#I can make it so I don’t have to draw what I don’t want to draw

[grunklebongrip]

Every time someone uwu-ifies Fiddleford, I find a new way for him to cheat on his wife

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

elegiac lamenting - r. itoshi

the clicking of rain outside carved through the silence of the apartment like art.

itoshi rin never considered himself as someone who particularly enjoyed loud noises or talkative people, but right now, he wanted anything but your quietness. you stood in front of him, your head down and your the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

“continue what you said from before.” you whispered, finally breaking your silence. “what you were about to say at the bar before i stopped you and we left.” you shuddered at the memory; rin had just lost a game today, so maybe it would have been better for you to have shut up. but no, little old you just had to try to comfort him by acting stupid.

you acted out-of-place, but rin’s words were just as unforgivable.

rin’s eyes narrowed before his fists clenched. “you’re so damn annoying.” he hissed out. “it was a mistake dating you. you came into my life promising that you would help me recover from those shitty words that my older brother spoke to me from all those years ago, and yet you only made my life worse. distracting me from soccer, making me do stupid things with you, clinging onto me and expecting me to treat you like some god, you ruined my life. i can’t believe i ever dated you.”

for a few moments, silence once again leapt around the room, excluding the taps of the rain. “you never complained. never said a word. never told me that you didn’t like what i did. and for the record, i never promised to help you recover. i only told you that if you needed me to help, then i would have tried. i never expected you to treat me like some queen, and treating me decently was fine. that’s why i never complained about our relationship. but if you’re unsatisfied with this and you’re going to do nothing but point out my flaws that im more aware of than anyone else, then we can’t don’t this.”

a clap of thunder came right after your words. “well, clearly i am.” rin snapped back. “i can’t believe i spent five years calling you my lover.” and you can’t help but realize that’s right. that it’s been five years since you were both sixteen. that you were both twenty-one now. who knew that you would end up like this with him?

you looked up at him, burning tears finally stinging your eyes. you bit down on your lip harshly, holding your tears back, although the tears that glazed your eyes blurred your vision. but it pained you, it pained you that the only thing that you could clearly make out through your blurred vision was the teal color of sea glass. rin’s eyes, the ones that you fell for.

“alright then.” you choked out. “got it. i just…never mind.” you picked up your jacket from the couch, shoving it on. “you can mail me my things back.” and right before exiting the door, your grip on the door shaky, you finally released your final words to him.

“goodbye, rin. i love you.”

you turned the doorknob and left.

and the moment the door slammed shut, the rain began pouring heavier by tenfold. rin stood there, alone in his humid apartment, his eyes fixated on the mahogany door. he crashed onto the couch, a hand going up to run through and grab his hair harshly. he bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood. he knew that he shouldn’t have said that; it wasn’t even the truth, why did those words escape his lips?

and now he’s lost you.

thunder once again clapped outside, and perhaps it was the world mocking him. perhaps it was the gods finding it funny. perhaps it was just mother nature’s cruelty. but this rain would change rin’s life forever.

————

rin woke up with a sharp ache in his lower back. he groaned, rubbing his eyes and stretching. shit, he let himself go off schedule. he checked his watch; 8:21 AM. He was supposed to be at practice right now, dammit. He pushed himself out of the couch, rapidly brushed his teeth and changed clothes, and got ready to go out before he saw something on the table.

your phone.

you must have left it here yesterday, although rin didn’t realize why you didn’t just come back to retrieve it. you had spare keys, after all. but he just sighed; another thing that he needed to give you. he opened your phone through your password—the day you both met—and checked the location of you through your watch.

he expected to see the familiar details of your address, but what met his eyes was practically the opposite.

KAMAKURA GENERAL HOSPITAL

what.

screw practice, he had just won a match yesterday. he shoved the front door open and ran down the apartment building’s stairs. hands gripping the steering wheel, he ran through the events of last night before sighing.

please, you better be okay.

you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.

please.

i didn’t mean what i said last night. any of it.

please.

im sorry.

please.

i love you.

finally, he rushed into the hospital, reaching the front desk in no time and his eyebrows knit together. he stayed quiet for a few moments to catch his breath before speaking. “y/n. are they here? where are they? are they okay?”

the two nurses at the front desk exchanged glances. “and your relationship to the patient?” one of them piped up.

rin’s lips dried up. he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore, but he would have no chance of seeing you if he said that he was your ex-boyfriend.

“…friend. im their friend.”

the two nurses exchanged glances again before one of them nodded and shot rin a pitying look. she walked out of the front desk area and led rin upstairs before opening a door.

inside, you sat up on the hospital bed. rin sprinted over to you and kneeled down next to the bed, his hand squeezing yours. he panted, his eyebrows furrowing. “are you okay? what the hell happened?” you ignored him completely. in fact, rin didn’t even know if you realized he were here. your eyes are fixated on the wall in front of you, irises unmoving and only blinking every now and then.

your eyes didn’t have it’s usual brightness. the one that brought light into itoshi rin’s cold, dark life.

“they are currently in a vegetative state. they can’t respond to stimuli.” the nurse began, sighing. “it was an especially rainy night yesterday, and they got into a car accident on the road. they suffered irreversible brain damage.”

nonononononononononono—

rin’s eyes widened, his breath hitching and his heart stopping. the nurse looked down in sadness. “i apologize, but this is usually fatal. even if they do survive, they’ll never be able to live regularly ever again.”

rin’s hands began to tremble, and slowly, warm tears began to brim at his long eyelashes. “no…” he whispered.

the love of his life. the one who lit up his life like no one else. the one who he knew and knew him better than anyone else. his soulmate.

you would never be the same again.

rin’s head dropped, sobbing into the hospital bed. he knew that if any one of his fans saw him like this, he would never be able to go outside in peace again. but he couldn’t give two shits, not when the love of his life is like this.

rin then went on a break for one year and six whole months.

no one knew where the hell he was. he didn’t pick up any calls. he didn’t play in any of pxg’s games. he didn’t even go to practice, for fuck’s sake. his pr team had made up the excuse that he wasn’t in a good physical condition, but that was just pure bullshit, and everyone knew it.

on february 14th of 2024, your heart rate monitor went still.

everything went by in a blur for rin.

black outfits and a picture frame of you. marigolds and chrysanthemums. prayers and blessings. but rin couldn’t help but notice the biggest change in his life.

the world was just so dull and colorless without you.

pallid and gray. the color of rain, the very rain that took you away from him.

after one more year of grieving, on february 14 of 2025, itoshi rin finally continued his soccer career. but this time, with a change. he always wore a heart shaped locket everywhere, even to matches. his hardcore fans recognized it as his lover’s favorite necklace, but they haven’t been seen in over a year and a half, so everyone had just assumed that they had broken up.

ITOSHI RIN’S RETURN MATCH: FLOP OR FORGIVEN?

PXG VS BASTARD MÜNCHEN - THE FAMOUS ITOSHI RIN’S RETURN

everyone in the stadium could see the difference in rin’s play style.

his moves were so beautifully passionate, so full of emotion. so full of love and yet, so full of sorrow.

his style of playing was almost like a confession of love.

“AND ITOSHI RIN MAKES A COMEBACK AND SCORES THE FINISHING GOAL! PXG WINS, 4 TO 3!”

everything was a blur to rin as he held up the heart locker. usually, this would be embarrassing and absolutely humiliating for him to do.

but not this time.

he pressed a kiss to the cold, heart shaped metal, and he looked up at the sun with such incredibly soft and loving eyes.

“this is for you.”

@levihanmyotp 😈😈😈

[ruinix]

Quinn actively losing his shit because you're sucking his dick

Lovely anon, wherever you are, I hope you’re eating well…I humbly present you what you asked… 🫣maybe…I’ve gone off the rails. I guess it's time for Q to get blown. [side note: I have taken ‘actively’ to my fave words. I liked it, a bit too much especially after seeing your ask. 🤣]

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Oral sex (m receiving) / Blowjob, Hair tugging, Choking (on dick) / gagging, slight Overstimulation (m), reiterating the ask: Quinn is LOSING it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️

Count: 2161 words | Masterlist

You’re kidding. You’ve got to be kidding him. Quinn shudders as you crawl from his lap, nudging his thighs to spread. You perch right there, panting with your lips slightly parted. You’re making him lose his mind.

He can’t focus on the game he has on the TV. Not with you gazing at him while sitting on your knees. Not with you just resting your cheek against his thigh. Not with your silence and your tantalizing desire for him. Not when your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip as your eyes slowly track down his face, his chest, his abdomen, his crotch.

His dick twitches at your attention. You notice it, smirking and looking so smug. Seriously. Is this a test? Are you testing him? He’s going to fail. He knows it.

Where the fuck did this come from?

Quinn is not sure.

You two were just watching game replays, leaning against each other. When you complained that you were bored, extremely bored that you were smooshing his face with your hands, Quinn let you take the rein of the other TV. No need for him to watch multiple games when the love of his life was bored. It takes you ten minutes to settle on one Netflix show which Quinn also watched—half-watched, he still got hockey plays to analyze—with you.

After an episode, you were on his lap, legs tightly pressed against his waist, arms wrapped around his nape, head resting on his shoulder. Quinn was just half-lying and half-sitting. He’s just extremely relaxed with your weight on him, with your skin underneath his hands which he slipped in after you settled, with your heat comforting his soul.

It was just you two basking on each other’s company. It was just a simple lazy day. It was supposed to be.

Then suddenly, you parted from him. He thought you would just get water or a snack—you like snacks. But no. You slipped down him, made yourself all too comfy between his legs. You’re seducing him like a minx. Like a mermaid drawing in sailors into the water. But you’re not singing—you don’t have to, no. You’re just…staring at him, panting so subtly and your eyes extremely hooded. Those are more than enough to seduce him.

“You should watch your game,” you mutter.

‘How will I do that?’ is what he wanted to ask, because literally how.

You lift a brow at him as if to say, ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

You’re taunting him, aren’t you? There’s no way you’re not. It’s working. His cock aches. He wants nothing else but to fuck your pussy. You’re probably wet. Not probably. He bet you are. Especially now that your eyebrows meet, your teeth dig into your lower lip, subtly shifting on your knees.

Oh, he knows you so well. He knows he can just kiss you and you’ll fold and forget whatever evil plan you’re brewing. He can—

“Quinn,” you scold, pouting which means you’re begging.

You are begging him. That’s a privilege Quinn wants to never lose.

He clears his throat, trying to ease the tension enveloping his whole body. It’s so hard to resist because he really wants to kiss you now. He needs a kiss. Just a kiss. One small peck. Or your tongue against his—

Releasing a sigh, exercising restraint, he forces his body to relax and look at the screen. Instead of analyzing every play—imagining what to evade, how to get the puck, how to score—like he did before, he sees nothing. Just fucking mush of blur on ice. Nothing makes sense anymore because of you.

He's so hyperaware of how you nuzzle your cheek against his thigh. So aware of your tiny compliment of how his sweatpants are the softest—probably plotting to take it for your own. So aware of the kiss you press right fucking there—over his pants yet he still feels it like it’s your lips on his skin. Of your delicate fingers running over his shins. Over his knee. Over his thighs. So aware that you’re up, coming closer, thumbs rubbing circles on his inner thighs.

He can feel everything you do.

And he can’t do shit.

Not yet at least.

Quinn grips the armrest and the nearby pillow. His knuckles turn white. He swallows the knot in his throat, gritting his fucking teeth when you graze his cock, then you grab it over his pants.

“Fuck,” he grunts. He looks up to the ceiling, stopping the urge to thrust into your hand. Meeting your eyes, he pleads, “My Love, what do you need?”

He needs answers. He needs you to say what the fuck you want from him because he’s going to come from the anticipation itself.  He needs your words, so he can at least control himself.

“I want to suck your cock, Quinn,” you say so breathlessly, so beautifully, so innocently like you’re just asking for sweets when you’re already lying on the bed and ready to sleep. “Please?”

Holy shit.

“Anything you want,” he nearly stumbles over his words. His heart is lurching so hard in his chest as you smile at him.

So pretty. Your eyes are gleaming with excitement. No way. Really? Quinn might faint if you don’t stop looking so adorable just because he said yes.

“Then take your pants off already, handsome.”

Quinn follows, barely able to throw it behind him because you’re on him, pressing kisses on his thighs. Your tongue darting out as you lick and kiss and suck on his skin. One thigh after another. Back and forth. Trailing up. Leaving your marks. You’re turning him into mush. He’s so hard that pre-cum dribbles down his length.

“You smell so good, Quinn,” you mutter against his skin. For every kiss, you say, “I love you.”

He’s burning. Every breath against his skin. Every touch. Every lick. All of them leaves a trail of fire that shoots right to his dick. He’s so hard. So hard that all he can do is lay back, forearm covering his face, locking his body down. If he doesn’t, he’ll be pouncing on you.

You don’t want that for fuck’s sake. You want to suck him off. You’ll get that. Sure. But why do you need to worship his body like he does with yours…

Realization dawns on Quinn.

You’re worshiping him.

His heart is racing like he has been running mile after mile after mile. Like warhorse destined to run to its death because its heart would not handle the exhaustion of the run that it was ordered to, of the run that will be its last. However, death doesn’t await Quinn. No. What awaits him is you. Just you. Especially you.

So, he watches you, panting, rasping, “I love you.”

“I know,” you chuckle. “You can touch me, Quinn. You know what I like.”

You don’t even let him reply or process what you said. You simply lick his fucking tip, tongue flattening over his slit, taking his pre-cum.

The growl that escapes him is downright animalistic.

He wants this to last but he doubts it, because as you ran your tongue from his base to his tip, he’s already seeing stars.

You’re a savage. Cruel. So cruel. You’re just giving him kitten licks now. What the fuck? He thought you wanted to suck him. Are you playing with him? He can’t play games right now.

Tangling his fingers with your hair, tugging at it impatiently so you’ll look at him, Quinn tries his best to meet your eyes, but you persist with your torture. When you trace once fucking vein with your slippery tongue, he has physically pull you back. He’s going to come.

“That’s mean,” you whine. “Don’t get in my way, Quinn.”

“I’m gonna come,” he grunts, flinching when your hand pushes up his shirt, flattening over his abdomen. “Stop teasing me, my Love.”

Quinn’s basically whimpering. He’s aware you haven’t even started yet. He’s acting like this is the first time. It’s not. You really did shake him up with this unprovoked torture. Out of fucking nowhere.

“Oh?” You grin, moaning when he tugs on your hair again. “You want me to stop?”

You can’t stop. He’ll explode. It will hurt. He’s already hurting. Why the fuck did he pull you away? Oh right, he’ll come if he didn’t.

“No,” he says too quickly, voice quivering.  He lets go of your hair, holding his shirt for you. He begs, “Don’t stop.”

You finally start, sucking around his crown, greedily taking every drop of his weeping cock. Your eyes are closed yet Quinn feel as though you are gazing down at him from your throne. His Queen. His Love.

The way you’re focusing on him, moaning for every suck, is taking him out. It’s like you’re savoring him. Oh, fuck. You are.

You’re taking him so well.

You feel so good.

He can’t think straight. Not when you take half of his dick, creating a delicious suction that has his eyes groaning and moaning helplessly. Not when he feels your tongue flattening on his sensitive underside. Not when he can feel the vibrations of your moans. Not when you suddenly open your eyes to see what you’re doing to him. Not when your hand wraps around the rest of him that you couldn’t reach yet. Not when you made him put one foot between your legs so you can hump him.

