobs but did nothing to stop them.

Wonwoo contemplates for the whole week that follows. He wonders if he should contact you or let you have your space and contact him whenever you're ready.

He's not clear in head, unsure of what he'd say on seeing you again.

Sorry, it was a mistake. He wonders if he should go ahead with the classic lie and be an entitled jerk, letting you berate him which would gradually help you in letting go those feelings for him.

It wasn't a mistake, I really meant everything I said and did but sorry we can't be together. This seemed too much of truth bombing in a situation where the other party (you) is already hurt beyond repair.

In his mind, he tries several other permutations and combinations but never considers that one way which would save everyone from the headaches and all the heartbreaks.

Everyone can sense the shift, something has definitely happened by the way you have been avoiding meetups and can guess the reason to be Wonwoo. They can't pinpoint exactly but they're sure it started right after that night's party.

"I need you to take everything off your chest while I'm asking you nicely.", your best friend tells you, "My patience has been thinned nowadays and don't make me loose my temper."

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, as you look at her and Seungcheol whose eyes are begging you to comply with his wife because she can indeed be scary.

"Do you want Seungcheol to be gone from here?", she asks, her gaze softening, "It's okay, he won't mind."

Before you could answer, Seungcheol is already off his seat saying, "I'll head back to the office, have some matters to take care of.", and he leans to peck his wife on forehead, "Call me if you need anything and let me know once done, I'll come and pick you up."

After Seungcheol leaves, a comfortable silence falls upon.

"You're already showing.", you say smiling and your best friend mirrors one to you.

"Four months already", she says caressing her protruding belly, "Time flies by, I swear it feels like yesterday I took the test and it came out positive. Seungcheol had cried the whole night, holding me close. Though he has became a lot more sensitive than me.", she adds and looks at you, "But enough about us. I came here just to make you lift some weight off. I could have brought Gyu, but I thought we should have a one to one before letting the guys know if at all you're willing to."

When your gazes meet, you can tell that she already has an inkling because her hunch has always been accurate. So you squirm in your seat and after failing to keep the tears at bay you tell her what had exactly happened in a messy-teary state.

After consoling you, she waits for you to stop crying, blinking back her own tears.

"Are you planning to address this to Wonwoo?", she asks softly.

You shake your head, "He probably doesn't even remember."

"Bullshit." she scoffs, "Are you waiting for him to contact you? Do you want me to talk to him?"

You chuckle with all bitterness, "Yes, I wanted him to contact me but it's been a week already and honestly, I don't even want to see him now because he'll repeat the same words, which are not exactly pleasant to hear. I hate how right headed he is, how all his fears are legit. I wouldn't have done it either."

You lean up to look at her, "Also, I don't want you to talk to him and I'd appreciate it if you can keep this to yourself because we're in the same group and the guys would cause a ruckus if they become aware."

She strokes your hair in a soothing manner and you almost drift off until she nudges you to tell something but you're already dismissing her off, "Don't even think of trying to do anything. I've just accepted my fate, I'll gradually move on."

Another week passes by and Wonwoo thinks he's ready to confront you. He had taken the entire office, everyone in his circle by surprise by taking an entire week off. Seungcheol being an amazing boss and understanding friend easily granted his request in the best hopes of having his friend clear the clouds clogging in his head.

Wonwoo sends you a text asking you to meet him whenever you're free. He clutches the phone tightly in his hands, feet tapping anxiously as he awaits your reply.

When he doesn't receive one after an hour, he's calling you only to be unanswered. Rationality leaving his bones, he keeps on calling your number until it gets recieved and it's an unfamiliar male voice answering the phone.

There's a sharp pang in his heart when he gets to know that it's your blind date who has picked up the call since the phone kept ringing and you've gone to washroom. Though he wants nothing but to rush to whenever you currently are, he curtly ends the call and decides to wait for your reply to his text.

His unwavering gaze directed towards the phone might have worked because he receives a response late at night and he's meeting you tomorrow.

You are unfazed, never once thinking about Wonwoo. That's what you try to tell yourself, that's how you plan to act in front of him. You don't anticipate his arrival at your apartment, that's partially true because you know you're gonna get heartbroken again because even though you want to tie the loose ends, you're sure he's only coming to cut them off wholly.

So you tell your mother who has been nagging you to get married to set you up for blind dates and this time you promised you'd seriously consider them with marriage perspective. Hence, today you're going to another date with someone you know this time and not at all impressed about.

The doorbell rings and you check the monitor to confirm that it's Wonwoo before letting him in.

"Are you going somewhere?", Wonwoo asks as he settles on the couch and you take a seat on the chair.

You nod, "Going on a date with Minjun."

Wonwoo's jaw clenches, his hands ball into fists as he asks, "Kim Minjun? He's a womanizer, Y/N. Didn't you go on a date yesterday?"

You scoff, "And how does that concern you anyway?", your lips curl up, "People can change after marriage."

Wonwoo short circuits at your verbal jab.

"Marriage? How can you even consider Minjun out of all people?"

Your expression turns grim when you say, "If I can't marry the person I love then marriage for me would be just another business deal, another merge to benefit the company, solidify our social status."

Trying to maintain the unbothered facade, you ask, "Why did you want to meet?"

"Why did you leave me alone in the bed?", Wonwoo asks toning down, "When you left, you took all of the warmth with you."

You suck in a sharp breath, breaking the eye contact.

"Within these two weeks I went through all sorts of possibilities from never acknowledging the fact that we slept to being a jerk, dismissing it as a simple hookup to letting you down subtly.", he gets up and walks up to you, crouching in front of you, "But as I pondered over, the only honest answer residing within my heart was not to be a coward anymore and be honest about my feelings, be honest with you."

Your heartbeat quickens, as his hands encase yours, you feel the warmth seep from him.

"I love you, Y/N.", Wonwoo confesses, "Like you, I have also harboured feelings for you for a long time. I cherish every moment we've spent together."

You're eyes go wide, heart constricting in chest. You feel your inners catapulting. You thought you know him all too well to give up upon the possibility of being together but witnessing him stripping bare in front of you is something you've always wanted but never expected to happen.

Wonwoo gently holds your face, voice soft, gaze emitting tenderness when he says, "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for projecting my fears and insecurities upon you. But I have realised that you're worth everything and above. For you, I would fight the world if you allow me to stay by your side."

Rendered speechless, your teary eyes look at him with such anguish that it makes Wonwoo want to beat himself for breaking your heart over and over again.

Moments pass by and you both fall into comfortable silence. You're now seated on his lap, head laying his chest as he gently strokes your hair.

"It won't be easy.", you speak, head still downed, as your hand takes in his, entwining the fingers, "But I'd go to hell and back for you if time comes."

You shift back to look at him, "And I promise to be your shield, if anyone tries to hurt you or Wonseok, they'd have to face me first. I won't let anyone hurt you.", your gaze softens, "All of your worries, fears and sentiments are valid, Wonwoo. But it would be nice if you share them with me from now on because you're not alone, we're in this together. I love you."

Wonwoo swears he doesn't cry easily but your words seem to have opened the floodgates as his loud sobs echo throughout the house.

"Thank you.", he smiles as you wipe his tears and leans in to kiss you.

As your lips graze, the shrill ringing your phone startles you both. You grab it from the couch and the screen flashes Kim Minjun as the caller.

There's a sharp change in Wonwoo's expression as he takes the phone from your hand, putting it on speaker and answering it.

"Uh sorry, who's this speaking? Could you please get Y/N on the phone?"

There's a terse movement in the muscles of his jaw as Wonwoo responds, "I'm Jeon Wonwoo, Y/N's--", his gaze shifts at you, lips stretching in a smile, "Lover. I'm cancelling the date and please don't ever contact her again."

As soon as he hangs up, you tease him, "Lover huh? Since when?"

Wonwoo grins like he's drunk in love, he might as well be, "Since the day, you got drunk and danced on the tabletop after the semesters ended."

You gasp, "What do you want in exchange for deleting this memory?"

He's so lovesick, giggling cutely and being all touchy, "What about making new ones and keeping this one in my vault, sealed?"

Your heart flutters at the insinuation. True to your words, you'd surely fight the world to keep him with you.

And your lover chants all's well that ends well to ending up with you, gratefully with all his heart.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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lvrdrafts · 10 months

Text

No Time To Lose

Summary: Bucky is going to confront you for why you have been avoiding him but when he comes home he finds out you have been kidnapped

Warning: Mentions of kidnapping and torture

Part 1 Part 3

Bucky couldn't bear the growing distance between you any longer. He knew he had to talk to you and stop the tension that had been building. The constant absence of your touch, your laughter, and your presence had made him realize just how much he needed you.

One evening, as he mustered up the courage to have the conversation, he decided to surprise you at home. He wanted to show you that whatever he did wrong he deeply regrets it and stop whatever had caused this sudden change in your behavior.

However, when Bucky entered the apartment, he found it eerily quiet. The atmosphere felt heavy, and his heart clenched with a sense of foreboding. He called out your name, but there was no response.

Panic surged through his veins as he quickly searched every room, hoping to find you. It was then that he noticed something off—a broken vase on the floor, shattered glass scattered across the room.

Bucky's hands trembled as he desperately dialed your number, hoping against hope that you would answer. But each ring went unanswered, intensifying his anxiety. Fear gnawed at his heart as he realized something was terribly wrong. Where were you? Why weren't you picking up?

Unable to waste any more time, Bucky quickly dialed Sam's number, his voice filled with urgency. "Sam, it's Y/N. She's in trouble. I can't reach her, and I don't know where she is. I need your help."

Sam's voice conveyed his concern as he responded, "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm on my way. We'll find her together. Just hold on."

Bucky's mind replayed every moment, every conversation, searching for any signs he might have missed. Anything that could show what had happen to you. Bucky's mind raced with worry as they searched for any sign of your whereabouts. Doubt gnawed at his thoughts, questioning every decision he had made leading up to this moment. Did I miss any signs that something was wrong? Should I have noticed your distress sooner?

But as the minutes ticked by, Bucky's conviction grew stronger. Deep down, he knew you would never willingly leave him without a word. Your love had been genuine, your connection real. It didn't make sense that you would simply disappear without a trace. His gut told him that something was terribly wrong.

That is when he saw Sam walk in with a computer in his hand. "Well I asked the landlord for the security cameras and he was happy to give it to Captain America." Sam says laughing trying to lighten the mood as he sits down, but no reaction from Bucky. "Well what did you find?" Bucky says eagerly. "I see that Y/N got captured while heading in, but its a little blurry to see the number plate." Sam says while showing Bucky "But I do know someone who can get it, wait here." Sam walks out to make a phone call.

The guilt intensified, a suffocating presence that threatened to consume him. He blamed himself for not being there, for not protecting you when you needed him the most. His mind raced with a barrage of "what ifs" and self-recrimination.

