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powerfultenderness · 11 months

Note

Hello there! I just discovered your könig neighbor series, and I was wondering what would happen if könig got hurt? Maybe he came back from a mission with something the reader notices?

As big or as little as you like. I'm obsessed for real. The way you write him is spot on to what's in my head. I'll take whatever scraps you are willing to throw out!

First, thank you so much! And I'm so sorry for taking so long with this one! I usually try to keep the requests/suggestions shorter, but this one got a little out of hand!

There's a tiny bit of angst here. But most of it is like half fluff and half suggestive. So [Mature 18+ rating]

He never imagined himself as one of those men that would rush home to see his partner. And he still wasn’t. He was a man rushing home so he could see his neighbor. After quickly dropping his bag off at home, he found himself knocking on your door and hoping it wasn't too late for you.

Thankfully you were still awake and answered the door only after his second knock. Clearly you had been getting ready for bed, as you didn't look tired but were dressed in a large t-shirt and loose fitting shorts. You smiled up at him as soon as you opened the door, "König! You're back!"

And you jumped up and hugged him. Not your usual greeting for him, usually it was just a nice smile and a wave, if he was lucky you'd gently graze his arm. But this was the first time since you moved in that he had been gone longer than a week.

He quickly returned your embrace, wrapping his arms around you and holding you off the floor, enjoying both the feel of your body against his and your happy little squeal.

You giggled as he set you down, you let your hands gently glide down from his shoulders, until you were simply holding onto his arms.

König smiled down at you, taking you in like you were the very air he breathed, and so saw the moment your face shifted from happiness to horror. You let out a little scream and jolted out of his hands, “ah! I’m bleeding!”

“Shit! What happened?” He quickly, but gently, took your arm, smeared in blood, and looked over it with you.

“I don’t know!” You panicked as you tried to find the source of your bleeding.

Wait…you didn’t feel any pain. You looked up from your arm to his and gasped. “I’m not bleeding! You are!”

It was hard to tell, as he was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, but with a closer look, you could see a dark wet patch sticking to his arm.

He hummed quietly and followed your line of sight to look at his right arm. “Oh. Yea. I did get hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh yea’? Come here!” You tugged on his uninjured arm and pulled him into your flat.

“It’s not that bad, darling. I’m fine.” Though he protested, he followed you with no resistance.

“Sit,” you ordered as you pointed to your couch and disappeared into the back room.

You returned with some clean towels and a first aid kit; not a cutesy supermarket kind, he noticed, but quite the premium kind. You gently set the items down on the coffee table in front of him and headed to the kitchen, running the water until it was warm enough.

“Why do you have this?” He asked poking through the first aid kit while you were running the water. It was good that you were prepared for emergencies, but he liked to think that you would turn to him in emergencies.

“House warming gift from my sister. The kids like to spend time with me, and one of her kids is a little accident prone.” Never, at least in your care, needed anything more than a band aid, but better safe than sorry.

Ah. That made sense, he nodded to himself. A first aid kit of this caliber did seem like something a worried and responsible mother would gift.

You filled a bowl with warm water and set it down on the coffee table next to the rest of the supplies. “Now, let me see.”

His injury was near the back of his right bicep, simply rolling his sleeve up didn’t even reach the wound. You hummed and dropped your hands back onto your lap. "Even I think it would be too dramatic to cut up your shirt."

You were about to continue, to tell him to change into a shirt with short sleeves when he crossed his arms at his waist and pulled his shirt over his head.

You should have kept your gaze up. Not only would it have been more polite, you might have caught a glimpse of his face as he pulled his shirt over his head. Hindsight. Instead your eyes immediately dropped his chest, a breath caught in your throat, as you stared at…him. When you first met, he had rolled up his shirt to show you a scar on his side, and that had sent your heart racing. But now? With his shirt completely off? Your eyes, very wide, were glued to his chest, taking in every dip of his muscles, naturally leading your eyes down and down, only disrupted by scars (that you had the sudden urge to touch) and hair that dipped down-

“Darling?” König cleared his throat nervously. “I can do it, if you are, uhm, scared of the blood.”

You jumped, and breathed, at his voice. Crap! You were caught completely checking him out and a quick and hopefully subtle swipe to the side of your face proved that you had literally been drooling. You, brain still not caught up, scoffed at his words. Instead of taking the polite out he’d given you, you opened your stupid mouth. “Please, I’m not scared of blood.”