You’re so wet that you’re soaking through your little shorts.

You’re gonna kill him.

Now, you’ve done it. When you bob down his length, taking more of him, he just thrusts into your heated mouth. His hand is over your head, pulling down much harsher, hitting the back of your throat.

He’s desperate for more.

The sounds of you gagging on him make him mutter a ‘sorry’. But he doesn’t mean it at all. You are teasing him so fucking much and taking your sweet time.  Both of you know that.

He starts using your beautiful lips, your mouth, your throat.

“Fuck,” he pants, shaking his head to clear it but he can’t.

He really can’t.

Good. Perfect. You feel so amazing around him.

He can’t help chasing after the pleasure of fucking your sweet mouth.

You look so pristine doing so. Sure, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, but—shamefully—he likes seeing you all ruffle up for him. Your hair is so messy in his grip. You’re drooling around him. Your nails dig into his thighs now—no longer teasing his member, because you can’t when he’s using you like this. Your hips messily roll, trying to match his rhythm, chasing you high desperately like him.

You’re so pretty. How can you be so beautiful? On your knees, yet he feels like he is on his knees for you. Always doing your bidding. Always receiving your grace. Your permission.

He’s so lucky.

“My Love,” Quinn grits, vision spotting at the edges. He warns, “Close.”

You up your ante. Your tongue swirls against his underside. The vibrations from your hums.

“Mmmfuck,” Quinn groans.

He can’t help but force you down, pushing his cock deeper as he spills hot cum down your throat. Spurt after spurt. He swears he blacks out for a brief second because you are sucking and gulping whatever he gives you.

He tries to get you off, give you your whole airway, but hell, you keep on going, going, and going. Not letting him get fully soft.

No. Seriously. Are you trying to kill him? It’s like you’re sucking all his soul, making him sag against the couch, blood pumping harder. He swears he hears you sob—which sends torturous vibration all over his fucking body, not just his cock—like you’re disappointed he can’t give you more cum.

He needs at least a couple of seconds to rest and get his shit together.

Your eyes meet his as you finally let his sensitive cock out with an obscene pop. With a pout, lips glistening with drool, you mutter, “More?”

That made him fucking hard.

Fine.

Fuck a couple of seconds.

If his World want his cum, you will, but this arrangement won’t do. It’s not fair. You can have your fill, and he can’t? The simple thought of just coming alone makes his heart ache. Like something’s missing after just had one of most intense orgasm—which is always the latest orgasm he has with you—in his life. He’s not used to this.

He needs to taste you on his tongue.

He would rather eat you out for hours, but you want this.

So, Quinn will just compromise. Good thing that you’re already fucking horny humping his foot. He’ll just persuade you to a different position where he can feast on you as well. By the way, you shudder, resting your head over his thigh, it won’t be a hard proposition to sell.

[seitmai]

Just like he has his days when he simply fucking needs you, which is quite often, you have those days, too. So, when you went into the living room, naked, tugged on his sweatpants, and straddled him without a word, he was more than happy to let you take control. It makes him feel good that you need him. Though it was taking everything in him to not thrust up into you or flip you over and pound into your pretty pussy until you cried. As long as you get off, you can fuck however you please.

Period

“I’m serious. Gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warns. Only you can make him lose control. “You can. It’s okay,” you smile, a heart stopping smile, when he bites his lip. “I want you to.” “Honey…” he growls, another warning. He isn’t sure if it’s for you or himself.

🤭🤭🤭

His fingers dig in as he starts to quiver. Bucky wasn’t a man who quivered until you and your perfect cunt showed up in his life. And your greedy cunt milks him just like you want, and he wonders if his release is what triggers yours. The moans you let out don’t stop him from claiming your mouth and swallowing down the last sounds from your orgasm. And he can’t stop himself from finally lifting his hips, drawing one last moan from you.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Hello, Navy! Hope you're doing well. I'm here back again because i have a mighty need to tell you this:

just bucky saying "sit and take what you need, honey" and encouraging her to ride him with all her want/need... and not even 5 minutes in he's pleading "jesus, honey, wait you're gonna make me cum too soon" but his hands still encouraging her to keep going hard.

— 🍯anon

Oh, my beautiful nonnie.

Ride It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky encourages you to take what you want.

Word Count: Over 760

Warnings: Established relationship, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), light choking, dirty talk, possessive behavior, slight feels if you squint, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Work was a big ball of suck today, but I hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Sit and take what you need, honey.”

That was what Bucky told you almost five minutes ago, and now he's forcing himself not to move as you brace your hands on his thighs and roll your hips. He watches, completely entranced, letting you bounce on his cock and take what belongs to you. Your nipples still have a bit of shine from him sucking on them and he can’t help but slide a hand to your throat and gently squeeze.

You giggle, a breathy sound, before you say, “Harder.”

He obliges and feels you tighten around him. His strength doesn’t scare you. You crave it. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs when you moan. “Bounce on my cock. Take me.”

Just like he has his days when he simply fucking needs you, which is quite often, you have those days, too. So, when you went into the living room, naked, tugged on his sweatpants, and straddled him without a word, he was more than happy to let you take control. It makes him feel good that you need him. Though it was taking everything in him to not thrust up into you or flip you over and pound into your pretty pussy until you cried.

As long as you get off, you can fuck however you please.

But he feels his head start to spin, his eyes half lidded when he feels the dam close to breaking. “Fuck, honey, wait,” he begs when you move faster, dropping his hand to your hip. He doesn’t keep you still. His touch only encourages you. “Gonna fill you up too quickly if you don’t stop.”

And he has to get you off.

His words only encourage you more. “Yeah, big boy?”

“I’m serious. Gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warns. Only you can make him lose control.

“You can. It’s okay,” you smile, a heart stopping smile, when he bites his lip. “I want you to.”

“Honey…” he growls, another warning. He isn’t sure if it’s for you or himself.

“My pussy’s that good, isn’t it?” you asked, circling your hips. “You wanna fill me up, don’t you? Make my pussy yours.”

“Fuck me,” he groans, his head falling back. He loves when you talk dirty. Loves fucking each of your holes. Bucky just loves you.

“I am. I’m fucking this thick… huge… cock,” you moan, your back arching and your hand moving between your legs to play with your clit. It’s such an erotic, filthy display and he swears he’s going to blow his load in a few more seconds. “Making it mine.”

His breath hitches when you lean in, your lips touching the corner of his mouth. “Fuck, yeah. It’s yours,” he promises, his breath ragged as you grind yourself down on his cock. Your cunt feels too good, squeezing him like you own him, the same way he owns you. He just doesn’t want to let go without you. “Want me to come? Wanna milk my cock for all it’s worth?” he asks, smacking your ass and smirking when you shriek.

“Yes!” you cry.

“Then keep riding me. Use me. Own me.” The wet squelch from your bodies meeting is almost obscene and he loves it. Loves every sound, every movement. He still can’t believe some days that he has you. That he gets to fuck you, love you, keep you. You’re his, and he’s yours. “‘Atta girl.”

“‘m close, Bucky,” you moan. He can feel it. You’re practically dripping. Such a pretty fucking mess. He wants to clean it up with his tongue. “So, give it to me. Come with me. I need it.”

Bucky will never deny what you need.

His fingers dig in as he starts to quiver. Bucky wasn’t a man who quivered until you and your perfect cunt showed up in his life. And your greedy cunt milks him just like you want, and he wonders if his release is what triggers yours. The moans you let out don’t stop him from claiming your mouth and swallowing down the last sounds from your orgasm. And he can’t stop himself from finally lifting his hips, drawing one last moan from you.

“Fuck…” he pants, smiling and framing your face. “I love you.”

“I love your cock,” you sigh, and giggle when he nibbles on your bottom lip. “And you.”

That makes his heart soar. “Get what you need?”

“Almost.” There’s a spark in your blissed out expression, and his cock stays hard inside your clenching walls. “Think I need one more.”

He gives you three, and you thank him for it.

Nothing to see here, lovelies! Go about your business. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[n0tamused]

can I get prompts sentence fluff no. 21 with Anaxa,Sunday and phainon (if not wrong your limit characters is 3 right?)

Fem reader is the one who ask "can I kiss you" and then the male characters Will be the one who reply It

˖ ࣪⊹Memory of the kiss

21."Can I kiss you?" "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you ask that."

Contents: Anaxa x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Phainon x Reader, written with a fem reader in mind although gender is not explicitly stated anywhere, fluff, I got another request for the same three with the prompt "first kiss" so I sort of mixed those two prompts together here

Words: 330(Anaxa), 486(Sunday),295(Phainon)

Ko-Fi |  1.5K followers event

˖ ࣪⊹Anaxa

The question did not startle him or shock him as much as you expected, in fact he barely reacted at all as his gaze fixed itself onto yours, an invisible thread tying the both of you together. For a moment, Anaxa believes your hearts shared a beat, one or two, but for once he is speechless, letting the pregnant and wordless pause stretch on. He is looking at you with this glint in his eyes that is hard to escape, it is softening the lines of his face and making him seem younger than he is, soft in ways you dared not voice. 

‘Can I kiss you?’ - it was such a simple question, too simple for him to ponder over it for this long, but he does. And when he notices the fleeing time he clears his throat and takes a breath, offering you a smile he seldom shared with any other person. 

“Yes” he blurted out, shocking you with his boldness. “Now, don’t act so surprised, although I doubt my next confession will feel any less so to you.” He sighs, half in disbelief of his own feelings and the words his tongue was spouting, but Anaxa was nothing if not honest. “You would not be able to guess how long I have waited for you to ask..” he speaks softly to you now, his gaze only flickering to the side for a moment as you feel quiet in face of his honest display. Your mouth opened and closed, at a loss for words, before you took up the hints of a first blush wanting to creep up onto the scholar’s cheeks.

You giggle, and the sound seemingly makes him draw in on himself with a half frown and a furrow of his brows. But before he can banter and scold, you place your hand on his cheeks and lean in, slowly, your breath tickling his skin before your lips pressed together and the world fell quiet around you. 

˖ ࣪⊹Sunday

“What seems to be troubling you? You said you had a question for me, did you not?” Sunday asked as he came to a stop before a shelf of books in a lonely corner of the Astral Express, his tone calm and warm but mingled with notes of curiosity for your avoidance of the topic you, yourself, wished to bring up. 

You sighed, debating whether the moment was right, but tonight was so far away, and tomorrow was uncertain - there is no time like the present moment. Walking over to him you feigned interest in the messy pile of records that Sunday was busying himself with sorting out currently, but your heart was pounding in your throat and your focus was on him alone. After your fingers brushed against the old and yellowed paper you looked back at him, seeing him still waiting.

“May I kiss you, Sunday?” you finally ask, and if a person could be red and pale all at once, Sunday would be that person now. The wings on his head gave a little startle of their own, a quick flutter up and down as he digested your question. 

Just as you were about to excuse yourself and save you both the trouble, he looked about the empty Express carriage, as if someone might see, before looking at you with a glimmer of expectancy and hope. It startled you with how clearly it showed. 

“Is this what you meant to ask? This is not another one of your jests, is it?” Sunday inquired slowly, as if stepping around the crack of the frozen lake. 

“This is no jest, I promise you. I would not have joked about a matter like this.. If you are-”

He raised his hand and your voice faded off. Sunday shook his head, fighting back the blush that was unavoidably crawling up his neck.

“No, no.. I accept it” he replied in a whisper, wishing no one else to hear the words but you, feeling like a follower making his confession at the cathedral. His blood was rushing, heart pounding in his ears, the sound and the feeling of ants in his clothes feeling worse the more he waited for his judgement.  “I admit, I have waited for a long time for an opportunity like this to arise- for you to.. ask..” the more he talked, the more tremors he felt in his curled fingers.

“If you were anyone else, I’d say you were the one jesting now” you spoke in pleasant disbelief as you took another step closer, a motion at which he straightened his back for. Your hand touched his cheek and made him freeze, but once it began to guide him downward, he put up no resistance. Your lips graced his, and it was something sweeter than any honey, better than any redemption. His ears fluttered once more and stretched forward, covering his face and yours. 

˖ ࣪⊹Phainon

Phainon took many things in stride, not being the one to outwardly follow the strict lines of a plan in his daily routines; it was one thing that made him feel grounded and, in a way, free of the worldly burdens, the looming shadow of the future of Amphoreus. The question with which you broke the silence among you was met with a sweet sound of his laughter. It was only natural, but also a way to cover up his surprise as the question repeated itself time and time again between his ears,

As you looked on at him, his face became more serious, his shoulders going tense. “You.. you are serious?” he balked, staring at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Your nod to his question clarified his thoughts, and suddenly everything felt like it was moving, including the ground beneath the soles of his boots. He did not look like was swaying, he wasn’t, he was a warrior of Okhema and has faced foes that would make someone’s nightmares, he did not fall then and will not fall now - but gods, would his knees willingly give out for you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to ask me that” he told you in a voice more timid than his usual persona, but all the more genuine for it.  He didn’t move for a while, still stunned and in disbelief but once you took a step towards him, he met you halfway with a step of his own, raising a hand to your cheek that hesitated before pressing against your skin. Phainon lets you kiss him first, but one taste of your lips had him kissing back in search for more, wanting to commit the feeling to memory. 

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[miedei]

plots and plans

the team's gotten to know spencer's gf very well... but now there's a new face in the bau (aka emily gets initiated into the team... by meeting mystery girl!)

a/n: this fic took an ungodly amount of time its been in my drafts for months but <333 mystery girl <333 (this is fr just a bau team fic at this point)

(look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), the team plotting, use of y/n eugghhhhh

wc: 3.4k

part one | part two | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

SSA Emily Prentiss is perfectly wonderful. Garcia thinks so, and so does Morgan. Sure, they miss Elle, and they miss working with her, but leaving the BAU was something she’d needed. Besides, Penelope wasn’t letting Elle out of the team’s outings anyway. 

So, the two of them really have nothing against Prentiss. She’s kind, good at her job, and fits into the dynamic of the team well. However, at the end of her third case with the team, something of interest happens that makes them start to plot against her. Lovingly.

Morgan’s on the phone with Garcia, letting her know that the unsub was in custody, when Emily comes up to him, tapping his shoulder. Without hanging up, he draws the phone away from his ear, turning to her questioningly.

“Morgan. Can I ask you something? About Reid?” At his sound of agreement, she plows on.

“Does he… He’s so young. Do you think he’s had the social experiences he needs?” She shakes her head slowly. “He’s so sweet that it makes me worry. I mean, a kid going to university at 14, that’s got to make you miss out on a lot of things, right?” She gestures to Spencer, and Morgan turns to see him. 

Spencer is fiending off the officers mobbing him with thanks and congratulations for his breakthrough on the case. A smile creeps up on Morgan’s face, watching him fiddle with his hands and bow his head nervously, trying to find a way out of the group.

“I mean, yeah, Reid’s a little clueless in some ways, but I don’t think it really affects him too much. He’s learned to adapt quickly.”

Emily frowns, still looking at Spencer. “I feel like there are things everyone deserves to experience, you know? He hasn’t been able to do so many things because he’s achieved so much. I mean, he’s never even dated someone, has he? Did you see the way he handled that witness?”

