#HOLDS HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS LIKE!!! i could actually die. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist · 1 day ago

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Absolutely glorious - I am still cackling like a maniac at these two! These were my favorites, both angsty and hilarious:

“If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that.” Oh, damnit Dean…you poor boy

“And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt. So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.” Damnit, Dean! I want to throttle him.

“And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.” Oh, damnit….Dean…such exquisite angst!

“It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever. “C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven.” Oh, Dean…damn…twist that knife!

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.” / ��He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten.” Oh, Dean <snickering>

“He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.” Damn, Dean. I love this SO much!!

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.” Bwahahaha!! Oh, Dean…damnit, you are so screwed!

“Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.” Oh…oh, no…oh, damnit, Dean is about to learn a lesson about being a woman he is NOT going to like…

“He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-“ Aaaaand there it is - he still doesn’t get why her body is reacting to Dean’s body, does he? Bless…

“Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants. / Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly. / It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go.” Oh, damn - SO well-done!!

“She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold- Jesus.” <swinging and kicking my legs, giggling manically>

“Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach.” Bwahahaha!!!

“Son of a bitch. She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-They needed to fix this right fucking now.” Damnit, Dean - ROFLMAO!!!

This was AWESOME!! I am still cackling - this has elevated idiots in love into greater heights, and I am all for it! This totally wins the Internet for me tonight - Well-done!!!

Where Do You End Pt. 1

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have found yourself in a body swap situation, but your bodies don't seem to be aware of that. They keep trying to do what they always do.

And what they always do isn't really something either of you what the other to know about.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! On god I made it as weird as it could get. I'm proud of me. Also, we're once again looking at multiple parts. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.5k

This was fucking weird.

Dean knew wasn’t exactly worth saying—it might be the most obvious statement in history—but this was so fucking weird. Weird in a way that made his brain feel a little fuzzy, that made his skin itch because there was no way this was real.

But there was certainly a way this was real.

And it wasn’t Dean’s skin that was itchy.

She had nice skin. It was soft and comfortable to be inside of, the callouses on Her hands felt better placed than the ones on Dean’s, and there were scars that he’d sometimes touch on accident that felt more like art than stains. Her hair felt right whenever he’d brush his fingers through it. Her waist was perfect to hold whenever he’d brace his hands on his hips. And when Dean would reach up to rub his jaw, he’d be slammed with another reminder that this wasn’t his jaw. It was too smooth, at a different angle, and far too good.

This was the jaw he’d dreamt of holding and angling back. Of kissing a soft line across, sucking a small, dark mark on, or nipping at until everyone could see that Dean had been here. That his hand had wrapped around Her neck because she trusted him there, and he’d been holding Her chin up so She could look him in the eyes as they grinned at each other.

She had the prettiest smile. Her lips would curve up at the perfect angle, her eyes would shine like small stars, and every little line on Her face would serve as evidence that She was happy.

Dean hadn’t seen Her smile in a while. Not at him. Not like She used to.

And he certainly wouldn’t see it now. He couldn’t.

All he could see was himself, across the room, rolling on the balls of his feet and sucking on his teeth as he thought.

As She thought.

This was so weird.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered, and Dean frowned. His voice sounded rougher, deeper, and heavier from outside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or how to interpret the small shivers up his spine and over his skin.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, in her sweet and musical voice, and he liked how it sounded. He’d always loved how She said her own name, like it was an answer to something or the only lesson Dean would ever need to learn. “Is it really that bad to be stuck in my body-“

“Yes.” She snapped, raising Her chin and glaring down at him, and now his heart was beating faster. “This feels weird, and I don’t like seeing you be me. You’re doing it wrong.”

Dean frowned, and Her hair fell over his eyes. “How the hell am I doing it-“

“You’re sitting wrong. Your legs are too wide, I don’t lean like that, and when I frown it’d not supposed to look like I’m trying to murder someone.”

Dean disagreed with that last one. Shit, for months the only expression he’d gotten from Her was a frown that told him She wanted him dead.

He didn’t blame Her. He wasn’t all too happy with himself either, but it had been the only option. She wanted him. She said She wanted him, and she hadn’t been lying, and that had been the worst thing in the world.

If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that.

And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt.

So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.

She nodded, and backed off. Smiling less and frowning more and still joking with him but never bumping their feet together under a table or leaning Her head on his shoulder.

It was what he’d wanted. She was safer, and still within Dean’s reach to just see Her, to know she was okay. But he’d never expected to touch Her again. He’d made his peace with the fact that She’d always be just a stretch away, but never his to hold.

And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.

He didn’t know if he wanted to thank the witch that had done this, or kill them again.

Right now he was leaning towards the later, if only because he really didn’t like seeing Her in his body. It wasn’t just weird. It was wrong.

“You’re not exactly acting like me either, sweetheart.” Dean raised his brows, and watched his own face drop into a further glower. “You’re standing too much like a girl.”

She scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean-“

“You’re too relaxed-“

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah.” He tried to raise his chin, but Her hair fell in his face again. He didn’t know how the hell he was suppose to do anything when he had to keep it out of his face. “And you gotta walk slower. We’re not in a rush-“

“I’m in a rush! I told you, Dean, I don’t like this-“

“I’m not a big fan either!” He snapped. “But what the hell are we suppose to do about it? Every time we’ve tried to tell Sammy he hasn’t heard us-“

She rolled Her eyes. And they were Dean’s eyes, but that was Her eye roll. “That’s the curse, dumbass. We have to break it-“

“I got that, sweetheart, but I’m not seeing how you plan to do that without help-“

“I have you, Dean.” Her voice—his voice—was louder. Firmer. Commanding. It made his gut warm, and his body—Her body—sit a little taller of his own accord. “You’re on research duty, buddy. Let’s go.”

Dean scowled. He hated it when She called him buddy. He wasn’t Her buddy, he was supposed to be Her-

Nothing. Dean was Her nothing, because he’d been so very careful to make and keep it that way.

And that knowledge never stopped him from wanting Her. Wanting Her so bad that, when he’d glance down at her hands, now in his control, he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d ever get to feel them like this again. Rubbing against skin and tracing over the curve of his lips and trailing nails on his legs.

It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven. “You don’t need my help-“

“Yes, I do.” She snapped, grabbing Her jacket from the bed and marching to the door. “Get up. We’re going.”

Dean didn’t want to get up, but Her body didn’t seem to agree with him. He pushed off the bed and gained an unsteady balance, because Her knees were oddly weak. She wasn’t weak—She hunted like an animal and had used this very body to knock Dean flat on his ass—but something was making him lightheaded and dizzy.

He was probably just hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the curse hit.

“If we’re doing this,” he grumbled, shuffling to put on Her shoes. “We’re doing it with food.”

“Deal.” She tried to shrug on Her jacket, froze when it didn’t fit around Dean’s body, and chucked it right at his face. “Wear that. I don’t want you getting me a cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but put on the jacket. She was already pissed, and this wasn’t worth fighting about.

“This is so weird,” She mumbled, shaking Dean’s head. “C’mon, Winchester, we’re fixing this-“

“Wait,” Dean frowned, patting his pockets—Her pockets—and scanning around the motel room. “Where are my keys-“

“You mean these keys?”

He turned to see Her holding up the Impala’s keys, a shit-eating grin on Her face.

Dean narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand. “Gimme my keys.”

“No.” She shrugged, Her grin growing. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m not asking, sweetheart-“

“Okay. You take them, they’re yours.”

She walked out of the motel room, and Dean’s eyes widened. There was no fucking way She was driving his car.

“They are mine!” He shouted, sprinting after Her. “Just cause you’re in my damn body-“

Her body was faster than Dean was used to. He almost slammed right into Her back—His back—and an undignified sound left his when Her arms wrapped around his waist, catching him from a fall and holding him right to Her chest.

He’d never realized he was that broad. Or that strong. She was holding Dean like he was paper, and looking at him with shining eyes—he could see the real Her almost glowing in his body—and grinning with Her whole face. Dean’s whole face, with crinkles near his eyes he hadn’t known he had, and stubble on his jaw he’d meant to shave today.

Her hands were rubbing his waist. It was the small, careful circles he always dreamt of leaving on Her hips and arms.

He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it.

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat, because She needed to let go now. Her touch was burning on his body, and they hadn’t really touched since the curse hit, so maybe they weren’t allowed to. “Keys.”

She shook Her head. “This is my one chance to drive, Dean-“

“It’s my freakin’ car-“

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.”

He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten.

She needed to let go of him now.

He tried to grunt Her name, but it just came out breathy and soft. “You crash it-“

“I pay for the repairs.”

Dean scowled, but gave in. Right now She was stronger and taller than he was, and Dean didn’t really want to lose any dignity trying to physically take the keys.

And She didn’t crash it. Dean watched Her drive with careful attention—grumbling about what She was doing wrong until She shot him the deadliest glare he’d ever seen—and She never even came close to crashing. Her hands were big and firm and broad on Baby’s wheel, and Her arms would flex when she shifted the wheel, and there was a set look of determination on Her face that made her jaw look shaper-

That was not Her jaw. That was his jaw. And his arms, and his hands, and he wasn’t sure why the hell his eyes had been wandering over himself like that. He didn’t know why the hell he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and stomach.

He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.

Those were things Dean always did for Her. He wasn’t used to a hand on his back, or how nice it felt there. Secure, like a tether that told him he’d be alright. He didn’t understand why his body leaned closer to Her’s as they walked, or why his stomach kept doing little flips when Her eyes would fall from scanning over the diner and land on his.

He felt so unbelievably safe and calm. Hell, he’d never felt like this. Like the sky could fall and it would be fine, because the body across from his in the booth would catch it.

This was a really weird curse.

“You’re going to take notes,” She said, pushing a stack of books across the table that She must have pulled out of her ass. “I’ll look for something online.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. The fucking hair was in his face again. “Why do I have to do the notes-“

“Because I have better handwriting, and you have my hands.” She handed him a notebook and pencil, and their fingers brushed, sending small sparks of electricity through Dean’s blood. “Tell me if you find something.”

“Nah, sweetheart. I think I’ll have some pie and do the online research-”

Dean had started to push everything back across the table, but he froze at the glare on Her face. It was downright domineering, and did weird things to his brain. He felt fuzzy.

“You’re doing notes.” She grunted, and Dean definitely felt at least a little dizzy. “That’s it.”

His voice was high and almost bratty in his own ears. He didn’t like it. “But-“

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.”

Dean tensed. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare-“

“You wanna bet?”

She’d won the argument again. Those were the arguments Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to be able to talk his way out of anything with Her. To smirk and wink and tease Her until she broke rank from Sam’s side, and Dean didn’t have to do the stupid parts of the cases anymore. He hadn’t taken notes in years. He hated taking notes, and he wanted to keep pushing until order was restored and She was doing the notes—she usually loved doing the notes—but Her body had other ideas.

His mouth couldn’t figure out how to open and snap at Her. His body was molded and frozen into the seat whenever She’d look at him, and something kept humming in his chest whenever She’d talk. He was taking notes because he couldn’t remember how not to—how to grab the laptop or point at Her with a stern finger—and Dean’s was writing fast and neat, and his hand wasn’t cramping.

His foot kept aching to inch forward and press on Her calf. His fingers kept wanting to reach out and trace Her jaw. Dean wanted to sit on Her lap—he could never say that one aloud—because his body seemed to think it would be comfortable.

This curse was insane. He didn’t need to try and act like Her anymore, because his body—Her body—still seemed to remember how She was supposed to move. He found his hands spinning the pen between Her fingers like he’d seen her do a million times. His legs were crossed on the booth instead of spread under the table. He ordered a burger, but he couldn’t eat it. It was too greasy and heavy, and he already felt a little sick from just one bite.

She’d ordered chicken nuggets, and put Her usual disgusting amount of ketchup on the plate, but barely touched them.

They smelled really good. Dean was starving, his mouth watering as he couldn’t stop staring at them—or Her, in his body, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that—and when She glanced up at him, Her eyes flicked to the burger in front of him.

They traded plates without a word. And Dean had never seen himself eat before, but he finally understood why Sam was always so annoyed with him. She inhaled that thing, chewing loudly and wiping Her mouth with the back of her hand, licking her fingers clean and making disgusting smacking sounds-

The sounds should’ve been disgusting. Instead they settled in Dean’s gut, lighting a small fire he didn’t know how to stop feeding. He couldn’t figure out how to not stare at Her, arms braced on the table and brow furrowed as she read something on the laptop screen.

He had to excuse himself to go get more drinks.

“One beer.” He muttered, then immediately cringed. Beer sounded foul to his mouth. “Actually, make it a milkshake.”

“Hey, darlin’.”

Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.

“What flavor, sweetheart?” The server asked, and Dean frowned. Being called sweetheart was weird.

He responded with Her usual order—hopefully that would satisfy his unwelcome craving—and someone off the side cleared the throat.

“You gonna answer me?”

A hand landed on Dean’s arm, and he flinched. It felt clammy and wrong on his body. Like a weight that settled into his bones and sent a creeping, itchy feeling over his skin.

He turned to see a fairly tall, well-built man grinning at him with an almost predatory smile. It made his body go rigid, almost shrinking in on itself.

“Are you, uh,” he frowned. “You talking to me?”

The man laughed. It was too loud, with not warmth, and echoed like a gunshot in his skull. “Course I am, sweetheart. I don’t see any other pretty girls ‘round.”

Oh.

Dean was the poor chick being hit on.

And he hated it. His body hated it. Not only was this man’s touch wrong, his voice was wrong. It slithered over Dean’s gut and chest, making everything in him recoiled and balk, because that was not how he was supposed to be called sweetheart.

“I, um,” he glanced back to the booth, frowning when he realized She was gone. “Listen, dude, I’m not-“

“Dude?” The man laughed. “We can do better than that, baby-“

Dean might have visibly recoiled. He hated baby, only one voice felt like it was supposed to call him baby, even if it never had-

He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-

“What’s going on?”

That was Dean’s own voice. And there was a large presence behind him that felt reliable. That his body wanted to lean back into.

When Dean turned, She was right there with narrowed eyes.

He didn’t love how he immediately felt better, and softer, and a little light-headed.

“Hey, man, you gotta wait your turn-“

“My turn?” She snorted. “Walk away from hi- her, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass. I can do that now.”

She puffed Her chest, and—as soon as his brain remembered how to not be static warmth—Dean would have to talk to Her about not abusing his body for unapproved bar fights.

The man scoffed. “Bro, there ain’t no way this is your girl-“

“She is.” Her voice was dry, her face flat. “In more ways than you can imagine. Go.”

Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants.

Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly.

It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go. When the man walked away and She started talking, he never wanted Her to shut up.

“You-“ She swallowed, shaking Her head slightly. “Never mind. I found it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “It?”

“How to tell Sam.

“Oh.” He paused, mostly staring at her as the words sank in, and letting out a long breath of relief escape him when they did. “Awesome.”

She raised Her brows. “You’re pro switching back now?”

“I’ve always been pro switching back-“

“You said it wasn’t that urgent.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, sweetheart. What’d you find.”

She gave him an odd look—Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurt, annoyance, or absolute indifference—but continued. “We have to work around the curse.”

“What the hell does-“

“We can’t tell Sam that I’m you and you’re me. Every time we have the call gets dropped, or something loud has drowned us out, Sam’s literally fucking hangs up-“

“I know,” Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a flat look. “I was there for all of that-“

“Shut up. My point is every time we’ve tried to explicitly tell him, he hasn’t heard us. So what if we just don’t?”

Dean frowned at Her. “Your solution is to just freakin’… give up? Like we’re a kiddie soccer team that lost one to many matches, and we’re gonna quit and cry about it?”

“No, Dean. My goal is to not say it, but let Sam figure it out himself.”

“How-“

“Think of something only you and Sam know about. Something you’d never disclose to anyone else.” A wide, broad grin was stretching over Her face. Dean’s face.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

“We’ve got a few of those kinds of secrets, but I’m not-“

“You don’t have to tell me. You have to tell Sam, in my voice. Just like I’m going to say one of our secrets in your voice.”

It was a smart plan, and it would probably work. Sam knew She and Dean were being so annoying and weird about each other, so they wouldn’t be spilling deep, dark secrets anytime soon. Sam would hear them, and he was smart, so he’d figure them out.

But Dean was mostly stuck on the last part of that sentence.

“You and Sammy have secrets?”

She rolled Her eyes. “We’re friends. Of course we have secrets.”

“About what?”

“It’s not a secret if I tell you.”

She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold-

Jesus.

“Whatever.” Dean muttered. He needed to get away from Her now. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “Can you hold it?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I-“

“I don’t want you peeing in my body.”

Dean snorted. “Are you freakin’ serious-“

“Yes! You’ll have to wipe-“

“I know how to wipe, sweetheart. And you’re gonna need to take me to piss eventually-“

Dean could swear She blushed. He blushed. Goddamnit.

“I’d hold it.” She snapped, standing a little taller. “You can go back at the motel, where I can go with you.”

“Why would you need to go with me-“

“I don’t want you touching me there, Dean!” Her voice was a low, hushed shout. “It’s- You don’t get to- I’d need to wipe, and make sure you didn’t look!”

“It’s just a pussy,” he said Her name slowly, and She looked like she was going to kill him.

His horrible body—Her body—wanted to either give in or push harder, until She snapped him in half.

It seemed to like the idea of Her giving him anything at all.

Dean could work with that.

“Dean, I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I! It’s just a body, ” He sneered, and really wished She was taller. It was hard to be firm and authoritative when She was bigger.

When this was over, he’d probably respect Her a little more. She shouted and him and Sammy all the time without ever flinching.

“Look, I get that this is weird as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

“You haven’t seen it before. It’s my vagina, Dean, and you don’t get to see it now. Hold your piss.”

Suddenly, it clicked. She cared that Dean would be touching Her. If it was Sam, She wouldn’t give a shit.