Sam comes back awhile later to inform Bucky he found where Y/N is held captive and they rush off to find you.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

Y/N's heart raced as she found herself trapped, held captive by Brock. She knew Bucky would come for her, and she held onto that hope tightly. But the more Brock tortured he, she felt as if all that hope was slipping away.

"Poor, poor Y/N I really thought your boyfriend would save you" Brocks says putting a knife near your neck. "I can't believe he would let someone as precious as you thrown away"

"I don't give a fuck what you believe" you say spitting at brock

Brock punches you and you feel blood come out of your moth. "You need to learn to not be a bitch, before we can play". You can see the look Brock gave you and it didn't make you feel good. He starts to walk away and comes back with collar and puts it on you. You try moving your neck but you feel a sudden pain of electrical shocks.

He lifts your chin up "You better hope your boyfriend comes in time, because a few more shocks and your dead" he says with a smile while he walks outs.

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A few hours later you see the door open in but the tears in your eyes make it hard for you to make out the figure. There was so many of Brock's henchman here you couldn't tell which one was Brock or not.

That is when she caught a glimpse of Bucky hiding behind some crates. Bucky gave you a soft smile while he disapeared into the dark.

However, luck seemed to elude him as a creaking floorboard betrayed his presence. The sudden sound alerted Brock's henchmen, who immediately converged on Bucky, trapping him within their grasp. Bucky's heart raced as he found himself outnumbered, but he refused to back down.

As the first henchman lunged at him, Bucky swiftly dodged the attack. He retaliated with a powerful punch, sending his assailant crashing into a nearby wall. But there was no time to savor the victory as the others closed in, their fists flying.

Amidst the chaos, Bucky caught a glimpse of Sam swooping down from above. The familiar wings of his Falcon suit glinted in the darkness.

You saw while Bucky was fighting the henchman, Sam was taking you out of the facility and to the hospital. "You okay there, were almost to the hospital, then I'll go back for buck" Sam says holding you tightly as he brings you to the hospital. But you eyes start to close slowly, you didn't want to hold on for life anymore, you didn't want to be Bucky's burden, you just wanted some peace.

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @marygoddessofmischief @matchat3a @blue-chup @floralwsloki @kentokaze @internet-infuencer @666yourmomdotcom @zzziea @maddieislost @madi-is-kinda-lame @openup-yourmind @almosttoopizza @specialsnowflake-gabbi

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #james barnes x reader #james barnes x reader angst #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #lvrdrafts bucky barnes x reader #lvrdrafts bucky barnes x reader angst

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kitixie · 10 months

Text

Little Girl Gone

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (pt. 1)

part two: here

Synopsis: Having been several years since you’d last seen your favorite gangster family, you return to Small Heath a changed woman with a stronger attitude than you had when you left.

information: this will be a multi part story! idk how many parts exactly, but there will be more!

warnings: none for this chapter!

please leave all comments and reccommendations below! thank you for reading!

“Aye, what does a woman have to do to get a whiskey around here?”, you shouted, rapping your hand on the bar counter.

You were seated at The Garrison, it was your first stop back in town. You had lived in Small Heath most of your early life, but five years ago you were forced to leave due to your fathers death and your mothers general distrust (and dislike) of the Shelby family. Your mother had kicked you out a few days ago, claiming that you were old enough to be married now, and that she wouldn’t stand for you staying in her house if you weren’t going to look for a husband.

“Calm down Lady, I’ll- Holy Shit! Y/N, what are you doin’ back!”, a man's voice rang out, making you and the rest of the bar look in his direction.

Arthur Shelby had always been one of your favorite Shelby siblings, and for good reason. He was loud, funny, and typically a gentleman if you caught him on the right day. You leaned over the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly bruising him in the process. You had hoped your whole journey here that he would be the first Shelby you saw, and luck had worked out for you this time.

“Arth, I am sure glad to see you! It’s been a long time, aye?”, you spoke, removing your arms from him and sitting back on your barstool.

“Hell, it’s been about, what, five years? You don’t show your face around these parts for five fuckin’ years and then you just come back?”, he said, staring you in the face, with a somewhat more serious look in his eye than you had expected.

‘Yeah, had some family troubles, but I’m back for good now,” you swallowed, “how's all the Shelby’s doin’?”

“Eh, the usual. Tommys about to run himself ragged, Pol acts like she owns us all, I’m workin’ here now, I actually own the place!” he said, spilling out most of that information in one breath.

You took a quick survey of the bar, noticing how the decor and table setup had changed since you’d seen it last. The floor was still the same sticky, slimy feeling though.

“Glad to see you doing well, Arth. Now, please get me a whiskey an i’ll be outta your way!” you spoke, glad to have reunited with Arthur, but not glad to have been out in public this long.

“Ah, ah. If you think I’m letting you get out of here without seein’ Tom, you’re messed in the head!” He joked, but as you watched him move towards the window to the private room, you realized he wasn’t joking.

You had not come prepared to see Thomas. He was the only one who never got a goodbye, even though the rest of them didn’t know they were goodbyes at the time. When you were being forced to leave, you managed to sneak over to Watery Lane and have one last conversation with all the Shelbys before you left, and you never told them you were leaving that night. Thomas had been on business, but got home a few minutes after you left. You had regretted not speaking to him then, but now that regret had turned into a fear after hearing about the man he had become while you were away. You had heard things about Thomas Shelby, and they were not things any girl would like to hear about her long-time crush.

‘Oy, that Tommy Shelby is a real whore’

‘I heard he gets around Small Heath like its a full time job’

‘He pays them ya know? Every girl he fucks gets paid, even if theyre not workin’ for it!’

Those were all just some of the things you had heard, and those weren’t even the things you had heard that were related to his newfound habit of murdering those who crossed him. You’ve had your eyes on Tommy Shelby ever since you were 16. Now aged 21, it had been a long enough time that you realized what kind of person you needed to settle with, and logically, he wasn’t it.

While this entire catalog of thoughts was running through your head, your eyes watched as Arthur got closer and closer to that window. You knew you weren’t ready to see him yet, if you ever would be. So acting on those primal prey instincts, you ran. You hopped off the barstool, and started pushing your way through the crowd of bar patrons, finally having the door insight. You wrapped your hand around the handle, and pulled it open. Stepping into the cool air of the night, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you closed the bar door behind you. Just as you were stepping away from the door to begin your walk to the apartment you were renting, you bumped into something, or rather, someone.

“Thought I’d let you run from me a second time, aye?”

Fuck.

“I-I-”, you stammered, not having any idea what to say, now that you were staring at the face of one Thomas Shelby.

“It’s okay, I’d be nervous too if I ran into someone I left in the dust five years ago.”, he laughed, letting a puff of cigarette smoke roll out of his mouth.

“Tommy, how did you even know I was out here? I watched Arthur and left before he even opened the window, I don’t underst-”

“Shh. I have my ways, ya know I have my ways.” he spoke, that cool, gravelly voice still hadn’t changed, even after all this time.

You finally looked up at him, releasing the death stare you had on his chest. He was more handsome now, if that was even possible. His dark hair styled perfectly, like he had touched it up before meeting you outside. His hat was missing, which was a rare occurrence, but you were enjoying the unobstructed view of his face. He was lean, only muscle was visible through his white shirt, and his pants hugged his legs perfectly. He was beautiful, especially in the face. You could see more defined freckles in the glow of the street lamp, along with more defined lines carved into his forehead. You continued to study his face, while his studied yours. You had definitely matured in your time away, but not only on your face. Your lips had gotten fuller, cheek bones more pronounced, and hair longer; but you had also grown tits and an ass. You knew you had assets, and fully planned on using them to your advantage, just not on Tommy Shelby.

“My God, Y/N, I’d say you grew up…”, he trailed off, eyes looking all over your face and body.

“Yeah, that tends to happen to people as they age, Tom.” you laughed, feeling suddenly insecure as you stood under his microscope.

“What are ya doin’ back in town? I imagined you ran off and got married or somethin’,” he spoke, “But, I don’t see a ring on that finger so either that can’t be right or you married a poor bastard.”

“Not married Tom, never was. It’s part of the reason I’m back in town, but-”

“What are ya doin’ tomorrow evening?”, he cut off, not even letting you finish explaining how you didn’t want to talk about it right now.

“Nothing I know about, why?”, you asked, having no idea what was about to come out of that pretty mouth of his.

“Join me for dinner, yeah? I’d love to sit down and have a chat with ya, but I got to go handle some business right now.”, he spoke, suddenly sounding strained.

“Uh, I guess I’ll get dinner with ya, where at?”

“My place, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 6, Goodnight, Y/N.” Tom spoke, brushing shoulders with you lightly as he passed by, heading back into The Garrison.

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fic

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unmarlou · 3 months

Text

time to pretend.

pairings. slytherins x fem!reader

summary. a typical day at the summer house.

lacy says. saltburn inspo but no bath water :/ this is bad lol purely for the aesthetic.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

"oi!"

the morning sun was beaming down stronger than yesterday. your sunglasses weren't even enough to keep you from squinting, though the book in your hands did good job if held at the right angle. and had it not been for the towel between, your skin would've been sticking to the lawn chair.

"morning blaise..." pansy said dreamily at your right. she was still half asleep.

you looked over your shoulder and saw blaise approaching, draco in tow. "didn't even bother to tell us you were out here, i see."

"we wanted you to get your beauty sleep, darling. nice swim trunks." they had tiny hula girls on them.

"i am a man of fashion." he plopped himself at the chair to your left, adjusting his shorts and sunglasses. he flashed a smile - a pretty one that only he could own and flaunt regardless the time of day. he quickly nudged your leg and pointed to draco, who sat at pansy's feet.

he was covered in noticeable amounts of sunscreen, head to toe. not only with a look of distain on his face but his slouch conveyed a message just fine on its own.

involuntarily a snort escaped, followed by stifled laughs.

"oh shut up."

even pansy, who was curled on her side away from everyone, sticking her hand out to some small animal, laughed, "we're only admiring you.”

all he could do was roll his eyes.

"stolen my chair then, have you?"

everyone’s attention turned to the voice, only to see enzo, also in his bathing suit, holding a platter of fruit. he almost looked like the cover of a magazine your mother wouldn't let you buy.

glancing over the back of the chair you could see mattheo and theodore walking in the field, talking lazily, probably sharing their first hellos of the day.

lorenzo placed the silver plate down on the small table between the chairs. you had asked him to bring something to eat expecting a piece of toast, though with him, you should've known better.

"well we can share, you know?"

"thank you, enzo."

he gave you a quick nod and wink, his way of saying no problem, never wanting to make a big deal out of gestures he found to be the minimum in his friendships.

"want me to sit on your lap then, blaise?"

draco rang on your left, "past a strawberry… please."

your arm extended to him, presenting three instead of just one. he cracked a reluctant smile, always surprised at how well you all knew him, never letting him stay miserable for long, "thanks."

a new shadow appeared on the ground in front of you causing you to peer up and greet theodore, "fruit?"

he shook his head, eyes still puffy and barely open, indicating he had just awoken. he stretched and rested his hands on either side of yours and pansy's chairs. bringing his forehead down to his left hand, he seemed to be taking a chance at sleep again.