Morgan bites back the urge to laugh uncontrollably. Earlier in the case, Spencer was interrogating a witness, Morgan, Emily and Gideon watching through the one-way mirror. He recalls the way the woman grabbed hold of Spencer’s patterned tie, twisting the fabric in her fingers with a sly smile. Spencer, the sweetheart he is, had recognised the flirting, but did his best not to mention it, pulling his tie out of her grip multiple times as he stuttered through his questions, until Gideon came in to save him. 

Morgan recognised that for what it was, Spencer’s incredulity that anyone other than you, the person he’s so obsessed with, would ever try something with him. 

But Emily, poor, sweet, Emily, had assumed the same thing the rest of the team had, years ago. That Spencer was nothing more than an inexperienced nervous wreck, that had never even kissed a girl. Morgan shamefully remembers the time he’d been proven wrong of this same assumption.

Emily’s face is so earnest, that Morgan almost doesn’t want to pop the bubble, disturb her impression of Reid. Instead, he just pats her shoulder with the hand not holding his phone.

“Trust me, Prentiss. Reid’s missed a few things, but he’s fine.”

Walking away from her, he remembers that he didn’t hang up the phone, bringing it up to his ear to hear Garcia speaking rapidly, clearly having heard his exchange with Emily.

“-and she doesn’t know! Oh my god, you hunk, wouldn’t that be so good? She’d experience what we did back then and-” Morgan cuts her off. 

“Babygirl, what? I didn’t catch that first bit, who’s going to experience what?”

Garcia takes a deep breath, and Morgan can picture her smile. “Okay, I know you're always thinking, ‘what is the wonderful thing about having the most beautiful and brilliant woman you’ve ever seen in your life?’, and, sweetheart I’ll tell you. It’s that I have a wonderful, wonderful brain, and I have a plan we have to set in motion.”

Derek sighs, but he knows he’s all in before she even says the word. “Alright, princess. Hit me with it.”

Garcia insists that the plan must be unfolded in three stages. Three stages, in order to make sure that Emily’s introduction to you will be just as bewildering as it was to them.

Stage 1: Confirmation. 

Emily’s assumption of Spencer’s inexperience had to be nurtured, demonstrated to her, to lull her into a false sense of security, the way the team had for far too long. 

Morgan and Garcia begin just one week after the case, a paperwork day where the team is confined to the bullpen for hours. Emily is sat at her desk, across the aisle from Morgan’s, when Garcia walks by, a phony excuse for her presence spilling out of her mouth. 

“Just got to drop these files off to Gideon!” She speaks too loudly, to no one in particular, and Morgan groans internally at her unsubtlety. Emily quirks an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t say anything, even when Garcia taps her nose in a very exaggerated manner. 

No time to cover up for her, Morgan’s got work to do, and a time limit to boot.

“So, Prentiss. You’ve had three cases here so far, you’ve gotten to know the team. I wanna know, what are your impressions of all of us?” Emily narrows her eyes at him, but swivels her chair so she’s facing him. Bingo. 

He grins as she leans forward, speaking lightly. “My impressions? What, you want me to profile you guys?” 

He holds up a finger. “Ah ah ah. I’m a profiler too, don’t act like you haven’t been doing that to us since the day we met. Now, tell me. Why don’t you start with, say, Reid?” He winces internally, hearing the eagerness in his voice. Despite that, Emily replies readily.

“Well, I’m probably just going to tell you things you already know. He’s brilliant, insecure, anxious about not only himself but us, worries about his mother all the time. Socially unsure of himself, especially in non-professional settings.” As she speaks, Spencer walks into the bullpen from Gideon’s office, accompanied by Garcia, whose eyes are filled with poorly-contained mischief.

“...and, my good doctor, she was flirting with you! Didn’t you see the way she tried to give you coffee for free?” An expression of puzzlement flits across Spencer’s face, looking at Garcia as he grips the file in his hand. 

“Garcia, why are we talking about this again? That happened weeks ago, and I still don’t think she was doing anything more than-” She cuts him off with a palm facing him, barreling forward with her rant, eyeing Prentiss blatantly as she speaks.

“You never think they’re doing anything more until they’re the ones gripping those little ties of yours. Spencer, you don’t think anyone is ever flirting with you!” Prentiss nods at Morgan, speaking under her breath with a smirk.

“Uncomfortable in non-professional settings, especially romantic ones.” She sits back in her desk chair, swivelling away as Garcia ushers Spencer to his desk, ignoring all of his questions. 

Spencer sits with a huff, confused. He pulls out his phone surreptitiously. 

SPENCE <3: They’re being weird. Again.

Garcia has filled JJ in, and she is ecstatic. She still remembers the horrifying embarrassment that she hadn’t realised something so huge about her best friend. It might be a little juvenile, but it will definitely bring her a little comfort if Emily, profiler extraordinaire, makes the same mistake. 

It’s five days later, and they’ve moved onto the second phase of the plan.

Step 2: Doubt.

Garcia has decided that sowing seeds of confusion, the way the team had been confronted that one time at the bar, was the way to make sure Emily has the full experience of being one-upped by that infuriating man, according to her.

JJ’s role is the whisperer, making sure that Emily witnesses suspicious activity. She’s taking this immensely seriously, Garcia having impressed upon her the responsibility of this guise. 

Walking past Spencer’s desk, she shoots a glance at Emily, confirming her distraction, before speaking into the room, “Everyone had a good day off yesterday? Spence, went to that exhibit at the Living Museum?” 

A dreamy smile flashes over Spencer’s face, before he makes sure to school his features, allowing only a small grin to remain. “Um, yeah. We went to go see the aviary, they’ve got some new Southeast Asian birds in.” Yes. JJ resists the urge to smirk, but her hopes are quickly dashed when Spencer moves on without a word. “I think Gideon would really enjoy it actually, I’ve been meaning to…” She groans internally, tuning out of his meandering ramble about bird migration patterns. There’s no way Emily clocked that tiny ‘we’. 

JJ isn’t one to give up easily, though. Any good plan requires patience, so she waits another day before attempting again.

The team is on the jet on the way to a case, and JJ is sitting strategically at the table with Emily, Derek, Spencer, and Garcia on the grainy laptop screen. Garcia’s hands fly around animatedly as she finishes describing the state of the case. 

Hotch raises his head from the case file, proceeding to assign everyone preliminary tasks, when JJ nods at Garcia subtly, and watches as she begins to rush around her office in a whirl, finally snatching up her cell phone. It’s a wonder that no one else notices the rush of movement on the screen, leaving JJ holding her breath, hoping that Emily or Spencer don’t catch wind. 

Finally, two minutes later, Garcia sits back down at her desk, feigning nonchalance. 

“Yep! Okay, sounds like you guys all have it under control, so— I’m going to go, do my techy things in my techy room. Okay? Garcia out!” 

The image of her disappears from the screen, and JJ grips her mug tightly, fearing that Garcia gave it away. Gideon chuckles, but other than that, it seems that everyone has written it off as a regular Garcia-ism. Thank god. Hotch continues his spiel.

A few seconds later, Spencer’s cell phone rings, the ringtone different from the one everyone is used to hearing when he’s called by one of the team members, but JJ recognizes the 8-bit rendition of Vivaldi’s Summer that you helped him set up for your number.

She can see Emily tilt her head from next to her, but JJ resists the urge to look up, keeping her eyes trained on the case file in her hands, and nodding along with Hotch’s words. 

The sound of Spencer rustling around for his phone meets her ears, and the subtle sigh of happiness that he lets out when he sees the caller ID. The beep of him accepting the call and standing to walk to the kitchenette float through the cabin, and the whispered ‘excuse me’ when he walks into the curtained room.

JJ can almost hear the confusion radiating from Emily, knowing that the newer agent’s utterly baffled at the sight of Spencer missing out on the discussion currently happening.

She can only pat herself on the back for having maneuvered Emily into the seat closest to the kitchenette, too, because the way she stiffens when hearing Spencer’s saccharine-sweet voice say ‘hey, angel’ is just the cherry on top.

JJ whips out her cell phone, texting Garcia discreetly that the plan was a success, receiving a flurry of emojis in return. Unseen, Gideon looks over her shoulder.

In the kitchenette, Spencer furrows his brows, confused. 

“Wait, Garcia told you I needed to talk?” 

Your tinny voice flows through the phone and into his ear. 

“Yeah! She texted and said you asked for me but wouldn’t call for some reason? I don’t know, it was strange. You know I don’t call you when you’re on a case, but I thought it was an emergency or something.” 

He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“I told you, they’re being weird! I asked Morgan what was going on and he just laughed.”

Your matching sigh rings out. “If they’re not going to tell you, I think there’s nothing to do but let it happen until it comes out. They always tell in the end, anyway.”

His shoulders slump in annoyance, but he begins to nod. 

“I guess you’re right. It’s still annoying.”

The case wraps up four long days later, and the team pile into a booth at O’ Keefe’s all in similar states of sleep-deprived delirium. Spencer would much rather be at home right now, but Garcia was persuasive as usual, crooning on about how ‘your ladylove gets you every day, can’t you give us one evening?’. 

Despite his love for the team, their increased strangeness hasn’t abated over the days they were working. 

Even now, JJ, Derek and Penelope sit across from Spencer in the booth, huddled around each other and whispering behind cupped hands. Granted, they weren’t this obvious over the last few days, but their drinks have only weakened their resolve to not let Spencer and Emily in on whatever they’re doing, not broken it. 

Making up his mind to ignore them, Spencer has resorted to leaning into the other end of the booth, chatting idly with Gideon, Hotch and Emily. Hotch is smilier than usual, three beers deep and showing them a seemingly endless amount of baby pictures of Jack from his wallet. 

He can’t help but smile at the grainy photos of the chubby baby, grinning to himself at the memory of the last time he saw Jack. 

He’d been leaving the office to meet you, and ran into Hotch and Haley in the elevator, stroller in tow. The image of you excitedly waving at little Jack, holding out your hand and letting him grip on to your index finger is burned into his brain. He’ll probably never forget it, eidetic memory or not. 

The multiple drinks he’s had allow a lovestruck look to settle on his face as he half-listens to Hotch’s tales. They also make sure that he doesn’t notice the puzzled look that Emily flashes at him, same as the ones she’s been sneaking for days now. 

However, no amount of drinks can let him ignore the strange way that Gideon is acting. The stately profiler is normally rather talkative on nights like these, subtly teasing the team or devolving into long tangents about an old far-fetched story. 

Tonight, however, he’s silent, merely nodding along to Hotch’s words. 

Spencer can’t help but be weirded out, especially when he catches Gideon looking over at him with an expression of repressed mirth, as if he knows something Spencer doesn’t. It’s slightly infuriating, the way it feels as though everyone is keeping things from him these days. 

He knows it’s not exactly the smartest thing to do, but he offers to go to the bar for another round of drinks. If they’re going to be weird, he might as well have something to help tide him over. 

You’re at home when Gideon calls, informing you that Spencer’s gotten more drunk than usual, and it’s probably a good idea that you come get him. 

As you pull on your coat, you can hear Spencer ranting loudly about Rachmaninoff in the background, laughing to yourself when Gideon assures you that he’s fine. 

(Curiously, you hear an unfamiliar voice question Gideon, ‘Who’re you calling?’ before he hangs up.)

Arriving at the dimly lit bar, you crane your neck to try and glimpse Spencer and his coworkers, coming up blank. 

You’re just about to call Gideon again when a suspiciously swaying, lanky individual catches your eye. Sure enough, Spencer is standing by a wall, gripping a glass in both hands and staring into the middle distance, seemingly alone. 

Pocketing your cell phone, you make your way over to him, feeling a familiar infatuated smile start to bloom on your face. 

“Hey, handsome. You here alone?” He blinks rapidly before focusing on you, eyes widening dramatically. 

“You’re here! How are you here, I thought-” He hiccups, the action causing his entire body to wobble, your hand shooting out to steady him. 

“I thought you were at home!” He takes the hand you have on his waist, tugging you closer until he can drape himself against your side, tall frame hunched over you. 

You have to giggle, widening your stance so you can support the two of you as you look around the bar, hoping to find any of his coworkers. 

Unfortunately, you come up blank, assuming they're in the booths towards the back that you can’t see. Sighing, your hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck, causing Spencer to sigh happily, bending even further so that his face is buried in your hair. 

“Spence, where’s the team? We’ve gotta say goodbye before we go,” You murmur softly, feeling him relax further and further. His voice is higher than normal, muffled due to his refusing to raise his head from yours. 

“I dunno, they’re sitting… somewhere, and Emily said she’d come find me after I came here. Did you know, she listens to Eric Carmen? I was telling her about the lawsuit Rachmaninoff’s estate filed against him, and…” 

He must keep talking, you can feel the vibrations against the crown of your head, but he’s shifted his face to where his mouth is pressed against your scalp, taking with it any hope of understanding his words.

You’re waiting patiently for him to finish, when a dark-haired woman catches your eye. She stands a few feet away from you, peering at you curiously, as if trying to suss something out. Her face is obscured due to the shadowy lights, but she looks vaguely familiar. 

Stopping your ministrations on Spencer’s neck, you entreat him to look up. 

“Hey, do you know who that is?” He raises his head with a heaving sigh, as if it’s taking all his energy. He nods once, before returning his face to your hair, snatching your hand and placing it on the back of his neck again. 

“Yeah, it’s Prentiss.” He falls silent after that, but at least he gave you something. 

You’ve heard a lot about Emily Prentiss from him, although you haven’t had the chance to meet her yet. Waving her over, you smile brightly. 

“Hi! You’re Emily?”

She walks over to you, expression wary, until she catches a proper glimpse of Spencer’s face, at least, what’s visible of it. 

“Reid? It is you…” Her face is bewildered, confused, looking at you. 

“Sorry, who are you?” You stick out the hand that Spencer isn’t holding hostage, shaking hers.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, his girlfriend. It’s really nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things from Spencer and the others.” She looks more stunned, if that’s possible, but stutters out a greeting. 

It reminds you of the time you met the rest of the team, the way they’d stared incredulously at you when Spencer introduced you. Thinking back to Penelope’s multiple texts confirming that you weren’t coming tonight, it seems you’ve figured out why they’ve been acting weird.

You can’t help but smile pityingly at her, knowing how she’s feeling. Gesturing at the man clinging on to you, you give her an out from the conversation.

“I think I should be taking him home. Would you mind telling the rest where we went? I don’t want them to worry.”

She nods wordlessly, watching after you as you slowly lead Spencer out of the bar and into the night. 

SSA Emily Prentiss is a profiler. A spy. She’s accustomed to learning everything there is to know about an individual within a few days of knowing them. It’s for these reasons that she stands, dumbstruck, in the middle of O’ Keefe’s. 

Spencer Reid has a girlfriend. And she didn’t figure it out??

She resolves to go back through the profiling notes she’d taken in her time at the academy. Maybe twice. 

Shuffling back to the booth, she’s stuck in her head, eyes wide and thoughts flickering at ten times their normal speed. It’s clearly noticeable, Derek looking concerned when she slides into her seat once more. 

“Prentiss? Are you okay?”

She reaches out to snag her beer, turning the glass in her hand. Her voice is low, still confused as to how she missed it. 

“Spencer’s girlfriend came to take him home.”

Her words incite identically incredulous squawks from JJ, Morgan and Garcia, all of them incensed. 