But Dean had lost the right to touch Her there when he’d decided he could never hold Her.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Past Dean had understood that She deserved better, and She shouldn’t have to live Her whole life with a target on Her back. Past Dean had known that She’d find better, and he’d be forgotten in a few years, and it was better for his to have another good thing slip through his fingers rather than hold it and break it. Past Dean just wanted Her to be happy and safe, and She’d never be both as long as She was attached to him.

Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach.

Dean opened his mouth to say something—not an apology, because he’d make that choice in every life to keep Her safe—but before he could, She was moving. Grabbing the hook of Dean’s arm and pulling him out of the diner.

“That’s my body, Dean.” She snapped. “You’re peeing at the motel.”

Dean grumbled an agreement, and didn’t fight all that hard. He had bigger worries. She was pulling him through the parking lot, and he was letting Her. Shit, he was trying to jog a little to keep up with Her, maybe fall into her side. Just fall into Her. She opened the Impala door and he scowled, but let Her help him inside. Her hand touched his lower back again, and it set off fireworks around his ribs and through his intestines.

He felt weirdly warm and gooey, his skin was tingling again, and when he shifted slightly in his seat he could feet something wet between his legs-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-

They needed to fix this right fucking now.

End Note: Brace for incoming smut and silliness and angst. Brewing a perfect storm over here.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

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ribeye-ribbon · 2 days ago

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˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 "put the gun to my head, miss" 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

pairing: sub! hostage! sang-jun (the guard from squid game) x dom! fem! player! reader tw: gun play, humping, name calling, degradation, light humiliation, slapping names used: miss, dipshit, bitch, whore, pain slut, slut a/n: guys what if the hot guard didn't fucking die after like 2 seconds??

Ever since the games started, you've been questioning your own reality.

Who knew you could push someone down in the game of red light green light and use the corpse as a shield for yourself? Who knew you could stab someone mercilessly with a fork you found in the wrapped gimbap "just in case they stabbed you first"?

Who knew you could be standing in front of one of the guards, forcing him to his knees with the gun you stole off his dead comrades...?

You hear the talk all the time from the other players. They wonder if you're too dangerous to bring on their mission to stage a revolt against the front man. You wonder if you're dangerous enough.

Your hand shakes slightly as you point the gun to the guard's mask.

"Take it off."

He hesitates. Clearly, he's terrifed. That's cute. You smack his head with the gun.

"I said take it off."

His shaky hands remove the mask and reveal a face cover. You instruct him to take it off as well. The other players, now armed and loaded, watch with bated breath.

He's beautiful. His eyes look up into yours helplessly as Gihun puts his hands behind his head. You should hate him. But you've always been a sucker for pretty boys. And this boy sure is pretty.

Soon, you're holding your gun to the guard's back as he leads your group to the control room. It's uncomfortably silent. Everyone is tense as they follow in a single-file line behind the guard. You decide its about time you get to know him.

"Hey, guard."

He flinches and looks back at you, frightened and questioning why you're addressing him.

"Don't stop in your tracks, keep walking. We ain't got forever."

He rushes forward, embarresed.

"W—what is it...miss?" he says.

"You got a name?"

At this point, everyone else behind you two looks at you quizzically, wondering why in the hell you're chatting with the guard like it's a casual tuesday.

"It's...yes. Yes, I do."

"Well, what is it?? You think I don't know you got a name? I'm expecting to hear the goddamn name, dipshit."

"I— but you asked— ah..." he replies, taken aback by your crass language, "Lee Sang-jun, miss..."

"I'm [name]. But keep calling me 'miss'. Suits you, or whatever."

He nods and keeps walking forward. Actually, he's increased his pace up a bit. Maybe he wants to get away from you as quick as possible, but you're not going to let that happen.

Suddenly gun shots fly out and you take cover. Damn, the other guards caught up. You scan the area and see all the guards taking station across the stair case your group is on. This is bad. Gihun yells out, instructing everyone to take cover. Everyone shoots aimlessly at the other side. Guns are reloaded, and bullets wasted, and the process repeats. This is going nowhere. You look to the side and see the guard, Sang-jun, about to make a run for it. Right as he jumps up to start sprinting, you grab him by the hair and yank him down. He yelps in pain.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, huh? You're staying with me. If you get shot dead, you're my human shield, you fucking understand me??"

"You bitch—!"

He attempts to make an attack and swings his fist towards your face. You dodge back just in time and smack him across the face. Your gun clicks as you press it against his temple.

"Do that again, you stupid whore," you sneer. "Go on."

He shudders and slowly reaches his burning cheek. He gasps and pants, clearly shocked.

"You...you..."

"Hit you? I did. Next time you test me, I blow your brains out."

He lets out a pathetic sound, a cross between a whimper and a groan of frustration. Nevertheless, it turned you on. Oh, you're insane.

"Come, everyone's running out of ammo. You take me to the control room in the mean time—"

"Not so fast, [name]," Player 1 interjects. "You can't go there alone with a guard. I'll join you."

"Ugh, man—"

"[Name]. It's dangerous. You can't hold out on your own."

Player 1, also known as Oh Young-il, stares down at Sang-jun with what seems to be a glare. Unlike when Sang-jun looked into your eyes, he's shocked but quiet when he meets Young-il's gaze. He turns to you, his expression unreadable.

"Miss..."

"What???" you ask irritably, not sensing the tension between Sang-jun and Young-il. Sang-jun leans in ans whispers in your ear, knowing full well he's under the Front Man's watchful eye and doing his best to compose himself despite it. He can't tell you everything, so he does anything but that.

"Miss, you can't take him with you."

You try to shake him off as you groan, not listening, "Ugh, why're you whispering—"

He grabs your arm and pulls you closer, whispering again in your ear in a more frantic manner.

"Miss, please. That man is more dangerous than you think. And if you can't trust me, then...then keep your gun to my head — without the safety. Just shoot me if anything goes wrong. Please, miss."

Damn, he's desperate. You'd be lying if you said you weren't surprised. But you suppose its a win-win if you go alone with Sang-jun. He gets to be far from Young-il for whatever reason you don't know, and you get the potential to spend "quality time" with him.

You turn to Young-il and reject his request, "Sorry, man. I think it's better if you help the others hold the fort here. We'll bring more ammo once we find some."

Taking Sang-jun's hand, you abruptly pull him away from the gun battle between the players and the guards. You push him roughly in front of you, take the safety off your gun, and press the barrel against his back.

"You told me to do this, so I will."

He reluctantly nods, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulps.

After a while, you find yourself in a series of limitless halls and empty rooms.

"Hey," you smack Sang-jun's back with your gun. "You playing tricks on me, dipshit?? Where the hell are we?"

"Agh—! Miss, please just... there's just many halls. The control room is quite far."

"We need ammo, do you understand!? We get ammo first before finding that room. Our people are dying back there!"

"Your people...miss."

...That's right. He's technically not on your side.

"If you don't find me bullets soon, I won't hesitate to stick one through your heart."

Before you can react, a hoard of guards appear and take cover behind the walls. You freeze, not being able to process what's happening before a strong pair of arms pulls you in and away from the shooting bullets. You gasp and turn to find yourself in Sang-jun's arms. He snatches the gun from your hand and your heart sinks, expecting him to shoot you right then and there. But he shoots them. His people.

Several minutes later, the coast is clear and Sang-jun stands. He obediently collects the magazines off the corpses of his comrades and hands them to you.

"Let's keep goi—" You cut him off by pulling him down by his arm and capturing his lips with yours.

He's still for a moment before he kisses back. Good, he must've sensed the sexual tension between you two. You press him against the all and unzip his pink jumpsuit, revealing a black compression shirt and boxers. You tug the shirt up and decorate his breasts and abdomen with bites and marks. His moans and yelps fill the air.

"M-miss...if anyone sees us..."

"They won't."

You tug his boxers down, his hardened and leaking cock springing out. It's red with need. You quickly think of ideas. If only you had more time with him. But this has to be quick, you need to return to the group with the ammo.

Your hands release Sang-jun and he lets out a confused whimper. But that whimper turns into a pathetic squeal when you suddenly press your knee against his cock.

"A-AH—! Miss...!"

"Shhh, we don't have much time." You gently move your knee up and down his member, watching him writhe in pleasure. "Please yourself, Sang-jun. Buck your hips against my knee."

He blinks at you. Did he hear you right?

"But...can't you—"

"I won't move a single muscle. So work for your release if you ever wanna cum."

He reluctantly nods and begins to buck his hips. He mewls and whines as he chases his orgasm, begging and calling you "miss". You watch him helplessly struggle to get off.

"I can't cum like this! Miss, please!"

"You can and you will. Keep up. You have one minute until we get going."

"Then..haah..just one thing, miss?"

"What is it?"

"Please put the gun to my head, miss."

Oho. What a surprise. You press the gun against his temple.

"There you go. You like knowing I can shoot you dead any second? Fucking pain slut, aren't you?" You even slap him in the same spot you slapped him earlier. He lets out a cry of pain and pleasure.

"Ngh..! Yes!"

"Say it, slut." You slap him again.

"I'm a fucking pain slut!"

"Yeah, that's right. You're so close aren't you?" You coo. "Cum, baby." You poke his temple roughly with the gun.

"M-MISS, I—! AHNNNN~~!!"

...

Soon, you and Sang-jun return to the rest of the players and give them the ammo you collected.

"What was the hold-up!?" one of the players ask.

You glance at Sang-jun's shaken figure. He's trying so hard to look like he didn't just orgasm from humping your knee, getting slapped, and being threatened with a gun.

You look back at the player.

"The guard fucked up the directions."

#dom!reader #squid game #lee sang jun #gun play #tw dark content #tw dark themes #tw gunplay #degredation kink #degradation k1nk #degrading k1nk #humiliation kink #miss #painslut #pretty boy #🥺#gun kink

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 2 days ago

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Checkmate: Book 3 of 3 BTR Series: a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 11: Cal pt. 2

Meanwhile in an undisclosed location..

Valerie pressed the cold rag against Rhea’s burning forehead, her own hands trembling as she tried to keep her breathing steady. The fever had worsened over the past few hours, Rhea’s body convulsing in fits of shivering, her skin clammy and unnaturally pale. Valerie knew what was happening—toxic shock syndrome. The infection was taking hold, and if they didn’t act fast, Rhea wouldn’t make it through the night.

“Stay with me, Mamba,” Valerie murmured, brushing damp strands of hair away from Rhea’s face. “You gotta hold on.”

Rhea’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her body trapped between fevered delirium and painful consciousness. She twitched, her fingers curling weakly against the sweat-soaked sheets beneath her.

Valerie bit her lip, her mind racing. They were running out of time. The man who took Rhea hadn’t exactly been kind—no proper medical treatment, barely enough water, and whatever wounds she’d sustained had clearly turned septic. Valerie had seen this before. She knew where it led.

The door creaked open, and Valerie tensed as a shadow entered the dimly lit room.

“What’s her condition?” The voice was deep, clipped, void of emotion.

Valerie didn’t bother looking up as she wrung out the rag and placed it back on Rhea’s forehead. “She’s dying.”

A pause. Then, a slow exhale. “Fix her.”

Valerie’s eyes snapped up, a glare cutting through the dim light. “She needs a hospital, antibiotics—actual medical care, not me dabbing her with a fucking wet cloth.”

The man—tall, broad, face obscured by the darkness—stepped closer. “That’s not an option.”

“She won’t last another twelve hours like this,” Valerie shot back. “You need her alive, don’t you? Then let me do my job.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then, the man sighed. “What do you need?”

Valerie clenched her jaw. “IV fluids, antibiotics, something to control the fever. And I need her moved somewhere cleaner—this place is a breeding ground for infection.”

The man was quiet for a moment before turning toward the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As he left, Valerie let out a slow breath, her hands trembling as she turned back to Rhea.

“Just hold on,” she whispered, gripping Rhea’s hand. “Dustin will be back with everything.”

After some time, Dustin stood in the doorway, his presence looming as he tossed the supplies onto the small table beside Valerie. IV bags, a vial of antibiotics, syringes—enough to keep Rhea from slipping further into the abyss. He watched as Valerie immediately got to work, her hands moving with practiced precision as she prepped an IV line.

“I should’ve let her die,” Dustin muttered under his breath, arms crossed.

Valerie’s hands paused for the briefest moment before she turned to face him. “This shit is getting—”

Before she could finish, Dustin moved. His hand shot out, gripping her hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Think long and hard about what you’re about to say,” he warned, voice dangerously low.

Valerie swallowed hard, but her gaze didn’t waver. Her scalp burned from his grip, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, she let out a slow breath and spoke evenly.

“Let me work on her.”

Dustin held her there for a second longer before releasing her, watching as she stumbled slightly before regaining her composure. She turned back to Rhea, rolling up the sleeves of her sweat-soaked shirt as she inserted the IV catheter into Rhea’s arm.

As the saline began to drip, Valerie murmured under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.

“You’re not dying today, Mamba.”

Dustin lingered for a moment before stepping back, his eyes flicking between Rhea’s pale face and Valerie’s determined one. Then, without another word, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

After a few hours, Valerie exited the room after she managed to finally get Rhea’s fever down. She took one last look at Rhea, letting out a quiet sigh before stepping out and shutting the door behind her. She climbed the stairs with heavy steps, her mind racing, before finally reaching the surveillance room where Dustin sat, his eyes glued to the monitors.

“How long is your revenge going to take?” Valerie asked, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe.

Dustin didn’t look away from the screen, his expression indifferent. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown soft for The Black Mamba.”

Valerie’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Dustin let out a sharp chuckle, finally turning his head to look at her. “You should’ve thought of that before you approached me at Demetri’s funeral.”

At the mention of her ex-boyfriend’s name, Valerie flinched. Her eyes darkened, but she pushed forward. “There’s no use anymore! We could just put her in the van and drive back to Stamford.”

Dustin threw his head back in laughter. “That would be the day, huh?”

Valerie’s patience snapped. “We’ve done all we said we would do! For God’s sake, Dustin, her fingernails are gone! She’s bandaged up like a damn hospital patient! She is not The Black Mamba anymore!”

Dustin’s smirk wavered, but he stayed silent.

Valerie pointed at the screen, her voice rising. “That is not a trained assassin anymore! That’s a broken woman who probably doesn’t even have the strength to fight back. So tell me, Dustin, what more do you want?”

Dustin leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the desk. “You don’t get it, do you?” He nodded toward the monitor. “She doesn’t have to look like The Black Mamba anymore. She just has to be her. And if you think that part of her is gone, you’re dead wrong.”

Valerie shook her head in frustration. “This isn’t revenge anymore, this is torture. And I won’t be a part of it.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes at her, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Then I suggest you tread carefully, Valerie. Because walking away? That’s not an option.”

—

June 14th, 2025

Rhea rubbed cocoa butter over her large tummy, her fingers gliding gently over the stretched skin. A small smile played on her lips as she felt a strong kick from inside.

“Jeyson, stop superkicking me,” she murmured, shaking her head as another nudge followed.

She washed her hands and exited the bathroom, stepping into the dimly lit bedroom. Jey was already in bed, leaning against the headboard, his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he watched her with an easy smirk.

He clapped his hands together. “Get your sexy self in this bed now.”

Rhea rolled her eyes but obeyed, making her way over with exaggerated slowness. As she climbed in, Jey reached out, running his fingers along the side of her belly before resting his palm against it.

“Did I ever tell you how complete you look?” he asked softly.

Rhea snorted. “Completely overweight?”

Jey made a tsk sound and shook his head. “Nah, Mami… completely beautiful.”

His voice was full of sincerity, and Rhea felt her chest tighten. Pregnancy had made her self-conscious, but with Jey, she never felt anything less than adored.

She sighed as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her stomach. “You always know what to say.”

Jey smirked, looking up at her. “That’s ‘cause I mean it.”

She ran her fingers through his short curls, relaxing into the warmth of his body beside her. The kicks inside her softened, as if Jeyson knew he was safe too.

“How about me and you tomorrow before the party, we go and pick out Jeyce’s birthday gift?” Jey suggested, his voice filled with that playful tone that always made Rhea smile.

Rhea frowned a bit. “Baby, I already picked it out for him,” she replied, her words slightly casual, as if she hadn’t even realized Jey was going to suggest going together.

Jey’s eyebrows shot up, surprised. “Baby!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t even give me a chance to be part of the fun!”

Rhea tossed him an apologetic smile, before kissing him softly on the forehead “Well, you didn’t answer the phone, and it was the last one. So, I went ahead and grabbed it.”

Jey pouted. “What did you get him then?”

Rhea smirked and proudly said, “I bought him an all-black record player with the vinyl Louder Than Bombs.” She added, “Don’t worry, I put ‘From Bonus Mommy and Daddy’ on the gift tag.”

Jey’s expression shifted from playful to confused. “Louder Than Bombs?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that vinyl?”

Rhea’s lips curled into a smile, “It’s an album by The Smiths.”

Jey’s confusion deepened. “The Smiths?” he repeated, sounding incredulous. “What’s so great about a band from the ‘80s? That’s way before Jeyce was even born!”

Rhea chuckled softly. “I know, it’s an old band. But the thing is, Jeyce has been spending a lot of time with Demi lately, and he’s gotten into them. There’s just something about the way their music resonates. It’s soft, melancholic, and honest—just like Jeyce in a lot of ways.”

Jey tilted his head slightly, trying to understand. “So you’re telling me you bought him a vinyl from a band that’s not even around anymore, and it’s because of Demi?”

Rhea nodded, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and understanding. “Yeah. Jeyce has been going through a lot lately, and I think The Smiths speak to him in a way that most music doesn’t. It’s not about being modern; it’s about the depth in their lyrics, the way they capture the complexities of life.”

Jey’s gaze softened as he processed her words. “I guess I never really understood why people like The Smiths. I’ve heard their songs before, but I didn’t get it.”