"theo's had a rough morning."

you turned again and almost cackled at the sight of lorenzo sitting in blaise's lap, and mattheo sitting in lorenzo's. you could've sworn you saw the chair slightly give way under their weight.

pansy teased, "but an excellent night, isn't that right, teddy?"

he groaned loudly. drinking was never his strong-suit. he could roll and smoke all day, even on his worst, but going shot-for-shot was something he did only when feeling the most audacious. and something he always came to regret.

he shuffled his way to the small dock at the pond in front of you. eyes still closed, he laid down on the edge, his arm hanging over and into the water.

"hangover so bad he had to reconnect with nature."

“we’ve all been there.”

you smiled idly. placing the book on your stomach, not even considering an odd tan line. tilting your head back, your eyes closed.

a breeze blew, giving your skin a break from the exhausting heat it was under. you could feel the full trees above sway, and hear the water of the pond move with theodore’s helping hand. the low indistinct chatter of your friends simply background noise to remind you you weren’t alone in this oasis.

most mornings were like this. easy and quiet, any and all problems excluded from this place, this bubble of a world you had. if ever asked what moment you wished you could relive again and again, it would always be this.

the large, wall lining, arched windows of the left wing hallway made it the sunniest place in the house at this time of day. and the cold tile felt nice under your concrete-burnt feet.

the windows were wide open, allowing the plants and hung-dry linens of the courtyard to creep in and fill the corridor with a scent that could make one nostalgic for a place and time they’ve never even been.

your steps were the only sound until they multiplied. by the cadence of the walk, you knew who it was.

“theodore feeling any better?”

“loads,” in the corner of your eye you could see him pull a cigarette out and spark a light, he took a long drag before continuing, “gave him one of my cures.”

you shuddered, twisting your face. mattheo had an affinity for putting ingredients in a pot, mixing it up, and saying it would fix any and all problems. sometimes you thought even he didn’t believe his own words, he just liked seeing your face contort in disgust. “let me know when his tail starts growing.”

entering the room at the end of the hall, the sound of the shower running became clear. the french doors of the back wall were open, allowing air to flow freely.

you spun on your heel and allowed yourself to fall onto the four-poster, now staring at the charm displayed up on the canopy. one you recognized, as all your parents used to do it when you were children; a depiction of the night sky, to lull you to sleep and wish you sweet dreams.

mattheo was on his stomach next to you, carefully tapping ashes off the side of the bed. in the lighting of the room you could see how summer had be treating him, skin tanned by the sun, while his hair only got lighter. he tapped your arm for your attention, and pointed to the bathroom, furrowing his brows.

“pansy.” you answered.

an oh formed on his face.

the sound of wind chimes rang in the distance, accompanied by tree leaves brushing against each other, and birds singing softly. there were actually a few birds gathered at the small balcony just outside the french doors. they always seemed to gravitate towards pansy, all the beauty in life resided to her.

“i wonder what snape is doing right about now.”

you groaned, putting your hands over your face, trying to hide from the imagine of your professor in your mind, “don’t mention him, his energy will invade the space.”

“say his name three times and he’ll appear, you know!” pansy’s shouting voice carried into the room. there was actually no need for her to, you could hear her perfectly fine seeing as the bathroom door was wide open; she hated having it closed, never wanting to be separated from the rest of world for too long.

you shouted back, “says she who flirts with him for a higher grade!”

“it’ll work one day, just you wait!”

this was true, she was absolutely convinced she could charm her way to at least Exceeds Expectations. not that anything had given her an indication it had worked in the past. or ever.

mattheo sat up, almost choking on his laugh, “just do what enzo does, pretend your best friends with him.”

the shower turned off, followed by long rustled movement before she walked out. she held a stark white towel to her body, water droplets coming off her hair and onto her freckled collarbones. “does it work?”

he ran a hand through his hair while reaching to put his cig out on the bedside ashtray, “ ‘course not. but easier to watch and keep the lunch down than your attempts.”

she made a face before opening one of the dresser drawers next to her and chucking a pair of balled-up socks at him.

suddenly the door bursted open, presenting blaise and lorenzo. they wore cheesy smiles and had their arms extended out beside themselves, “OUR DINNER OUTFITS!”

both were still wearing their swim trunks from earlier in the day, yet this time accompanied by suit jackets, ties, - that certainly did not match and they definitely dug up from the attic - dress shoes, and jewelry to go with. theo ran up behind and wrapped a boa around blaise’s neck.

“no fair! i want one!”

“there’s a whole lot more in the boxes we found, hurry up and we’ll get you one.”

“didn’t think to include me, then?”

“those have to be at least 60 years old.”

“jesus enz, what kinda parties did your dad used to throw?”

he flopped on the bed, a dust cloud emerging from the jacket, causing you to cough and wave your hand through the air. “no clue,” he leaned closer to you, showing his wrist, “but look at this fancy watch i found.”

it looked as old as time.

“no doubt you’re sweating enough for all of us in those?” draco leaned on the doorframe.

“would be unnatural if we weren’t.”

pansy walked to the armoire, and shuffled her hanging clothes along until she found what she was looking for: a silk black dress. she picked the hanger off the rack and walked it over the french doors, putting on the doorframe. she turned to everyone’s eyes on her and shrugged, “might as well.”

playing dress up was always fun, especially when all the glamour was real. watches and diamonds, boas and silks.

the dining hall was lit, wall to expansive wall with candles. the curtains up high drawn back, displaying the rising moon. the long table in the center was decorated with the most gorgeous grand arrangement.

the house elves had absolutely outdone themselves, platters of food spanning each end of the table. and though you didn’t see much of them, you made a mental note to seek at least one out and thank them.

after more digging around and even a trip to the attic, which made you consider taking a second shower of the day, you had found the best box of all; charles berkshire’s record collection. bowie, zeppelin, beatles, queen - it was a 60s/70s wet dream. so for the first time in what must’ve been years, the gramophone record player of the dining hall was to be put to use.

with everyone now standing at their respective seats, prosecco was to be poured.

mattheo, who sat on the right head of the table, was the one to open it; he always was. his naturally mischievous smile was one to be admired, especially when each of you wore the same one. with a big POP! he went around and filled everyone’s flutes - although you all cheered, the night hadn’t started just yet.

each with your drinks, lorenzo danced over to the record player and placed the needle down. a night at the opera began. he slowly turned to face you all once again, raising his glass and walking back to his seat, the left head of the table. all other glasses were then raised high, and his role as host was to be fulfilled, “live forever!”

“live forever!” you chorused, arms extending closer to each other before cheers erupted once again, louder this time, accompanying the crescendo of death on two legs. cups were brought to mouths, and taking your first sip you could’ve sworn you recognized that phrase, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, but couldn’t seem to place it.

pulling chairs forward, everyone was sat. looking around, under the immense candle light their faces had a new glow, one that filled you with an unexplainable excitement. the night had begun.

the feast was lovely, you all agreed it must’ve been the best you’d ever had. though you could’ve just been drunk and hungry.

“this is the best food i’ve ever tasted.”

“best.” emphasized lorenzo.

mattheo covered his mouth, still chewing, “never been better.”

this conversation happened multiple times since you had started eating. each time blaise ended it by saying, “god we sound like our parents.”

the room smelled like the extravagant parties back home, the boys smoking their macanudo’s - inspirado black’s, they swore by - leaving strong cigar smoke lingering above you. pansy had drank enough to pull out her cigarettes, and one was passed around the table. your glass was bottomless, literally, allowing your feeling of weightlessness to continue.

the conversations around were indecipherable, you just sat picking at whatever food was left on your plate, intent on listening to the music in the background. the record player was enchanted, never needing for someone to get up and change the record; once the needle was down, and an album was over, a new one would take its place.

you took another sip of whatever it was in your glass, listening to the end of some song, what was going to play next didn’t even cross your mind until the beginning chords of a new one rang out. standing up suddenly, causing your drink to slightly spill on the hard wood, you gasped, “this SONG.”

your arm immediately shot out to pansy, who looked up at you mid-drag and smiled. you couldn’t even remember what song it was or where you had heard it before but you knew it was imperative to give it its own moment. meeting each other halfway, arms waiting for the other person and giggling, your hands interlocked with hers.

dancing, spinning around, and laughing; you had never felt so blissfully unaware. or dizzy.

more bodies appeared around the two of you, but ones you knew well and invited with the most love one could feel for another person. blaise’s boa wrapped around him and draco as they danced and sang, theodore holding a bottle of champagne while mattheo bent lower to waterfall it, and enzo grabbing both yours and pansy’s hands to spin you simultaneously.

you weren’t sure who’s laugh was who’s, or what song was playing, who’s hand you were holding, or what drink was being poured, not like any of it mattered. once again you had entered a bubble, impenetrable from the outside world.

the library couch was the comfiest in the whole chateau. the fire had been crackling for some time, accompanied by lorenzo’s piano playing on the west wall. he was actually the best you’d ever heard, though he shyly kept his talent close to his chest - until the proper moments.

you watched the embers pop off the fire mindlessly, not thinking about anything in particular. a book sat in your lap but it had been forgotten long ago, your unfocused eyes unable to retain the words. they were however able to travel upwards to the painting on the mantle, for the first time you truly looked at it - it was a group of people, slightly older than yourself. you immediately recognized lorenzo’s father, although here he was more handsome, his son certainly took after him. searching farther you spotted a woman, and after some staring you deduced it was bellatrix, her cheekbones being the exact same as mattheo and enzo. she truly was beautiful, regardless of the sinister look she was giving through the paint. you couldn’t make out the others, though you noted a boy, who was definitely younger than the rest, with curls that fit his face well and a solemn expression that carried a worlds worth of weight.

mattheo and draco sat on the rug, silently playing chess. they had become more and more fond of muggle chess as the summer went on.

pansy was sprawled out on the lounge chair to your right, the spaghetti straps of her dress daring to slip off her shoulders. her eyes were closed as she hummed - incorrectly - to the piano. she hung her head over the edge, causing her bangs to fall off her face, and her now open green eyes found yours. your smiles matched each other.

blaise, who was seated next to you on the couch, had his legs resting on the ottoman. he was holding a letter from his mother that had arrived a couple days ago, just now finding the time to read it. theodore was in the opposing lounge chair, eating the chocolates that accompanied the letter. she had sent them just for him - his favorites from honeydukes he had sorely missed. he watched mattheo and draco’s game intently.

“play that last one again.” you had called out to enzo.

he scooted his chair and looked over his shoulder, “liebestraum no. 3?”

“sure.”