“You met her? She wasn’t going to come tonight, we had a plan!” Penelope exclaims in frustration, looking around the table. 

Gideon merely shrugs, his amused half-smile finally emerging. 

“Plan took too long. Took it into my own hands.”

Morgan has to hold Penelope back from lunging at him.

[pickingupmymercedes]

The Weight of Saudade - Lewis Hamilton

genre: fluff with hints of angst

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Brazilian!Reader!

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Axé inspired fic because I'm missing Brasil. If you want to check the song it's Nobre Vagabundo sung by Daniela Mercury.

a/n 2: Axé is in iorubá (african language), it means the light in every living being, and it's used in a few parts of Brasil as a greeting. But it's also a brazilian rhythm with some of the most angsty gorgeous lyrics on love, even with its upbeat feel (my favourite cup of tea tbh)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Time never asks if you’re ready as it goes on.

It just slips through your fingers, quiet and indifferent, moving forward whether you’ve had enough of the moment or not.

Ironically, I’ve spent quite a while thinking about that; how much of my life is spent watching the clock, counting down days until Lewis comes home, then counting down again until he has to leave.

It’s a cruel kind of math, measuring love in stretches of time apart instead of time together.

London is dull this time of year. Grey, drizzly, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like you’ll never be warm again.

Lewis, though, is warmth is human form.

His weight is solid against me, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of my sweater where his head rests on my lap. His braids tickle my fingers as I absently trace circles at the nape of his neck, just over the tape covering his muscles, stiff from testing.

It’s been nearly a month of him in Maranello, and sure, I flew out when I could—weekends, stolen days between meetings—but it wasn’t the same.

I felt it every time I left, the cold settling each time I packed my bag to fly back. And now that he’s finally here, draped across me in the soft, lazy light of a London afternoon, I don’t want to move.

Outside, the rain taps soft against the soil. I watch it run down the glass, curling my toes under the blanket spread over us.

Without even thinking, I start humming, letting a familiar melody slip past my lips.

Lewis shifts slightly, one hand resting on my thigh as his phone buzzes against his palm. He doesn’t say anything at first, just listens, and I’m halfway through the chorus before I feel his fingers slide over mine.

“What’s that you’re singing?” His voice is thick with the sleepiness of finally being back in his own space after too long away.

Damn. I was not prepared for a pop quiz on my own nostalgia

“It’s, uh—” I clear my throat, buying time. How the hell am I supposed to translate this? It’s axé. You don’t explain axé; you feel it. “It’s a song,” I say, extremely helpfully.

Lewis laughs, turning his face slightly so I can see his smirk. “Yeah, babe, I figured that much.” His thumb is still sweeping over my hand, coaxing, patient.

I groan. “I mean, it’s—okay, hold on.” I take a breath. “It’s kind of about time. And love. And—” I make a vague gesture with my free hand— “you know. Life.”

He tilts his head up to look at me. “That’s vague as hell.”

“Because it is vague as hell,” I huff, but he just waits, smiling like he knows I’ll give in. Which, fine. I always do.

I hesitate for a second. Not because I don’t want to tell him, but because some things always sound different when you strip them down to another language.

More vulnerable.

And It’s funny—if I were talking to someone who knew the language, I wouldn’t even have to explain. They’d just get it. But here, with Lewis watching me so intently, I feel like I have to get it exactly right.

“Alright” I shake my head, but my fingers are still in his hair, softening the edges of my reluctance as search the song on my phone and let it play.

I start translating it as the song plays in the background. “How much time do I have… to kill this saudades?”

His brows draw together slightly. “Saudades” He rolls the word around his mouth like he’s tasting it again.

I nod. “My love, this jealousy—it’s just vanity. If you run away, time will soon bring anxiety. To breathe love, aspiring freedom.”

I peek at him, half expecting him to be confused, but he just nods, his expression open. So I go on, the words thick in my throat.

“I have a crazy life… and try to lead the world. I live from deep love. I perish in time. And I live for a second. Forgive me, my love, for being this noble vagabond.’”

Silence stretches between us for a moment, just the hum of the song, rain and the city outside.

And the quietness makes me feel absurdly self-conscious. I mean, I just translated a whole damn song in a overcast London afternoon to a man who knows about 5 words in Portuguese.

Lewis, as always, doesn’t let me sit in it too long. He squeezes my hand gently. “That’s beautiful” he murmurs.

I exhale, rolling my eyes a little, but he doesn’t let me dodge.

“It’s on wanting time to slow down” I say after a moment. “So you can actually be in it. So you don’t have to spend half of it missing what’s not even gone.”

Lewis watches me, his gaze steady in that way that makes me feel like he sees through my ribcage. “Yeah?”

I nod. “It’s one of the many meanings of saudades.”

His lips curve. “One of my favorite words I’ve learned from you.”

I smile, tilting my head. “Yeah, and what’s the second?”

His fingers tighten slightly over mine before answering in the most Rio de Janeiro accent you’ve heard in years. “Gostoso” (hot as in attractively hot)

And you can’t help the chuckle that escapes you as he smirks “Oh, shut up.” I flick his forehead, but he just laughs, eyes crinkling.

His face then softens, and he nods like he gets it. Like it makes perfect sense. “It always gets me how y’all manage to fit the deepest feelings in two paragraphs.”

I laugh, breathy and real, shaking my head. “It’s a skill.”

Lewis’ gaze darkens, his thumb stroking along my skin. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I get the feeling.”

I glance down at him, not even letting the words settle before I say them “I’m already with saudades of the time I’ll have to be away from you.”

But as soon as I say it I can’t the sigh, shifting slightly underneath him. “It’s stupid, right? We’re here. You’re home. And I’m still thinking about the next time you’ll have to leave.”

Lewis turns fully onto his back now, looking up at me. “It’s not stupid.” His voice is quiet, firm. “I think about it too.”

I don’t say anything for a second, just run my nails lightly over his scalp. “Ferrari’s making you happy, though,” I say, because it’s true. He’s been buzzing about it for weeks, despite the grueling testing schedule, despite the stress. And I love that for him. I do.

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. It’s been good. Crazy, but good. The car feels promising. And Maranello’s…” He trails off, exhaling. “It’s a dream, honestly.”

I smile, brushing a braid back from his forehead. “See? Worth it.”

His fingers find mine again. “Yeah. But still.” He lifts our joined hands slightly. “I always feel saudades of being away from you.” His smile tilts. “Did I use that right?”

A soft laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Almost.” I brush a finger on his cheek. “But the feeling is right.”

Lewis hums, pleased with himself. His other hand slides up, pressing against my ribs, a slow, absentminded caress. “So what do we do about it?”

I sigh theatrically. “Dunno. Run away to Brazil. Hide out somewhere warm.”

His grin is immediate. “Sold.”

I roll my eyes, but his fingers tighten at my side, tugging me down slightly. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, voice lower now, lips brushing just beneath my jaw. “Just me and you, yeah?”

My breath catches for half a second.

God, this man.

I tip my head, letting my nose brush the top of his ear. “Just me and you” I whisper.

Lewis hums in agreement, tracing lazy circles on my wrist with his thumb. Then, after a moment, he tilts his head back at me, smirking “You’re gonna have to translate funk to me one day.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, not a change.”

I tilt my head, watching the way his lips twitch like he already knows where I’m going with this. “But I can show you.”

He lifts a brow, amused. “Yeah?”

I wink. “Yeah.”

His laugh rumbles against my skin as he sit up and looks at me like a kid who’s been told there’s candy.

The warmth of the moment muffles the biting cold, and for now, just for this moment, it’s more than enough.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend @unlikelystay @thesizzler

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[sevikaslatinawife]

sevika x reader on a quiet snowy morning where they sleep in and it’s so sweet🥹

stop this is adorable 😫

Snowflakes

Warning: fluff, soft Sevika, modern!au, f!reader

The quiet creaking of the settling cabin, the chill of the wind because the fire had snuffed out in the middle of the night is what arose you from slumber.

It’s not as if it was too cold, because Sevika’s body was curled around your back, holding you close. Your naked legs entangled her own, and one of her arms was beneath your head, while the other wrapped around your waist.

You shift your head, kiss her bicep and feel it twitch beneath your touch.

“You awake?” You whisper, breath tickling her bicep where your mouth was still pressed against.

“Mm, I have been,” Her voice is raspy from sleep, deeper than it normally is. You can feel it echo against your back and thump against your ribcage.

You reach down to pull the thick blanket and duvet over your exposed shoulder once it begins to get cold. You also make sure Sevika is covered, as well, because you can feel the pebbling of her nipples against your back.

“You don’t have work today?” She had taken you to a cabin during the winter, but you also knew how busy she always was. Sometimes it made your planned time with her having to be cut short.

“Turned my phone off,” She tells you, kissing your hair and pressing her cold nose into the strands. “No work today. ‘m stayin’ right here.”

You smile and press your back against her chest more, humming as her arm tightens around your waist. She pressed her chest against your back in turn, wanting to feel you even closer than you already were.

“That’s a rare occurrence,” You tease, kissing her bicep again because you’re comfortable and don’t want to turn to kiss her lips — even though you desperately want a morning kiss. “You’re going to get me used to it.”

“I have to do it more often,” she chuckles, kissing your hair. Her hand shifts from around you to trace the skin of your side slowly, softly. “I’ve been neglecting my pretty girl.”

“Good, you’ve noticed,” You giggle, jolting when she pokes your ribcage. “You know I understand how important work is.” You decide to shift on your back, looking up at her as her hand traces your soft stomach.

“I appreciate how patient you are,” She hums and kisses your forehead before pressing a kiss to your lips. Soft and chaste before she’s pulling back to scan her eyes over your face. “Wanna do something specific today?”

“Mm, no, just stay here,” You roll on your side, face pressing into the warmth of her breasts and the expanse of her skin. “We don’t get to do nothing often.”

“Whatever you want, princess,” She pulls your body closer, slotting her leg between your thighs to keep you close. You tighten your own legs between her own, arm draping over her side as you draw patterns onto her muscular back.

Silence overtakes you both instantly, only lazy strokes of fingers against skin, soft kisses against warm skin and each other’s cold mouths. Just blissfully enjoying each other’s company and the cold that is no longer being felt under the warmth of the bedsheets and the steady beating of your hearts.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Baby Preparations

Sam and Dean & pregnant little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you’re pregnant, that’s literally it, that’s the plot

Warnings: short and sweet, pregnancy and tooth-rotting fluff

“Sam!”

Your voice calling out Sam’s name had him doing a 180, heading back from the direction he’d came to find you. You were sitting on the floor of the War Room, and instead of the usual newspaper clippings and lore books, there were dozens of paint sample cards.

“You need something?” He asked.

You held out your hands to him, as if you were 6 years old again and asking to be carried.

“I can’t stand up,” you huffed. At Sam’s light snicker, you scowled. “It’s not funny! I can’t move!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” But Sam couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he helped you to your feet. “How’s my nephew doing?”

“He kicks like he’s a dang Winchester,” you grumbled, rubbing your stomach. “And every time he moves I have to pee, and he—“

“Ok, ok.” Sam stopped you, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get the picture, and I really don’t need to know more.”

“Coward,” you scoffed.

“Hey, when it comes to my baby sister’s pregnancy, you bet I am,” Sam admitted.

“Has anyone seen my pie?” Dean’s question could be heard before he even entered the room, a quizzical and grumpy expression on his face.

“The baby wanted it,” you answered, drawing an eye-roll and a huff from your oldest brother.

“Is that always gonna be your answer?” He demanded.

“Not always,” you admitted. “Just maybe another two months until this guy is eating his own food, not mine.”

Dean face twisted, but he didn’t argue—he never did anymore, and you took full advantage of it. Sam saw right through how you were playing Dean like a kazoo, but he didn’t comment on it; it was too much fun to watch.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I’m gonna go on a run.”

Without a word, you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and handed it to Dean.

“Again?” He demanded. “It better not be full of weird snacks again.”

“Last time wasn’t that weird,” you insisted.

“I’ve never bought so many pickles or marshmallows in my life,” Dean scoffed.

“It’s marshmallow fluff, not marshmallows,” you corrected.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” Dean asked.

“Because my stomach doesn’t fit behind the steering wheel anymore.” You grinned. “And you never let me drive Baby anyway, so you get to make the runs.”

“Fine,” Dean caved. “But if I see orange-flavored beef jerky on here again, I’m throwing the list away.”

…

“Hey Sam?”

Sam glanced up from his lore book to see you still staring at your paint samples.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I can’t pick a color. Can you help?”

Sam shrugged, ditching his book and coming to your side.

“You really can’t pick?”

“I just…” you huffed. “I want it to be perfect.”

“I don’t really think the baby’s gonna care,” Sam argued.

You were quiet for a long moment, and Sam watched as you started to pick at your hands.

“Hey.” Sam’s hand over yours stilled you. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“I mean…we-we never got anything like this. You know, the rooms and—and a house. But Charlie will…and I want it to be perfect.”

Sam smiled—he loved hearing his nephew’s name, the one you’d chosen to honor your best friend—and rested his hands on your shoulder.

“Charlie doesn’t need the perfect room paint to have a happy childhood. He already has so much more than we had—he has a home, and he has a wonderful mother. He’s gonna grow up so happy—it’s not gonna be like how it was with us.”

“Ok.” You took a deep breath. “Ok, thanks Sam.”