Rhea reached for Jey’s hand, holding it gently in hers. “It’s not just about the music, Jey. It’s about connection. The way we connect with things that speak to us—whether it’s music, people, or something deeper. Jeyce sees something in their lyrics, something he can relate to. It’s not about the time or era; it’s about finding something that speaks to who you are in the moment.”

Jey stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. “So it’s more than just some vinyl. It’s about you understanding where Jeyce is at and showing him you get him, even if it’s through an old record.”

“Exactly,” Rhea replied softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Jey nodded slowly, finally understanding the thoughtfulness behind the gift. “You always know how to give gifts with meaning, don’t you?”

Rhea smiled, shrugging slightly. “I just want to make sure he knows we’re thinking about him, no matter how old he gets.”

Jey leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her stomach. “Well, I might not have understood the whole thing at first, but I get it now. And I’m proud of you for thinking about him the way you do.”

Rhea laughed softly. “It’s not about being proud, babe. It’s about being there for him when he needs us the most. And for now, music is his way of expressing it all.”

Jey wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “Well, we’ll make sure he knows how much we love him—through vinyl and everything else.”

—

The next day, Jey and Rhea arrived at Sabrina’s Sweet Tooth, a cozy little bakery known for its irresistible treats. Rhea couldn’t help but smile as she stepped inside, the sweet smell of freshly baked goods wrapping around her like a warm hug. She approached the counter, looking at the young cashier with a pleasant smile.

“I’m here for a birthday cake,” Rhea said. “Should be under Fatu.”

The cashier nodded, gesturing toward the back of the shop. “I’ll grab it for you right away.”

As Rhea waited, she glanced around the bakery. But when she turned to look at Jey, he wasn’t standing beside her. Instead, he was bent slightly forward, his face inches from the display case. His eyes were locked onto something inside with a look of sheer wonder.

Rhea raised an eyebrow, amused. “Baby… what are you doing?” she asked, her voice playful as she walked up to him.

Jey didn’t even glance over at her at first. “It looks so good,” he murmured, clearly mesmerized by what he was staring at.

Rhea followed his gaze and soon found herself looking at a towering mountain of Oreo and chocolate chip cookie brownies. The perfect marriage of two decadent treats—brownies and cookies, piled high into what could only be described as heaven on a platter. The Brookie, as some people called it, was impossible to resist.

Rhea chuckled softly. “Which one, babe?” she teased, already knowing the answer.

Jey’s eyes stayed glued to the dessert, and with a small grin, he pointed toward the platter. “That glorious thing right there.”

Rhea tilted her head slightly, intrigued. “That one?” she asked, still teasing.

Jey turned to her then, his expression breaking into a wide grin. “I want the whole platter.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

Jey didn’t flinch. “I’m serious.”

Rhea sighed in mock exasperation, shaking her head with a smile. “You really want that much?”

Jey’s grin only widened. “Why not? It’s a birthday celebration. We’re treating ourselves.”

Before Rhea could respond, the cashier returned with the cake, just as she ordered. Rhea took the cake with a smile, but she was still eyeing the Brookie as she set it on the counter.

The cashier, noticing their interest, said brightly, “The Brookies are buy one, get one free today!”

Jey’s eyes lit up. “I’ll take the whole platter, please,” he said eagerly.

The cashier smiled and moved quickly to grab the entire platter of the decadent brownies, carefully packaging them up and totaling everything. Rhea couldn’t help but laugh, watching Jey’s excitement as he stood there, practically bouncing with anticipation.

She paid for the cake and the Brookies, amused by how quickly Jey had decided to indulge in the sweet treat. As the cashier handed them the packaged desserts, Jey grabbed them with both hands, his eyes practically glowing with happiness.

As they made their way out of the bakery, Jey grinned, glancing over at Rhea. “I can’t believe you let me get the whole platter,” she said, still surprised at his bold choice.

Jey shrugged playfully, his voice full of contentment. “I am content with life right now, Mami,” he said, holding the large platter close. “What’s better than cake, cookies, and spending the day with you?”

Rhea laughed, shaking her head at him, but her heart swelled with affection. There was something about Jey’s unapologetic joy that always managed to make her feel lighthearted. “You’re impossible,” she teased.

They made their way to the car, and Jey placed the cake and Brookies carefully in the backseat. As Rhea began to open the passenger door of the Tahoe, she hesitated for a moment, feeling the strain of her late trimester taking a toll on her body. Jey immediately noticed, his eyes softening with concern.

He quickly moved to her side and gently helped her into the seat, supporting her with his steady hands. “Got you, Mami,” he murmured softly.

Rhea smiled gratefully, leaning into him as he closed the door behind her. “Thanks, babe,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jey gave her a wink as he made his way to the driver’s side. “Well, I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

As he slid into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at Rhea, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of her, even more beautiful in her pregnant glow. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Jeyce’s face when he opened his presents later, but for now, he was content to just be with Rhea. The road ahead was full of surprises, but with her by his side, Jey felt like nothing could stop them.

Rhea leaned back in her seat, feeling the weight of the day’s sweetness, both from the desserts and from being with Jey. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the calm, knowing that, in this moment, everything was going great.

—

The song ‘I Love You For All The Seasons’ by The Fuzz played in the backyard as it remained alive with laughter, chaos, and the unmistakable aftermath of a sugar rush. Jeyce and Demi bounced around like wild animals, their energy seemingly endless as they ran circles around the patio furniture, the effects of the Brookies hitting them in full force. Their giggles filled the warm air, making it clear they had no plans of calming down anytime soon.

Meanwhile, Jaciyah and his girlfriend, Daya, sat comfortably on the couch inside, lazily stroking Rhea’s fluffy guinea pig, Bartholomew. The tiny creature twitched its nose as Jaciyah ran a finger over its soft fur, while Daya rested her chin on her hand, watching the interaction.

On the patio, Jey stood by the grill, flipping the burgers with practiced ease. The scent of sizzling meat filled the air, mingling with the faint traces of chlorine from the half-constructed pool in the backyard. The ground was still a mess, dirt and gravel scattered across the yard, but Jey hadn’t let that stop him from throwing a proper barbecue. His patio was untouched by the renovations, and that was all he needed.

Beside him, their dogs Barry and Bella stood alert, their eyes locked onto the grill, tails wagging in anticipation.

Inside, Rhea held the bowl of seasoned steaks, waiting for Jey to be ready for the next batch of meat. However, as she took a step forward, a sudden sharp kick from Jeyson made her freeze. The unexpected pressure knocked the wind out of her, forcing her to clutch the edge of the counter.

She set the bowl down quickly, sucking in a slow breath as another strong kick followed.

Daya, who had been casually watching her from the couch, straightened up, concern flashing across her face. “Mrs. Fatu, are you okay?” she asked, her voice edged with worry.

Rhea groaned quietly, one hand pressing against her belly as she tried to breathe through the discomfort. “I’m fine,” she reassured her, though her voice was strained. She exhaled slowly, shaking her head as she gently rubbed her stomach. “Just baby Jeyson thinking it’s okay to kick the hell out of me.”

Daya gave her a knowing smile. “Sounds like he’s already trying to be a little wrestler like his dad.”

Rhea huffed a small laugh, still massaging the spot where her son had just launched his assault. “Yeah, well, he better save those superkicks for when he’s actually out in the world.”

Jaciyah chuckled from the couch. “Better hope he doesn’t come out putting people in the Uso Splash straight out the womb.”

Rhea rolled her eyes but smiled, finally straightening up. “If he does, I’m sending him straight to his father.”

She grabbed the bowl again, heading toward the patio door where Jey was still focused on the grill. As she stepped outside, she caught him in the middle of a conversation with Barry and Bella, who were both staring at him like they were deeply invested in whatever he was saying.

“No, y’all ain’t gettin’ none,” Jey was saying, pointing the tongs at the dogs as if they could understand him. “Don’t even try it.”

Rhea smirked as she set the bowl down next to him. “Babe, you know they’re not gonna listen, right?”

Jey turned toward her, eyes scanning her face with slight concern. “You good, baby?” he asked, catching the way she was still lightly holding her stomach.

Rhea nodded. “Yeah, just your son reminding me he’s in there training for his first WrestleMania.”

Jey laughed, flipping another steak. “That’s my boy.”

Rhea shook her head, smiling as she leaned against the counter, watching as their family and friends enjoyed the day. Despite the chaos, the half-finished yard, and the sugar-fueled madness, everything was nice.

Jeyce and Demi came running up to them, practically vibrating with excitement. Their eyes were wide, their movements erratic—the clear signs of a sugar rush in full effect.

Jeyce grabbed onto Rhea’s arm, practically bouncing in place. “Rhea! Can I cut my cake?!” he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

Jey, standing beside the grill, gave his son a pointed look. “Don’t even try it, lil’ man,” he warned. “You haven’t even had your food yet.”

Jeyce groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “But you gave us the Brookies!”

Jey narrowed his eyes. “I gave you each one Brookie. Just one.”

Rhea, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, turned to her husband, her brow lifting slightly. “You gave them one?”

Jey looked at her suspiciously, picking up on the shift in her tone. “Yeah… one.” His gaze sharpened as he studied her face. “Don’t tell me you gave them more than one?”

Rhea pressed her lips together, her silence saying everything.

Jey’s jaw dropped. “Baby!”

Rhea shrugged, feigning innocence. “They looked so happy,” she defended. “And they asked so nicely.”

Jeyce and Demi took that as their cue to bolt, giggling as they ran into the house before Jey could lecture them further.

Jey sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “See? This is why they’re bouncin’ off the damn walls!”

Rhea chuckled, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Relax, baby. It’s a party. Let them have fun.”

Jey exhaled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, when they throw up from all the sugar, you clean it.”

Rhea smirked. “Deal.”

Jey shook his head again, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. This was his life, just like he wanted.

“UNCLE JON!”

Jey and Rhea turned their heads as Jeyce pulled his girlfriend, Demi, by the hand, both rushing toward the front door. Excitement radiated off Jeyce as he sprinted ahead, nearly knocking over a side table in his eagerness.

Inside, Jon and Trinity had just stepped in, pushing a sleek black double stroller where their twin baby boys, Jarrell and Judah, were comfortably nestled. The moment Jeyce spotted them, he wasted no time launching himself at Jon, wrapping his arms around his uncle in a tight hug.

“Hey, nephew!” Jon laughed, nearly stumbling back from the impact before returning the hug.

Rhea smiled at the sight and patted Jey’s arm. “I’ll go greet them, baby.”

Jey leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “Go ahead, mama.”

He watched her as she walked toward the family, her pregnancy giving her an even more radiant glow. Jey let out a small breath, shaking his head with a smirk before turning his focus back to the grill. He flipped the burgers, setting them aside on a tray, then reached for the seasoned steaks, carefully placing them over the open flame. The air filled with the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling meat.

Just as he settled into his rhythm, the patio door slid open, and Jey didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“What up, Uce?” Jon’s familiar voice greeted him as he stepped outside.

Jey smirked, grabbing the tongs. “Ain’t nothin’ much, just tryin’ to keep the peace before these kids burn my damn house down.”

Jon let out a deep chuckle, glancing toward the house where Jeyce and Demi were now chatting with Trinity. “Yeah, I saw Jeyce runnin’ on a sugar rush. Y’all let them loose on the sweets?”

Jey sighed, shaking his head. “Man, I gave ‘em one Brookie. Just one.” He turned his head and shot Jon an exasperated look. “Rhea? She prolly’ gave them three each.”

Jon let out a loud laugh, clapping Jey on the back. “Damn, Uce. You losin’ control of your own house.”

Jey scoffed, flipping a steak. “Man, don’t remind me. She always settin’ me up, then lookin’ at me all innocent like she ain’t just turn these kids into straight-up maniacs.”

Jon grinned, cracking open a beer and leaning against the railing. “That’s what happens when you marry a mastermind.”

Jey smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, that’s my mastermind.”

Jon took a sip of his beer, his expression shifting slightly. “How she doin’, though? For real.”

Jey’s movements slowed for a second before he sighed. “She good. Just tired. This pregnancy hittin’ her harder than she lets on.”

Jon nodded, watching the grill. “You makin’ sure she takin’ it easy?”

Jey let out a dry laugh. “Tryin’ to. But you know Rhea. Telling her to rest is like tellin’ the sun not to shine.”

Jon smirked. “Yeah, well, she’s definitely one of us.”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. “No doubt.”

Jon took another sip, then nodded toward the driveway. “Ma and Pops land yet?”

Jey flipped the last steak, watching the juices sizzle. “Yeah, they should be pullin’ up soon in a few minutes.”

Jon let out a low whistle. “Damn. Whole squad in one place.”

Jey smirked, tapping the tongs against the grill. “Ain’t nothin’ more important than family, Uce.”

Jon clinked his beer against Jey’s tongs. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“UNCLE OOOH AHH!”

Jey and Jon turned toward the front door as Joe stepped inside, his booming presence filling the room. His wife, Galina, walked in beside him, her warm smile already set on Rhea.

“Look at you,” Galina said, pulling Rhea into a gentle embrace. “You are glowing.”

Rhea chuckled, rubbing her belly. “You’re like the third person to say that today.”

Joe, meanwhile, scooped Jeyce into a bear hug. “Damn, nephew! You gettin’ big on me.”

Jeyce grinned. “I been eatin’ good, Uncle Joe!”

Joe ruffled his hair. “I bet. With your pops on the grill, y’all probably eatin’ better than me.” Galina gave her husband of ten years a playful smack on the his arm.

After giving Rhea a quick hug, Joe crossed the living room, heading for the backyard where Jey and Jon were manning the grill. As soon as he stepped outside, he took a deep breath, nodding in approval at the scent of seared seasoned meat.

“Aight, who’s on the grill?”

Jey smirked. “Who you think?”

Joe let out a deep chuckle, pulling both of his cousins into a quick, brotherly hug. “Man, it’s good to see y’all.”

Jon clapped Joe on the back. “Same, Uce. You know it ain’t a real cookout ‘til you show up.”

Joe grabbed a beer from the cooler before leaning against the patio railing. His eyes drifted toward the house, where Rhea was now sitting on the couch, her hand resting on her belly as Galina and Trinity talked around her.

“Yo,” Joe said, nudging Jey. “Your woman looks like she’s about to pop.”

Jey let out a short laugh, flipping the steaks. “Due date’s mid-August.”

Joe took a sip of his beer. “Damn, you ready for that?”

Jey exhaled through his nose, glancing toward the house before turning back to the grill. “Yeah. But I ain’t gonna lie, this pregnancy been different.”

Joe smirked. “She hit the I hate you phase yet?”

Jon let out a loud laugh as Jey shook his head. “Bruh…” Jey ran a hand down his face. “I accidentally ate one of her ice cream sandwiches, and I swear to God, it was like I started World War III.”

Joe nearly spit out his drink. “Oh, hell no.”

Jon was still laughing. “She probably looked at you like you committed a crime.”

Jey gave him a deadpan look. “She did, Uce. I ain’t never seen her so mad in my life. Talkin’ ‘bout how could you do this to me? Like I just betrayed the whole family.”

Joe was doubled over laughing now. “Yo, you never mess with a pregnant woman’s cravings, man. That’s a death wish.”

Jey sighed, flipping the last steak. “Trust me, I learned my lesson.”

Joe took another sip of his beer, shaking his head. “Man… fatherhood looks real good on you.”

Jey looked at him for a moment before smirking. “Yeah… it feels real good too.”

Joe took another swig of his beer, glancing around at the massive pile of dirt and construction materials in the backyard. “So, I don’t mean to be curious, but why the hell is your backyard gone?”

Jey let out a laugh, shaking his head as he flipped the last steak. “Man, ever since Rhea got her little inheritance, all she wanna do is spend. This woman wants a pool now.”

Joe smirked. “Shit, at least she’s giving back.”

Jon nodded in agreement. “Hell yeah, man. ‘Cause I’m takin’ off all these days to be with the boys and Trin’, and she got me doing seminars and meet-and-greets for her charity foundation. If anything, Rhea is helping us stay afloat.”

Joe chuckled. “Yeah, man. Ever since I stepped back from wrestling for a bit, she got me doing the same thing in Florida. I’ve been workin’ with her on some shit down there, helping set up events. Rhea’s helping the family more than you think.”

Jey looked toward the house, his expression softening. Through the patio doors, he could see Rhea sitting on the couch, laughing as Jaciyah excitedly showed off the guinea pig to Galina and Trinity. The warmth in her face, the way her body instinctively cradled their unborn son—it filled his chest with something deeper than love.

Still watching her, Jey’s voice grew quiet. “Thank you for saving her that day.”

Jon glanced at his twin, reading the weight behind his words. He knew exactly what Jey was talking about—Orlando. The blood transfusion. The day everything nearly slipped away.

Jon exhaled, rubbing his chin before responding. “Anytime, Uce.” He patted Jey’s shoulder, his voice steady. “She family for real. Not just ‘cause she carryin’ our blood now, but… somethin’ deeper than that.”

Jey nodded, swallowing back the emotion creeping up his throat. “Yeah… deeper than that.”

Jey continued, “But shit y’all I don’t mean to brag but you know she about to be in Forbes?”

Joe nearly choked on his beer. “Get the fuck outta here.”

Jey smirked, flipping a steak and nodding. “Forreal. They called her this past week, they wanna do a special edition.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “What they finna call that?”

Jey grinned, pride clear in his voice. “‘First & Only Female Billionaire of Sports Entertainment.’”

Joe let out a low whistle. “Damn. I thought she inherited nine-fifty?”

Jey nodded. “She flipped it. Now she got more than a billion, dude. I tell you, man… she is set.”

Joe leaned against the grill, smirking. “I like how you said she instead of we.”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s her money. I like what she’s doin’ with it. Shit… to be honest, money never really changed her.”

Joe grinned. “That’s good! That means the man who gave her that money knew what he was doing.”