“you like liszt?”

you paused, turning to face him and furrowing your brows in obvious confusion, before replying to the best of your ability, “…i like you?”

he gave a smile that was only reserved for you. liebestraum no. 3 began again.

you slumped down on your side, your feet now hitting blaise’s clothed thigh, he gave a tap to your ankle, indicating recognition but not taking his eyes off the letter. with your ear now against the armrest, your breathing slowed.

you focused on every sound. the chess pieces gliding across the wood board followed by draco’s or mattheo’s huffs of concentration, the faraway wind chime carrying in through the open window, lorenzo playing that piece you had grown to love in the last few minutes, the pops of fire, pansy’s subtle soft humming, and the crinkle of the papers blaise held.

your eyes closed, whether voluntarily or not you weren’t sure, but you didn’t fight it. overwhelming comfort and content had taken you, warmth from all over allowing absolute relaxation.

“hey… hey, wake up.”

“y/n… y/n…”

the harsh nudge of your arm made you open your eyes. squinting up, you could make out blaise and theodore. you, unintentionally, matched their tone by whispering back to them, “what?”

“wake up, we’re going for a swim.” blaise flashed you the same smile from the morning, it was so genuine even your groggy mind thought of how you’d never know anyone else with one like that. theo had moved on to wake pansy.

draco’s voice came from behind the couch, “she awake?” before an answer came he peered over from above and your eyes met, “lovely. now get pans and let’s go.”

sitting up and looking around you finally realized why everything looked different - the fire had gone out. now the only light was the full moon shining through the windows. the room was coated in silver.

you rubbed your eyes harshly to adjust and looked over to see pansy doing the same, “what do you want again?” her voice was raspy and tired.

“swimming.” you answered, standing up with the help of blaise’s hand. once to your feet you realized you were still in your dinner attire, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. you stuck an arm out to her. grasping it and standing, she opened her eyes wide and blinked rapidly. her voice was abruptly normal again, “well c’mon then.”

the boys were close behind the two of you, exiting the library. the entire manor was the same coloring of silver and blue. any other place and you would’ve been creeped out and uneasy, but in this place with these people, you could never feel anything other than safe.

going your separate ways from them to change, you and pansy walked the corridors, chatting nonsensically.

entering your room, you undressed quickly, happy to get the confining dress clothes from what seemed like hours ago, off of your body. you picked a bathing suit from drawers, tossing one to pansy too, who couldn’t be bothered to go to her room. both of you helped the other tie their suit.

voices in the hall approached your door, before a series of knocks. you both called back, “yeah?”

draco’s head peered in cautiously, before noticing you both were clothed, then opening the door fully to reveal the others. he held his arm up, “we’ve got towels, come on.”

all the boys said some iteration of come on and let’s go, eager to get out. rushing, you both were handed towels. excited chatter overtook the group, voices echoing and bouncing off the expansive walls. lorenzo appeared suddenly from the back, running, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

this triggered a domino effect, everyone was now chasing each other down the halls. something in the back of your mind told you to look around, and when you did, it seemed as though childhood had come back. playing games and having races with the same people that ran beside you now. watching their faces as they passed you saw summers long gone, of late night swims and early sun-basking mornings, dress up dinners and quiet library lounging. you ran and ran and ran.

your bare feet hit the concrete of the patio before hitting the dewy grass. though night, it was still warm, humidity latched to your skin. you had joined hands with blaise, a silent agreement. the moonlight illuminated the pond, beckoning you to come forward. it was just a ways away.

lorenzo had made it first, his shout as he jumped in rattling everything in a 10 mile radius. for the rest of the summer he would go on to say that he had to have made the world record for largest splash.

mattheo was close behind, so close in fact you thought he might land on enzo’s head, though he resurfaced just in time to watch him jump in and moved out of the way.

you and blaise were next, hand-in-hand again, running off the dock, your screams silenced by the water. cold consumed your entire body for the first time in months. it was relieving to have your body soaked in something other than sunscreen or sweat. feeling the last of your friends enter after you, you opened your eyes and found them. swimming to each other, you grazed skin as if to say even in water, i’m right by your side. if you didn’t need air, you would’ve considered staying down there forever.

breaching the surface and taking a deep breath, you brushed all the hair out of your face. you looked around to find some with droplets combing through from their hair to their eyelashes, and others with water slicked-back hair. each was breathing as heavily as you, half from having to catch their breath, half from pure exhilaration.

water splashed from all directions, making you squint and do the same. you weren’t sure who was splashing you for the fun of it and who was splashing you because you had splashed them. yelps and laughs were echoing off the surrounding trees. the plants were drinking well tonight.

“let’s play chicken!” someone had shouted over all the noise. cheers of agreement erupted from the chorus and subsequently the excessive pushing of water was halted.

you had fond memories of chicken. it used to be the boys on the girls shoulders, back when they all were still shorter than pansy and you. but now they were taller and had built quidditch bodies. as much as you believed in yourself, you didn’t desire feeling a draco sized weight on your shoulders.

“girls versus boys!” you announced.

theo shrugged, “not much of a competition.”

blaise took him by the shoulder, “ay, beware of the black haired one, she likes to go for the eyes.”

it was decided you and pansy versus theodore and lorenzo. they were a great duo, the two of them were the beaters on the quidditch team. they surely knew how to work together.

theo stood behind enzo, waiting for him to dip underwater.

“oi try not to pull the hair, i’ve got a sensitive scalp.” enzo reached a hand up and combed the back his head. theo looked like he was going to say something, before just shaking his head and sighing, “m’sure i’ll manage.”

a countdown from three began, then hitting one, you and lorenzo went under. water engrossed your entirety once more. feeling pansys hand upon your shoulder for balance, then her leg, you held on. within less than a few seconds she was securely on and you rose. you took a big breath once again, pushing your hair out of your face. the boys were in sync with you.

almost immediately pansy and theo were at each others throats. their arms went up, interlocking, and their bodies casted a shadow on lorenzo and you. it was like a tiny pocket. shouts came from beside you; blaise, mattheo, and draco each yelling out what could’ve been tips but when shouting over each other it really just sounded like a bunch of nothing. you were pretty sure whatever they were saying was going to be unhelpful anyways.

between keeping your balance, trying to push enzo, and still treading, you were determined to win.

“ah! ow! STOP TRYING TO PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY EYES I CANT SEE!”

pansy clearly was as well.

it suddenly hit you who you were up against. this was lorenzo, the single most ticklish person you’d ever know. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it earlier. with a mischievous smile and lots of trust that pansy could remain on your moving shoulders, you reached to his bare stomach and began prodding at him.

just as you expected, he started to freak out. “hey! HEY!” he laughed between his shouts, “STOP- STOP THAT! NOT- FAIR!”

the boys on side were having a field day.

“ENZ!”

“I CANT-”

“DONT YOU DARE DROP ME.”

and with a strong push from pansy up top, and another prod to enzo’s side from you, both of their exclamation were stifled by gurgles of water.

pansy dived down, quickly coming up and hollering. cheers were shared all around, even from theo and enzo.

“let’s stick to quidditch.”

“agreed.”

in the midst of it all, you turned to face the house. it wasn’t foreign to any of you by any means, yet catching it in this moment you couldn’t help but feel amazed by its beauty. as if you were truly noticing it for the first time. it harbored your love within its stone. your love for this season, your love for this place, your love for these people. looking at the scene you saw your friends, you reached for them and they accepted, reaching for you. you heard their laughs, saw their smiles, and felt the same on yourself.

all in one breath you realized what lorenzo had said earlier was not just some toast; it was a definitive proclamation.

in this bubble of a world, you would live forever.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

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subbmissivesuccubus · 5 months

Text

Bondage~

A/n: This was day 3 of my Kinktober! Bondage with Nanami. As the title says, there's bondage and very strict dom Nanami as well as pain play. And fem reader so enjoy!

You gulped as you waited in the car, Nanami talking to Ichiji. You really screwed up and somehow, your nerves were dulling the pain of your injured foot. Waiting for Nanami, who you knew was furious at you, was somehow worse than fighting a special grade curse.

You didn’t regret what you did. Sure, Nanami, your supervisor, ordered you to stand down as the curse was far stronger than you could handle. He ordered you to not act rashly and to think twice before leaping into action as this particular curse could create illusions and make people see things that weren’t there. But when you saw a crying child screaming for help among all the chaos of Nanami fighting the curse, you couldn’t stop yourself from rushing in. Nanami’s bark for you to stop fell deaf on your ears as you ran to the kid, only to see that it wasn’t real and within a second, something stabbed you through the ankle.

But the curse stabbing you using its claw was just the advantage you needed. You brought out your cursed tool, a long sword and sliced upward, injuring it enough to make it stop in its tracks and that was all Nanami needed to quickly slice it into pieces. You fell to the ground with a shout of pain, Nanami kneeling beside you as he gently grasped your ankle. You watched as the claw lodged into your foot disintegrated away, leaving behind a nasty, bloody hole in your-

The man quickly placed his hand over your eyes, shielding you from the sight. Without a word, he took his tie and wrapped it around your ankle with one hand, telling you to power through the pain. Once it was covered, the tie instantly soaked in your blood, the man lopped his arm under your knees before lifting you up in a princess carry. You grimaced as any movement made your ankle scream in pain, but you managed to not cry. You didn’t want to cry over this when you’ve seen your peers and even Nanami deal with injuries far worse without making a big deal about it.

But as he carried you to the car, you noticed it. You’d been Nanami’s underling for some time now and have gotten to understand his limited facial expressions and this was one you’d seen a few times before now. His jaw clenched, his lips frowning, his eyes in a small squint as he refused to look at you.

Uh oh.

He was pissed.

You jumped as the car door opened, Nanami being done with his conversation as he sat in the driver’s seat. Once the door was closed, he started the car, the engine purring back to life. “S-Sir-“

“Quiet.” The man ordered, not looking at you as he stepped on the gas, “I’m taking you to Shoko. We’ll talk after.”