How did you not notice him take one of the towels to sop up the blood on his arm?

“You’re not?”

The way his hood moved with him, as if it were a part of him, combined with the streaks of faded paint underneath his eyes should have been intimidating. You imagine that on the field, even to his own teammates, that it is. But the way he tilted his head and how you could tell, even with the eye black still on his face, that his eyes were wide was almost…comical. It was cute. And it grounded you, out of the gutter.

“Nope. Now, let me see.” You returned to the task at hand, taking the towel from him and cleaning up the blood.

“You are full of surprises.”

“Not really.” You half laughed as you set the bloodied towel on the coffee table. You had meant that you had experience with blood quite often, once a month for a couple of days kind of often. But considering most men got queasy on that topic, you dropped it. “Looks like a little band aid won’t do.”

Every time you turned away from him, this time it was to get an antibiotic ointment, König had to remind himself to calm down. Your touch was so soft and gentle, he’d been treated for such lacerations more times than he could count, but the medics were never so gentle. Of course, you didn’t have a line of patients waiting on you, but that somehow made your attention all the more special. It was a good thing you could not see his face, he was sure his entire face up to his ears was red. He would look so much less cool, would ruin the lust he saw in your eyes when he took off his shirt, if you could see just how flustered he really was.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” You softly asked as you moved onto applying gauze.

“Nothing bad.” He leaned forward just enough to get a whiff of your shampoo, or maybe it was your lotion, either way an intoxicating and fitting scent. “An enemy managed to sneak up on me with a knife.”

You gasped and looked up at him, eyes wide once again but for an entirely different reason. “You said it was nothing bad!”

“It wasn’t!” He chuckled, hand moving to pat your knee. “This was all he got before I killed him!”

His wound completely bandaged now, you froze for a moment before quickly dropping your hands. “O-oh.”

Shit. Was that the wrong thing to say? You didn’t seem to mind the violence when he told you about the scar on his side, was mentioning that he killed someone too much? His stomach dropped, were you scared of him now? You gently removed his hand from your knee and started to quietly clean up. König swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. You were pushing him away.

“Please see a doctor or medic or whatever you have on base, tomorrow.”

While your voice was still soft, there was a cold edge to it that made König want to drop to his knees and beg you to forgive him.

“In the meantime, you should rest.” You finished and took his shirt from his lap and the bloodied towels and stood up.

He followed, at least he meant to, but you quickly turned and pointed back at the couch. “Rest.”

“Darling, please. I don’t need- This is fine. I am fine.”

You crossed your arms, and narrowed your eyes at him. “König.” You dragged out his name in warning. “Sit down. And rest.”

He sighed and sat back down, grateful for the soft blanket you had draped over the couch. The air suddenly felt cold without you next to him.

You put away the first aid kit and dumped the bloodied towels and his shirt in the wash, luckily noticing that you also had blood on your shirt, probably from when you hugged him. You glanced over at him and he was staring straight ahead, not moving, and quickly ducked into your room. You changed your shirt, and made sure you didn’t have any more blood on you (you didn’t), before adding your shirt to the wash and returning to the living room.

He looked so massive seated like that on your couch. He was slouched a little, legs spread, right knee bouncing nervously, and his arms crossed over his chest. Oh. Maybe you should send him home now, he was half naked in your home now, after all.

König looked up when you came back and froze, heat instantly returning to his face and chest and ears and. He swallowed thickly and forced his eyes up. You had changed from a large t-shirt to a fitted, low cut, tank top. You were looking at him with a raised brow. Shit. Had you asked him something and he missed it because he was too busy staring at your chest?

“Are you sure you’re okay? See, this is why I told you to rest.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He repeated, standing up and taking a few steps, standing close enough to you that you had to crane your head back just to keep eye contact.

“Where are you going?” You shouldn’t be trying to stop him from leaving, but, heart racing and blush heating your face and all, you still wanted to spend time with him.

“Oh, you know.” How could you hear his grin under that mask? “Just to work out.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He shrugged. “Lift some weights.”

“König.”

“Maybe some pull ups.”

“Just sit back down.”

He sighed and did as you said. “I told you-”

“If you don’t rest, I’ll make you rest!” In essence, you already were! He was sitting back on the couch!