Jey’s jaw tightened at that. His hands clenched briefly on the tongs before he relaxed. “Yeah… that fucker.”

Jon glanced at him, sensing the shift in mood. “Aye, man. He made sure Rhea was good before he bit the dust. Be thankful for that.”

Jey exhaled slowly, nodding. He didn’t want to be thankful—not to Morris. The mere mention of him annoyed the hell out of Jey. But still… he had to admit, the man secured Rhea’s future.

Before he could dwell on it too much, Joe perked up, his ears catching a familiar sound. “I think I hear that laugh.”

Jey and Jon turned toward the house and saw their father, Solofa, standing in the doorway, his deep laughter echoing as he hugged Jeyce. Beside him, their mother, Talisua, held Jeyce’s face in her hands, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Then Jey watched as Solofa wrapped Rhea in a big hug, his strong arms pulling her in like she was his own daughter. Rhea melted into the embrace, and Jey couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

And just when he thought the house was already full, their younger brother Joseph strolled in, his arm wrapped around his wife Almia.

Jon grinned. “Shit, we got the whole damn family here now.”

Solofa opened the patio door, taking in the sight of his sons gathered around the grill. A warm smile stretched across his face. “Mālō le soifua, boys,” he greeted before pulling all four of them into a tight hug.

Joseph dapped up his two older brothers before turning to their cousin. “Joe, what’s good, Uce?”

Joe grinned, slapping Joseph’s back. “Man, just chillin’. You know how it is.”

Solofa, ever observant, glanced past them and raised an eyebrow. “Son… why the hell is there a big hole the size of my ass in the ground?”

Jey, Jon, and Joseph burst into laughter.

Jey wiped a tear from his eye. “Rhea wanted a pool, so… we’re getting a pool, Dad.”

Solofa shook his head, chuckling. “I might just have to sell my properties in Florida and move here.”

Jey scoffed, flipping a steak. “Dad, there is no way.”

Solofa crossed his arms, his smirk growing. “And why not? Me and your mother will have fresh Pani Popo ready for you and Rhea every week.”

Jon raised his hands. “Shit, Pops, come to our crib instead.”

Jey smirked, side-eyeing his brother. “Yeah, Dad, go to the oldest twin by nine minutes.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Man, I knew you were gonna say that.”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “Y’all still arguing about nine damn minutes?”

Joseph laughed. “Man, you know they never let that shit go.”

Solofa just smiled, shaking his head as he watched his boys bicker like they were kids again. “Doesn’t matter where we go—y’all all gonna be eating at our table, anyway.”

—

After Jey finished grilling, the scent of seared steak and burgers lingered as everyone gathered around the dining table. Laughter and conversation flowed freely, the atmosphere thick with the kind of love and comfort that only family could bring. Plates clinked, utensils scraped against dishes, and voices overlapped in easy rhythm, filling the house with a joyful hum.

Jey leaned back in his chair, his arm draped over Rhea’s shoulders, watching the scene unfold with quiet pride. This was what he had always wanted—a full house, family surrounding them, happiness radiating from every corner.

Rhea, cradling her growing belly, let out a soft chuckle as she watched Jaciyah and Daya sneak extra fries from each other’s plates. Across from them, Jon was bouncing one of his twin boys on his knee while Trinity wiped drool off the other twin’s chubby cheek. Joe and Galina were deep in conversation with Solofa and Talisua, reminiscing about old stories from Solofa’s time in the business. Even Joseph and Almia, usually more reserved, were fully engaged, laughing as Jeyce sat next to Demi, he animatedly retold some wild tale from school.

Jey let the moment sink in before clapping his hands together. “Alright, y’all, time for the main event.”

Jeyce’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with anticipation. “The cake?!”

Jey smirked, standing up. “Of course, the cake. You think we’d forget?”

Jeyce practically vibrated with excitement as Jey disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned, carrying the cake carefully in both hands. Gasps and murmurs of appreciation spread around the room as everyone caught sight of it.

It was a masterpiece—a cake designed to look like a stack of vinyl records, each layer crafted with meticulous detail to resemble Jeyce’s favorite albums. At the very top, Chewbacca stood proudly, holding a miniature version of The Smiths’ album cover. It was the perfect blend of his two greatest loves, Star Wars and The Smiths, and Jeyce’s eyes shone with disbelief.

“Yo, that’s so sick!” Jeyce gasped, practically bouncing on his feet.

Jey chuckled as he grabbed a candle, carefully pressing it into the cake before lighting it. The small flame flickered, casting a warm glow over his son’s beaming face.

Stepping back, Jey slid his arm around Rhea’s waist, pulling her close. She leaned into him, her own smile soft and full of love as she watched their son soak in the moment.

“Alright, everyone,” Jey said, his voice warm and full of pride. “Let’s do this.”

As the first notes of Happy Birthday rang out, voices filled the room, rising together in perfect harmony.

“Happy birthday to you…”

—

Present

Jey lunged forward, his entire body coiled with rage, ready to tear Brent apart. But Cal intercepted, gripping Jey’s arm with unyielding strength.

“Let me go!” Jey snarled, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Cal didn’t move. “He has information.”

Jey’s nostrils flared. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. “What fucking information?”

Cal turned to Brent, who refused to meet Jey’s eyes. Instead, Brent’s head hung low, shame carving deep lines into his face.

“Tell him,” Cal demanded.

Brent exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of what he was about to say. “They’re dead… the other two that helped me.”

Jey didn’t flinch. “I don’t give a fuck about them. Where is Rhea?”

Brent hesitated before shaking his head. “I—I don’t know. That wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan.”

Jey’s patience snapped. “What the fuck was the initial plan, then?”

Brent’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I don’t want to say this.”

Cal picked up the cattle rod from the nearby table, the metal humming as he clicked it on. “You’re going to tell him.”

Brent’s eyes widened, his body stiffening. He licked his lips nervously before blurting out, “It was just supposed to be revenge! That’s all!”

Jey’s jaw tightened. “Revenge? On who?”

Brent exhaled sharply. “Adam. He was supposed to get back at Matthew, but Adam disappeared. Went into hiding. So Matthew took it upon himself.”

Jey’s stomach twisted at the name. “Matt? Rhea’s ex-husband?”

Brent nodded, guilt etched deep into his expression. “Matthew befriended Rhea at the gym on purpose. He was under the illusion that she stole Adam’s share of the money from her sale, and he wanted it back. He was only supposed to get close to her until he found the money.”

Jey’s heart pounded against his ribcage. “But what happened?”

Brent hesitated before continuing. “Matthew fell in love with Rhea. He stopped answering our calls. We didn’t hear from him for a while, but then, in February 2023, he came back to me, Adam, and Thomas. He told us someone sent him a picture of Rhea coming out of some wrestler’s hotel room… and from then on, Matthew changed the plan.”

Jey’s blood ran cold. He knew exactly whose hotel room Rhea had been in. His.

Jey’s voice was low and dangerous. “What plan?”

Brent’s fingers twitched as he rubbed his palms together. “Matthew decided he would marry her. Wait until she confessed the affair. And then…”

Jey stepped closer, his body radiating fury. “Then what?”

Brent’s lips parted, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

“Go on!” Jey barked.

Brent flinched. “Then… then he was going to end her life.”

The air in the room turned suffocating. Jey felt like the floor beneath him had given way, like the walls were closing in, but his rage anchored him. His fists trembled, his entire body vibrating with barely contained fury.

He forced himself to breathe through his nose, his mind racing.

“Just to be sure,” Jey said, his voice rough. “February 2023?”

Brent nodded. “Yeah… February 2023.”

Jey’s heart slammed against his ribs. That was the month their affair started. The month Rhea had chosen him over everything else.

His throat tightened, but he pushed forward. “So what was the end goal?”

Brent exhaled slowly, his face haunted. “We were going to eliminate Rhea and then go after Morris.”

Jey’s brow furrowed. “Morris? What the fuck does he have to do with this?”

Brent hesitated before speaking. “Well Matt knew of Morris and Morris knew of Matt.”

Jey’s head spun. Pieces of a puzzle he didn’t even know existed were falling into place. The inheritance. The power struggle. The threats that never made sense before.

His grip on his fury wavered as the realization hit him like a truck.

This wasn’t just about money. This wasn’t just about revenge.

This was about control. About legacy. About something much bigger than he’d ever imagined.

And Rhea… Rhea was at the center of it all.

Jey looked at Cal, “Just one more question.. who is this other man?”

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bizzyboysbizzydays · 1 day ago

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Bizzyboys first dates

I love these lil guys leave me ALONE. I'm self insert trash and that's just how the cookie crumbles. I am cringe but I am free.

Yes this is based off of the post about bad dates with the Bizzyboys i think it's so funny

Patty: -I think Patty would prefer an exciting first date! Things like amusement parks or fairs, extremely high energy with LOTS of things to do. -He'd want to win you EVERY toy he possibly could. Whether or not hes good at the games is an entirely different story. -Big on PDA and affection. It might be a first date but he is hugging and hand holding like it's his last day in the Grove and he'd DIE if he didn't get attention. -Tries to pay for literally everything like the lil gentleguy he is. -Date ends with you giving him a kiss on the head, he is on cloud 9 and ready to pronounce his eternal love.

Bananathaniel: -As a cinephile obviously the first date is going to be a movie date. You two watch the movie in complete silence and go out for dinner afterwards in which the floodgates are open. -You better either be REALLY into Ban, or REALLY into movies, because he is going to talk the entire time about the movie and it's themes, camera work, acting, everything. -It's hard to be too mad about it, when he asks for your opinion and is genuinely interested in your thoughts (even if he might argue with them a little. or a lot.) -Not a lot of PDA on the first date since it's entirely focused on the movie but you do get a nice hug afterwards :)

Alexei: -This is the most obvious first date ever. You go to a fast food place and eat until you both almost pass out. -There's no PDA. Only voracious feasting that terrifies the employees and gives small children nightmares. -The date ends with you both on a couch passed out with cheeto dust everywhere. It's not your couch. It's not even Alexei's couch. How'd you get into Capochin's house.

Vibiano: -Another restaurant but this one is fancier. -It's a pretty average date, small talk and awkward chatter. -He keeps checking his phone every 4 minutes before he "suddenly gets a phone call" and has to leave, sticking you with the bill. -He makes it up later with a fully customized outfit left at your door and a note to call him later so he can "make sure it fits properly". -It does fit properly, and he takes you out on a better date for the next one.

Grujaja: -How'd you even manage to get a date with this guy. -Extremely lowkey date. You hang out in a quiet field somewhere. -You do have to constantly reassure him that it's ok and everything is fine. -If he hears a loud noise he'd 100% bail and you'd never see him again due to the embarrassment. -Maybe next time just do a home cooked meal.

Capochin: -Genuinely how did you get him to agree to this. -Despite how he tries to come off, he is extremely nervous. -The date would be something chill, he would've preferred to just. Invite you to his house and make a meal there but ultimately settled for a casual (but not too casual) restaurant. -His ass HAS NOT dated since he was around his 20s. Forgot how to date at all, actually. -The date ends with him feeling like the dumbest mother fucker ever and you having to reassure him it wasn't THAT bad and you'd had worse. -Date ends with you giving him a kiss on the cheek and him speed walking away in embarrassment.

BONUS!!!

Inspekta: -The date takes place in his domain, obviously. He's wrapped around you holding you close as you watch movies on one of the various screens under his desk. -He talks a LOT during the movie, he needs your constant undivided attention. -If you ignore him for too long he'll squeeze around you tighter and tighter like a constrictor until you finally acknowledge him again. -It's as private as a date could get, if you ignore Capo irritably bringing in snacks for the both of you. -Date ends with Inspekta patting you on the head and telling you you should come back soon. Preferably tomorrow. For longer.

Hector: -Similar to the Inspekta date, but this time its on the couch with him bear hugging you from behind. -Less talkative, but still squeezes you when he wants attention (all the time). -You probably lose feeling in a few limbs from how little movement you get, but it's hard to be mad at him when he falls asleep with his head resting against your shoulder. -It's less cute when you realize he's heavier than you and you can't escape.

#my writing #my headcanons #great god grove x reader #ggg x reader #bizzyboys x reader #great god grove #ummmmm waht other tags. idk #anyways. runs away very fast #inspekta #hector ggg #capochin ggg #vibiano ggg #patty ggg #grujaja ggg #alexei ggg #bananathaniel ggg #there are too many bitches here.

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akechi-if-he-slayed · 1 year ago

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HUH???? what. WHAT. screams clutches chest falls over

#staig..STAIG..#staig makes me so unwell i actually need to be like institutionalized. I HATE THEM!!! THEYRE SO. GOD.#side note this was like. quite possibly the best storylined staig fic ive EVER read. READ IT.#fic: think of you from time to time by dadvans (orphan account) on ao3 #staig #south park #HOLDS HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS LIKE!!! i could actually die.

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vaggieslefteye · 7 months ago

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HUSK, Hotel Bartender & Concierge | 1x04 - Masquerade

"Oh, I FORGOT — you're the wise-old bartender who's seen it all! Get the fuck over yourself and pour me a real drink."

#hazbin hotel #husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel edit #masquerade #my gifs #character spotlight #Certified Redemption ☑︎#hello hi i'm in love with the kitty man like actually #he NEEDS more screentime in s2 in fact he needs his own episode #PLS PLS she confirmed that we're gonna get to know some (but not all) of the character's backstories in s2 PLEASE LET HUSK BE ONE OF THEM #I'LL ACTUALLY DIE THANK YOU #alright i'm coming back to these tags to point stuff out #first off - the fact that he closes his eyes and shakes his head and reaches up to hold his suspenders before offering actual help #physically hyping himself up to lend a hand even though his whole thing is having an empty shell of a heart - apparently.#AAAAAA #but ALSO #holding his suspenders - self soothing gesture possibly? he knows lending a hand could give way to vulnerability on his end regardless if h #even shares personal information about himself or not - at the BARE MINIMUM he is saying ''look. i care a little. okay?'' by even OFFERING #help to begin with. AND OTHER THING!!!!!!!#the fact that he himself bitched and moaned earlier that episode about how EVERYONNEEE likes to bitch to the bartender #and he talks about how he knows everything about everyone seemingly against his better wishes #it's all part of the job he's forced to do #so you could also look at him shaking his head as a way for him to literally ''shake off'' that attitude because again. HE CARES.#even if it's just a little.#then GODDDDD his reaction to angel breaking down. the way he softens. his ears go down. he looks to the ground.#his ''old crusty heart'' was actually touched - not in the happy way of course. it was pain. struck with sympathy and remorse.#LISTEN I LOVE THIS GOD DAMN CAT OKAY

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babycharmander · 6 months ago

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(THE BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS!!)

Thinking about Bill’s appearance at the end of the book…

[ID: BIll when confronting the Axolotl. He is shown in white silhouette, hovering in space, hovering neutrally. Notably, he has a massive crack running through his body, splitting him into multiple pieces, some of which are coming apart. /end ID]

When confronting the Axolotl, Bill is broken. The Axolotl even notes this: "Shattered, broken, not yet dead."

(Which, side note, makes me think Bill might have been lying about having been "kicked out of Hell," if he didn't actually die in Stan's head.)

[ID: Three pictures of Bill in the Theraprism. The first one shows him holding his hand against the side of his head in a dazed expression, sitting in a chair in a white padded room between a wizard with a clock for a face and Saturn (taken directly from the painting Saturn Devouring His Son). The second is a camera recording of him wearing an orange jumpsuit and kneeling in a cell, surrounded by arts and crafts tools, holding a pair of scissors, and beaming his thoughts frantically into a book. The third shows a mugshot of him staring blankly into the camera, his own name written on coded text below him. In all three images, he has a glowing scar where the cracks were, and is in one piece. /end ID]

When he's shown in the Theraprism, we see a glowing, static-y scar where the cracks were. The scar crosses his entire body (and even crosses to the other side of his eye without affecting it!), but he's actually whole, keeping himself together.

But then...

[ID: Two pictures of Bill from the last pages of the book. In the first one he is facing forward and holding up one finger, his eye reddened, his entire form glitching, and his crack is notably worse than prior, cracking through his eye, multiple smaller pieces drifting away. In the second one he is staring blankly at the viewer, his arms hanging limply, his eye wide and blank, the crack worse than the previous image, with more pieces floating away. /end ID]

In the last few pages, we see the scar is gone and the cracks are back, and even more of him is breaking away, including parts of his eye. It's especially bad in the last image, with even more pieces of him breaking away.

Also noteworthy is that the static texture behind him seems to be the same as the blood sample the US government took from him in the 1940s. He's bleeding.

We know from context that these images are meant to be taken somewhat chronologically. After dying (or nearly dying), Bill seeks out the Axolotl, who sends him to the Theraprism. While there, he writes the journal that he's beaming to us. The staff at the Theraprism catch onto this, and allow him to write out the last few pages, meaning those last few pages are chronologically the last of Bill we see.

This means that, after the events of the show, Bill was shattered... and then, upon entering the Theraprism, started to heal, his body coming together and scars forming... but at some point afterward, he started breaking apart again.

I'd made a post previously about Bill's development, how he views himself as a monster after the Euclidian Disaster, and how he continues to act monstrous afterward (and winds up agonizingly lonely as a result). I didn't really touch on this in the post, but I feel like after inadvertently destroying his home dimension...

Bill never left the denial phase of grief.

I could be wrong on this, but I get the feeling that part of his reason for acting monstrous toward just about everybody is because he sees himself as a monster, because "this is just how I am" is easier to accept than "I really really screwed up."

Bringing this back to his shattering... It's interesting to me that after entering the Theraprism, his body is scarring, which means it is healing. But then, at the end, as he's signing off the book, he's shattered again, and looking even worse than he did when talking to the Axolotl. When talking this over with a friend, they pointed out something that struck me:

Bill does not want to heal.