You gulped. You were well aware of what ‘talking’ meant.

~~~~~

You closed the door behind you as you entered Nanami’s bedroom, the blonde man having gone in before you. Your ankle was as good as new thanks to Shoko, not even a scar left behind. But now, you had to deal with the consequences of your actions.

“So,” Nanami said, taking off his jacket before draping it over a chair, “You decided to disobey my direct orders. What made you think that was a good idea?”

“I-I saw a child, Sir.” You responded, “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“You knew the curse had the ability to create illusions.” The man said, hands in his pockets as he looked at you, “Rushing in like that was foolish and dangerous. And I don’t train my underlings to act on stupidity.”

“I know, Sir, but I couldn’t risk it.” You defended, “I knew there was a chance the kid wasn’t real but the possibility of them actually being there- I needed to make sure.”

“You think a child would just randomly pop out of nowhere in the middle of a fight?”

“…Stranger things have happened?”

Nanami sighed, grabbing onto his glasses before pulling them off of his face, “You know you’re going to get punished, right?”

“Y-Yes Sir.” You replied, heart starting to hammer in your chest, “I’m ready.”

Nanami was your superior, the man who was willing to have you as a sidekick but that meant you were his responsibility and when you did something dangerous and stupid, he took it as his job to properly…educate you. And he was very very good and getting your lessons through your head.

“Strip and get on the bed.”

You nodded and did as he told. Blood rushed to your face as you started to unbutton your top, shrugging it off of your shoulders. You did the same for your pants, the fabric pooling between your legs before you stepped out of them. With a gulp, Nanami still watching you, you moved your hands to your back and unhooked your bra, your breasts bouncing a bit as they were freed from their confines. Your ears turned red as your nipples perked up, clearly anticipating what was to come. Finally, you slipped your thumb into the hem of your panties before you pulled them down, stepping out of them as well. Completely naked, Nanami watched with his arms folded over his chest as you crawled onto the bed and laid down on your back.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. You nodded, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as Nanami grunted. You noticed that he had already prepared certain props on the bedside table, mainly, a long coil of red rope. Your eyes widened as Nanami got on the bed as well, straddling you. Knees planted on either side of your ribs, you looked up at the man, his stone-cold expression somehow making your body run hot.

“Tell me.” Nanami said, grabbing a tie from the bedside table, “Why are you being punished?” “B-Because I disobeyed you.” You said, gasping as he placed the fabric across your eyes, blocking out your vision. “And?” he asked. “A-And I got hurt.” “That’s right.” Nanami said, tying a knot at the back of your head, “You know better than to disobey me, right?” “I-I’m sorry Sir.” “You will be after I’m done with you.”

Your body shivered at his threat, your cunt growing wet from his words. Everything felt so much more intense due to his tie around your eyes. With the lack of vision, all of your other senses were heightened. His deep voice, the heat emanating from his body, his touch, his scent- all of it took over you, making you feel dizzy.

You gasped as Nanami’s hand slid to your back, pulling your body up enough for him to slide a rope underneath you. You gulped as you felt the familiar material brush up against your skin, the man getting to work. He first started off with your chest, his rough hands tugging the rope tightly as he wrapped it around your breasts, making them pop out deliciously. You didn’t need to see to be able to feel Nanami’s eyes on you, taking in every inch of your skin. You let out a yelp as he pulled on the final knot, the ropes digging into the fat of your breasts.

He let out a satisfied hum, eyes taking in how delicious your tits looked but he wasn’t going to give you the pleasure of his touch. Not yet, anyway. Nanami moved down your body, settling between your legs. Your face was a bright, beet red as he grabbed your knees and spread them, exposing your pretty cunt to him. Hooking his hands underneath your knees, he pushed them up, making you yelp as he folded you, pressing your knees against your chest.

“Hold your legs up.” He ordered, ignoring the flustered expression on your face as you did as you were told, your breathing laboured as you replaced his hands with your own. It was a whole new type of embarrassing holding your legs up yourself, exposing your cunt even more for Nanami to ogle at. “This might hurt.” He warned before grabbing another strand of rope. His other hand gripped at your foot gently before pressing down, getting it as close to thigh as possible before you felt the rope start to wrap around it. Oh…Oh! He was literally wrapping your leg closed. The rope was being looped around your calf muscle and your thighs to press them together, rendering you unable to stretch your leg. He did the same with the other leg, now both your legs being tied tightly.

“Hand.” He ordered and you obeyed, giving him your hand. Your heart started pounding even faster when you felt him take your hand to your ankle, pressing your wrist against your foot before tying the two of them together. Legs tied so they’re always folded and now, your arms tied to your ankles which gave you little to no freedom of movement- if you moved your legs, you’d have to arch your back and if you moved your hands, you’d have to press your knees to your chest.

“There we go.” He said, clearly satisfied with the job, “Now you can’t run around, disobeying me, hmm?” You nodded, gulping down your saliva as you took inventory of your body. Tied up and ready for him to do whatever he wanted. You felt him get off the bed, hearing the sound of him rummaging through his drawer where you knew he kept his…toys. After a few seconds, he was back on the bed, his heat grazing your skin as he leaned over you.

You shivered and gasped as he lapped his tongue along your nipple, his heat and wetness feeling wonderful on your sensitive bud. He sealed his lips around it, giving it a couple of sucks before his teeth nibbled on it gently. Each time he bit down it made your body twitch, pressing against the red ropes that held you down to perfectly, reminding you each second of how you were tied up.

But before you could enjoy the feeling of him showering your nipple with attention, there was suddenly a sharp pain on your sensitive bud- a clamping sensation that was squeezing your nipple so tightly it took your breath away. “Ah!” you screamed at the pain, “S-sir-“

“Hold still.” Nanami said calmly as he made sure the nipple clamp was secured. He roughly grabbed your other breast, leaning down to give it an apologetic lick before he clamped that as well. Your back arched, legs aching from the stretch as you couldn’t help but scream from the sensation, the clamps so tight it made you dizzy.

“How pretty.” Nanami said, making you let out a loud scream as his finger suddenly flicked at the clamp, “don’t start crying already. I haven’t even started.” “I-Its hurts!” “Good.�� He responded, not caring about your cries and whimpers, “But if it hurts so much, why is your pussy getting wet, hmm?”

You squealed as you felt the man gently run his finger along your cunt, rubbing between your folds and getting soaked in your slick. He eventually made it two fingers, his index and middle finger spreading your wetness around before he started rubbing gentle circles over your clit. You moaned, tossing your head back against the pillow as the pain on your nipples and the pleasure on your clit was fighting for your attention, your body shivering at every rub- at ever beat of your heart.

“Naughty girl.” Nanami said, tutting as he gently inserted one fingers inside you, the slide easy due to how wet you were, “This is a punishment, remember? Who gave your pussy permission to get so wet?” “M’ sorry- I’m sorry-“ you babbled, head in the clouds at the various sensations. “I’m sure you are sorry but I think this cunt needs a reminder of who controls it.” “S-Sir?”

Your heart leapt to your throat at his words, knowing full well of what Nanami was capable of. You felt him take his fingers and spread your pussy lips apart, flinching as he blew some air on your clit. No doubt, your bud was plump and sensitive from his teasing touch, the cute nub peeking out of its hood. Nanami smirked as he stared at your twitching pussy, flicking your clit a few more time to really get it to swell up before-

He snapped a clamp onto it.

The scream you let out was piercing, your whole body folding but unable to do anything or move in the way you wanted it to. He watched as you squealed and writhed on the bed, the pain of your poor clit being squished between two wooden clamps too much for you to handle. “Control yourself.” Nanami barked, secretly enjoying the view and your reaction, “You look pathetic.” “Sir! Sir- Please!” you begged, mouth open as you screamed, each movement making the clamps on your body feel like they were growing tighter, “It’s too much- It hurts!”

“You know what word to use if you really want me to stop.” Nanami said, reminding you that you could use your safe word and opt out. He gave you a few seconds but when you showed no indication of using it, he continued: “Will you disobey me again?”

“No Sir!” you responded, tears in your eyes from the crushing pain, “Never again- I promise!”

“When I tell you to do something-“

“I’ll do as you say- I’ll do anything you say!”

Nanami clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Don’t. Interrupt me.”

Your body shivered at his tone, wanting to curl up from disappointing him but you couldn’t move. You sobbed our whimpers of ‘sorry’s’ and you couldn’t help but think of how pathetic you looked to the man. But luckily for you, he liked you pathetic.

“Open your mouth.”

You gulped before you did as ordered, opening your mouth wide. You waited as you felt the man move up the bed and you realised; he was straddling you once more, his knees planted on either side of your shoulders. You jumped as you felt something press against your lips- something hot and hard and throbbing- something you were more than familiar with.

“This is a punishment.” Nanami growled as he rubbed his cock against your face, grabbing it by the base before slapping it on your tongue a few times, “I’m going to fuck your face, cum down your throat and I’m not going to go slow. I don’t care if you pass out, understand?”

“Y-Yesh Sir.” You responded around the cock on your tongue.

“Snap your fingers if you need me to stop.”

You nodded, jaw already aching. Your poor nipples and clit still throbbed from the pain but you hopes sucking his dick would provide enough distraction. He grabbed you by the hair and pulled, making you arch your neck more before he slowly started pushing into your mouth. “That’s it.” He groaned as his cock got enveloped by your hot, wet heat, “Take it…take it…take it all the way down…”

He was only halfway in and you were already gagging. You tried to steel yourself as Nanami continued to push forward, ignoring your gasps and gags. You shut your eyes closed behind the makeshift blindfold, opening your mouth up as much as it could go until finally, Nanami bottomed out.

Nanami moaned, tossing his head back as he enjoyed the sensation of being stuffed deep inside your throat. Your tongue clumsily lapped at the underside of his cock, drool seeping out from between your lips as his balls throbbed against your chin.

This was going to be your punishment. Tied up, unable to touch him, body writhing in pain as Nanami uses you for his pleasure. You didn’t know it at the moment, but once he’s done using your throat, he was going to leave you like this for a while, forcing you to steep in the pain while your pussy throbs for pleasure and release. And no matter what, you were not going to cum tonight.

Gripping onto the headboard, the man started thrusting, immediately picking up the pace just like he said he would. He groaned above you, gritting his teeth as he started fucking your face, his heavy balls clapping against you, the slick sound of your wet mouth choking around his cock echoing through the room.

You’d better not pass out.

#subby writes #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento nanami

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wearywinchester · 1 year

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Wrong Turn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight with Dean leads you to take a breather, what was supposed to be a quick walk turns into something more.

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi <3 Can you write a Dean x Reader, they are in a relationship but they have a nasty fight one night, reader goes outside for a walk to take a breath but there is a storm and it's raining bad and she just gets lost and Dean freaks out when she doesn't come back? Angst and fluff please.”

Warnings: angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of blood, injury, anxiety, fluff

Tempers were well beyond their limit, a seemingly ongoing theme of the entirety of that day, stretching all the way through to that evening. Dean’s anger was never a surprise, not when it came to those that he held closest to himself. He can’t help it, never could. He gets himself so tightly wound with the ever growing desire to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone no further than arms length. He gets himself so worked up that he bursts, let’s that anger gush out of him in bouts of swearing and strings of words he almost always regrets later.

Tonight was no exception, not even close. It just might’ve been the worst fight the two of you have had in quite some time.

“I can’t believe you,” Dean says behind you, the motel door slamming shut faster than you can turn around to see him shove it closed with his boot.

“Believe what, that I did my job?” You say.

He was fuming, you could hear it in his voice. It was gruff and his words were sharp, an edge to it that wasn’t present most of the time. There was no humor, voice of that sweeter side you’ve always loved. It was filled with anger and frustration, deepened with irritation.

He chuckled, empty and humorless at the words that fell from your mouth and into the tense space. Did your job. To him, that was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you could’ve ever said in your life given the context. The stupidest even.