He chuckled, “oh yea? How?”

“I’ll! I’ll, uhm…”

“You’ll what?” Now he was laughing. It was cute how you thought you could make him do anything! (even though you just did…)

Frustrated that you could think of nothing to make him listen, you shouted a last resort: “I’ll sit on you!”

König stopped laughing and blinked at you. “...what?”

You crossed your arms. “You heard me.”

The silence that followed dragged on for a second too long, you shifted your weight nervously, and König suddenly started laughing again, loud and gasping for breath, as if what you said was the funniest thing ever. “You’ll sit on me! Is this a dream?”

Even if you had understood the German, it would have been difficult to make out what he was saying between all the laughing. You glared at him, misinterpreting his words as a challenge. “Don’t think I won’t do it!”

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he slapped his thigh, “do it, love!” He sat back up, chuckles still falling from his mouth, “go on. Sit on me!”

You tried to keep glaring at him while your mind struggled to translate unknown words into English. You were pretty sure he was just repeating what you said, like he didn’t believe you. Well, he was wrong!

He finally stopped laughing and sighed, you were always so willing in his dreams. “Not a dream, yea? I thought so.”

He tensed, like he was going to stand back up, and you moved quicker than he thought you could, not that he was going to stop you. Just like you “threatened”, you sat on him! Your hands were on his shoulders and you were straddling his lap. He froze for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with his racing heart, and looked up at you.

“Rest.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Ok.” His hands moved from his sides to run up your thighs, his thumbs playing at the hemline of your shorts before you snatched up his hands.

“Hey!” You dropped his hands, letting them fall back onto the cushions, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Only good boys get to touch.”

König’s head flew back and he groaned, hips unintentionally thrusting up. He was panting, as if he’d been holding his breath for far too long, and looked up at you. “I can be good!”

You half gasped and half giggled at his reaction, your blood practically sending fire to your face as your heart raced in a mix of excitement and nervousness. You thought he’d laugh at you again, instead he shifted beneath you, and looked up at you with big desperate eyes.

“Please.” König pleaded, hands digging into the cushions. If he needed to be good, then he couldn’t touch you again without permission. But it was so hard! You were so close to him, your weight on his lap giving such nice pressure, if only you would scoot a little closer! His eyes rolled back and his head dropped onto the couch again, as he imagined, prayed for, you rolling your hips, grinding onto his growing bulge.

You were still though, no longer even touching him as you crossed your arms. “Hmm. Are you sure? No working out?”

He looked at you again and shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I won’t!”

“Noo, lifting weights?”

“No!”

“No pull ups?” “No! I’ll be good, I promise!”

You giggled, heart still racing at how quickly he got riled up.

He whined and shifted under you again, not in an attempt to get you to touch him, but just to alleviate his need for space.

“Then,” you uncrossed your arms and gently took his chin in one hand, forcing him to look at you again. “What are you going to do, König?”

He swallowed again, lips darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. Your soft, gentle, sweet little touch that he could barely feel through his hood might as well have been an iron grip, for all that he was willing to give you control of his body. He blinked, eyes searching yours for the answer you wanted to hear. “Ah, rest.”

You smiled and dropped your hand, though he remained still. “And?”

König’s heart dropped, his stomach alight with butterflies, and licked his lips again. “Touch you?”

You laughed, and he laughed with you for a moment, before you shook your head. “Noo. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Oh! Medic!”

“That’s right!” You cheered and much to his disappointment, climbed off of him.

He panted for breath and tried to follow you without standing up (not until you gave him permission to), and leaned forward. You chuckled and held your hand out to him, “come on.”

He jumped up, reaching out not for your hand, but for your waist. But your hand on his chest stopped him, “you can tell me what the medic says tomorrow.”

He once again found himself frozen and unable to think clearly. “...what?”

You started to guide him towards the door, “oh and I’ll drop off your shirt tomorrow too.”

“What?”

You opened the door and nudged him through it. “Welcome home, König. Good night.”

König stared at your closed door for half a minute before he leaned against it, his hand flying to the doorknob and finding it securely locked. Good. But…he sighed, “good night, angel.”