Healing means having to actually think through what happened. It means having to confront his past, confront destroying his home dimension, confront the harm he caused to others, confront the fact that he did not have to be this way.

And he refuses to do that.

He refuses to heal.

#bill cipher #gravity falls #the book of bill #the book of bill spoilers #i want to gnaw on things after writing this analysis

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plutotheplum · 2 months ago

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I Only Bleed For Him

dragon!sylus x fem!reader

summary: amidst the blooming flowers in tarus city, the dragon claims his beloved.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, a smidge of fluff, angst, kissing, loss of virginity, oral sex, p in v, possessive sex, blood, claiming bites, mating, knotting, soulmates, canon compliant death

wc: 4.5k

a/n: the way the myth cards just keep getting depressing :( there will be another chapter after this fic, but it'll be in the actual timeline! also not very confident in my angst writing abilities, but hopefully y'all enjoy!! <3

also on ao3!

“You know, Tarus City can have flowers bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see. But only for one person.”

Sylus’ voice is a soft murmur, his hands caressing your waist as he holds you tighter against him. Your heart lurches uncomfortably, fingers brushing across his cheek and the hard, black scale that lays fused to his skin.

“What if we stayed here?” you whisper, peering into his crimson eyes.

“Would you be able to sate yourself?” Sylus asks in return, his claws brushing through your hair gently.

You avert your gaze, cheek pressing against his chest as you stare at the swaying carmine flowers in the soft breeze. Sylus’ heart is steady, the soothing sound of thrumming coupled with the motions of his claws nearly enough to lull you to sleep.

His question holds value. Revenge threatens to pull you apart at the seams, the desire for chaos rearing its ugly head. You want more, you always want more and Sylus gives it to you willingly. Your selfish desires will be the downfall of the Fiend, you think, hands tightening into fists.

Yet, there is so much more to do. So much to take from those that had taken from you. Resentment makes you tremble, the Sacred Judicator’s words ringing clear in your mind.

The Sorceress has been judged.

You could laugh at the thought if you weren’t so angry. Some sorceress you were, powerless and yet put before the Court of Justitia as a traitor for trying to protect the statue of a dragon.

Angry tears prick at your eyes, teeth gritting together only to be drawn out of your wrathful thoughts by the press of Sylus’ lips against your clenched fists, his claws unfurling your clenched fingers.

“Just like the day we met,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze trained on you, “such hatred and defiance.”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he kisses your palms.

“Beauty,” he whispers against your skin, “and resentment, little sorceress. They make you my precious, most finest treasure.”

“I don’t want to think about the Legion,” you reply, voice trembling, “I want them gone, Sylus.”

“Pluck them out one by one,” Sylus says, his hand caressing your cheek, “but another will replace those gone. Their roots run deep, weeds that refuse to die, marring the world around them.”

You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the warmth of his hand, the rough scales scratching your skin gently.

“I shall burn Justitia to the ground,” you grit out, eyes burning with determination, “I will make them all regret and spite them into contrition, bring them to their knees and- and-”

Sylus laughs, his expression soft as he peers up at you. “You speak sharply, little sorceress. Your fire and spirit matches my own.”

“Because I am your other half,” you mumble, pouting slightly as you feel your anger subside the more Sylus caresses you.

“You are,” Sylus affirms, “bearer of my soul, my other half. Only you could be worthy enough.”

A light flush covers your cheeks before you hide again, nosing into his cheek. You can feel the warmth of his soul inside of you as your eyes shut, lungs expanding as you suck in a deep breath, the scent of the dragon clouding your senses.

Burnt embers and a soft sweetness make you whine, body squirming as you try and press yourself closer to him, your fingers caressing his horns.

“Careful,” Sylus grunts, his claws tightening around your waist when he feels the brush of your fingers against the base of his horns.

You can feel the slight jump of his hips, your gaze lifting to find his brows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut.

“Does it hurt?” you ask worriedly, fingers pausing.

“Hardly,” he replies, his eyes opening again, “I am simply… sensitive.”

You hum, head tilting to kiss his cheek as your fingers resume their stroking and caressing. Sylus makes a small noise and you relish in it, peppering kisses here and there, across his cheeks and over the large scales.

A delighted sound escapes you when you hear what you think is something akin to a purr. Sylus’ cheeks tint with a light pink and you smile against his cheek, ears straining to listen again when he rumbles gently, his head tilting as he pushes up into the caress of your hand.

“Like a mountain cat,” you tease, tracing the slope of his nose when he purrs again, feeling his claws twitch against your hips.

“Do not use my gifts against me,” Sylus grouses, despite the pleased rumble of his chest.

“I enjoyed them,” you reply, fingers running through his hair leisurely, “if only we could go back.”

“We will,” Sylus promises, his eyes flickering open, “I shall make sure of it.”

You smile wistfully. Going back to the cavern held more challenges than worth risking. Bitterness makes your smile waver, but you brush the thought away, content to at least be given this moment of reprieve.

“We will,” you repeat after him.

Neither of you mention the emptiness of the promise. The damp coldness of the chapel latches onto you and Sylus is the only one able to make it dissipate, his claws tracing over the curve of your cheek.

You cling to him, nose brushing against his gently.

“I love you.”

Sylus’ chest rumbles in response, his head tilting as he presses his lips to yours. The curl of his tail around you holds you to him, his hands kneading at your hips as you kiss him. It’s slow and syrupy, both of your souls intertwining and interlocking in the sweet musk of the flower fields.

You can feel the pull of your soul towards him, how your body yearns for more of him, the tendrils of your very being try to claw through gaps of your ribs and pierce his chest. You’d let him hold you in the glowing stone embedded in his chest if it were possible.

“So this is what it means to love,” Sylus murmurs, his lips brushing over yours with every word he speaks, “perhaps mortals are wiser than I thought.”

You laugh, arms wrapping around his neck when he rolls you both over, your back pressing into the soft grass.

“Only some mortals,” you correct, smiling when his teeth bite onto the tips of your gloves, pulling them free from your hands, rings and all.

Sylus’ skin is warm when you touch him again, truly for the first time. His eyes flutter shut, savouring the sensation of your skin against his before he lowers his head, kissing you again.

“I wish to claim you, my beloved,” he breathes out, trailing hot kisses down your neck, “will you let me?”

“Yes,” you sigh, your own eyes slipping shut, “yes, Sylus.”

Sylus’ tail sways behind him, the pointed tip brushing across the skin of your leg before his claws join the midst, dragging down your thighs gently. You gasp, the unfamiliar sensation making you squirm as he begins to undo your dress.

You help him, sitting up as he pulls it over your head, his claws ripping through the delicate fabric despite his tentativeness. You don’t pay it any mind, cupping his cheeks to pull him down into a slow kiss, feeling his body hover over you, his tail wrapping around your waist.

The sharp spikes dig into your skin, making your body seize with discomfort until the repeated brush of Sylus’ lips over yours soothes away the nervousness.

Your panties are ripped away too, the fabric laying in tatters in Sylus’ palm. He frowns when he stares at his claws, and you reach for his hand, lips pressing against his knuckles gently.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you whisper.

“It should,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze dipping as he stares at you laying bare before him.

He can see the mark of his fangs in your neck, the subtle scent of your blood setting his senses alight. You belong here, Sylus thinks, his eyes darkening as he sees the rise and fall of your chest, the pebbling of your nipples in the cooling breeze.

An undying flame blooming amidst a field of lesser flowers.

If only he could keep you here.

The flicker of emotion in Sylus’ eyes makes you uncomfortable and you kiss his knuckles again, lips pressing against the hard scales firmly. He sighs, his hand flexing in your grip, his tail drawing you closer as he kisses your forehead.

You can hear his breath hitch when you fumble with his trousers, undoing the various buckles to have him bare before you as you are before him.

“Greedy mortal,” he murmurs, gripping your chin to plant a kiss to your lips.

“You already knew that,” you smile faintly, nipping his lower lip playfully.

Sylus rumbles, his body shifting to remove his clothing. You swallow when you see the heavy hang of his thick cock. The tip glistens and you squeeze your thighs shut, trying to quell the dull ache that has settled inside of you.

“It- it is different from mortal men,” you mumble, head tilting curiously as you stare at the base of his cock.

“I am a dragon,” Sylus supplies drily, his hand wrapping around his cock.

You watch, mesmerised as he pumps his cock with his clawed hand, brows furrowing when you see the slight swell at the base of his cock, above his heavy balls.

“A knot,” he explains, moving his cock to show you the swell of it a little better, a low hiss leaving him when you reach out to touch it hesitantly. “It- hah- it is useful for mating.”

It gives a little under your prodding, wetness pooling between your thighs at the sight of it. You try to wrap your fingers around it, but the tips of your fingers hardly touch, Sylus letting out a growl at the sight.

“I want it,” you whisper, blinking up at him, “I- I want you to mate me, and- and I want that.” You point to his knot.

Sylus lets out a hoarse laugh, his clawed hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“And you shall have it when I claim you. Although…” he pauses for a moment, his expression becoming slightly flustered, “I have never claimed anyone before.”

“Oh,” you flush with him, averting your gaze. “I have never been claimed before.”

Sylus sucks in a sharp breath, his nose nudging against yours gently as he plants a soft kiss to your lips. “My first and my last.”

You have to blink away the tears that begin to brim in your eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck tightly. Sylus kisses the side of your head, his body descending further down your body.

Soft noises leave you as he places reverent kisses along the length of your body, his tongue flicking at your nipple experimentally, carmine eyes peering up to watch your reaction carefully. When you gasp, Sylus hums, his mouth opening wider to envelop your breast with his mouth.

Your fingers delve into his soft hair, back arching as you push your breast further into his mouth, his hot saliva making your skin shine. The flowers around you sway, unbothered by the act of intimacy, Sylus’ clawed fingers pinching at your nipple lightly.

He groans when you jerk under him, mouthing at the sides of your breast, pressing wet kisses here and there, tongue swirling over your areolas before granting each nipple a soft kiss.

“You respond well, beloved,” Sylus whispers, beginning to lave over one of your areolas again, seemingly taken with the way you twitch whenever his teeth graze your nipples.

“It- it feels good,” you whine, your thighs sticky with slick.

“Then perhaps I ought to do the same here,” he murmurs thoughtfully, pulling back to pry apart your thighs.

Translucent strings of slick cling to your thighs and the folds of your pussy, Sylus’ head lowering to get a better look.

“So delicate, little sorceress,” he whispers, his claws pulling apart your puffy folds to find your glistening pussy. “A bud,” Sylus continues, the flat of his scaled finger brushing your swollen clit tentatively, “like a flower.”

A needy whimper escapes you, hips bucking up under his exploratory touch. It’s nothing like when you used to touch yourself in the privacy of your small room within the walls of Justitia. Sylus’ touch is rough, textured, heightening the feeling that makes your clit pulse with want.

“Please,” you beg breathily, fingers reaching out to grasp his horns, “please, I- I need more.”

“But I am not yet done,” Sylus replies, peering up at you to watch the expression on your face when he rubs your clit more firmly.

“Sylus!” you whine, “the ache is too much!”

The dragon between your thighs huffs out an amused breath, the hot air making you shiver.

“So demanding,” he sighs, leaning forward to kiss your clit. “Although I do enjoy seeing you so… uninhibited, beloved.”

You push his head towards your cunt, growing impatient, although being careful not to jostle his horns too much. Sylus groans when he tastes you for the first time, his rough tongue gliding through your wet folds.

A gasp leaves you when he flicks his tongue against your clit, a tremor settling through your bones as you writhe atop the grass. Sylus holds you in place, a pleased purr sounding as he nuzzles deeper into the wetness of your cunt, his tongue lapping and laving over the velvety flesh of your pussy.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut when you feel the dig of his claws into your flesh, coupled with his mouth on your pussy, “S- Sylus, oh yes.”

Sylus hums into your cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit, collecting your slick into his mouth, drinking it down as if it were the very essence of your soul.

“You taste sweet, my little love,” Sylus rasps, his claws pulling apart your folds so he can prod at your aching hole, feeling the needy clench of it around his tongue when he presses it in. “Sweeter than any wine I have ever tasted.”

“You- nghh- you exaggerate,” you mewl, tugging at his hair gently, your fingers stroking the base of his horns.

Sylus shudders, his head tipping forward into your touch. “I do not,” he growls, nipping at your thigh in a show of disagreement. “I would keep you on my mouth every night if you allowed me and drive you mad with pleasure.”

You smile hazily when you hear his words, hips rolling up to meet his mouth when he sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue stroking across the swollen bud lazily.

“Are we not already mad?”

“Perhaps we are,” Sylus responds, his hips grinding into the clothes beneath him. “But I should be glad to be mad with you.”

A soft, content sigh leaves you as you lose yourself in the sensation of his tongue. It swirls through your folds, presses into your cunt every so often whenever Sylus loses interest in your clit for a brief moment.

He never strays far however, his chest rumbling with his own contentedness as he buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing in your scent. Sylus sucks at your clit with renewed fervor when he feels the tensing of your thighs against his claws.

“I can feel you, little love,” Sylus rasps, his voice low and rumbling. “Come undone on my tongue.” He presses an affectionate kiss to your clit before latching his mouth onto it more firmly.

“Sy- Sylus,” you whimper, legs beginning to jerk as the pleasure grows.

He growls into your pussy, his mouth working faster, tongue swirling and slurping until you have no choice but to cum. You cry out, his name leaving you in disjointed syllables, heavy pants breaking your cries.

Your thighs squeeze around his head, until his tail wraps around one of your legs, pulling you open so he can drink from you until sated. Overstimulation makes you sensitive, whimpers and whines leaving you as you pull at his horns.

“It is too much,” you mewl, “I- I cannot-”

“You can,” Sylus murmurs, spreading you open wider, exposing you completely, “you will for me.”

The dragon devours you again, his fangs sinking deep into the flesh of your thigh. Your blood and slick mixes together and Sylus feels as though he is being torn apart from within, your taste heating his own blood until he can no longer hold back.

You cum again on his tongue, back arching before you writhe violently, fingers grasping for anything and everything, uprooting the flowers nearby as you attempt to gain some semblance of stability.

Sylus gives you some reprieve, his tongue lapping over your puffy pussy gently, his lips pressing against your clit and the mark his teeth have left on your inner thigh.

He rises up to find you limp, unable to stop the shudders that jerk through your body from the immense pleasure.

“Little love?” he murmurs, a claw tapping against your cheek.

A pout makes your lips jut out when you blink up at him blearily, brows furrowing into a glare. Sylus smiles, his head dipping to brush a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“You are beautiful,” Sylus says, his hand stroking over your hair soothingly, claws running through your hair.

“I want to do the same,” you whisper, your hand reaching down between your bodies to find his cock. “I want you in my mouth.”

It’s harder than before, pre-cum smeared across the tip, warm globs dripping onto your stomach. You wrap your hand around him, squirming around in an attempt to get onto your knees.

“Another time,” Sylus murmurs, stopping you from getting closer to his cock, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“Now,” you demand, blinking up at him, still a little dazed. “Now, Sylus.”

“Another time,” Sylus repeats firmly, his lips descending upon yours again.

“There- there will be no other time!” you protest, peering up at him desperately, your lower lip trembling.

You only speak the truth, and it angers you. The cruelty of fate has begun to wrap its remorseless fingers around your heart, squeezing and squeezing until you feel your heart give, clenching painfully.

“Never say that!” Sylus snaps suddenly, his hands cupping your cheeks. He presses himself against you, forehead touching yours. “There will-” there’s a tremor in his voice, “there will be another time. Always.”

How many more lies will you both tell yourselves?

You bite back the sob building in your throat, crushing the sense of helplessness by pulling Sylus closer and pressing your lips against his feverishly.

The dragon grips you harder, his tail winding around you tightly, holding you to him as he returns your kisses.

“Take me,” you beg when he lays you down again, “Sylus, claim me, please.”

“I will,” he hushes your cries with a kiss, “I will, little love. You will be by my side till the end of time.”

Sylus grasps his cock, breathing heavily, your panting breaths mixing together. He notches his cock against your drenched cunt, pushing in slowly. You both share a moan, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. The scales dig into your skin, his claws digging into your hips deeper, pain flaring across your skin.

It’s enough to distract you from the rampant thoughts of loss however, your mind clouding with every inch of Sylus’ cock that sinks into you.

“So- so tight,” he grunts out, his hips moving slowly.

You can feel his knot, slipping in and out of you, tugging on the edges of your cunt every now and again with how swollen it’s become. His cock splits you open, your soft moans sounding into the vast flower field as you reach up, hugging him to you.

Sylus thinks you sound as sweet as the scent of the blooming flowers.

He lowers his body, his weight almost crushing you but you need this, need him as close as possible to convince yourself that this is happening.

“More,” you whimper, pressing sloppy kisses to his jaw, “ruin me, take me apart.”

“You- hah-” Sylus’ eyes squeeze shut when he feels the tight clench of your cunt around his cock, “you mustn’t say such things.”

“And yet,” you whimper, dazed eyes finding his, “and yet, oh- I desire- ngh- it desperately.”

“If that is what you wish,” he whispers, kissing your forehead gently.

You moan loudly, the wanton sounds mixing with his low groans and growls when he swirls his hips, cock pressing into you deeper. His heavy balls slap against your ass, both of you uncaring of the lewd sounds as he thrusts his hips in and out of you, cock driving in deep.

Sylus’ knot sinks into place with each deep, rolling thrust he gives you, popping out whenever he draws his hips back. You’re slurring, hardly able to see him properly, clinging to him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He grunts, shifting your legs higher, away from the sharp, spiked scales that line his tails.

They say the dragon is dangerous, the epitome of sin and yet he cares for you dearly, his lips trailing across your skin with such reverence that makes your body ache.

“You are mine,” Sylus growls, his carmine eyes glowing as he peers down at you. “Every inch of you, half of your soul, it is all mine.”