“Any time. And you should totally choose the green.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[hrrtshape]

PLEASE talk about your gossip girl dr you mentioned and young coryooo🥺🥺🥺🥺

things that my boyfriend does in my better cr that....truly warms my heart ( aka emma yaps about coryo )

finished writing this up in maths class, and i just know my teacher thinks i’ve lost the plot….... why are you side-eyeing me? let me giggle in peace.

he carries (one of) my lip glosses in his pocket and acts like it’s the biggest inconvenience but pulls it out instantly when i ask.

sharing airpods in class like it’s a lifeline but he always gives me the one that’s fully charged while he suffers with the dying one.

taking pictures of me when i’m not looking and making them his lock screen. which. ugh. cutie.

he lets me draw on his arm with a pen during class and then complains when it doesn’t wash off before dinner with his parents.

matching hoodies but we pretend it’s not on purpose.

dumb little inside jokes that make absolutely no sense to anyone else. he texts me "frog incident" in the middle of a test and i have to physically leave the room because i’m laughing too hard.

he always ties my shoelaces for me if they come undone, even if it means getting on one knee in the middle of the hallway like a loser.

doodling on my notes in class and writing things like property of coriolanus snow just to get a reaction out of me. weirdo......cringe lowkey. no i love him.

him randomly biting my shoulder when he’s bored.

me (!!) biting his bicep when i'm bored.

he always waits for me outside my last class leaning against the wall like he’s in a music video.

wearing my scrunchie on his wrist because i “left it in his car” (he did NOT have to keep it on).

fell asleep on each other during long drive and woke up to find he’s holding my hand in his sleep.

we made dubai chocolate, and thank god i know my baking cause he curdled the only chocolate we had.

taking me to the gym (ew), but not for like any malicious reason, actually i was the one who suggested it because this man *exercises*!!!!! like ok miss productive at a gym at five am.

matching the maison margiela tabi shoes, it's such a small detail, but i absolutely adore it. he'd be wearing lace-ups and i'd be wearing ballet flats.

driving me to school every morning.

i just have to mention this one part cause it’s so GRAH but i was walking out of my apartment complex and he was leaning against one of the pillars smoking and i came outside and he like wrapped his arm around my shoulder and continued smoking with his free hand. like okay..........

picking me up from the airport at 1am a few days before new years because i got out of the holiday family meetups just a bit earlier to see him.

when i got drunk on soju during the lighting of the tree at rockefeller centre and he was trying to heat me up.

he pinches my cheek. and that’s so evil. like. what the fawk. cherubicusm is NOT A FUNNY THING.

if he’s tired or annoyed or just being an absolute menace, he hooks a finger through my belt loop and just tugs me where he wants me. like i’m a thing to be dragged around. (and maybe i like it a bit....)

late-night drive-thru runs where he insists on ordering for me even though i could do it myself, just so he can say “and a chocolate milkshake for my girl” like we’re in a 1950s movie.

he keeps a lipstick-stained napkin from a dinner date in his wallet and pretends it’s just in there by accident, but he refuses to throw it away.

when i do my makeup in his room, he sits on his bed and watches.

he always puts my hair behind my ear when it falls in my face. not even thinking about it. just automatic.

when i fell asleep on his shoulder during a flight, he stayed awake the whole time just so my head wouldn’t move.

he let me paint his nails, but only clear polish, and only if i promised not to tell anyone.

he never lets me carry my own suitcase. ever. even when i argue.

when we go to stupid parties, he always keeps an arm around my shoulder when we’re moving through crowds, just so we don’t get separated.

he untangles my necklace chain when it gets knotted. just takes it from my hands and fixes it like it’s nothing.

i didn't respond to his texts once and he sent me a picture of my own house like “i know you’re in there.”

this is the mooooost miniscule but ungodly detail that made me want to marry him, but, having soy milk in his fridge. mind you, he lives with his family (he's 18 and we're still in school) and i visit 7 times max per week (every day....). and. wow. ugh.

every time he borrows a pen, he returns it with the cap bitten.

when i was complaining about my hands being cold, he took them in his and blew warm air on them.

when i’m walking ahead of him, he loops a finger through my bag strap and tugs me back. like...... not so fast. like.... where do you think you’re going?

we hook our pinkies together when walking. monster.

he adjusts my necklace when it gets twisted, gently brushing his knuckles against my throat. no acknowledgment. no reaction. just fixes it and moves on. (like a freak.)

if we’re arguing and i cross my arms, he just reaches out and tugs my wrist free, uncrossing them with this calm, effortless little motion. LIKE??? HELLO??? I NEED THAT BACK, ACTUALLY???

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 22

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, feeling of betrayal, mentions of loss of appetite, arguments, this ones a looooooong one

The sun is beginning its slow descent by the time I finally drag myself out of bed. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been carrying the weight of the world in my chest. I need something, anything, to ground me, and right now, a cup of tea sounds like the only thing that might help.

That’s the plan. Go to the kitchen, make it, and come straight back up to my room. I’ll sit on my balcony and watch the last bits of sunlight disappear while I think about what to do next.

 But my main goal: avoid Matt.

I slip out of my room, moving as quietly as possible. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself. The house is silent apart from the distant murmur of voices outside on the patio. I catch a glimpse through the window, figures sitting around, but I can’t make out exactly who. Not that it matters. I’m not stopping to find out.

The only sound that gives away my presence is the low whirl of the kettle. I stand there, staring at it as it heats up, feeling every second drag out like an eternity. I grab a mug and put the tea bag in it so as soon as it clicks off, I can pour the water and milk, moving quickly but carefully. Just get in, get out.

Successfully, I make my tea. 

Mission accomplished. 

Now, I just need to make it back upstairs.

But just as I start up the steps, the sound of the patio door sliding open sends a jolt of panic through me. 

Shit.

I don’t even turn to see who it is, I just pick up my pace, practically going up the steps two at a time.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn the corner, then..

BAM.

I nearly spill my tea everywhere as I slam into someone, my breath catching in my throat. I look up, and my stomach drops.

Matt.

For a split second, time slows. His eyes lock onto mine, searching, but I don’t give him the chance. Like I’m on autopilot, my feet keep moving, my mouth stays shut, and I walk right past him without a single word.

I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I reach my room, step inside, and lock the door behind me.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping my mug a little tighter. I try my best to shake it off. It was just a few seconds. Just an unfortunate encounter in a house that now feels way too small.

I know I’m going to have to face him sooner or later. There’s no avoiding it forever. But I’m not ready right now, not for a one on one, not for the inevitable conversation.

So, instead of dwelling on it, I step onto the balcony. The sun is slowly dropping lower, so I sit here and try an appreciate the sky, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe..

Until there's a knock at my door.

I freeze.

No. No, no, no. If this is Matt, I swear to god.

But then I hear a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“Y/n? It’s me.”

Nick.

Relief washes over me so quickly it almost knocks me over. I exhale, setting my tea down on the small table before walking back inside. I hesitate for just a second before unlocking the door.

Nick steps into the room, his expression soft but searching mine. "How you doing?"

I shrug lightly, forcing a small smile. "I'm okay.. I just made a cup of tea. Was gonna sit out on the balcony while the sun sets."

Nick nods, his eyes flicking toward the open balcony doors. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Of course not" I say, stepping aside so he can follow me out.

We settle into the chairs. The silence between us is comforting, a huge difference to the chaos of the past twenty four hours.

After a minute, Nick clears his throat. "I ran into Matt coming up the stairs."

My body stiffens, fingers tightening around my mug. "Oh."

“I just asked if he had spoken to you yet, and he said no."

I huff out a breath, looking back toward the view. I take a slow sip of my tea before turning back to Nick. "So, what's your plan for the night?"

He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm gonna go meet that guy."

I raise an eyebrow. "That guy? You’ve been talking about him for days, and I still don’t even know his name."

Nick hesitates, his expression shifting slightly. He looks at me like he's bracing for something.

I narrow my eyes. "Nick.. what?"

He winces, rubbing the back of his neck. "His name is.. George."

For a second, we just stare at each other. Then, at the exact same moment, we both burst out laughing.

"George?!" I manage between laughs.

"I know! I know!" Nick groans, covering his face. "I was hoping you wouldn’t ask."

"I'm sorry, but that’s just- " I laugh harder, shaking my head.

Nick grins, finally giving in. "I know I never pictured myself with a George but I swear, the way he is makes up for it though!"

"I'm sure it does.." I say, still giggling. "It's just.. George."

We end our fit of laughter and I don’t bother asking what everyone else’s plans are, especially after overhearing Chris earlier. My guess is he’s going to meet Rachel. Whether Matt tags along to meet Christina too is a different story. I don’t want to know. All I know is that I’m not moving from this room.

Nick doesn’t press the conversation any further, and I appreciate that. Instead, we sit there, laughter lingering in the air between us. I'm glad Nick came into me because suddenly I feel a little bit lighter.

Eventually, he checks his phone and sighs. "I should probably start getting ready."

I nod, still staring at the sunset. "Yeah. Have fun."

Nick hesitates for a second before standing. "You sure you’re good?"

I glance at him, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I’m good." I mean it is a lie, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

He squeezes my shoulder before heading out. I exhale, setting my empty mug down on the table beside me. I know I should eat something, try to distract myself, maybe even attempt to sleep, but I don’t move. I stay curled up in my chair, staring at the fading sky, wondering how everything changed so fast.

When I finally move to my bed, I pull the covers up around me, but even laying here feels weird. The sheets feel awful against me now, tainted with memories that once brought comfort but now only make my stomach churn. My mind spirals, picturing how easily our history could be replicated in his bed, with someone else. The thought makes my chest tighten, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting it all to stop.

I take a deep breath, then another, but it doesn’t help. My mind keeps circling back to the same place, the same questions, the same ache in my chest that refuses to go away. How could he do this? Did any of it mean anything? Was I just another passing moment for him?

I need to make it stop.

I turn onto my side, curling into myself, exhausted from it all. Being honest, my eyes hurt that much from crying, I don’t find it hard to fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning determined to be a new woman. I have a shower to wash away all of yesterday's sorrow, before pulling out the smallest blue bikini I could find. I make my way downstairs and throw myself together a small breakfast, considering I haven't eaten in over 24 hours but not forcing myself too much as my appetite still isn't fully back yet.

I take my breakfast outside to the patio and I settle onto a lounger, my plate resting on my lap. The villa is silent. Everyone must still be asleep, sleeping off their drunken choices, their reckless mistakes.

Good. I need the peace.

I take a slow bite of my food, staring out at the water. The pool glistens under the morning light, the water undisturbed. Today is a new day. A fresh start.

I adjust my sunglasses and stretch out after putting my plate under my lounger, determined to soak in the sun and let it warm the parts of me that feel cold and bitter. If anyone sees me out here, I want them to see that I’m unbothered. That I’m fine.

A few minutes pass in silence before I hear the sliding door creak open behind me. I don't turn to look. I don't react.

I realise it’s Nate and Nick coming out, both looking more awake than I expected.

"Morning" they say in unison, and I greet them with a small smile “Morning early birds.”

I turn to Nick first. "Soooo? How was your night with George?"

Nick rubs the back of his neck, and I can tell he’s holding back his excitement for my sake. "It was good" he says simply.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Nick."

He sighs, then finally lets the grin slip through. "Okay, fine. It was great, actually. We got drinks, had a laugh. He’s funny, really easy to talk to."

I smile at him, genuinely happy. "That’s what I like to hear. You deserve a good time."

Nick gives me a look, like he’s checking if I really mean it. I do. Just because my love life is a disaster doesn’t mean I want everyone else to be miserable with me.

I turn to Nate next. "And what about you? What were you up to?"

Nate stretches his arms over his head, looking far too well rested. "Didn’t move from my bed. Best sleep I’ve had in weeks."

I laugh. "Of course you did. You look like you just got back from a spa retreat while the rest of us look like we barely survived the night."

The three of us settle into conversation, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness of it. But in the back of my mind, I know this moment won’t last. The rest of the villa is still asleep, for now. And soon enough, I’ll have to face the reality I’ve been trying to avoid.

"Is Chris up?" I ask Nate, trying to sound casual.

Nate shakes his head. "Don’t think he even came back here last night."

I swallow hard, nodding slowly. "Oh right"

There's been no sign of Matt either. That tells me everything I need to know.

Guess that means he went out with Chris and stayed with Christina last night again.

I should’ve expected it, but expecting something doesn’t make it hurt any less.

For the rest of the morning, it stays just me, Nick, and Nate chilling outside. The sun climbs higher, and the villa remains quiet, no sign of Chris or Matt. I sip on my water, listening to the distant waves crashing on the shore, slipping in and out of conversation with Nick and Nate as a distraction.

By midday, that peacefulness is interrupted. I hear the sliding door open, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

I lift my head slightly, peering through my sunglasses. Chris and Matt step outside together. Just seeing them like this, together, appearing at the same time, only further confirms what I already knew. 

Matt was with Christina last night.

I can feel my heart break over again, but I refuse to let it show.

Without a word, I rest my head back down on the lounger, keeping my sunglasses on, blocking them out. I’m not ready for any type of conversation. Not yet.

Nate and Nick casually greet them, like nothing is out of the ordinary. Chris stretches, rubbing the back of his neck, and asks if anyone’s hungry.

My stomach twists at the thought of food. The second I saw Matt, my appetite vanished again. So I keep my mouth closed.

Nate says he is and disappears inside with them, leaving just me and Nick alone by the pool.

The quiet settles between us for a moment before Nick turns to me. “Are you coming to dinner tonight?” His tone sounds like he wants me to be there, even though he understands If I don’t want to.

I hesitate. The idea of sitting at a table with Matt, pretending everything is fine, feels impossible. I open my mouth to say no, but Nick is already cutting me off.

“You don’t have to talk to him at all” he reassures me. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

I exhale, chewing on my bottom lip. I do feel bad if I don’t go. It’s just dinner, right? I mean, the tension between Matt and I is like old times, nothing I haven’t had to deal with or experience before. The only thing is, the feeling in my chest is a hundred times worse than it ever was before.

“Okay” I finally say. “I’ll come.”

Nick grins, tapping my arm lightly. “We’ll have a good time, I promise.”

I nod, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift.

By now, it’s nearly 3pm, and the sun has drained me but nowhere near as much as the situation with Matt has. The exhaustion clings to me, both physical and emotional, and I know if I don’t rest now, I’ll be useless later.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap” I mumble, pushing myself up from the lounger.

Nick gives me a small smile. “Good idea. I’ll wake you if you’re not up in time.”

I nod again, grateful, and make my way inside. The second I hit my bed, the world around me fades.

When I wake up, the air in my room feels heavier, the remnants of my dreams still in my brain. I shake them off and head straight for the shower.

By the time I step out, wrapped in a towel, I feel better. Maybe, tonight won’t be as bad as I think.

I walk out and go to sit at the vanity, but I feel like I need to lift the vibe even more.

A drink and music.

That’s what I need if I have any chance of enjoying myself tonight.

Still in my towel, I make my way downstairs, moving quickly so I don’t run into anyone. I pour myself a vodka lemonade, throwing pieces of ice into the fancy glass.

Running back up to my room, I shut the door, take a sip, and set my speaker on full blast. I turn on It’s ok, i’m ok by Tate McRae, the lyrics hitting a little too close to home. I let the music drown out my thoughts as I start getting ready, determined to feel like myself again, even if it’s just for tonight.

I move through my routine on autopilot, letting the music and the slight buzz from my drink carry me through. I’m not overthinking my outfit, my makeup, or my hair, yet somehow, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I look effortlessly put together. Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just given up on caring, but either way, I feel like this is the best I’ve ever looked.

I pick up my phone and text Nick, asking him to come to my room to take pictures. It barely takes a minute before he’s knocking on my door, slipping inside with an approving grin.

“Damnnnn!” he says, dragging the word out. “You look amazing.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my lips. “You have to say that.”

“I really don’t” he laughs, already pulling his phone out. “We need evidence of this moment.”

We take a few pictures together, Nick hyping me up between shots, making me laugh just enough to keep it natural.

When we’re satisfied with the pictures, I wonder where it is we’re actually going to eat. “So, where are we even going for dinner?”

“Some Italian place Chris booked” Nick says, glancing at his phone. “He said he made the reservation earlier.

I nod, I love italian food, so I’m hoping this whole thing is just easy. I grab my purse, double checking that I have everything, phone, keys to the villa, money. I take a deep breath before heading downstairs with Nick.

The moment we step into the foyer, I see them. Chris, Nate, and Matt are all standing together, talking casually like nothing has changed, like the last few days haven’t flipped my world upside down. Matt looks up first. For the briefest second, our eyes meet, and I swear I see something flash across his face, it’s something, but I can’t make out what. But I don’t let myself dwell on it.

I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder, forcing my expression to remain neutral. This is the closest I’ve been to Matt since the nightclub, since everything, but I refuse to let it get to me. Not tonight.

I tilt my chin up slightly, gripping onto my confidence like it’s my lifeline, and step forward like I don’t have a care in the world.

I stay locked in conversation with Nick as we leave the villa to make our way to the restaurant, trying to distract myself from the tension in the air. Chris lingers back slightly, eventually matching my pace as we walk. His presence next to me is quiet at first, almost hesitant, before he finally speaks.

"You okay?" His voice is low, careful, like he already knows the answer but feels the need to ask anyway.