That chuckle was so beyond bitter as he looked at you with a narrowed stare, those beautiful green eyes the angriest you’d ever seen them. Not at all soft as they most often were, not at all gazing at you with an adoration you can never ever fathom comes from looking at you. That loving gaze is replaced with the utmost of frustration as he stares you down, brows knit together.

“Doing your job? That’s what you’re calling it?” He says, laughter in his words as he tosses his duffel bag on the bed harshly, some of its contents spilling out of the half zippered opening. “Since when is putting your ass on the line to lore a damn monster a ten times stronger than you doing your job?”

You roll your eyes at his words, at the way he raised his voice. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe what you were hearing but that’d be a lie. It was Dean Winchester after all, you expected it.

“We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. Did you think I was just going to sit back and watch it kill somebody else? You would’ve done the same thing if I didn’t beat you to it,” you argue.

His cheeks were tinged a soft shade of pink, only making the freckles spattered on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose all the more noticeable. Dean doesn’t flush, not unless he’s angry, not unless he’s pissed. And there he stands, pink and rosy with his jaw tensed as tight as ever as he looks at you, looks at you till he can’t anymore in an effort to calm himself down.

“I wouldn’t do something that damn stupid,” he says, his gaze returning to you.

“You would and you have, Dean, don’t give me that,” you say, watching his top lip quiver in anger. “Every hunt you do something reckless and stupid and everyone’s supposed to be okay with your self sacrificing way of handling things because you think you’re doing what’s best. You always put your ass on the line in a million and one different ways, but when I do it it’s stupid? That’s a load of crap and you know it, Dean.”

You’ve raised your own voice now, watching his chest rise and fall heavier and heavier as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

“Y/n—”

“No, tell me, Dean. How is that fair?”

“You don’t—”

“How is it fair, Dean?” You’re damn near yelling, body tense and the pit of your stomach filled with a heat that travels to your cheeks, burning hot as you swim in your anger.

“You can’t just go running around painting yourself as bait every chance you get. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting into, and you damn sure don’t know what you’re doing,” he counters, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been in this nightmare of a gig just as long as you have, and I’m still swingin’. Don’t you dare say that I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say.

You’re livid, cheeks on fire as you stare him down, finally thinking to release the handles of your duffel bag that’d been trapped within the tightness of your grasp long enough for your hand to be sweaty, long enough that your fingernails left crescent shaped indentations on your palm.

“God, do you even hear yourself when you talk, Y/n?” There’s that bitter laugh again, humorless as he rubs his hand down his face.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, an action that pulls his gaze back to you.

“Then maybe you should look in the mirror, Dean. Tempting your own fate and looking death right in the face seems to be your thing,” you retort, watching his brows scrunch even tighter together.

His lips part, finger raising to point at you with a slight tremble before it drops back to his side and he’s almost at a loss for words. Almost, as he shakes his head.

“You know what, Y/n? I’m not the one with a damn gash on my forehead. I’m not the one walking around with a torn off piece of my flannel tied around my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not the one walking around, doing a piss poor job hiding a freaking limp because I’m too damn proud to admit I did something stupid. So tell me, Y/n, is it really just my thing?”

Your chest was heaving at this point, whole body trembling with adrenaline as you stare up at him with as much anger as you could muster. You could feel that strain in your throat, that horrid soreness that came with the ever difficult battle to keep that lump from rising and allowing your voice to break. That stupid lump that accompanied the tears that pressed so adamantly behind your eyes that it burned, that it stung.

He had you angry, blood boiling as you stood there in front of him. He was no different, standing there with a jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth would damn near crack. He had a certain anger in his eyes, anger mixed with something you couldn’t quite place as you stared him down for as long as you could muster.

He always knew how to poke and prod, get under your skin. He was stubborn more than anyone you’d ever known, probably more than anyone that could exist. He was Dean Winchester.

“You’re a dick, Dean,” you say, all the venom and hurt you can muster in those four words. As much as you could even though it felt like your throat was on fire. Felt as though barbed wire was woven around it from all the built up pressure of the tears you’re trying to hold back to keep him from seeing.

There’s that laugh again, that same bitter laugh as he hears your words.

“Yeah? You act like you’re so tough, Y/n, like you’re the best damn hotshot hunter there is. You act like you know everything and you sure as hell don’t so get off your damn high horse before you do something even more stupid and get yourself dead.”

He was shouting by this point, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he stared at you with twice the anger than a minute ago and he was only met with the same look. The very same apart from the welled up tears and the wobbly lip you sunk your teeth into to try and hide it the very best you could. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t keep your facade up, not in front of him. You never could. It was damn near impossible as you stood there until you couldn’t anymore, spinning on your heel. You brushed past him, shoulder bumping him and nearly throwing you off balance as you head for the motel door.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone incredulous.

“Away from you. What’s it look like?”

You grab the door handle and can hear him scoff as you swing it open and at first he doesn’t think you’re serious, not as he chuckles and shakes his head, maybe to egg you on even.

He doesn’t think you’re serious even as you slam the door shut behind you, and maybe not even for a few minutes after that. But after that few minutes it doesn’t seem so funny anymore, it never did, especially not when you didn’t walk right back in. He doesn’t think it’s funny when he swings that motel door right back open to find the parking lot empty, the Impala void of your presence—to find you nowhere to be seen.

He stands there for a moment with a clenched jaw, anger pulsing through him that’s rapidly redirecting towards himself. But he simply steps back into the room and slams the door shut behind him so hard it rattled. Ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face.

But he doesn’t move, too steeped in his own anger to go on after you as you walked along by yourself in an effort to cool yourself down.

It was cold out, that steady drizzle still coming down but bearable enough to keep on walking away from that motel and away from the man that’s got you all fired up.

Your cheeks were heated and your heart was still pounding. That horrible pressure behind your eyes of unshed tears had finally broken loose, hot tears rolling and mixing with chilly raindrops on your skin. Your face was scrunched in a way you couldn’t help even if you tried as you let them out, frustratedly wiping them away as if there was still a chance of the older Winchester seeing them.

You loved him, but god, you hated him sometimes. He was too protective for his own good, too angry. He’s got you so wound up you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or never turn back to that motel room again. Or perhaps all three. But you know you’d never actually run off. That may be exactly what you’re doing right now but you’d always find your way back to him.

He’s got a heart of gold but you’re too damn pissed to want to think about that right now.

He’s in that room by himself, Sam in the room next door. He’s in that room stewing in anger and regret for the things he’d said out of that anger. He’s beating himself up for that unshakable habit of saying things he comes to regret. He wants to rip that motel room apart, wants to go looking for you. He wants to do it all but instead he sits on the edge of that squeaky motel bed for a matter of seconds before he gets right back up again, splashing his face off with cool water in the bathroom sink. But instead he stays in that motel room, his remaining anger leaving him spiteful before that guilt trickles in.

It’s cold, damn it’s cold as you walk along the tattered sidewalk. The pavement is cracked and crumbling away at the edges, gravel spilling over from old parking lots you pass by. You’ve got no idea where you’re going, and no idea where you are. Of course you don’t, you’ve never been to this town in your entire life and it’s near in the middle of nowhere.

You were wandering around this little town and it quickly began to feel not so little as you continued on in a direction that surely wasn’t towards that motel.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you were almost too angry to care about your surroundings. So worked up that you felt damn near invincible, didn’t really care about any threats because that anger was enough of a driving force to keep you safe.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, not even a little. Because deep down, under all that anger, you realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a damn idiot that you almost couldn’t bear it. He always did this. He always tried to bench you, to hold you back on hunts. He always tried to jump in and save the day, always stole your thunder. He treated you like some rookie hunter that constantly needs a watchful eye, that constantly needs to be supervised like you don’t know what your doing. He acts like you’re some rookie hunter that couldn’t go two seconds on their own without getting into some life threatening situation.

He acts like it’s the end of the world when you step in, when you do something risky for the sake of keeping people safe. He blows it so far out of proportion, makes it seem like you couldn’t possibly do anything more stupid when he does the same and more. He does the very same every single time without second thought, but when you do it, there’s no greater crime to commit than doing your job.

He was so hypocritical it drove you insane.

You were a mess of emotions, fury and upset knotted in the pit of your stomach. It burned and it sat heavy, made you want to scream till your throat was sore. But you decided against it, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself more than you already felt you were as you walked alone through the empty street.

Your chest felt tight, your frustration having you ready to burst and that even felt like it wouldn’t be relieving enough. It felt like your emotions were too big for you to handle.

You were angry, you were pissed. You felt everything all at once, all of it as the wind picked up. It was more than noticeable as the gusts took your breath away for a moment, distracting you for just a second.

You knew the weather was bound to worsen, you saw the flashes of lightning beyond the street lights. You heard the low rumble of the thunder that followed it. It wasn’t until the drizzle of rain picked up to a steady pour that the storm you knew was brewing was fully there. You were caught outside and damn near lost in the middle of a freaking storm.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean was worried, of course he was. He’d be worried even if there wasn’t a stupid storm letting loose.

God, you hated him sometimes, but you loved him too.

You were stubborn as hell, stubborn enough to let yourself walk along a bit further and doom yourself even more. To keep on going and getting yourself even more lost and upset as the tears on your cheeks mixed with the rain. You walked until you wore yourself down and it took some doing, your anger took some work to wear away as you stomped along.

You walked until you gave in, till you caved.

It’d been who knows how long as you ducked under the overhang of a small store, digging in your pocket for your phone.

12:47 am.

It’d been forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of stubborn spite and being far too angry for your own good. Of being so stuck in your own head you didn’t stop yourself from getting into danger, but maybe that’s just what you do.

You held your phone with a shaky, wet hand, scrolling through your contacts before highlighting Dean’s name. Just the sight of it had your stomach churning, that burst of emotions flooding through you but you hit call anyway, pressing the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t answer right away, a few quiet moments passing.

“Dean—”

“Y/n, where the hell are you?”

“Hello to you too,” you say, and you didn’t even need to see him to know he wasn’t amused.

“Now’s not the time for games,” he says.

“Like you care,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything but he still heard it.

“I called you seven freaking times, Y/n. Don’t tell me that crap,” he says, and you can hear the sheer anger and frustration in his voice, a little impatience mixed in there too.

You pull the phone away for a second, catching that number seven right beside his name. Dammit.

You simply sigh, get all quiet for a moment or two as you stand there with your free arm wrapped around yourself, foot tapping against the wet ground.

“Y/n, where are you?” He reiterates.

You’re still quiet for a second, biting your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, swallowing.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He says incredulously.

“I mean I don’t know, Dean. We’re in a town we’ve never been before in the freaking boonies, what do you think?” You say louder, quieting back down and shrinking back against the wall at your outburst, trying to hide from any unwanted attention.

“Landmarks, Y/n, gimme landmarks,” he says, tone a little softer.

You hum softly as your eyes dart around, searching for the most helpful piece of information you could find.