“Yours!” you hiccup, the pleasure making you feel numb, “always yours!”

Sylus moans deeply, and your hazy eyes catch the frantic sway of his tail behind him, his hips snapping harder and faster, your pussy struggling to accommodate and keep up with the ever-swelling knot at the base of his cock.

The sheer feral nature that seems to take over your dragon has you whining, a sharp scream leaving you when you feel his fangs bite into the still healing wound on your neck.

Blood flows freely from the bite and Sylus growls at the taste, losing his grip before tightening again. His claws prick at your thighs and hips, drawing more blood until it’s smeared across your skin. Your skin is just as red as the flowers in the field.

Your nails rake down his back, feeling driven wild by pain and ecstasy. Your own teeth sink into his shoulder, a soft whimper escaping you.

“Bite,” Sylus rasps, his hand on the back of your head, urging your teeth to sink in deeper, “harder, little love, harder.”

And you do bite. You mewl as you sink your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, his blood wetting your tongue and lips and the taste is intoxicating. Your mind swirls as you feel the harsh thrust of his cock bullying inside of you over and over again, tongue lapping at the marks your teeth have left on his shoulder.

You can taste his blood and you can feel the searing pain and you- this- this is real.

This is real. This is real. This is real.

Your mind chants the affirmation as you tell it to yourself firmly, biting harder into him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Take it, beloved,” Sylus whispers hoarsely, pressing his face back into the crook of your neck, “take my cock and my knot. Let me claim you.”

“W- wait,” you begin to gasp, eyes widening with panic when Sylus manages to bully his cock into your pussy enough, the knot catching finally.

You squeak, unable to comprehend the feeling of being plugged up so full. It’s entirely too swollen to pop free, your poor pussy fluttering around the thickness of it. Sylus isn’t faring much better, his hips jerking and halting when he feels the clench of your cunt, and how his knot has practically held you both in place.

“Yes,” he snarls, low and throaty, his hips swaying a little to grind his cock into you. “Mine, finally mine, little love.”

The press of his scaled claw against your clit has you screaming again, his name leaving you hoarsely as you cum on his knot. Your orgasm is violent, the tight coil in your lower stomach snapping sharply as you come apart, thighs twitching and body shaking.

Sylus sinks his fangs into your neck again and you cry out, softer this time, holding him to your neck and letting him lap at your blood.

He shudders, the taste of your blood coupled with the feel of your fluttering walls around his knot making his cock jerk and balls clench. Sylus cums with a throaty roar, his claws landing on either side of you as he hunches over.

Pleasure racks through his body whilst hot, thick cum floods your pussy unable to leak out and instead held in place by his throbbing knot. You whimper, mind feeling syrupy when Sylus rumbles and purrs, nuzzling into your breasts and then your cheeks, another hot load of cum spilling into you when his cock kicks at the squeeze of your cunt.

You kiss him clumsily, motions clouded by the haze of intimacy. Sylus sighs into your mouth, stroking your hair gently. You both lay there, surrounded by flowers, panting and unwinding.

His knot deflates after several minutes, softening cock pulling free. His cum spills out of you and Sylus watches with a frown, wishing his cum would stay stuffed inside of you.

Sylus rolls off of you when you tap his shoulder, his tail curling around you to bring to lay atop him. You don’t say anything, face pressing into the crook of his neck.

“Your desires are cruel,” you whisper, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“As are yours, little love,” Sylus says softly.

You sniffle, pressing a kiss to the steady beat of his pulse just under his jaw before shifting to kiss the glowing stone embedded in his chest.

Sylus shudders, his claws flexing around your skin. You kiss the stone again, beginning to cry when the stone’s glow begins to dim.

There’s a strange chill that makes your skin crawl, the familiar scent of the chapel invading your lungs.

“No,” you sob, peering up at Sylus, “not yet, please, please!”

Sylus smiles down at you, his expression forlorn. “I love you,” he says quietly, brushing a kiss to your forehead, sitting up to pull you onto his lap.

“I need more time,” you whisper, kissing him despite the growing coldness in the air. “We need more time.”

Hope had made you both fools. Sylus had claimed you in a withering graveyard.

You’re weeping when you ask him the question.

“Will you make the flowers bloom for me, Sylus?”

Your dragon kisses you fiercely.

“Always.”

Sylus’ emboldened oath is the only memory your fingers can latch onto when the dank atmosphere of the chapel awakens you.

The bell of the chapel rings loudly and you sob, scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull Sylus closer. You scream when the Sacred Judicator tears you from Sylus, the pull of his soul tugging violently at your chest.

A week later, the dragon’s curse rings true.

You no longer feel the warmth of his soul, for your beloved is dead.

#sylus smut #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #love and deespace sylus #lnd sylus #lnd smut #sylus qin #sylus angst

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kebma · 6 months ago

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pt.1 pt.2

“i didn’t take you for the sit down restaurant type, ryo,” you bring your drink up to your lips and offer him a teasing smirk. he huffs and pulls at the collar of his black button down.

he doesn’t know how the hell you managed to get him, ryomen sukuna, resident town bad ass; on an actual date. but the way that sweet nickname you’ve taken to calling him rolls of your tongue might have something to do with it.

“hah, I’m usually not… figured you might be though,” he mumbles the last part, his ears turning a slight pink and you grin.

“well i appreciate you trying something new for me,” you look around at the candles and the suits and ties and most importantly at the gorgeous tattooed man in front of you (who looks so awkward in the most adorable way possible).

“however,” you continue, “i’d much rather you be comfortable for our date.”

“yeah?” he asks, giving you a grateful smile.

you nod.

“wanna get outta here?”

he flashes you a charming grin.

“hell yeah… though you might regret asking that, sweetheart.”

mere moments later you’re flying down the road, your heart pounding as you hold tight to sukuna’s waist. he’s graceful and calm as he drives the motorcycle but that does little to slow your breathing.

you’re wearing his helmet, but even through the darkened screen you can still see just how handsome he is. the street lights give him a halo like effect and the wind whips through his pink hair, pushing it out of his face.

“just a couple more minutes, doll!” he hollers over the sound of the wind and you nod, leaning your head on his broad back as best you can.

when he finally comes to a stop and you get off, your legs are still shaking and you take just a minute to gather yourself before looking around.

“takin me to a second location to dump my body off?” you ask, a brow raised.

sukuna gives you a dead pan look and pulls the helmet off your head. he freezes for just a minute as he takes in the way your hair is a mess and your makeup is a bit smudged but your eyes are crinkling and your smile is- god your smile is gonna fucking kill him one of these days.

“not funny,” he replies when he finally moves, flicking your forehead. you scrunch your face into a pout and god he wants to kiss you silly.

“where are we exactly?”

“come on.”

he turns and walks off and you hurry to catch up with him, slipping your hand into his. it takes everything in him not implode. your hand is warm and soft and so much smaller than his.

you’re killing him, he thinks, and yet… he doesn’t really seem to mind it. usually, the sound of someone rambling on and on would annoy the piss out of him. but listening to you chatter as he guides the both of you through the dark and dense patch of trees… if you’re killing him, he could die a happy man.

“we’re here,” he says. you peek around in him and gasp softly. you’re on a hill, overlooking the entirety of your home town. the street lights blare and you can hear the faint sounds of the city but the contrasting of the soft twinkling stars and the warmth of sukuna’s hand in yours has you reeling.

“it’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“i used to take yuuji here… before i had full custody of him. just to get him away from all… that.”

you nod and rest your head on his shoulder, not pushing him any further.

“i’m sure he loved it.”

sukuna chuckles and his arm makes its way around your waist.

“yeah, little brat would cry and cry when we had to leave. he won’t even remember it when he’s older though.”

you look up at him only to see he’s already looking down at you.

“you’ll remember it.”

“… yeah.”

there’s silence, a pause where time stops and suddenly the rest of the world fades away to nothing. it’s just you and him in a little bubble, away from all the craziness of the world.

before you can open your mouth to say anything, sukuna’s lips on yours. the kiss is everything that he isn’t; soft, gentle, hesitant. your arms come up to wrap around his neck and his grip on your waist tightens.

he never wants to stop kissing you. he can’t get enough of the way your tongue feels sliding against his and how your body trembles slightly as he holds you.

yeah… you’re gonna kill him one of these days, he just knows it.

pt. 4

#hehehe the long awaited pt 3 #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #big brother!sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff

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velvetcrimsonkisses · 7 months ago

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Nanami wants you to ride his face...

It was no secret that Nanami read books. Any kind of book. But sometimes he would read something not so wholesome…

Laying on the futon of his home office, eyes half lidded, glasses sitting low on his nose. As he reads, his mind wanders to you. His cock growing tighter in his pants, thinking about what it would be like to reciprocate these acts in the bedroom with you. One specific part caught his attention though. His hand absentmindedly wanders down to his hard erection, his mind racing with the thought of you sitting on his face.

A soft knock on his door puts him out of his trance. “What would you like for dinner, Ken?” you ask softly from outside the door. Nanami froze. His face reddening as he shuts the book. Not sure if he should be more embarrassed about what he was reading or what he was imagining. He adjusted himself before walking up to the door himself and opening it. He appreciated how you were always respectful of his personal space and knocked.

“Oh, hi honey…” your face brightens as he opens the door. The sight of your smile filled Nanami with love, but it wasn’t helping his erection. He doesn’t say anything besides wrapping his arms around, bringing you into a tight embrace. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you returned the hug. “Someone feels a little clingy today?” you chuckle, running your hands over his back.

Nanami burrows his face into your hair. Inhaling your sweet scent he adored. His fingers run over the natural curves of your body, as he presses gentle kisses to your cheek. “I apologize, I feel… I need you right now.” Nanami murmurs into your ear, his declaration runs a shiver up your body. The way he was leaning onto you caused you to hold onto his shoulders, exposing your neck to him. He wastes no time in attacking it, placing his “needy” kisses on it.

Nanami had many ways he liked to kiss you. You have his sincere kisses when he wants you to know he's there for you and he loves you. Peck on the cheek and hand kisses in public. But your favorite kind he gives you are the ones that always lead to more. Where he becomes a little more flirty, nipping at your skin, digging his teeth in, hands roaming all over your body. Squishing anything he could get his hands on.

It’s not long before you both stumble into the room, not being able to get your hands and mouths of each other, until Nanami breaks the kiss, his expression now restless, with desire behind those honey-brown eyes. “I have a request…” he clears his throat. You smile at the way he breaks eye contact with you because he’s nervous. “What kind of request?’ you bat your eyelashes at him. Nanami swears he could die then and there if he wasn’t already embarrassed enough. He walks over to the bed, awkwardly laying flat on it.

“You want me to ride you?” you laugh at how he just lays down. Nanami shakes his head. “Sit. On my face. Please.” he stutters out, giving you a quick glance before he breaks eye contact again, leaving you speechless, this wasn’t something you had tried out before. The desire in his eyes told you he was desperate for this. He looked like he was on the verge of getting on his knees and begging you. “We haven’t tried that yet…” you smirk at him, leaning closer to him. “Is that a no?” he looks at you again, eyes urging you to give in.

Nanami couldn’t help himself once you were hovering over his face. He takes in your scent, closing his eyes, his nose tickling your entrance. Your breath hitching as you look for something to hold on too, eventually resting your hands on the headboard in front of you. Nanami’s breath catches in his throat, he could not believe it was actually happening. His hands find purchase on your thighs, groping them like his life depended on it.

“Keep your eyes on me Kento…” You coo as you look down at him. He could moan at just the sound of your voice, he couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense as he begins to worship you with his tongue. Savoring the taste of you, hands roaming all over your hips and ass, devouring your cunt desperately.

The moment you think he is finally satisfied, he’s not. Only pulling you down more on his face, sharp eyes still on you just like you told him. He didn’t want to miss anything. Music to his ears the way you say his name like a spell, your victim being him and only him. The way you cried out when he would tease your clit just right. And the way you grind against his face was all he could ever ask for. He could die a happy man right then and there.

“Fuck…” you whine, your hand coming down to grip his hair, only driving him more insane. His grunts grow louder as the pleasure and pain mix together delectably. His tongue lapping you up with a new found energy, with confidence you didn’t know he could possess. Eager to chase your orgasm so you cream all over his face. His own arousal building up every second you're on his face.

"Oh god Kento… i'm so close,” you continue your ministrations on his face. His fingers tightening around your ass. He gazes up at you with the most sexy bedroom eyes filled with adoration and desperation, his just pleading for one chance to watch you fall apart on and all over his face. To make a mess on him. “Go ahead, sweetheart…” he mumbles against your sopping, sensitive cunt.

A cry of ecstasy echoes the room as your orgasm finally takes over your body, holding onto the headboard again to stabilize yourself. The man under you is still lapping up everything you are willing to give him. You continue to grind yourself on his face, riding out your orgasm. Nanami’s eyes rolling back in complete and utter bliss, your slick coating his chin and cheeks. Waves of pleasure run through your body, your only thought being Nanami. The way he looked under you, making you hot all over again. Intimacy so intense you could burst.

Realization hits you after your orgasm, finally deciding to remove yourself from his face so he wouldn’t suffocate. Nanami gasps for air as you lift off him, a small giggle escaping your lips. His chest heaving with the exertion that just happened. His eyes still glazed over with lust, taking in the sight of you.

“So where did you get this idea from?” you tease him, poking his shoulder.

A dorky smile spreads across his perfect face as he climbs on top of you, meeting you face to face.

“I read about it…”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento x reader smut #kento nanami #kento nanami smut

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riaki · 1 year ago

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i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

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loves0phelia · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I don’t know if you’ve watched part 2 of outer banks yet, and if you didn’t this request is a spoiler!!

Can you do JJ Maybank’s sister seeing him die and Rafe is just watching her break down and he’s comforting her while she cries in his arms? I’m sobbing over JJ right now 😭

Thank you!

Gone

Summery: outer banks season 4 episode 10/the anon

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS, death, grammar mistakes.

A/N: i also sobbed, i cant believe it and thank you for requesting love youuu.

The sandstorm hit suddenly. The air was thick, nearly solid with dust. You stumbled forward as the wind blew strongly, You screamed, begging JJ to come down before something terrible would happen but even if you pulled the scarf tighter across your nose and mouth every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass making it hard to speak.

Everything was clouded and your goggles were smeared with sand dust. It was impossible to see your brother who was up high on that statue trying to find the blue crown you, the pogues and Rafe have been risking your lives for.

“Come down JJ!” You screamed as loud as you could, hoping he could hear you over the screaming wind.

A surge of panic rose in you, he wasn't listening, only going higher and higher to reach the top.

“Hurry please!” You screamed again as the sandstorm was getting worse and worse. Squinting your eyes you could see JJ finally descending the statue after a while, carefully holding on to the rock.

“JJ, holy shit are you okay?” You rushed forward to him as he stumbled around frantically.

“I'm good! I'm better actually, I'm great. Look!” he yelled over the storm and held up the blue crown, it felt like a dream having it in front of you.

“No way, you found it” You both looked down at the dusty historical crown in silence for a second, sinking in it the victory that was so rare when it came to you and your twin.

“We got it!” He cheered, pumping his fist, jumping into place from all the adrenaline. The victory cheers didn't last long though, the next thing you knew shots were fired at you from the group who wanted to steal what was rightfully yours.

“Run, run, run” JJ shouted behind you as you ran through the sand blindly and desperate to find shelter.

The sandstorm roared with life around you, Yours and JJ's footsteps vanished almost as quickly as you made them, erased by the wind.

You coughed, your lungs stinging as you struggled to run down the stairs you had found leading inside the monument.

But suddenly, a shadow appeared out of the storm. A strong hand gripped your forearms and in a sudden movement, your back was pressed on your “father's” chest, an arm around your neck holding on tightly, cutting your airflow and a sharp blade pressed into the side of your face.

“JJ!” you called out, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Let her go!” JJ shouted, his voice trembling with anger. He lunged towards you trying to rip you away from him but he only pressed the blade harder making you cry out. But Groff only shook his head.

You cried, struggling, and your heart pounding as Groff’s grip tightened. You fought against him, but his hold was unbreakable.

“You’re just like your mother,” Groff hissed, his gaze cold and unmoved. “Always standing in my way. Well, this time, you’re not going to stop me. Give me what I want”

“Let her go” He begged.

“If you had listened, we wouldn't be here JJ, you could have had everything. WE could have had the life we deserved as a family. All three of us. But now you get nothing. Nothing at all” Chandler pants like a maniac.

“I already have everything,” JJ says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have everything I ever wanted. You want the crown? Sure, take it. I don't want it. Just let my sister go.”

“Give it to me, hold it out” He reached toward JJ for the precious object, his grip on you not loosening.

In a swift moment, an exchange was made. Groff grasped the crown, and JJ pulled you out of his arms.

“I got you” JJ breathed out with relief, like a weight was removed from his shoulders. He hugged you protectively. Holding your head against his shoulder like a shield. But then again, the victory was cut short.

“JJ, y/n” you were interrupted by the voice of your father, his call made both of you separate and turn to face him, JJ’s body still shielding you from further harm.

“It's a shame…you and I” You furrowed your brows and a gasp came out of your mouth when the sound of flesh being pierced rang out.

“You should have given me the rope” Time was moving at a slow pace as the scene unfolded. Groff twisted the knife in JJ's stomach before pulling it out rapidly and running out into the desert.

"JJ!" You screamed, your voice raw with terror. You saw JJ stumble back, his hands flying to his side. Dark red blood was spreading through his shirt and across his fingers, and the sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

The world narrowed to the scene in front of you as you watched JJ fall, his face contorted in pain.

“No, no, no” you cried, desperation thick in your voice.

You rushed to JJ’s side, catching him just as he stumbled. He looked up at you, his face pale and stained with tears.