It’s a weird one. I haven't heard from Chris since everything went down. He’s been distant, not in a hostile way, but in a way that tells me he didn’t know how to approach me. And now, here he is, finally asking.

I glance at him briefly, weighing my response before settling on, "I will be."

Chris nods slowly, seeming to accept that answer. “Can we talk later? About everything?”

I exhale softly, not quite ready to dive into whatever everything entails but knowing that it’s overdue. I don’t think there was any malice from him in this situation. And I’m not mad at him at all. I would like to know what his thought process was throughout all this. And maybe, he's actually done me a favour. “Yeah,” I agree. “Later.”

That seems to be enough for now. The group keeps moving, making our way toward the restaurant. When we arrive, the guys step inside ahead of us, but I notice them mumbling amongst themselves, their voices low and almost hurried, like there’s some sort of confusion.

Something about their body language makes me pause, and I follow their line of sight before realizing exactly what has caught their attention.

Rachel and Christina.

They’re seated at a table near the back. Five empty seats are pulled out beside them, waiting.

A sharp, sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

Of course. 

Of course they’re here. It was already bad enough having to see Matt, to sit across from him and pretend I wasn’t still breaking, but now, this?

I don’t even have to look at him to know. I can feel his presence, his hesitation. I wonder if he knew they’d be here. If this was always the plan.

My fingers tighten slightly around the strap of my purse as I will myself to keep my composure.

This night just got a whole lot harder.

Nick squeezes my hand gently, a silent reassurance that he’s here, that I’m not alone in this. “What do you wanna do?” he asks quietly, his voice just for me.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “Sit at the other end” I say, keeping my voice even, refusing to let this shake me any more than it already has.

Without hesitation, Nick follows my lead, guiding me toward the farthest end of the table, away from Rachel and Christina. I slide into my seat, positioning myself as far as I can from them, while Nick sits beside me, his presence like a barrier between me and whatever mess is sitting across the table.

Matt and Chris take their seats. Chris next to Rachel and Matt next to Christina. Whether it was planned or just happened naturally, I don’t know, but it doesn’t make a difference, the damage is done. 

The tension is suffocating. You could cut it with a knife. I never thought at the start of this trip I’d be sitting diagonally across from Matt and another girl.

Nobody speaks at first. There’s an awkward shuffle of menus being picked up, the quiet clinking of silverware as waiters move around us, but no real conversation. 

I keep my gaze down, focused on the menu even though I’m not really reading it. My appetite had started to come back earlier, but now? Completely gone again.

Nick, ever my lifeline in this nightmare, leans in slightly constantly making sure I’m okay. “You good?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod once, though I’m not sure if I mean it. “Yeah” I lie. “I’m fine.”

But we both know I’m not.

I try to keep my focus on the menu, pretending to be absorbed in the options, but it’s impossible to ignore Christina. She is relentless, shifting in her seat so she’s angled toward Matt, her body language screaming interest. The way she leans forward, the way her fingers reach out casually to graze his forearm as she talks, it’s all so intentional.

“Oh my God, Matt, you look so good tonight” she purrs, tilting her head as she studies him. “Did you do something different? Your hair? A new cologne?”

Matt barely reacts, only offering a tight lipped smile as he glances at her briefly. “Uh, no. Same as always.” he replies, going back to his menu.

But Christina isn’t deterred. She lets out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “God, I can’t believe we’re all in Hawaii together. It feels like such a movie moment, don’t you think?” She flicks her gaze up at him through her lashes. “Like, if this was a movie, we’d be the main characters.”

Matt huffs a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, don’t really take myself as the main character type of guy.” His tone is light, but there’s no real engagement. He’s keeping it neutral.

She’s not giving up, though. She leans in again, dropping her voice to something more sultry. “You know, I had so much fun the other night” she murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. 

My stomach twists, but I don’t react. I refuse to. Instead, I lift my glass of water to my lips, taking a slow sip as if I’m completely unbothered.

Nick shifts beside me, subtly kicking my foot under the table as if to say don’t react. I know he’s watching me closely, waiting for me to crack, but I won’t.

Chris, who’s been silent this whole time, suddenly clears his throat. “Christina, didn’t you say this was your first time in Hawaii?”

It’s so obviously a distraction tactic, and I can’t tell if he’s doing it to get her off Matt’s back or because he knows I’m sitting here, silently absorbing every word.

Christina finally tears her gaze away from Matt and glances at Chris. “Oh, yeah it is.” she says, waving a hand dismissively. 

Matt doesn’t say anything. He just flips a page of the menu, like none of this is even phasing him. Meanwhile, Rachel is watching me like a hawk, waiting for a reaction.

I meet her eyes for a split second and give her the most nonchalant look I can muster before turning to Nick. “What are you getting?” I ask, my voice steady.

Nick glances at me, eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness before answering, “Probably the carbonara.”

I nod. “Good choice.”

Nate, ever the sweetheart, seems to pick up on everything, the way I’m keeping my head down, the way Nick keeps a protective presence beside me, the way Matt and Christina’s exchange is unfolding just within earshot. Without missing a beat, he slides into conversation with me and Nick as he’s seated opposite us, as if we’re in our own little bubble, separate from the tension on the other side of the table.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Nate asks, leaning forward with a smile. “I was thinking of heading down to the beach early. Maybe rent a jet ski or something. You two in?”

Nick catches on immediately, grateful for the shift in attention. “Absolutely. I’d love to see you wipe out within the first five minutes.”

Nate pretends to be offended, placing a hand over his chest. “Excuse you, I’m actually a professional. Very experienced!”

I can’t help but smile at their antics, grateful for the distraction. “Professional, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Nate smirks. “Oh, you will. And when I leave you both in my wake, don’t come crying to me.”

Nick scoffs. “Yeah, okay, Nate. Keep dreaming.”

As we laugh, it’s almost easy to forget the rest of the table exists, almost. Because out of the corner of my eye, I see Chris sitting stiffly, glancing between me and the rest of the group, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hasn’t even touched his menu. He just sits there, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like he’s caught in the middle of something he never signed up for.

At one point, he opens his mouth like he wants to say something,to me, but then he hesitates, pressing his lips together instead. His fingers drum restlessly against the table. It’s almost like he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but he can’t.

I keep my focus on Nate and Nick as everyone gives their orders, letting them carry me through the moment, keeping me occupied. And for now, that’s all I need.

The food arrives shortly after, and I focus on my meal, keeping my eyes down, keeping my composure. If I just get through dinner, I’ll be fine.

But Christina doesn’t make it easy.

She just doesn’t stop, her voice carrying just loud enough to ensure I hear every flirtatious remark, every exaggerated giggle. It’s all so obvious, the way she leans toward Matt, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. 

“Oh my God, Matt, you’re so funny” she forces, brushing her fingers against his wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He hasn’t even said anything that funny.

“We should totally do something after this!” Christina continues, tilting her head. “Maybe check out that tiki bar? It would be so fun.”

Matt doesn’t commit. “Maybe.”

Maybe.

That single word twists something in my stomach, because it means he hasn’t outright said no. And I know it shouldn’t matter but that doesn’t stop the sting.

As everyone starts discussing where to go next, I stay quiet, already knowing my answer. The only place I want to be right now is home. I only ever agreed to dinner, nothing more. The idea of trailing behind while Christina continues her performance, while Matt does whatever he’s doing, is unbearable.

I lean toward Nick and quietly tell him, “I’m heading back.”

He nods in understanding, not even questioning it. “That’s fair. I’ll go for one drink, then I’ll be home after. We can debrief, I’ll try to get more info.”

I manage a small smile at that. If there’s anyone I can count on to feed me the details later, it’s Nick.

We both stand, and I feel Chris’s eyes on me, but I don’t meet them. If he wants to talk, he can find me when I’m not on the verge of either snapping or crying.

Nick walks me to the taxi rank just outside the restaurant, following behind me as we weave through the crowd. I should want to stay out, to drown out my thoughts with drinks and distractions, but all I want is to be alone.

“You sure you’re okay going back on your own?” Nick asks as we wait for a taxi to pull up.

I let out a breath. “Yeah. Just over it.”

Nick doesn’t push. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

A taxi pulls up, and he opens the door for me. Before I get in, he squeezes my hand briefly, just a reminder that I’m not alone in all of this.

I nod my thanks, slide into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, I finally let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

I pull up to the villa and thank the taxi man, paying him for the fare. I step out of the car and as I do one pulls up directly behind me.

I freeze for a second, my stomach tightening as I watch Matt step out of the taxi behind me. Of all people, of all times, it has to be him.

I don’t wait for him to say anything. I turn toward the villa, walking quickly up the steps, my heels clicking against the cobblestone pavement. I take my keys out of my bag, unlocking the front door.

I can hear him behind me, his footsteps unhurried, like he’s debating whether to call my name.

“Wait” Matt’s voice finally breaks the silence, and I feel his presence closer than I expected. “Can we talk?”

I let out a slow breath before turning to face him, the front door slightly open behind me. His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to figure out where my head is at.

“Talk about what, Matt?” My voice is steady, but I can feel the exhaustion creeping in.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost.. nervous? “About this. About everything.”

“I’m not too sure what there is to talk about” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve seen it all. I saw Christina in your bed. I saw how she was with you tonight.”

Matt’s face falls, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but I don’t let him.

“And now, what? You think you can stand here and make some sorry excuse for your actions? Do you even realize how disrespectful that is?” My voice rises slightly, frustration taking over. “You can’t just act like nothing happened, Matt. You don’t get to do that.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, it’s a bit too late for that now.” I say, my voice sharp. 

"I’m sorry." he mutters.

I let out a short laugh. "Yeah. So am I.”

Matt stands there looking at me, almost confused.

“I'm sorry I let you play with me for so long. Sorry I let you in, that I actually believed there was something real between us. But it’s clear now, isn’t it? Whatever tension was there, it was only ever sexual for you."

Matt steps forward, opening his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.

"So what now?" I snap, my voice shaking with anger. "What’s your next move? You feel bad for how you’ve treated me, so you’ll do what? Buy me flowers? But never actually give them to me? Did you ever track down Christina’s ex to get her locket back too? Or was that just a special little stunt for me?"

I let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking my head. "And don’t you dare try to tell me you haven’t been with anyone else since that night in the house. Christina basically spelled out what happened in Vegas to me at the club.”

Then realisation hits me. “It makes sense to me now, the real reason you customised your jacket that way. You didn’t do it because you felt something for me. You did it so if the topic of her in Vegas came up, you had something to sway me from believing it, so you could keep stringing me along.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please listen to me? I didn’t even know they were coming out here” he says quickly, almost desperately, like that one fact will make any of this better.

I scoff, shaking my head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes a lot” he insists, stepping forward. “Chris was the one that brought them out here, he has a thing with Rachel and probably just-”

"-wants to smash?" I finish for him, my voice sharp. 

"Yeah, Matt, I know. Just like you said before, that Chris only gave me a job because he wants to smash?" I tilt my head, watching as realization dawns on his face. "Yeah. I heard you when you said that."

Matt shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never meant that" he mutters. "I swear, I didn’t mean it like that."

"Oh really?" I fold my arms, my patience running dangerously thin. "How exactly did you mean it then, Matt?" My voice is sharp, no bullshit. "Because it sounded a lot like you were trying to discredit any of the work I do."

Matt exhales sharply, looking away. "It wasn’t about that, okay?" His voice is tight, like he’s struggling to find the right words. "Maybe I was jealous, maybe I was pissed off at the whole situation, maybe I just-" He stops himself, his jaw locking.

"Maybe you just what?" I push, my voice rising slightly.

His silence is louder than anything he could say. And then, it hits me.

I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head. "Oh my god. It was projection, wasn’t it?" I take a step closer, my words like a slap to the face. "You said Chris only gave me a job because he wanted to smash, but really, that was just you speaking for yourself. You only ever kept me around because that’s what you wanted."

I take a breath, my heart pounding. "And congratulations, Matt. You got it."

Matt’s face falls completely.

"And then you got it from her too, only a matter of hours later." My voice is laced with disgust, and I see the tears welling in Matt's eyes, but I don’t stop. "It’s obvious to me now, you never had feelings for me. You never cared."

I take another step closer, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve kept inside. "I know you saw me leave the club that night. I know you saw me walk out. And not once did you check on me. Not once did you care enough to see if I was okay. It was like, out of sight, out of mind. I disappeared, and you moved on like I was nothing."

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "And then you brought her back here, to the same villa I’m staying in, to rub it in my fucking face? Like this is some sick joke to you?" And then to keep doing it, over and over again, like it wasn’t enough to break me once?" My voice shakes, but not from weakness, from the sheer weight of the betrayal burning inside me. "You didn’t just move on, Matt. You made sure I saw it. You made sure I felt it. Like twisting the knife wasn’t enough, you had to keep pushing it in, again and again."

I shake my head, my breathing uneven. "And for what? To prove a point? To get back at me for something you thought I’ve done? Or was it just fun for you? To watch me fall apart while you played pretend with her?"

Matt’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, to defend himself, but I cut him off before he can even try. "No. Don’t. Because there’s nothing you can say that will make this okay. Nothing you can do that will undo the fact that you chose this. You chose to hurt me. And I’m fucking done." I spit, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve held back. 

"Because all you’ve ever done is choose to hurt me. Over and over again, like it’s second nature to you." I stop for a second to catch my breath, realising how pointless this all is. "I don’t even understand why you’re standing in front of me right now, when what you want is down at the bar with everyone else. Stop bothering me, and go back down there and get it."

Matt looks at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, like he wants to argue. Like he wants to fight his case. But he doesn’t get to, not now. Not after everything.

"In fact" I breathe out a bitter laugh, shaking my head, "don’t ever think of speaking to me again. Because it’s clear now, Matt, we were always better off when we didn’t speak. When we just ignored each other. Maybe that’s what we should’ve stayed."

My heart is hammering in my chest, my entire body shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me. 

I turn around and storm into the villa, slamming the door so hard behind me that the walls seem to shake with the force of it. But he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t even try. Probably heading straight back down to the bar to get exactly what he wants. What he’s always wanted.

My blood is boiling as I march into my room, every step fueled by the sheer rage burning inside me. I feel like a bull, seeing red, ready to destroy everything in my path. But I don’t, because I don’t have time to waste on any of this anymore.

I grab my phone with trembling fingers, my vision blurring from unshed tears as I unlock it.

 I can’t stay here.

I refuse.

I pull up the American Airlines website, my breathing heavy, my chest rising and falling too fast. I don’t even hesitate as I search for the first available flight back home. 

The sooner, the better.

And when I find one, first thing tomorrow morning, I don’t even think twice. I press confirm before I can second guess myself, before the pain can catch up with me.

I’m leaving.

I’m done.

a/n : OOOOF. thats gotta sting.

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[goreandbunnies]

❝ 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺

Inspired by @sweetlandspos ‘s fanart ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You see him again on campus a week later as you’re eating lunch in the park, nose in a book, not noticing that he spotted you from a mile away and has been watching you for a moment until he grew too impatient to wait any longer. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sits across from you on the picnic table, wearing shades and grinning like he just won the lottery. He leans in and peeks at the cover of the book you’re reading, snickering when he sees the spicy themed cover. 

“I knew you were a fun one under that shy attitude,” he teases before picking up a fry from your lunch and munching on it, his pink hair dancing in the warm breeze as you look up at him. 