“Dave’s. Dave’s Bar. Uh…a diner across from it too,” you say, wincing at the sudden crack of thunder.

“I’m on the way. And please, for the love of god, stay put. Don’t go wanderin’ around or I swear I’m gonna freakin’ lose my damn mind,” he says.

“Dean, I—”

There were those three beeps, those familiar three beeps followed by the stupid dead battery symbol. That fear in the pit of your stomach heightened, and you’re banking on Dean’s ability to find his way around because there’s no way in hell you’re stepping foot into that bar to use the phone. That just might be the stupidest thing you could do second to walking out here in anger by yourself in the first place.

That familiar sense of panic settles deep within you, heavy as you bite the inside of your cheek. In a matter of seconds you quickly find that you no longer wanted to storm off and go wherever your feet take you. You no longer wanted to walk farther away, not even a single step. You wanted to do none of that.

You wanted to be inside that Impala where you know it’s safe, hell, you wanted to be in his arms because that’s even safer. But instead you’re stuck outside in dodgy weather all by yourself, with no one to blame but yourself.

You had entirely no idea how far you were from that motel room, let alone where exactly you were. It could have been a much shorter drive for Dean than it was a walk for you, it had to be. But then again, you guys were in a town you’ve never been to, and he could only guess based off the information you gave him.

Worry ran circles in your mind, lap after lap that he wouldn’t find you, not for a while. Or even worse, that by the time he did, you’d have been snatched up by a crazy monster or an even crazier human being.

It made that dizzying feeling send waves through your chest, quickening your heart beat as you paced in the same spot. He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, but you felt like a moving target the more you lingered in the same area. You felt like eyes were on you and you just couldn’t see them. It was unnerving.

He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t.

You sat on the nearby bench before realizing how soaked it was, not that it really mattered. But you stood back up in a huff, lifting your hands to your face and brushing away your wet hair.

You did something stupid, of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. Sure, getting some fresh air was always a good idea when arguing, gives a chance to cool off and clear your head. But not in the middle of the night when a damn thunderstorm is about to break loose.

You were being reckless, thinking in the heat of the moment and acting on it as people so often do. As Dean so often does. You dug your own grave and now you have to lay in it as you stand there with chattering teeth and your arms wrapped around yourself to maintain the non existent warmth you had in your body.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like damn decades until you saw headlights. You didn’t dare draw attention to yourself in the event that it wasn’t Dean—he was incredibly observant, he’d see you without it.

But you heard a distinct three honks of a familiar horn, and that relief settles over you once more. He pulls a u-turn in the middle of the wide road, stopping along the curb right in front of you as he leans over the bench seat to look at you.

He sees that look on your face, he sees your stance, he knows you’re not going to make this easy for him, he knows. You’re stubborn as hell and he loved it and hated it all the same. Hated it in moments like this.

He knows, so he does himself a favor and gets out of the car and into the pouring rain.

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like you actually listened to me,” he says, looking at his surroundings, the very same ones you’d mentioned to him on that phone call.

You hadn’t strayed too far just like he’d asked you to, you stayed put.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a larger than life huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, and that expression he’s got is far less than humored as he narrows his eyes at you. He could tell you’d still be difficult, no matter how scared or upset or truly bothered you were, you’d always be difficult first because being stubborn is what you know best. Didn’t want to show how vulnerable you were, how vulnerable you are.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get in the car, sweetheart? It’s cold and this storm ain’t going anywhere,” he says, a hint of demanding in his voice.

“Then go back to the motel if you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sure can find my way back,” you counter, brows knit together.

“Like hell you can,” he nearly yells, his frustration evident. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.”

“I’m not being stupid, Dean,” you say, equal anger in your tone.

“Yeah, you are, Y/n. You went wandering off in the dinky town we know nothing about in the middle of the night, and you got yourself lost in a storm. You’re damn lucky I found you before some monster, or even worse, some creep, got their hands on you. So yes, Y/n, you’re being stupid,” he shouts, that vein in his neck bulging and his chest heaving lightly.

“Go away, Dean.”

That’s all you could manage to say, all you could muster. You meant absolutely none of it, not at all, but that stubbornness in you was hard to resist.

“Y/n, just get in the damn car before I make you do it myself, and you know I will,” he says, a clear warning in his words.

You simply stare at him, you stand there and stare at him across the roof of the Impala as the rain continues to pour all around you, the wind making everything all the more intense.

You stood there and watched the crease between his brows, one created from your stubbornness and his frustration. You watched as the rain had his hair sticking to his forehead, no longer spiked up or disheveled from the sheer amount of times he’s run his fingers through it in the past two hours.

You stand there as the wind and the rain sends chills over you, cold and constant. He looks like his last fuse is about to blow, and he knows what you’re doing. He doesn’t give a damn about the weather, couldn’t care less now that he knows you’re in one piece, not lost in the middle of a storm. But he knows what you’re doing.

You’re so damn stubborn, so angry at him that you don’t want to listen, even if it’s inconveniencing you. You’re so frustrated, the last thing you want to do is sit a mere two feet away from him for who knows how long. It’s the last thing you want but yet it’s the only thing you want.

Not just because you were cold and wet and miserable. Not just because you were tired and in the midst of a freaking storm. He made you so damn pissed but you could deny the comfort that settled over you. Hell, is washed through you, rushed.

You didn’t want to listen to him, purely out of spite, not as you stand there and look at that expression he’s got. But yet that’s all you want to do.

After another passing moment, you exhale a short huff and open the door, getting in the car without a word.

The leather seats squeaked as you did, as Dean did, your soaked clothing making it inevitably so. The heat you felt from the vents was immediate, comforting in contrast to the cold weather just outside. And it wasn’t long before he sped off.

You sat pressed up against the door and he very much noticed, was about ready to say something but he decided against it for this moment. Kept his tight, white knuckled grip on the wheel instead. But that didn’t keep him from glancing over at you more often than not.

He could feel you shivering, even if you insisted on sitting as far from him as you could. In reality, you wanted nothing more than to tuck yourself against him, but that spite you’ve got going on was still going.

You looked ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous sitting there like that acting as if he had the damn plague. Acting like you didn’t absolutely love the idiot sitting 3 feet away when it really could have been just one or two. You looked stupid and you knew it, you knew he knew it too.

“You gonna glue yourself to the door the whole way back to Bobby’s too?” He asks.

Exhibit A.

You exhale a huff, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Maybe,” you say, stubborn as ever.

You hear his quiet scoff, you know he’s shaking his head without even seeing him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/n,” he says, glancing over at you briefly to see just how tightly your brows were scrunched.

“Shut up, Dean,” you say, quiet but he very much heard it.

He only shook his head, chuckling to himself quietly but this time it wasn’t completely void of humor. You were ridiculous.

You noticed how he turned the vent towards you, then you noticed how all of them were. Never mind the fact that he may have been cold. He pointed all the damn things towards you and that alone had you wavering.

No, you couldn’t. Couldn’t just give in so easily to that green eyed fool because he’d get all smug, let it go to his head. No matter how your heart skipped a beat, no matter how sweet the gestures were, one’s he did without second thought because he would always put you first.

No matter the cause, no matter the situation, he put you first every single time without hesitation. Doesn’t matter if it’s walking closest to the street when walking, or giving you the last beer. No matter if it’s giving you his jacket in the cold or ripping a damn piece of his flannel off to bandage you, even if it was his favorite one. He always put you first.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you’d give in too easily. Couldn’t let him have that satisfaction because you may be ridiculous, but you you stubborn too.

What you could do, however, was scoot a little closer. Just a little bit, then a little more, and maybe you’d be damn near pressed to his side until you finally are.

“Think better of it?” He asks, and you hear that amusement in his tone.

You simply huff, displeasure on your expression as you glare up at him.

“Just cold, don’t get too excited,” you grumble, resting your head back on his shoulder as you cross your arms around yourself.

Just cold.

You were quiet the rest of the drive back to the motel, the drive that wound up being twenty minutes. Seemed like nothing, like a quick trip in a vehicle. But to walk, it felt like it was infinitely longer.

That familiar motel came into view as Dean slowed down, swinging into the small lot and right back into the same parking spot as he’d been in just hours prior.

It was still raining, still heard rumbles of thunder after flashes of lightning. The wind still blew against the car and swayed it faintly, the culmination of all three proving to be less than inviting for you to want to get out of the warmth and safety of the car and into the elements, even if it was just for a few fleeting seconds.

You scooted away from Dean as he dug in his pocket, fishing around for the motel key. He pulled it out with a smal a-ha, something that had you rolling your eyes as you push open the door.

It was quite a cold shock, actually, the weather a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Impala. But luckily Dean was just as urgent with getting inside the room as you were, though you still released your exhale just as loudly.

You can tell he’s not a fan of that action, not one bit as his jaw tenses momentarily and maybe even an eye roll. But it’s a matter of seconds before he pushes open the door.

It looks just as you left it, duffel bag on the bed, a few clothing items strewn about it in an effort to find something to wear. Though you were mid argument at the time, the action proving to be pointless and it showed.

Dean’s bag was in the same spot, unzipped and rifled through as it sat on the floor next to the bed still.

It was much warmer and much more dry than the inclement weather just on the outside of that door. But it was still tense. It was still tense and moody and damn near suffocating just as it was in the car, just as it was out in the storm. That was something that motel room couldn’t take away.

You brush past him in a huff, feeling his eyes on you as you made your way to the bathroom. You don’t care—he can look at you all he wants. He can glare, can furrow his brows, he can look as moody as he’d like but you don’t care. You most certainly do, but you’re stubborn enough to not want that to show.

You switch on the light, it’s yellow glow illuminating the small room. This is the first time you’d really seen yourself since this morning. The gash on your face, how tired you looked. How swollen your eyes were from crying, how rain soaked you were.

You looked exactly how you felt, and your reflection only made you more upset.

You were so worked up, so out of sorts, you left the bathroom all together in the huff that you entered it in. Just as upset as a few minutes ago, passing by Dean in the very same way as the first time.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He didn’t say anything as he stood there and watched you, hands paused from what they were doing digging around in his bag. It wasn’t until you began digging in yours that he spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, something more than curiosity in his tone. Something that sparked your frustration.

“Getting ready for bed, what’s it look like, Dean?” You counter, discontent in your tone as you speak.

“So you’re just gonna neglect your wounds like it didn’t happen and go to bed?” He says.

“Yes, Dean, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You continue to rummage through your belongings, not fully knowing what you were looking for in your anger until you spotted a shirt to sleep in. Of course it was one of Deans—you haven’t worn your own clothes to bed for quite a long while. It wasn’t going to change just because you were fighting like cats and dogs.

You dug around some more in search of your toothbrush, snagging your hand on something sharp enough to make you recoil as it brushes over your wound. You knew he saw it, of course he did. He saw most everything.

“Y/n,” he says.

You don’t respond, instead shrugging off your coat, letting it fall to the floor in a rain soaked pile, you shirt soon to follow. You could tell he was growing impatient again.

You sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie your boots, careless and rough with your actions. So careless that you gripped them with your frustration to toss them inside rather than kick them off like you normally do, the action sending jolt through your palm once more. It was a crippling wave of pain, one that had you sucking a sharp gasp through your teeth as you jerked your hand back