“It's okay JJ, it's okay” You pressed into his wound, shaking terribly, sobbing when he let out a pained groan.

“No, please” you murmured, pressing your hand over the wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”

“Hey, hey,” He whispered, his voice breaking. “Take care of the others for me, okay?”

“No! No” Your breaths shakes, your chest tight with sadness.

“I love you, y/n. You're the best sister anyone could ever have.” His gaze was beginning to drift, his eyes unfocused, and the strength in his grip was fading. Panic clawed at you.

“I love you, please don't go” you begged, but it was pointless he was already gone.

“No! No, no. Please! JJ, please” you shaked his shoulder weakly.

“John B!” You screamed, your chest burning from the lack of oxygen your lungs were getting.

“Pope! Rafe!” Your hands gripped your brother refusing to let go.

“Please JJ!” Your heart shattered completely, a part of you gone forever. Your brother, your twin, your best friend, the other half of your soul, gone.

“Please” You pressed your forehead against him, your tears falling over the blood-soaked shirt.

The pogues came running towards you, sinking to their knees, calling out to him, crying, sobbing, mourning.

Everything in you gave out as you held onto him, you couldn't even fight when hands grabbed onto your shoulder to bring you away from your brother's corpse.

Your body fell limp into Rafe's lap. His hands held your body up as if he was your lifeline.

“It's gonna be okay” He whispered against your forehead but you barely registered any of it, only sobbing, and screaming in pain against him.

The Pogues stood in a tight circle, all eyes fixed on JJ as if somehow their stares alone could bring him back. But no one spoke, and in the heavy silence, the truth crashed over them, settling deep in their bones. JJ was gone.

Kiara’s shoulders shook, a small, trembling motion that quickly overtook her entire body. She fell to her knees, hands pressed to her mouth as she fought to hold back the sobs.

Pope was beside her, his eyes frantically looking over the scene, he didn't want to believe any of it, as if it was a cruel joke.

John B stood, rigid. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, and his jaw was set, teeth gritted as he tried to hold it all in, to keep the pain from breaking him apart.

Rafe's arms wrapped around you gently, his hand resting on the back of your head as he let you fall into his chest. You buried your face in his shoulder, the grief and sorrow pouring out in waves as he held you.

He didn’t speak of the rivalry, the old wounds and the bitterness between your families; none of that mattered now. At this moment, all he saw was your pain, and he was there, his own heart breaking a little as he watched you crumble.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you weak and exhausted, Rafe pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with something you’d never seen in him before—softness, understanding.

“It's okay,” he murmured, his voice a promise, his hand gentle as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

You sat on the sand as a fire crackled in front of you, you had just buried him, the silence was thick nobody wanted to believe the truth.

Your head pounded, even when you were softly laying on Rafe's legs using them as pillows. His calloused fingers gently rubbed your hair and you tried to concentrate on the movement in an attempt to forget about the previous moment but you failed.

“Groff said he was going to Lisbon” Rafe whispered above you, making your eyes open and looking up at him. His eyes met yours and he continued.

“If he was my friend or my brother… I would go after the guy that just killed him” The mention made your heart burn but he had a point.

“He's not wrong” Kie whispered, agreeing with your inner thoughts. You snuggled against Rafe's legs one last time before sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“JJ would already be on his way to kill him if it was one of us,” you said and everyone's eyes snapped towards you, those were the first words you had spoken since it happened.

“He'd get even,” John B added.

“Let's get revenge,” you said, your voice more confident than it was before, you felt a hand grasp onto yours and slowly you turned your head to face Rafe. He nodded and tightened his grip in a comforting way, never letting go.

Send request please xx

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #rafe outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron outer banks #jj maybank x you

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seumyo · 29 days ago

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the price to pay when you’re a passenger princess.

You knew that there had to be a catch when Bakugou said he’d pick you up after your 12-hour shift at the hospital. But the thing was, you were too exhausted to dwell on the thought.

Or so you thought.

“You look dead on your feet,” he commented as he opened the door for you.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you replied dryly, tossing your bag into the backseat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

The sleek, jet-black Porsche 911 Turbo S roared through the empty streets like a predator on the hunt, the low rumble of the engine vibrating through your very soul. Bakugou, of course, looked completely at ease, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, a calm expression seen on his face.

You’ve come to understand that your husband was relatively calm when not provoked.

“Katsuki,” you started as the car picked up speed, “you do realize this is still a hospital zone, right? Maybe don’t speed like you’re in a Fast and Furious movie.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally just did.”

“Relax,” he drawled, shifting gears with precision. “You know I’ve got this.”

You, on the other hand, were internally reciting every safety procedure you could think of in case of an unfortunate circumstance to come.

“Should I call my assistant to make an appointment in advance?”

Bakugou snorts. “What? Don’t trust me?”

“Oh, I trust you. It’s the laws of physics I don’t trust,” you muttered under your breath, earning a low chuckle from him.

The worst part? There was barely any traffic this late at night, which only encouraged Bakugou to push the limits of what his new Porsche could do. You glanced at the speedometer and instantly regretted it.

“Katsuki, I swear to God—”

“What? It’s not like I’m breaking the speed limit,” he said with mock innocence, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The Prefectural Government’s Public Safety Commissions should really revoke his license one of these days. Or you might not live to see the next one.

“By less than two!”

You leaned your head back against the seat, staring at the darkened city skyline as it blurred past you. You were exhausted from your shift, your feet aching, bone tired, but all of that was being drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of your life flashing before your very eyes.

You double-checked your seatbelt again. It’s never too late to actually be safe.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to yell at me for being too hot and good at everything.”

“Wow? The audacity of my husband making such a bold claim,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Have I fed your ego too much that you’re about to float away like a hot-air balloon?”

“Didn’t deny my claim.” He got you there.

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Just so you know,” you muttered, clutching the grab handle even tighter as he effortlessly weaved between two cars, “if I die tonight, I’m haunting you. And I’ll make sure to mess with you when you’re trying to sleep.”

“Good,” he said with a grin, finally glancing your way. “At least then you’d be with me all the time, huh?”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now? While you’re driving like a maniac?”

“Who says I can’t multitask?”

Before you could fire back with another retort, the car slowed as you neared your apartment complex. Your death grip on the handle loosened ever so slightly, though your heart was still racing.

When Bakugou finally parked, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You unbuckled your seatbelt, your hands still trembling a little.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too or whatever.”

“I—wait, you actually said it.”

“What? Can’t a man just say he loves his wife?”

“Good point, but you rarely say it!”

“I pick you up after your every shift and make sure you don’t die of starvation or poor health. That’s enough than saying it, no?”

“But you said it! So it’s different.”

“Not.”

“It is!”

“Not.”

“Is!”

Terrifying car rides aside, there was no one else you’d rather be stuck with. Even if your husband drove you absolutely crazy—both on and off the road. This must be the price of being Bakugou Katsuki’s passenger princess.

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gojodickbig · 2 months ago

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car sex with bsf!satoru x f!reader😗

conts: nsfw!!! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!

wc: 3k.

divider from @uzmacchiato !!

if looks could kill,

that brunette dude you were just chatting with? yeah, he’d already be six feet under.

don’t get him wrong—satoru gojo isn’t the jealous type. seriously, he’s not. and he knows you’re not doing anything wrong; you’re just out here having fun. but watching you laugh at some guy’s jokes? that was enough to make his blood boil and his head spin like he might actually hurl.

and seriously, he knew for a fact that guy wasn’t that funny.

so why the hell were you laughing so much?

satoru knows that what he’s about to do now isn’t fair. not even close. because he’s just your best friend. he’s been your best friend for years now—the one who’s always had your back, the one who’s sat through your messy breakups, listened to your drunken venting, and never once let you down. you trust him with your life.

he’s your ride or die.

and god, you’re his.

and unfortunately for that guy, satoru gojo doesn’t share what’s his.

or well…what’s about to be his.

satoru moves through the crowd, his sharp eyes never leaving you. your smile was still a little too wide for his liking.

when he reaches you, your eyes settle on him, and your look softens.

his heart stopped for a second.

“oh! satoru,” you say, flashing him a smile, “this is—”

“sorry,” gojo cuts you off, his voice smooth, turning to the guy and flashing him one of his disarming grins. “i need to borrow her for a sec.”

you blink, surprised by the interruption, but before you can even protest, gojo’s hand is around your arm, guiding you away.

“we’re leaving,” he says firmly, his voice a little too low.

you stumble a bit to keep up with his pace. “wait, satoru, what’s going on? why—?”

he doesn’t say anything right away, pulling you through the crowd and outside into the cool night air. when you’re out of sight of the party, he finally slows down, but he doesn’t let go of your arm. stopping, he turns to face you.

“seriously, what was that?” you ask, your tone a little confused, but you have a pretty good idea of what’s going on.

he takes a deep breath, like he’s just been through a war. “he was getting way too close to you,” he mutters, his voice tight. “and you were—” he stops himself for a second, like he’s trying to control his frustration. “fuck—i just didn’t like it.”

you blink, thrown off by the sudden shift. “satoru, we were just talking. it wasn’t like that.”

gojo crosses his arms and gives you a pointed look, his mouth twisting into a frustrated but amused frown. “don’t play dumb. you were leaning in, hanging on his every word. i’ve never heard you laugh that much at my jokes.”

you open your mouth to protest, but before you can even speak, a small laugh escapes your lips.

“so that’s what it’s about?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “you’re jealous?” you sigh, taking a deep breath. “satoru, i wasn’t leaning into him. i don’t even like him. he’s just a friend from middle school. he recognized me and came to say hi. we were just catching up. i was laughing because he was telling me stories from back then, not because he’s some funny guy.”

gojo’s jaw tightens, his brows furrowing as he looks at you. then he lets out a low, frustrated “oh,” like the realization just hit him. “so you weren’t getting all googly-eyed over him?”

you shrug, suppressing a smile. “no, dumbass, i wasn’t.”

he runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. “well, shit. i don’t know why it bugged me so much. guess i just don’t like seeing other guys around you. especially when you give them that look.”

you roll your eyes, unable to hold back the smile now. “i told you, i wasn’t giving him any look and he was just being friendly.”

he shrugs with a grin, trying to act cool. “yeah, well, i didn’t like it anyway.”

the walk to the car had been quiet, too quiet for you. when you two arrived at the car, he opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in.

“get inside. please.”

sliding into the seat, you barely had time to register the sound of the door slamming before he rounded the car and climbed in beside you.

the car was dark, the faint glow of the streetlight outside illuminating his sharp features as he turned to you.

“i’m sorry, by the way. i didn’t want to ruin your night, you know. but fuck, you drive me fucking crazy. seeing you talking so close with that guy drove me mad.” he reached out, his hand sliding up your face and squeezing it gently. “do you even realize what you do to me? i’m so fucking tired of hiding it just because i don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

your breath hitched as his words sank in, your pulse pounding in your ears. “satoru—”

“shh,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear. “i’m talking now.”

his hand reached out, sliding down your thigh and pushing the hem of your dress higher. “tell me to stop, sweetheart. tell me to stop, and i will.”

“satoru—”

“tell me, baby. what do you want? want me to stop?” his hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. he groaned softly, his breath hot against your skin.

“no—no, please don’t stop.”

and in that moment, satoru gojo lost his mind.

before you could process anything else, his lips were on yours. rough. hungry. demanding. his hand left your thigh to grip the back of your neck, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. his tongue parted your lips with no hesitation, sliding against yours as if claiming every part of you in that moment.

the kiss was hot and dizzying, leaving you breathless as he devoured you like he’d been waiting for this forever. his teeth scraped against your lower lip, a low growl rumbling in his throat when he heard the soft whimper you couldn’t hold back.

he pulled back suddenly, his hand leaving your neck as he reached down to undo his belt with quick, practiced movements. the sound of the buckle clinking echoed in the tight space, followed by the low rasp of his zipper. he freed himself, his cock hard and throbbing, the sight making your mouth go dry.

“come here,” he ordered, his hands gripping your hips as he guided you onto his lap.

the cramped space made it awkward—your knees bumping against the console, your dress tangling even more up around your thighs. his hands slid under your thighs again, lifting you slightly to settle you over him. you gasped when his hand returned to your panties, his fingers teasing you one last time before pulling them aside.

“fuck, you’re soaked,” he murmured, his fingers sliding through your slick heat. “you were thinking about this too, weren’t you?”

“yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“that’s what i thought,” he said, his grin cocky as he pressed his thumb against your clit, drawing a soft whimper from your lips. “fuck, look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “so desperate for me. say it.”

“s-say what?”

“say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. “i’m yours, satoru. all yours. always.”

“damn right you are.”

you bucked against his hand faster, chasing the pleasure he was giving you, but he stopped suddenly, pulling his hand away entirely. you whined at the loss of contact, but he only smirked, guiding his cock to your entrance.

“take it slow, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “i don’t want to hurt you.”

you bit your lip as you sank down onto him, the stretch making your breath hitch. his hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding you as you adjusted to the feeling.

his lips found yours again, this time slower but just as intense, as if he was savoring you now. the kiss deepened with every second. you clung to him, trying to adjust to his cock, feeling like you might melt into the seat if he didn’t hold you up.

“fuck,” you gasped, your head falling against his shoulder. “you’re so big—it feels so goooood.”

his chest rumbled with a groan, his grip on your hips tightening. “yeah? taking me so fucking well, baby.”

you tried to move, but the cramped space and his overwhelming size left you breathless. his hands slid down to your ass, lifting you slightly to guide you. he thrust up into you in sharp, deliberate strokes, hitting spots that had you crying out.

“fuck, satoru,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. “you’re so deep. i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growled, his voice rough. “you’re made for me. just like that, baby. perfect fucking pussy—fuck.” he groaned.

your rhythm quickened, desperation driving your movements. the sound of your skin meeting his filled the small space, his low groans and your soft moans mingling in the dark.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” he asked, his thumb finding your clit again. “i can feel it. let go for me, baby girl. come on.”

your orgasm hit like a wave, your walls clenching around him as your body shook. the pleasure tore through you, leaving you gasping for air as your head dropped onto his shoulder.

“fuck,” he hissed, his pace faltering as he neared his own release. his voice was strained when he spoke again. “where do you want it, sweetheart? tell me.”

“inside,” you breathed, your voice trembling but certain. “want it inside. toru, please.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, gripping your hips tightly as he buried himself deep. with one final thrust, he came, spilling into you as a guttural moan tore from both your lips and his. the heat of him filled you, the sensation making your already trembling body shiver.

for a few moments, the car was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing. satoru’s hands slid up your back, holding you against his chest as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

“i should’ve told you what i feel for you sooner if i’d known your pussy was this good…” he let out a breathy laugh, clearly pleased with himself.

you lifted your head, your hand swatting weakly at his shoulder. “you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, though the slight curve of your lips betrayed you.

“yeah? but now you’re stuck with me,” he smirked, tilting his head to capture your lips in a softer, slower kiss this time.

when he pulled back, his pale blue eyes locked onto yours, unguarded for once. “i mean it, though,” he said, voice softer now. “i should’ve told you how i feel sooner. you’ve always been it for me, you know?”

your chest tightened at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone making your heart race all over again. “well,” you murmured, brushing a strand of his hair back, “you’ve got me now, so don’t screw it up.”

satoru chuckled, the cocky grin returning to his face.

“trust me, sweetheart. i wasn’t planning on it.”

he leaned in, pressing one last kiss to your lips, and as his arms tightened around you, you knew you’d never want him to. “let’s go home now, yeah?”

2K notes · View notes

vanillakook · 1 month ago

Text

DOPAMINE (PT. 1) ꔫ - JJK

synopsis: mingyu’s little sister has a question for jungkook

parings: brothersbestfriend!jk x fem!reader

info & warnings: dirty talk and explicit language, dom!jk, sneaking around, car sex, oral sex, (f. receiving), tones of corruption, self masturbation, guided masturbation, established crush/unrequited love, sexual tension, slow burn sort of, reader and jk already have a great relationship, touch her you die trope, brothers best friend trope, big!muscley!jungkook obv, might be a series?! im just saying stuff now?!!

a/n: part two here!

“can you make me cum?”

usually when you asked jungkook for a favor it was for a few bucks or when you needed a ride somewhere. so he was trying to make sense of what he was just asked. he blinked. once, then twice, then a third. he blinked until his eyesight finally got back to seeing one of you, and not five. he blinked at you, who just so happened to be his best friends younger sister. kim mingyu’s younger sister.

“what?”

“can you– are you really going to make me repeat it?” your lips pursed and your manicured hands went up to rest on your hips. you lowered your voice before asking again, “i said… can you make me cum.” you said more of as a demand now, making his tip leak a bit. the kitchen you both resided in felt like it was closing in on him.

“i’ll just pretend i didn’t hear that, and you pretend you didn’t say it, cool?” jungkook just shook his head with a laugh. as his footsteps moved back towards the garage where mingyu and the rest of his friends were hanging out, you followed after. as he put his hand on the knob to exit the kitchen, he stood there when your voice began flowing through him again.

“i won’t tell him. promise, it’ll be between us koo.” your voice lowered.

“where is this even coming from?”

your eyes squint. “a girl just asked you to make her cum and that’s what you’re worried about? i need help!” liar. help with what exactly? because he’s heard you. you like to play with yourself in the dead of night when you think everyone’s sleeping. this would actually be the perfect opportunity for jungkook to tell you to keep it down. you should be grateful for your family of heavy sleepers. he hears you plunging your fingers into that sweet pussy, always making the sound fall into a pattern with your staggered moans. he’d be lying to himself if he claimed it wasn’t the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.

but enough of that, you were very off limits.

“no, a girl, actually my best friends little sister, is asking me to make her cum.” he tilted his head in that sarcastic manner that he’s been annoying you with since you were children.

“come on,” you rolled your eyes and popped your leg out. “i already told you i wouldn’t tell him. it’s a favor, you do me favors all the time, what’s wrong with this one?” oh you were serious. his best friends little sister wanted to get fucked by him. jungkook had enough on his plate as is.