“What do you want?” You ask, trying to sound resigned and confident but you almost choke on the words. 

You’ve been thinking about him. Of course you have. The campus’ bad boy offered you to spend a night with him and you just ran away like a scared cat. You were torn between shame and regret but also still deeply turned on by the memory of that night. The missed opportunity drove you mad, until now. 

Dealer!Sukuna kept his promise to himself and started chasing after you. 

“Do you want the polite version or the truth?” He asks back, grinning before placing a cigarette between his teeth. He leans back, throwing his shades on the table as his knee gently bumps into yours under there, sending electric shockwaves between your legs.

“Both,” you reply shyly, smiling a little. No harm in chatting with him and teasing back, right? 

“Well first I’d like us to be friends, baby,” he shrugs, drawing attention to the tattoos on his massive arms, his black tank top clinging to his upper body and not doing a good job at concealing how huge he was. He nods at you and leans over, you mimic him, like two friends sharing a secret. “Then I’d have you in my bed, making sure I’d ruin you for other men in the future. Fictional or real,” he adds mockingly, glancing at your book. 

Your breath is hitched, you feel too hot in your own skin and his presence crushes you in the best way. He’s intoxicating, much like the drugs he likes to consume. You wish you could be free to give in, to want him back openly, maybe even make him work for it a little since he wants it - you - so bad. But your studies are too important, you’re too focused on your goal to ruin your chances because of a frat boy. No matter how tempting. 

“I- I’m not interested, sorry,” you tell him, frustration and regret gnawing at your gut. 

Dealer!Sukuna who sees right through your lies. He knows the effect he already has on you. 

“One night, that’s all I’m asking for,” he offers, finishing his cigarette and crushing the butt on the wooden table. “If you don’t want to see me again after that, I’ll let you go,” he lies. But you believe him and this time, it’s too tempting to refuse. Again. 

Besides, one night of fun can’t be that harmless. Most students get trashed weekly and yet they still graduate. One night to unwind with the hottest guy on campus wouldn’t put your plans in danger. It’s been forever since you’ve had some adult kind of fun, sticking to smutty books to make sure not to get attached or too distracted by a real man. 

“What do you say, Princess?” He insists, one of his long legs sliding between your pressed thighs, prying them open. You let him. 

He doesn’t look like the type of guy who gets attached anyways. You tell yourself that you can spend that one night with him then just lie, tell him it wasn’t that good and get back to your bland, boring life. You already know any sex with him would be life changing. It scares you a little. He scares you even more. 

“Okay,” you eventually give up, heart pounding in your chest. 

Dealer!Sukuna whose eyes light up with malice and excitement the second that small word comes out of your mouth. He’s not the type to work for things, he’s used to people coming to him and giving everything he wants on a silver platter. 

This is a first for him. Just like it’s a first for you too. You’ve always made sure to keep away from trouble and he always stuck to the wilder girls out of habit. None of them had sparked a similar interest in him. 

His hand reaches out and cups your chin gently. His hand smells like the cigarette he just smoked and this alone ignites something in your lower belly. 

“Clear your schedule for me tonight then,” he demands, impatient. You shake your head. 

“Not tonight,” you feel stupid for saying no yet again. But you need more than an afternoon to prepare yourself for a whole night with him. 

Dealer!Sukuna who lets go of your face, huffing as he collects his shades on the table and snatches a pencil from your stuff. He scribbles his phone number on the margin in the book you’ve stopped reading. 

“Up to you now, princess,” he slides the book back to you before getting up, his playfulness gone as he leaves you there, alone. 

Your face falls as you glance at the phone number, feeling like you’ve just lost your opportunity to step out of your comfort zone. The one chance to experience more. Defeated, you collect your belongings and head to your next class. 

The entire lecture, your mind is on the number written in that book, wondering whether or not you should text him and apologize - what for, being a coward? Or simply tell him that you can’t see him tonight because you’re too nervous. You end up doing nothing, going along with your day. 

You’re walking to your last class when a strong hand snatches you from the corridor into a fire exit. Before you can scream, that same hand covers your mouth as you’re being pinned against a wall. Pink hair and crimson eyes come into view and you suddenly become acutely aware of the proximity between your body and his. 

Dealer!Sukuna who is just tired of waiting for a taste of his new favourite drug.

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[matchatarot]

Hello Bunny! There’s a lot of beautiful things about you, but here’s the ones your person adore the most. You can adapt the reading to a friendship or a romantic interest, just take what resonates! To pick a pile don’t overthink it and choose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading intent’s. Love, Matcha ♡

☆ masterlist

Pile 1 ₊˚.༄

You’re such a sweetie. Your person sees that you’re someone that has been through a lot. You’ve lost a lot and had to go through life changing emotional challenges that gravely impacted your mental health. The thing they love the most about you is how you’ve alchemized that energy and transformed into a loving and compassionate being. You still find emotional fulfillment out of life, you’ve kept the ability to give and receive love even through it all. They are completely enamoured by you and they want you to know that they will always be there to help you. They love when you ask them for help if you need it or they wish you did. They might have a little bit of a savior complex when it comes to you. They think that you can be hesitant when it comes to relationships, that you’re wary of people’s intention and that you wouldn’t just spend time with anybody. They love that you’ve decided to let them in your life despite this. If you guys are in some sort of union, either romantic or friendly, they feel extremely proud that you chose them, it gives them an ego boost honestly. They adore that you’re someone that follows your intuition, you might have anxiety but you still make the effort to rationalize your anxious thoughts when possible and manifest. Your faith is one of their favorite things about you. They also obviously love how beautiful you are! They think you’re so pretty and that you have pretty privilege, because they don’t understand how anyone could get mad at someone with a face like this, at least stay mad for long. Honestly, they really see you as adorable, they want to take care of you. Since you’ve been through so much they wish they could give you enough love to kind of make up for it. They also like how you’re someone that can admit your flaws and your errors. They love the sound of your voice and the words you use, they think you have a good vocabulary. Their favorite thing about you is that you bring light into their world, they see your soul as so pure. They think you’re so angelic, that your presence is a blessing.

Queen of Cups

Pile 2 ⊹˚˖ ☆

You’re so cool. You’re a go-getter, you’re not scared to take action. Their favorite thing about you is how determined, grounded and strong you are. You take care of yourself and your life. They love how you’re responsible, you’re someone they trust. They love how you’re not scared to philosophize, to think and discuss about difficult topics. Their favorite thing about you is how smart you are and how you teach them things. They really love how you always want to do better and bigger. You’re no bullshit when it comes to challenges. They love your ability to stay true to your decisions. Sorry if it’s cringe, but they think you’re not like the other girls or any gender. They think you’re better than the rest. They love how you give nymph vibes. Most people that chose this pile probably asked for a romantic relationship because they’re clearly attracted to you… If it’s not that type of relationship disregard that but I see that they want you. If you’ve been having sex they love it and it’s one of their favourite part of their relationship with you. They get a lot of pleasure from it and they love that you seem to love it too. They love the way you look naked. If you’ve been seeing other people they’re super jealous. If you were asking for a friendship, they’re also jealous of your other friendships. They want to always be the one having fun with you! You’re the person they have the most fun with! If they ever did anything that hurt you they’re so sorry, when you fight they want to go back to your right after. Maybe you guys sometimes fight and then make up and they love when you’re willing to forgive them and have a discussion. You’re not scared of being the bigger person, but you don’t judge them too much. They feel like they can be themselves with you. They really see you guys being in each other’s life for the long-term, they hope for it. They admire you, your looks and your mind.

Queen of Pentacles

Pile 3 ‧₊˚ ♡

They’ve never met anyone else like you. Their favorite thing about you is that you’ve offered them a new way to see life. They love how you’re free-spirited and spiritual. They love how you’re a leader. You lead by example. You guide people around you, they feel like you bring them clarity. Their favorite thing about you is how you offer love and compassion. They love how you are a peaceful person. You’re only in a competition with yourself, but even then you practice detachment. You’re patient and you have a strong mindset. They love how you manifest the things you want in your life with this powerful attitude. They want you all for themselves. They love when you want to see them and when you claim them as your person. If sometimes it’s time to stop hanging out and you say things like “no please stay!”, they really love that. They love partying and having fun with you. They think you’re the life of the party and that you’re good at bringing people together. They love how you don’t care about what people say about you. You let them talk. You might had to cut off family members, your person thinks you don’t care what your family think about your lifestyle and they admire that. You inspire them because you have a lot of general knowledge. You’re the type to know a lot of fun facts. They like the way you tell stories and how many stories you have to tell. They’re scared of losing you. They might have nightmares about you guys fighting and it stresses them out. They feel youthful and free with you. When they’re with you, they feel like it’s the universe giving them an other chance. Perhaps they had a lot of endings before you. If it’s about a romantic interest and you’ve never had sexual encounters they’re ready for that step. They’re in general ready for the next step in your relationship. They want to be able to try out a lot of new things with you. They think that if they stay with you they’ll feel young forever.

High Priestess

decks used for this reading: l’oracle du chemin spirituel by Valérie Defour & Valérie Saussez, modern witch tarot deck by Lisa Steele, amor et psyche oracle by Georges Barbier, les vampires oracle by Lucy Cavendish, mystical wisdom by Gaye Guthrie, oracle of heaven and hell by Travis McHenry

[wasteland-wrecker]

Okay, so, “every”? Every who? I really haven’t seen that many, to be honest. Most of people (from my niche) have awesome ocs, and they’re not all gigachads or twinks, either, but alright. Especially couriers, all of them blend perfectly with the Mojave setting.

I get what you’re saying, though, and I agree—the wasteland definitely makes you look rougher (and hey, I love ugly characters, okay?). But what I don’t get is the tone of this post. Why is OP telling other artists how they should draw Fallout characters? Like, EXCUSE ME, if I want to draw a character and make them look a little more attractive than their 3d model, is that a problem? Or if I want to make them fit, instead of drawing my favorite character with a beer gut? Not because I am better than anyone else but cause it’s my own art and after idk, a 5-9 week shift I stand at my desk and I want to draw them the way I want?? Can’t I do that? Let people create what they want. (Okay, maybe if your courier looks like Stella from the Winx Club, it might be a bit weird, but c’mon—don’t judge. “I hate how every Fallout artist…” Seriously, man, that’s not cool).

Also, if we’re talking about the FO4 Sole Survivor, they have every reason to look like a top model since they’re from another “dimension.”

I’m saying all this while I mostly enjoy art from artists who draw the characters the way you’d prefer, OP. But that tone might offend someone, imho.

I don’t know you, and I don’t have anything against you but this kind of triggered me, so I hope you can forgive me for this ramble.

(Gently touches Gage, the ugliest character ever created :’))

I hate how every fallout artist draws every character as either a hypermuscular gigachad or a tiny twink. This is the american wasteland, a world dredged up from the remnants of a hypercapitalist society. Food deserts exist. People are not bathing or shaving. Fashion has kind of gone to die because it's just not important anymore. I'm begging you guys to draw your oomfs realistically. Draw Boone with a beer gut and flabby man boobs. Draw Hancock with lanky limbs and self-done piercings. Draw Arcade covered in the dried blood of his patients and a bit of five-o-clock shadow. Nobody needs to be beautiful in the apocalypse.

[strang3lov3]

Breathing Exercises

“You just lay there, pretty girl,” Roman instructs, pushing his finger further past the fabric of your panties. He can feel the fucking heat radiating from your pussy. “Do not move, do not talk, and do not think,” he says quietly, drawing his finger up and down your seam. “Nod if you understand, baby.”

WARNINGS - softdom!roman, smut, dubcon/noncon, intox kink (usage of weed), unprotected piv, oral sex, dacryphilia, anxiety, greening out, finger sucking, daddy kink, romey turns you into his brain dead little fuck sleeve and talks all slow and gentle to you, but is also kinda scarydaddy and mean, aftercare, little bit of a horrorfucky situation.

A/N - Heyyyyyyyy romey readers ♡ been a minute since i've written romey on his own!! february kinda sucked for me, sorry. anywho. you guys have to let me know if you wanna see stepdaddy after this or if you want more one shots or uhh... 1cky br0ther!romey. or gyno!romey. havent forgotten him either!

Roman’s been watching you fidget for the past forty-five minutes, the way you always do sometimes. You’ve been having more of these moments lately, or maybe it’s just that Roman’s only now noticing. It’s a whole lot of pacing, bouncing, and generally moving your body. You’re anxiously checking your phone, turning it off, then checking it again.

The floor creaks as you stand up and walk towards the other side of the room. Roman watches you fill a crystal glass with water from the matching carafe, drink it all, then repeat the action. When you’re done, you just kind of…stand there, bouncing on your toes a little. 

“You’re hovering,” Roman deadpans. 

“What? Oh, sorry.” 

“Sit down,” he tells you. “Watch some fuckin’...” Roman trails off as he looks around himself for the remote, then changes what’s on TV. “–Here, perfect. Parks and Rec. You love that shit, don’t you?”

You just barely nod as you sit down at the middle of the bed, back straight, legs tightly crossed. Roman’s lying on his side behind you, admiring the elegant curve of your waist for a lingering moment. 

He does his best to understand you, to empathize with you, but he just…doesn’t get it. Your whole fuckin’...thing. He gets it, logically. He can make sense of how your anxiety works. He just doesn’t feel it the way you do, and he doesn’t really quite know what to make of it, being on edge with no immediate threat around. How very odd.

Roman thinks sometimes about taking advantage of your body when you’re like this, all anxious the way you are. You’d be so fucking tight, he imagines. Your eyes frozen in fear as he slides into you. Arousal and fear kind of feel the same at a certain point, right? Heart racing, skin dampened with sweat, the tingle in your bones and the fluttering in your stomach. 

Roman waves away the thought. Not that he gives a shit, but it wouldn’t be right. A cheap shot, really. You’re worse tonight, worse than you’ve been in a while. Another time. You need something different from him, he decides.

“Psst.” Roman taps you gently with his foot, and chuckles when he startles you. “You’d make a better door than a window,” he teases.

“I’m s - I’m sorry. I’ll - I’ll–”

Roman sits up and crawls across the bed, then gently lies next to you. “You’re pretty wired, huh?” he asks through a smirk, resting the side of his face on his fist. 

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah,” you answer, looking down at him. “I’m sorry.”

“You get like this a lot, don’t you? All restless and whatever. Fuckin’ amped.”

“Sometimes,” you mumble. Roman makes a face at you, silently telling you to elaborate. “Yeah, I don’t know. I didn’t used to feel this way. I just get kind of, yeah. Wired, like you said, from time to time. It’s worse with caffeine,” you add, laughing awkwardly. 

Roman nods slowly, his hazel eyes sparkling under the low light. “What makes it better?”

“Mmm…sleep, maybe? That’s if I can sleep,” you chuckle. “Doesn’t always happen.”

“So you just don’t come down sometimes. You just stay like this.” You shrug while nodding. “Wow. That can’t feel good,” Roman says. 

“No, it doesn’t,” you agree, sighing a little. The anxiety starts to bubble up again, but you’re grateful for the moment away from it talking with Roman afforded you. “You don’t feel this way?” you ask, tucking your knees into your chest. “Like, ever?”

Roman shakes his head. “Nope. But I mean…I could make it go away, if you want.” 