[More Neighbor König]

Tagging: @warrior-of-justice

#midwesternwitchery #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #neighbor!könig #blurb #short #sorta just for organizational purposes #also i feel like this was a fluffy or hurt/comfort request but my hormones were out of control while i was writing most of it #i may have messed up the request #sorry #🤦‍♀️#wc: 2753 #almost as much as the first part

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negans-lucille-tblr · 4 months

Text

My Worthless Love || Part Two

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn.

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: angst, mentions of sex, being used for sex, hints of foreboding, fluff, romance, heart to heart

Part WC: 2753

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Read this fic in full when you subscribe!

Your POV

You’re still thinking about your date with Dean as you sit yourself down at your dressing table in front of your vanity, reaching for your hairbrush to detangle your freshly washed hair. You sigh heavily, wondering if he’ll get bored of you soon enough, and knowing there’s only so many times you can expect him to be a perfect gentleman before he gets bored and finds a girl who isn’t an idiot and will fuck him on the first date. But you’d promised yourself this time it would be different. This time, the guy you date will be different, and the only way to ensure that is to make him wait.

You think about that drunk guy you’d walked past who clearly recognised you, and you smile softly when you remember Dean moving to your other side to protect you from him. You remember Dean brushing it off as just a drunk man trying to hit on an attractive woman, and how he didn’t seem to bat an eye at any of the other men whose attention you’d grabbed that night or the two dates before that, either. Either you’ve been extremely lucky and Dean extremely naive, or he knows your little secret, and he’s just biding his time.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if the guy that works for him at his workshop – Justin you think you remember him saying – hasn’t pieced it together yet. Maybe Justin being a bit too friendly with a few too many women has been your saving grace this time. But it’s only a matter of time now. Dean’s going to find out eventually, and you’d rather that come from you. So maybe it’s time to come clean, and show him the side of you that you wish you didn’t have to.

Your phone ringing cuts through the silence of the room and the noise of your mind, and you realise that you’ve only been brushing one section of your hair the entire time you’d been in thought. Clearing your throat, you put your brush down and grab your cell, sighing slightly at the name that’s flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Dick, what’s up?” you ask, trying to sound more enthusiastic than you are.

“Hey baby,” he practically cheers down the phone in his usual over enthusiastic patronising tone he always speaks to you in. “Listen, sweetheart, it’s been three days, pressure’s on to take this job.”

You sigh heavily at the very reminder. You’d been so caught up in Dean recently, you’d actually forgotten about that.

“C’mon, baby, you know the deal. You refuse this and the company won’t hire you again, that’s half your work gone,” he tries to push.

“Dick, c’mon, you know I don’t like that guy,” you remind him, playing with a loose strand of cotton on your bathrobe.

“We’ve all gotta do jobs we don’t like doing, Y/N,” Dick replies a lot more bluntly this time.

“Dick,” you try to reason, already getting frustrated. “You know what he’s like… you’re meant to be looking out for me, not pushing me to work with assholes like that.”

“No, I’m meant to be getting you work, but I can’t fuckin’ do that if you’re turning down scenes left, right and centre. This affects my pay too, y’know,” he huffs. “Just be a big girl, suck it up and do one fuckin’ scene with the guy, okay?”

You purse your lips, not wanting to give in or even compromise, but you know that Dick is right. If you turn down this scene, then the company is less likely to book you for other scenes, and then you’ll barely have any work or money.

“Fine, but I want them to be clear on my limits list, okay?” you press, waiting desperately for Dick’s confirmation.

“Sure, I’ll make sure they get it. I’ll send you the details for the shoot in the morning, get some rest.”

You roll your eyes knowing he can’t see it and hang up, throwing your phone back down onto the dresser clumsily as you clench your jaw and try to calm yourself back down. Once again you focus on brushing your hair, moving on to applying your skin care as you try to distract yourself with thoughts about Dean once again. But it’s no use, Dick has officially put you in a bad mood, and the thought of your new upcoming job is keeping you on edge.

Your phone once again begins to ring, and you’re just annoyed enough that you snatch it up without looking at the screen first.

“What?” you bark down it.

“Oh hey, urm, sorry, is this a bad time?”

Instantly you relax a little upon hearing Dean’s voice on the other end, and you take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose to relieve some of the tension there.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else, what’s up?” you pry softly, trying to remain calm.

“I urm… I know it’s late, but I was hoping we could meet up and talk?” he asks awkwardly.

“Dean, it’s almost midnight, we were together like two hours ago, what’s going on?”