“sexual favors?”

“you always tell me you’ll do anything for me, no matter what it is, no questions asked. and now you’re asking questions.”

jungkook couldn’t even hold his laughter until this end of your sentence. he let out a deep and heavy sigh. he wiped his hand over his face, cock strained and heart racing. “why are you asking me this y/n? out of all people?” he should have never asked that question either.

you sulked against the kitchen counter. “i was with this guy last night– what?” jungkook was already giving you the stink eye. just like your brother he was highly protective of you. guys knew not to fuck you over since you had two guys who were ready to step about you. yet whereas mingyu’s protectiveness was more so on the brotherly side, jungkook’s leaned toward a possessive nature. jungkook knew he couldn’t have you due to… circumstances. but that didn’t mean anyone else could.

he shook his thoughts away. “continue.”

“okay… well i’m just so tired of hooking up with people and being let down– i just– i think im broken or something. i can’t cum!” you threw your hands up. “like okay, yes i can make myself cum, but i can’t cum at the hands of someone else. and–and– last night that guy told me i was the problem. you’re mad because you can’t make me cum?” you stopped yourself before you yapped the man’s head off.

“stop fucking guys with trash dick.”

jungkook has been telling you to stop messing around with little boys that don’t do anything for you. you definitely weren’t the problem, and he was going to find the guy who said that bullshit. it wasn’t your fault they didn’t know what they were doing.

“hence why i want you to fuck me.”

“yeah?” he said, slowly, and slightly more raunchy than intended. “and how do you know my dick is good?” even more raunchy than he intended. he matched your stance, leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. the tattoos covering his arm and bicep taunted you, making your panties pool with something hot.

jungkook knew he was a goddamn stud. he had every girl across campus lining up to try it for themselves. including most of your own friends. you sort of hated it, considering people would only get close to you to either fuck jungkook or your brother. most times you already knew why a girl was speaking to you, shit even most guys. you almost made business cards with mingyu and jungkook’s numbers on there just for people to leave you alone. however you weren’t this innocent little thing that jungkook and your brother made you out to be. you knew jungkook could make a girl come, you knew he could fuck. you’ve only ever heard good things. you’d rather hookup with someone who you knew was good rather than a random who you’d have to guess with and end up being wrong. yeah, that’s what it was. someone had to convince you that you weren’t the problem and he was perfect for the job. he knew how to navigate a body, from what you’ve heard.

you gulped. “i’ve just… i’ve heard things. and i’d rather it be you that makes me cum than another random.”

“what did you hear?”

“you’re asking so many questions yet still can’t answer my one and only for you?”

“jeon! get your ass in here!” a muffled voice called through all the laughter. the voice which could be identified as jaehyun’s made you and jungkook’s jump a total of ten feet apart. this conversation alone made him feel guilty although you were doing nothing wrong. you didn’t even realize how close you had been drifting to one another. but if anyone knew what obscene things were coming out of your mouth right now you’d both be screwed, so maybe he was guilty.

“look y/n… you know you can ask me for anything and i’ll give it to you, but this? no. one hundred percent no.” he hated to tell you no. he didn’t want to tell you no, but in this instance he had to deny your wants. it would be cutting it way too close. he didn’t live with you guys, but he was pretty much integrated into the family with how much he was there. your parents saw him as their son. he even saw your family as his own. although jungkook could never deny the attraction he’s felt for you while growing up and even today. so he couldn’t ruin you like that. you practically grew up together, he’s seen you through every phase of your life. including the one you were in now, at twenty one years old and in your wild college phase. he couldn’t be so ruthless and dirty with someone he holds at such a high regard. he could treat the daughter of his second family like that. what he did to women in bed was–

“is it really a no? or a not right now?” you still egged on, snapping him from his thoughts.

he said nothing. the silence between the both of you had been loud, raking your eyes across each other before jungkook tugged himself away and opened the door finally. you were out of sight now and no longer disturbing his being. he stepped over beer bottles and other miscellaneous items scattered across the floor as his friends welcomed him back with a loud uproar. he tried to enter back into the group and wipe his mind of that question you asked, but nothing worked. all he could think about was that cute pout on your lips while you begged him to fuck you. he just had zero shame huh, getting hard to the thought of you right in front of mingyu’s face.

so now jungkook had a problem. you were like an itch that he couldn’t scratch and it was now bleeding into his everyday activities. he couldn’t go anywhere he knew you’d be. which was with mingyu, in mingyu’s home, going to his and mingyu’s university. so now it was to where he was avoiding his own best friend. he couldn’t be in the same atmosphere with you right now. he didn’t know what would transpire if he was alone with you again, especially in that kitchen. that kitchen where he could bend you over that marble and show you how you were supposed to be pleasured. he couldn’t avoid you for long though, especially not when mingyu was blowing his phone up in the middle of his workout set.

he immediately dropped the weights, slamming them slightly to take the call. “what’s up?”

“you ignoring me kookie?” mingyu cooed through the speaker in a whine. “i miss you, who are you with? you’re fucking someone aren’t you? it’s serious?” mingyu went on and on like the possessive girlfriend he acted like.

it was actually the opposite. he was trying not to fuck someone.

“just studying for finals baby, you know i can’t get rid of you.” he played into it.

“better be,” he started again. “but hey… could you do me a favor and pick y/n up? she’s at some shitty frat party.” he started. by the sound of a girls laughter in the background, it was evident mingyu definitely could pick you up himself, if jihyo wasn’t with him. mingyu’s long term fuck buddy and borderline girlfriend. at least when they finally confessed their love for each other. is it really still friends with benefits if both of you haven’t been with anyone else in over a year, go on dates, and established that you’d kill the other if they did as much as look as another person? eh what did jungkook know though?

“and why can’t you?” mingyu could picture jungkook in his upset dad stance right now.

“because jihyo’s showing me something.” he murmured. jungkook wasn’t stupid. he heard her shuffle to her knees. “plus she’s uh– she’s closer to you, i checked her location.”

“yeah yeah i got her, can you just hang up, don’t wanna hear your ass getting head.” he joked while slipping his car keys into his sweats.

“whatever. anyways cod and beers soon? i miss you. pretty sure y/n does too.”

jungkook choked on his spit. “hell yeah, i’ll stay over for a bit after i grab her.”

the line went dead and jungkook mentally cursed himself for accepting this favor. now he had to last a whole car ride with you. jeon jungkook who fucked circles around girls couldn’t even trust himself to not cream his pants when sitting next to you. just perfect. when he pulled up in front of the party you were already standing outside and ready. your arms were wrapped around your body, occasionally pulling at your tiny dress when it would rise above your thighs. you could do nothing but smirk when you watched jungkook’s sleek car roll up on you. he rolled the window down, tipping his head back and gesturing you over to the car.

“well what a pleasant surprise.” you slurred. he leaned over and pulled the passenger side door open, watching you climb in. “where’s my brother? jihyo i’m guessing?” you loved jihyo personally. she was slowly integrated into your family more and more. not only was she good for your brother but fun to hang out with. at the end of the day your brother was a man, therefore he couldn’t tell that the woman wanted him in a way that wasn’t just being friends with benefits.

“where are you coming from?” he ignored your question. he scoffed even, looking you up and down and taking in the tiny dress you wore.

“a guy invited me to this party, he ended the night making out with some sorority bitch, i ended it at the drink table.” oh jungkook could tell.

“i keep telling you about these little boys y/n, they don’t know what to do with a woman.”

“okay… well it sounds like you do.”

“right.”

the alcohol was strong in your system, ready to start speaking for you. you made yourself comfortable, shifting your body towards him and giving him a look that was heightened by sin. he needed you to stop. to stop looking at him like that, fuck he needed you to stop looking like that. he could see you from the corner of his eye, batting your lashes, smiling drunkenly at him… at his strained cock. “so if i wasn’t mingyu’s sister? would you then?” your velvety voice asked. it was obvious you didn’t care, you never considered mingyu for a minute. you weren’t the one that would be in trouble here, you didn’t have anything to care about. there was something disgustingly hot about it. it was wrong and fucked up.

“would i do what?” he was just as wrong for making you tell him how you wanted him to take you. “got this dirty mouth all of a sudden so let me hear you say it.”

“you know… how you fuck all of those other girls.” you shrugged. “sloppy and raw, skin to skin and stuff.” your words went straight to his cock, hard and aching for a girl he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about like that. who the fuck told you this? who taught you this? you weren’t supposed to be coming to him with vulgar language, he was supposed to be filling you with it. someone had gotten to you first all because jungkook cared about hurting his best friend. and that was your example? sloppy and raw was nothing compared to how he’d fuck you.

“you know why we can’t do this?”

“i know why i just don’t care. my brother this, my brother that.” that mouth that you had on you? you were asking for it weren’t you? he’d been letting you off the hook too much recently. if you kept going at him like this he wouldn’t give a fuck about mingyu anymore, he’d show you exactly what he did to brats that think they’re high and mighty.

“right smart ass, but wrong.” he pulled up at a red light, the color bouncing off of both of you and painting your skin a lustful red. he turned to see you were already staring, at his lips, back to his eyes, then his prominent dick print that you just couldn’t pry your eyes from. “eyes up here.” he lifted your chin up with his finger, his finger that turned into the entirety of his hand being wrapped around your throat. “i know you won’t tell. but i respect your brother, i respect your family. get over this little crush that you have.”

get over him? get over him when he was touching you like this? you were melting, this felt surreal. this was surreal. it wasn’t a lot, just a hand around your throat but holy fuck his hand was around your fucking throat. the man you’ve been wet dreaming about for years. the man who derails your train of thought entirely when he’s around, the man who’s making your pussy drip on his seats and he fucking knows it. “jungkook..” you whimpered and pleaded. your body began grinding against his leather seats on its own. what a pathetic little slut, he didn’t even have to touch your achy parts to get you going. “i know you respect them, but i want you to disrespect me.”

“fuck.” his hand dropped when the light changed to green, speeding down the road to get you home. it took everything in him not to rip that thin excuse of a dress off and slap you around on his cock before then. “you need help right? let’s make that pussy cum.” his words moved without his thoughts. you nodded with need. this was it, this was finally it. he was going to touch you, take away all this built up ache from your needy cunt. he was going to wear you out and claim you as his. at least you thought. he smirked when he saw your expression. you looked at jungkook as if he built the pyramids, with so much wonder and hope.

“please koo, need it… n-need you.”

“i know pretty girl, i know.” he cooed. “can’t touch you, but you can.” he never said he couldn’t help you verbally. “go ahead, spread those legs and get started. want that nut before you get home?”

despite your disappointment you did as you were told immediately, sinking into the passenger seat and getting started on the place where all that liquor went anyways, your puffy clit. you rubbed through your underwear, head thrown back, toes curling and heels kicked off. all while jungkook kept his eyes on the road. he wanted to break that barrier, he wanted to plunge his fingers in that tight pussy but he knew once he touched you he’d need more. he’d need too much.

“pull ‘em to the side, no need to be shy. you know me.” his voice was like honey, dripping down your throat in corruptive goodness. it was so simple but so lewd, nothing like you’d ever done before. your sexual experiences were fairly vanilla, you weren’t used to the kinkier, more nasty side of sex. “do i have to do it for you?” he knew he shouldn’t overstep, but he needed to help you in another type of way. it was amusing to see how your body reacted when all he did was hook his fingers on your cute undies and pull them to the side. the cool air hit your clit, strings of slick stretching from your pussy and making your panties glisten.

“oh fuck-“ you whimpered. your legs were spread the farthest they could go. your knees were resting on your shoulders with your gooey pussy all warm and exposed for the man driving. jungkook had his left hand on the steering wheel, the right hand holding your soaked panties to the side. his knuckles brushed over your wetness and you jerked. “oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck– mhmmmm fuck…” you moaned, so pretty for him. you smacked your pussy around, a few harsh slaps coming in contact with the wetness and making a nice big mess.

“sloppy pussy, who knew lil gyu had such a sloppy little pussy?” you rolled your eyes at the nickname, the one you earned just for being related to mingyu. “fuck your fingers for me. let me see how deep you can go.” your fingers slipped in and instantly your hole puckered around them. your legs shook and that’s when jungkook knew he couldn’t take this any longer. he had to see his baby cum for him, not focus on a fucking road right now. he turned on his hazards and pulled over, parking and diverting his being all to you.

“wanna cum koo, wan’ your help…” your voice phased out and became muffled over the sound of your fingers moving faster inside of your cunt. the car filled with the pretty melody of your creamy pussy, gripping all on your fingers while you looked drunkenly at the cause for your sopping cunt. him.“touch me koo, we’re so far gone can you just– please…” this is what didn’t feel right. watching you play in your pussy without him. looking wasn’t hurting, so maybe a touch or two would be fine? if it was with his mouth it shouldn’t be too wrong. mingyu wasn’t even here for christ sake. you weren’t anything more than an incoherent mess of moans and wetness now. you needed him. jungkook promised mingyu he’d always be there for you. yeah, gyu would understand.

“your brother is going to fucking kill me.”

all you did was give him that brain dead giggle. god he really was screwed.

so jungkook decided to overstep one last time. after all a pussy kiss wouldn’t hurt, neither would a thumb on your wet, puffy clit. it was your little secret. something you could both be fucking killed for, but you had been so so good for him. so understanding and patient. “take those fingers out for me,” you obeyed, eyes widening when jungkook took your fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around your digits and sucking yourself off. “juust like that baby, look at all that slick, all for me? all for your brothers best friend? tasting so fucking perfect.” he finished up, leaving your fingers clean. he was going to have so much fun with you.

jungkook leaned his body over the console, ducking down to face your pussy and diving in without wasting a second. your back arched off the seat and you clawed around for anything you could hold. he was so fucking ruthless. your mouth hung open, trying to process how good he was eating you. you deserved the pair of lips that were wrapped around your clit right now. suddenly a string of thank you’s were spilling from your mouth. for picking you up, for putting up with your mouth, for breaking his personal rules for himself and eating your pussy out, and for making you spill into his mouth after a few more licks, grinds to his tongue, and tugs to his hair.

you panted while he kept lapping at your pussy, making sure to clean up the mess he caused. you watched him with stars in your eyes, stroking his tossed hair and rubbing at his strong shoulders.

“why can’t i just tell you no.” he whispered against your clit, giving it another kiss before sealing you back up. “let’s get you home. bet you had a really long night of fucking with dudes that can’t make you cum.” there he was. arrogant as ever.

“you sound jealous.” you pulled your dress back down and over your thighs. jungkook watched for traffic before pulling back onto the road.

“jealous? that orgasm got you feeling gassed up now huh?”

“an orgasm i could have given myself, thank you.”

“an orgasm you begged me for.”

“when will you stop running your pussy munchers and just fuck me?” you pouted at him mockingly. the respect he had left you for was dwindling. he was probably going to take you up on that disrespect part. while he did get too close tonight, it still wouldn’t be that easy for him to betray his best friend. no matter how taunting you were, he wasn’t going to fuck you. as much as his dick was aching for you, it wasn’t happening, not yet. he pulled up outside of your house and walked you up to the door. he walked several feet behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. if you were to ever get caught for this he would be the one making it too obvious.

once you pushed the door open both of you tip toed through the living room and into the kitchen. you flicked on the light and came face to face with a startled mingyu who was standing by the microwave, the light bouncing off of his face.“ kookie!” mingyu sprung up from his spot and engulfed his best friend in a hug. he was just slightly taller, so mingyu did suffocate him a bit. “missed your lil cute ass, jihyo’s upstairs too if you wanna say hi.”

“your sister is here too by the way.” you rolled your eyes and went for the stairs. you were ready to just hit your bed right now.

“oh yeah the one that i’ve seen every waking second of my life? and don’t pull anything like that again.” of course you couldn’t get away without getting scolded. “you’re lucky jungkook was able to grab you, you love going out on nights i make plans.”

“yeah sure, whatever. but thanks koo, for giving me a ride and all.” you said, underlying your words with a thanks to something else.

“anytime, you know i’ll always give you anything, when you need it.” in front of mingyu too? where did this bold side of him come from? you both locked eyes briefly, mingyu was busy pulling his food from the microwave. you looked away, dissolving the tension between you two and saving it for another time. meanwhile jungkook had been watching you walk up the stairs in that skimpy dress that wouldn’t stop rolling up your ass. your hand did little to cover it, very purposely at that. he only took his eyes away when you disappeared into your room with a slam of your door.

“thanks for getting her seriously,” mingyu shook jungkook from his trance. he held out two beers that he must have opened during jungkook’s staring contest with your pussy. “i’m just starting to hate when she goes out without us you know? this campus is getting too dangerous. i’m glad we live with our parents at least.” mingyu explained.

“i feel the same way, these guys are getting fucking weird.” jungkook sighed, taking a swig of the bottle.

“that, and the fact that jaehyun has been talking to her more, like around the house and shit when he’s here. it’s weird, he knows i hate that.” jaehyun was one of many in their friend group. but how every group had sub units to break off from it, jaehyun, jungkook, and mingyu had formed into their own little trio. it was weird, how he was all of a sudden asking shit like your favorite foods and movies. jungkook thought so too. you didn’t know him like that. they didn’t know why he was trying to get to know you like that.

mingyu made sure that you knew none of their friends, with exception of jungkook. he knew jungkook would never betray him in that sense. he listened to mingyu ramble on about how dead jaehyun was if he touched you, how he’d better pray for his life to be spared if he did as much as think about you.

“i don’t think jaehyun is that dumb. can’t be.” jungkook said sternly, yet with undertones of guilt.

“better not be. god i’d fucking kill him. anyone who tries to touch her i’ll– ugh, fuckin’ swear.”

he and jungkook raised their bottles at the same time, both taking long sips before resting them on the counters again.

masterlist

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