“Y/n,” he said, louder this time.

“What?” You ask, your annoyance evident in your tone.

“Would you calm down for a second?” He says.

“I am calm, Dean.”

He laughs again, the humor far from it once again as he looks at you.

“No, you’re not. You’re too damn busy huffing and puffing that you’re bangin’ yourself up even more than you already are!” He all but shouts.

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just a freaking scratch, Dean,” you yell, holding up your hand. It wasn’t until you looked at it, saw the fresh staining of blood on the scrap piece of flannel that you knew you were in for it. “Son of a bitch.”

“Bathroom. Now,” he says.

You look back at him.

“I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Bathroom,” he says.

You simply look at him for a moment or two, the very same way you did earlier when he asked you to get in the car. You look at him and see he’s not backing down, that he’s not kidding. So you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, brushing past him again and bumping him with your shoulder.

You can be pissed at him all you want, he didn’t care. He was patching you up no matter how much you fought him on it because he always did, and he always will.

You walk back in the bathroom with a short huff, the older Winchester right behind you.

“Have a seat.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what to do, Dean.”

“Apparently you do.”

You glare at him, hopping up onto the counter anyway. You could tell another comment was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he chose against saying anything further on the subject.

He set the first aid kit down, flipping open its lid. His hand hovered over it for a few passing moments, as he looked over everything, pulling out the roll of bandage and the antiseptic, grabbing a moderate stack of gauze from its compartment.

He set everything down and laid it out on the counter before returning his focus to you. He grabbed your hand gently, so very gentle in contrast to his temper. He held your hand in his and turned it so your palm faced upwards. He let go momentarily to untie the knot in the fabric around it, requiring a little extra work from how tight he’d fastened it earlier. But soon enough he got it, loosening it up.

When he pulled away the fabric to reveal a nasty scratch that’d been plenty smudged with crimson, you lifted your gaze to see his expression. You saw the tension in his jaw, saw the way his brows pulled together in displeasure. You saw it all while you felt the gentle caress of his thumb over the heel of your hand.

He got caught up in staring for a few more moments, noticeably so, and he cleared his throat. He snagged some gauze and the bottle of antiseptic, opening the plastic cap with a flick of his thumb. He tipped the bottle over and squirted the clear liquid on the gauze, grabbing your hand once more.

He looked at you briefly, long enough to make sure you met his gaze as if to offer a wordless warning. He drizzled some of it directly on your hand, the sensation cold and stinging almost immediately and you half make an attempt to pull from his grasp but he tightens around your wrist gently, just enough to let you know he wouldn’t let you recoil.

He waited a few moments before taking the dampening gauze and dabbing away the excess liquid, tossing the dirtied material aside in favor of grabbing fresh ones.

Your hand was tender as he wiped away the blood, making sense of what he was working with ones he got it more cleaned up. It was red and irritated, hand throbbing from all the fuss and handling of it that you so desperately wanted to be over. So much so you began to squirm and continue to try and recoil.

It was no use.

You were relieved to see he’d been done with the liquid torment, for now at least, grabbing the roll of bandage. He’d laid down fresh, dry gauze first, peeling back the edge of the roll before he began wrapping it around your hand. He was gentle throughout the process, gentle despite being so horribly the opposite just hours earlier. He’d always take care of you.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage for a few moments, his gaze shifting to your cheek. You knew what was coming next.

“Dean, I can take care of the rest,” you interject, watching him nearly roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I didn’t ask you to either.”

You huff once again and roll your eyes, looking the other way when he grabbed more dampened gauze from the counter.

You felt his finger under your chin, redirecting your gaze to him so he could see better. You struggled to keep from moving, the anticipated pain having you trying to get yourself situated, shying away from that damn antiseptic in hopes he’d just call it a day.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Dammit, Y/n, would you hold still?” He says, patience thin as he rests his hand on your cheek and redirects your gaze once more.

You heave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little bit as you allow him to, eyes narrowed as you look up at him with all the annoyance you could muster. You didn’t want to hold still, you wanted to dig your heels in and do the exact opposite of everything he said. You wanted to piss him off even more because you were still angry, still upset with him.

You gave it a valiant attempt, tried your hardest and it lasted you a little while as you sat there on that counter. But with the way he’d been cradling your face in his hand, the way his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek almost absentmindedly. It was hard to keep your irritation in place.

“He really gotcha good, huh sweetheart?” He asks, tone much softer than moments ago but that anger was still very much there. Not at you, but at the damn thing that put its hands on his sweetheart.

It’s like a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy as a damn boulder there, getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute the more he allows himself to think about what happened, what could have happened.

He always does that to himself. Always keeps himself up at night. Lays there and let’s one scenario after the next plague his mind on things that could happen to you, things that could happen to Sammy. Things that could happen on his watch, trying to figure out ways to prevent said imaginary things to happen so he’s prepared for anything and everything. Things that could happen when he’s not there, even just for a split second. Those were the things that bothered him the most. Drove him insane till he got this tightness in his chest that had him nearly bursting at the seams.

He gets himself so worked up on those nights, all while you’ve got your head on his chest and you’re sound a sleep, not a care in the world for a few hours time. He envied it, how at peace you were, but it’s all he wants for you, helps loosen that tightness in his chest knowing you’re at ease. At ease while he lays there and torments himself with what ifs and things that didn’t even happen, things that might never happen.

Dean Winchester might seem calm, cool, and collected under the pressure of this hunting life. He might seem like he’s got everything under control at all times, got a plan for everything, a solution. And most of the time, he does. But he’s also got himself so wound up on the future way far ahead of him that it renders him anxious and stressed more often than not.

You simply shrug at the question. “S’alright.”

There’s that infamous eye roll he gives, that anger building once more at your nonchalance of the situation. It’s part of what’s got him so angry that night to begin with. You act like you don’t care when you really do, act like everything’s fine and that it’s just part of the job. It is, but getting hurt like that, hell, even getting just a simple scratch. To him—that’s purely like a nightmare when it comes to you.

He couldn’t care less how banged up and bruised he got, but when it comes to Sammy, when it comes to you, he gets so damn pissed he can hardly see straight.

“No, it’s not,” he says, dabbing away the remnants of blood smudging around it on your forehead.

You’re half tempted to argue in response, tell him he’s being dramatic. But you’d only be poking the bear, something you’d done the entirety of that night. But that look on his face, painted with worry and fear, you saw it and didn’t have the heart to poke and prod at him, at least not in this moment.

So you settle for a deep sigh, looking up at him while his other hand still rests on your cheek. You know part of him is being a little dramatic, you know he doesn’t need to get so tightly wound on scenarios that didn’t even happen, but pointing it out would do no good.

He drops his hand in favor of digging through his first aid kit. It’s always fully stocked, nearly jam packed to the gills with just about anything you could imagine. At every hunt he’ll stop at a gas station in whatever town you’re in, buy a box of bandages, supplies, anything he thinks he may need. He’s got this paranoia of running out, this worry he doesn’t have enough in the event of an emergency. But that worry is something he keeps to himself.

He pulls out three closure strips, tearing open their packaging. He’s careful in the way we places them, wants them to be damn near perfect, wants to add as little pain as possible to the pain he’s sure you’re feeling. Just the idea makes him riled up and angry at the thought of you hurting.

He dabs away any additional blood that formed, that cut looking a little better now that it’d been properly taken care of, leaving it to look a little red and angry after having been touched.

You continue to sit there on that counter as he cleans up, tossing the trash in the small bin on the floor right next to it. He can feel you staring, of course he can. He can feel it and confirms it when he turns back to you.

He averts his gaze for a moment as he grabs ahold of your hand, gently as his eyes glance over the fresh bandage. That very hand his shaky as it rests in his palm, his thumb brushing over the heel of it as a wordless for me of comfort.

You can see the way his jaw tenses as he looks at it, at the way his brows crease and knit together. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, working on overdrive and you know he’s thinking about what happened that day. And it’s almost as if he can read your thoughts, tearing his gaze away as if to clear his mind, shake away his own thoughts before he looks at you.

His gaze is still narrowed with that anger, but it’s quick to soften just a little when he meets your eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, swinging your dangling feet once or twice when you bump his leg with your foot.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, not so much in a stubborn, dismissive way this time.

His brows pull closer together again at the words, words he doesn’t agree with, but there’s that damn smile of yours. Soft and sweet, a little humor behind it because you’re trying to lighten the mood. All he can do is look at you, look at that small grin and wonder how he got so lucky to have you looking at him like that.

You reach up and swipe your thumb along his chin, wiping away the smudge of dirt that was smeared there. But you didn’t drop your hand, pressing your thumb in the soft dimple in his chin before you caress his cheek softly, letting your hand settle there.

You can feel his stubble scratch under your palm, can feel the tension in his jaw. But you can also feel it subside as the tips of your fingers brush over his hair as they rest at the nape of his neck. He may have been your tough guy, may have been rough around the edges, but nothing could compare to the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. As he responded to your touch in the gentlest way possible.

It worked wonders to sooth his anger, anger that still lingered and threatened to build up and tighten in his chest if he thought about that day one more damn time.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He heaved a heavy sigh, breath smelling like the burger he’d had for dinner, and the beer he’d drank to wash it down.

His nose bumped against yours, and you can feel his unease without even looking at him, you know there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, quiet as his breath puffs against your lips with each word.

You’re silent for a moment or two, something that maintains that unease he feels. Because he knows he gets angry, so damn angry that he acts like a jerk. Says things to piss you off in the heat of an argument. He knows it.

But it’s quick to ease when he feels your lips on his, soft and gentle, something he wastes no time in leaning into as he kisses you a little harder. He basks in every last bit that that kiss lingers, parting momentarily as his breath brushes against your lips warmly before kissing you again once, twice, three more times.

He can’t help but steal another as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter with a grip on your hips, pulling back just enough to see your face.

You see every freckle, every single one, speckled across the bridge of his nose and splayed over his cheeks. Dotting along his eyelids and disappearing up into his eyebrows. You see the one that sits in his top lip, one that you never fail to press a kiss to, this time being no different.

You see the soft creases by his eyes, the near permanent lines of worry between his brows. You see every single detail up close and personal as you sit there and stare at him. And the way he runs his hand along your rain dampened hair, brushing it out of your face, it’s the only thing that distracts you and pulls your attention.

“Guess I’m sorry too,” you say, that humor in your tone making him roll his eyes. But the meaning, the sincerity is very much there and he knows it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Hey!” You protest, hopping down from the counter with a fake frown that threatens to turn to a smile, even more so when he turns to look at you with raised brows. “Am I at least your pain in the ass?”

He pretends to ponder the question long and hard, lips puckered in thought as he stands there and watches you grow impatient and lightheartedly offended.

You’re about ready to scoff when he steps closer, hand reaching up to settle at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair softly.

“Always have been, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips against yours.

—

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