“I just really think we should talk about something,” he tries again.

Your mind is too much of a mess to figure out just what Dean might be talking about. Maybe he’s hoping a late night call will change your mind about not fucking him on third date. Maybe he’s finally ready to admit he knows your secret. Maybe there’s something else entirely, but either way, now you’re intrigued, and it’s certainly taking your mind off of Dick and your new job.

“I don’t wanna get dressed up again,” you argue with a sigh. “Look, just come to my place, I’ll text you the address.”

You figure your apartment is the best place to be. You can throw him out if the conversation doesn’t go the way you want it to, and it means you don’t have to make too much effort to get ready and go out at this hour. Though as you hang up, you realise you should at least put some clothes on under your robe, and maybe a touch of make up. The guy has never seen you not dressed up for a date, so he doesn’t need that shock at midnight.

You text him your address as promised and settle for putting on some simple sleep shorts and tank top under your robe, hoping if you look ready for bed, he won’t take too long and will leave again once he’s said whatever it is that’s so important. Pouring yourself a large glass of wine, you figure you’ll need it as you try your best to relax on the couch and await Dean’s arrival, wondering just what the hell he might want to talk about.

As you sit and watch Dean bouncing his leg and looking around your apartment for what might be the hundredth time, you consider breaking the silence yourself, starting to get a little irritated that he hasn’t just spat it out already.

“Really is a nice place,” he compliments for the fourth or fifth time; you’ve lost count now. “Much nicer than my apartment. Urm… what do you do again to afford something like this?”

As soon as Dean braves looking you in the eye after his bold question, you know exactly why he’s here and take a deep breath.

“I think you know,” you reply softly, your heart beginning to thud just a little bit harder as your mind now begins to race, coming up with all the different ways this could go from here. You’re more disappointed than you thought you’d be at the prospect of Dean being just another guy that’s discovered your secret and wants personal gain from it.

“I might’ve found out,” he confesses, clearing his throat and looking away as a blush begins to stain his cheeks.

“And?” you prompt, not able to tell from just looking at him exactly how he feels about it. You’re still not even sure how long he’s known.

“And I figured we should talk about it,” Dean counters. “Can I– Can I get a beer or something, my mouth is like… really dry,” he starts to fluster.

“Sure,” you nod softly, getting up to head over to the fridge in the kitchen, glancing back over your shoulder as you watch him bouncing his leg even more violently than he had been.

Clearly the guy is nervous about the whole thing, but he must realise he’s got the upper hand here, right? You’re the one that’s been caught out in a lie here – Not a lie, just a half truth, you remind yourself as you twist off the caps of both beers and make your way back over to the couch. You hand him his beer and smile nervously at him, before sitting back down, telling yourself that you didn’t exactly lie at any point about what you do for a living.

You’d gotten good at avoiding the subject over time, and that didn’t change on your dates with Dean. You’d let him talk about his garage and fixing cars, and then distract him with more questions about himself before he could ask you what you do in return. And it’s not like you wouldn’t have ever told him. If things were going to start looking like they were getting more serious, you’d have come clean eventually. It’s just not exactly a good first date conversation, and you wanted to be sure that he actually liked you and not just the thought of you.

“So how long have you known?” you pry, focusing on playing with the edge of the sticker on your bottle.

“I found out tonight, after our date,” he confesses.

“Was it that guy that recognised me?” you wonder, wanting to know just how you’d given it away.

“No, but that and the guy walking into the door does make a lot more sense now…” he half laughs, though you can tell he doesn’t actually find it all that funny, so you’re not off the hook just yet. “I urm… well, I was kinda gonna… y’know… blow off some steam, and I accidentally found you.”

Dean’s cheeks only turn darker yet, and you almost find it cute that he’d be so embarrassed about that given what you’re talking about and who he’s talking to.

“I see,” you nod, finally understanding. You’re not exactly one of the big names, so you realised the chances of him finding you accidentally were slim, but not impossible, and if he really had no idea who you were before that, maybe this is some cruel twist of fate that he’s found out this way. “So, let me guess,” you sigh, sitting up a little straighter. “You found out what I do for a living and now you’re wondering why a professional slut wouldn’t even put out for you on the third date?”

You realise that your accusation is a little crass and a whole lot unfair, but you’ve been down this road with guys before. As soon as they’ve found out about your job, they’ve changed. As much as you’d like Dean to be the exception, you’re not holding your breath that he will be. You bravely look him right in the eyes when he doesn’t immediately answer, noticing them widen at your question as he instantly shakes his head.

“That’s not why I’m here,” he tries to defend.

“It’s fine, Dean, you don’t have to pretend to be some Prince Charming, I’ve been here before.” You don’t even mean for your tone to be so aggressive, but it is, and you start to realise just how angry you are to be in this position yet again. Maybe you should give up on dating altogether, just accept that men only want one thing from you. At least then you can’t be disappointed.

“What?” Dean frowns, his own voice starting to raise, his tone hardening just a little. “I never said–” he cuts himself off. “Hang on, why are you the one that’s pissed with me? I’m the one that just found out that the girl I’m dating fucks men on camera for the whole world to see and she didn’t even tell me!”

“But she won’t fuck you, right? That’s what’s bothering you about all this?” you argue back. “You know what, Dean? Fine, I’ll fuck you, let you have something to brag to all your little friends about, but don’t expect a fourth date after this.”

You rise to your feet and pull the tie on your robe, letting it hang loose to expose your pyjamas underneath, and Dean also rises to his feet, now frowning even deeper than before.

“No, that’s not why I’m here,” he insists once more. “Does it hurt my ego a little that you didn’t wanna sleep with me? Sure, but I’m a big boy, Y/N, I got over it pretty damn quick. What bothers me, is that you weren’t just honest about it,” he retorts.

“Can you blame me, Dean?” you implore, feeling pent up frustration turning into something else – something sad and heavy in your chest. “This happens every time. In fact, I don’t know why I’ve not learned my lesson yet, maybe this is all my fault, after all.”

“What happens, Y/N?” Dean presses, frustrated. “A guy gets upset because you lied to him?”

“No, a guy I’m dating finds out what I do, and suddenly that’s all he sees… and it’s all he wants from me.”

Dean opens his mouth, but no sound comes out yet. He shuts it again and takes a deep breath, looking down at the beer bottle in his hand before gently placing it down on the coffee table. He steps closer, and bites down on his plump bottom lip for a moment before opening his mouth and trying again.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it like that,” he confesses with another blush. “I guess I was hurt that I’ve been nothing but honest with you, and I thought you’d been the same. I’m not used to dating like this, Y/N. I’m normally the asshole that only wants one thing, but you’re different, and I like you… and I’m not just saying that because I know what you do now. If we’re being completely honest, normally I wouldn’t even have the patience to make it to a third date.”

You giggle slightly at his brutal honesty, appreciating it far more than all those guys that just pretend to be different to the rest but really only want one thing. And there’s a sincerity about him that makes you believe him when he says he really didn’t know before tonight, and that he really did like you even before he found out.

“I get it now,” he reassures you, stepping closer again. “You didn’t want me to be like them… and I won’t be… not with you.”

“Please don’t be,” you beg him quietly, not even thinking about just how fragile and vulnerable it makes you to ask something like that of him.

“I promise I like you for you, Y/N,” he confirms, “or I wouldn’t be thinking about a fourth date, or how much I wanna kiss you right now and then go straight home afterwards, just so I can prove to you that I’m different.”

“So my job doesn’t bother you?” you check, feeling your own cheeks heat up.

“I mean… I’d rather my girlfriend didn’t show everything she owns on camera while sleeping with other men, but… I’m also not going to be the guy that tells you to change for me.”

“Hang on, girlfriend?” you smirk. “Slow down there, dude, we’ve only been on three dates.”

Dean instantly blushes violently. “I should go, I’m not used to this kind of rom com crap, I’m trying to be cute, but it’s clearly not working,” he complains, clearly embarrassed.

You laugh softly as you reach out and grab his wrist to stop him from turning away and heading towards the door.

“You should at least give me that kiss you’ve been thinking about,” you tell him with a gentle smirk, biting down on your bottom lip as a smile begins to flitter over his lips.

“Are you sure? It’s pretty passionate,” he tries to tease back, clearly getting his confidence back just a little.

“I think I can handle it, it’s you that you should be worrying about,” you counter, leaning your face closer to his with a quiet giggle.

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#my worthless love #dean x reader #mini series #dean winchester #smut #angst #fluff #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #negans-lucille-tblr

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