“Breathing exercises? Because if that’s your suggestion, I’ve tried them and–”

“Nah. Well,” Roman tilts his head, then says, “Kinda.” 

Roman slides off of bed and enters his closet, shuffling through items. Sure, fucking you when you’re all anxiety ridden would be something. Violent, exciting, all that shit the darkest parts of himself craves. But fucking you stoned out of your mind, now that’s something else entirely. Getting you all high and fuzzy brained, you’re drooling into the pillows as Roman turns you into his own stupid little cock sleeve. 

He returns to you with a slick-looking device in his hand. 

“What’s that?”

“Cart,” he answers, and you look lost. “You’ve never seen one before?”

You shake your head. “I don’t even know what that is.” 

“It’s weed, dummy. C’mon. Keep up.” 

You look momentarily stunned, and Roman smirks as the gears turn in his head. “I appreciate it, Rome, but I really–”

“Oh, yes you will. C’mon, just hit it. It’s just a little fuckin’ weed, yeah? Nature’s remedy. It’ll cure what ails you, princess. All that anxiety, gone.” 

You’re skeptical. “That’s really weed?” 

“Mhm.”

“The kind that makes you relax?” 

Roman laugh. “No, it’s the other kind - yes, it’s the kind that makes you relax. Let me ask you, have I ever not delivered? Have I ever once steered you wrong?”

 “A lot, actually.” 

Roman laughs. “Okay, well, you can trust me now, alright? Hey - you’re gonna feel good. Now hit the pen, you fuckin’ loser.” 

Roman tosses you the battery, and it lands on the bed. He sits next to you as you inspect it, the shiny, sleek design, internally giggling as he knows how fucking potent this one is. You tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head, then hand it back to him. “I’m okay, Roman. I don’t even know how to work this shit. And it’s been so long since I’ve smoked.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” Roman grins, and it makes you feel even more insecure. He holds out the pen to you, wiggling it a little. “Just do it, sweetheart. Give it a try.” 

“I don’t think so,” you mumble, shifting in place, watching him toy with the device. He twirls it between his fingers, and presses the button a couple of times to make it light up, the multicolored glow illuminating his hands in pretty shades of violet, red, and blue.  

“I’ll even go first, yeah? Here–” Roman takes a hit of the pen, breathes in deeply and holds it, then lets the smoke seep through his nose with a steady exhale. He coughs a little, then giggles in amusement. “Now it’s your turn.”

“It’s alright, Roman. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, give me a break. You’ve sucked on a Juul before, right? It’s the same thing. You can do it. I know you can do it.”

Roman’s gaze is heavy and intense. His eyes are dark, but there’s something soft there, too. Comforting, probably deceptively so. You rest your chin on top of your knees, biting down on your shy smile. “Mmm,” you hum, contemplating. There’s something thick in the air. It’s electric, heavy and energetic.

Roman chuckles at your hesitation. “You are such a fucking pussy,” he taunts, rolling his eyes in mock disappointment. “But that’s fine. We’ll just do it the other way.”

“What’s the other way?”

“You’ll figure it out,” he murmurs softly, wearing another devilish smirk. Roman moves closer to you on the bed, mattress dipping with his weight, then wraps both of his hands around your ankles. He tugs on them gently, pulling you out of your curled-up position by setting your legs flat against the bed. He lays your torso against the mattress next, your heart pounding and fingers trembling as he hovers over you, caging you in.

“Roman–” 

“Shh…you’re in capable hands. You know that.” Roman takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your face, then brings the pen to his lips, raising an eyebrow as you shy away beneath him. He’s so, so fucking gorgeous. You could count all of his freckles here if you wanted to, follow the lines in his face with your eyes. Roman’s knee is pressed against your cunt, and he can feel you start to throb against him if he focuses.

“Mm-mm,” he hums quietly, bringing your focus back to him. He takes a long drag, then lowers his face, opening your jaw a little before he presses his soft lips against yours. He feeds his breath into your lungs, gently but steadily, and the sleek strands of his hair that fall over his eyebrows tickle your forehead. The smoke burns you inside, but Roman keeps you still beneath him. Finally, he pulls away, leaving you to cough and sputter on the exhale. 

“Rome–”

“Nope, you’re not done yet. Give me one more, pretty girl,” Roman tells you, taking another hit from the pen. He repeats the action but pulls back faster this time, and he presses his palm over your mouth and nose for a few seconds. “Attagirl, sweetheart,” he whispers, warm breath tickling your ear. “Hold it in. Just like that. Juuuuust like that.” 

You’re lightheaded already. Only when you squirm beneath him does Roman uncover your mouth, and a small puff of smoke clouds his face. 

“There we go. Wasn’t too hard, huh? You’re gonna feel so good, sweet girl. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You don’t feel so good yet, despite Roman’s promise. You just lie there on his bed, listening to the sounds of his TV becoming more and more distant, the rustling of fabric. The bed dips as Roman situates himself behind you, resting against the headboard of his bed. 

A moment passes before he speaks. “Hey, you,” he says. “Are you joining me or not?”

It takes you a second for his words to register, to even detect where they came from. You turn your head to see Roman smiling at you, his sharp canines on display. His eyes are dark and half-lidded, cheeks glowing with a gentle blush painted upon them. He’s shirtless now, too, and his soft stomach rises and falls with his steady breaths. 

“Oh, man. It’s already hitting you, huh, lightweight?”

…Is it hitting you yet? Getting high has always had a rather elusive, gradual start. It’s usually not until you’re feeling sort of heavy and floaty at the same time that you realize you’re there, and fuck, you are certainly there. You feel stuck to the bed, almost magnetically pulled to it. Roman giggles and crawls over to you, “Jesus, c’mere. Come snuggle me,” he says, “You’re gonna wanna be held,” then wraps his arms around you and tugs you with him toward the headboard again. 

Roman faces you toward the ceiling and lays your head in his lap. With one hand, he uses his long fingers to gently scratch your scalp as he turns on his phone with the other. He lowers the overhead lights, then turns on colored lights that glow under his bed and up by the ceiling. It’s very slick looking.

“Yeah, you like that?” he asks, “Do you like the lights?”

“Yeah,” you whisper softly, staring up at him. “They’re nice.” 

Roman smiles down at you, drawing little patterns on your face with gentle fingertips. He traces your features too, then pushes some hair out of your face. “Why don’t you watch the TV now, alright? Just lay like that.”

You nod sleepily, then turn your face to watch the TV as your high begins to set in a little further. Roman keeps his hands on you, always. Stroking your shoulders, fingers trailing up your neck. He turns you into a fidget toy of sorts, one of his own silly behaviors he takes on when he’s high. While watching the TV mindlessly, you’re not really sure how much time is passing. But you feel good. Relaxed, even. You love lying in Roman’s lap, head pressed against his soft, warm belly. He smells good, like some kind of gentle eucalyptus soap. And his happy trail is neatly trimmed. 

After some quiet between you and Roman, he speaks. “You feeling good yet? A little better?”

You look up at Roman then, and it hits you hard, just how high you are. Watching the TV, giving your mind and your eyes something to follow kind of dulls the sensation. Without it is a different story entirely. You blink at Roman a couple of times as he smirks at you. 

“Oh, fuck yeah. You’re high as balls, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m uh…” you trail off, taking longer to find the words than you should. “I’m a little dizzy.”

“Dizzy, huh?” he asks quietly. Roman clicks his tongue, then goes back to playing with you while watching the screen. He drags his fingers across your collarbones, tickling you a little. His hand inches down, rubbing you over your shirt. Your stomach flutters when he lifts your shirt a little and rubs your tummy, fingers dipping below the waistband of your sweatpants just a little. But his hands are so warm, so comforting. Gentle. 

Roman gingerly lifts your head, then slides from beneath you, allowing you to rest on the memory foam under you. You feel so heavy, almost like your body is slowly sinking through the mattress. Like quicksand. 

The bed dips by your legs, and then you feel Roman’s fingers undoing the bow tied in the front of your sweatpants, then brush over your hip bones as he hooks them under the waistband. He gives them a gentle tug, pulling them down your legs entirely. “Romey,” you murmur, “What’re you doing to me?”

“Romey, huh? Is that who I am?” Roman watches you nod, loving that lost look in your eyes. He laughs, “I like it. You’re so fuckin’ cute.”

“Why are you taking off my clothes?” you ask. “I’m so fu…I’m so confused.” 

Roman crawls over your body and leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, I know you are,” he whispers, then hums. “Oh, you poor, confused, sweet girl. You’re having such a hard time thinking, aren’t you?” he says softly, voice so tender in a way you’ve never heard from him before. When you nod, Roman says, “I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna make my words nice and easy for you, honey, so you don’t have to think too hard. Does that sound okay?”

You nod dumbly, and Roman smiles. “Good girl,” he praises. “I’m gonna give you some rules now, alright?”

“Rules for what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I want you to just listen to Daddy, okay? It’s super fucking easy. Can you do that for me?”

“Daddy?”

Roman nods, taking your hand in his own. “Mhm, Daddy,” he says, smirking. “Daddy’s in charge of you tonight, honey. And I’m gonna take good care of you, but you have to listen carefully to me, alright? It’s very important, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you answer, feeling unsure. Something about the way he talks to you makes you feel worse in some ways. Nervous. But he tells you that you can trust him, so you do, right?

“Alright, sweetie. You’re gonna let Daddy do whatever he wants to do to you, and you’re just gonna lie still and be pretty for me. See? Very easy. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I can do…” Roman’s brows knit together as you trail off. “You think I’m pretty?”

His lips curl into a lopsided smile at your question. “Of course I do,” he tells you, drawing his name on your thigh with his fingers, already marking you as his own. He grins at you like an animal, eyes black and devoid of any depth. “I think you’re just the prettiest, honey.” 

“I think you’re pretty, too,” you say quietly. 

“Oh, do you, now?” Roman passes a hand back through his hair, only for the strands to fall in front of his face again. “Well, that’s fuckin’ nice of you.”

Roman motions for you to watch the TV again, his hand still holding yours. He drops it, then moves back a little, and spreads your legs to sit cross-legged between your thighs. As you watch the TV, you’re getting lost in the visuals. One person’s face turns into another’s, then another’s. It bothers you a little if you think about it, but when you look at Roman, he doesn’t seem alarmed. He just keeps touching you, his warm, soft hands running up and down your thighs, rubbing little circles into your hips. He toys with your underwear, surreptitiously slipping a finger under the gusset. You freeze.

“Aren’t you…” you begin, and Roman raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Aren’t I…what?”

“Like, not supposed to be doing that to me.” 

“Uh huh…” Roman drawls, “I’m not doing anything, though.”  

“But–”

Roman pouts at you mockingly. “Oh, man. You don’t know what you’re talking about at all, do you?” He shushes before you can speak, “Shhh. Just - just be quiet, now. You’re forgetting the rules.” 

“The rules…”

“The rules,” Roman replies, nodding his head slowly. “I’ll give you a refresher, alright? You get one freebie. But don’t make me tell you again, okay?” He sounds so sweet, and so serious. You kind of hate the way he babies you and talks to you like you’re fucking stupid, but you don’t have the capacity to understand him in any other way right now. He tells you it really is best if you let him do the thinking. Just give that pretty head of yours one fuckin’ night off, huh? 

“You just lay there, pretty girl,” Roman instructs, pushing his finger further past the fabric of your panties. He can feel the fucking heat radiating from your pussy. “Do not move, do not talk, and do not think,” he says quietly, drawing his finger up and down your seam. “Nod if you understand, baby.”

You nod, feeling a little intimidated and, well. Compelled to obey him. Roman mindlessly drags his fingers through your folds. Nothing more, nothing less. Like it’s not a big deal, or something. Like if he’s nothing to him, then why would it be anything to you?

Roman rubs your clit in circles. Just steady, slow circles. The fabric of your panties becomes damp, arousal dripping down your pussy as he works you slowly, steadily. He takes note of your breath hitching in your throat, your breathing becoming heavier. You’re not quite moaning, not yet. But he’ll get you there. 

He pulls your panties to the side, then pushes one finger into your slick hole. Roman pumps it in and out of you for a couple of minutes, admiring how you soak him. One finger becomes two, and he curls those two fingers inside of you repeatedly. Slowly, at first. Just to make you squirm a little, and then he increases the pressure and the speed.

“Roman,” you gasp, arching your back. 

“Quiet, baby.” 

He uses his other hand to rub your clit as he fucks you on his fingers, and the sensation feels overwhelming. It’s pleasurable, sure, but it feels polluted. Overwhelming. You’ve never been touched like this while being high before. 

“You are sooo fuckin’ soaked,” Roman whispers. “Feelin’ good, yeah?”

“I - I don’t know,” you say quietly, sitting up a little. Roman pushes you back down. “I just feel so confused, Roman. And like…afraid, I think? Maybe?” 

“Oh, come on. It’s just a little touching, huh? You can handle a little touching. You have nothing to be afraid of. See?” Roman pulls his fingers from your cunt, and wiggles them in front of you. “Look at how wet you are, sweetheart. That means you feel good.” He sucks his middle finger, humming at the taste of your arousal, then leans over you and pushes his pointer against your lips and forces it deep into your mouth. “Taste it, pretty girl.” You can smell yourself on his hand.

Roman’s cock twitches as you suck your arousal off his fingertip, then he pulls his hand away. He pulls your panties down your legs and drops them on the floor, then pushes your shirt up your torso. 

“Rome—”

“No, baby. No more talking.”

Roman puts his hand over your mouth and dips his head lower, then kisses the valley between your breasts. He kisses across them, moaning into the soft flesh there, sucking on one of your nipples while he gently squeezes the other one of your tits. The soft strands of his hair tickle your skin, and you arch into his touch. 

He kisses his way down your belly, then lifts you up and slides a pillow underneath your ass. The slight change in position makes you feel like you’ve been thrown off your axis, head all fuzzy and full and spinning. Before you can settle into it, Roman’s pushing your thighs apart and rubbing the soft skin behind your knee with his thumbs. He blows cool air over your dripping seam, and watches as your cunt twitches.

As Roman settles between your legs and kisses your inner thighs, you debate opening your mouth to speak. You really don’t want him to be mad at you right now. 

Roman rests his head against your leg. “Hey.” He taps on your side, “What’s that look for, huh? You’ve got freak-out face.” You pause, afraid to speak. “It’s cool. You can talk.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re like, totally freaking out in there,” Roman says softly, biting down on his twisted, delighted smile. 

“I just…I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Romey. I thought we were just gonna watch TV or something.”

“You can still watch TV.” Roman kisses your knee, “Daddy’s just kissing you, honey. That’s all. Nothin’ too bad. You like being kissed, don’t you?”

“I do, but—”

Roman startles you as he leaps forward, silencing you by pressing his lips against yours. It takes you a moment to return his kiss, to mingle your tongue with his the way he urges you to. You find a comfortable rhythm, and you feel content kissing him like this. His hands are gently cradling your face, and your legs brush against the smooth skin of his torso. But as quickly as it begins, it’s over. “Go watch your show, baby,” Roman whispers, kissing your lips one last time. 

Once again, he settles himself in front of your cunt. Roman kisses right over your seam, moving his lips gently. He slips his tongue over you, gathering your arousal on the tip to then drag through your folds. 

Roman told you to watch the show, but all you can do is watch him. His eyes are dark as he eats you, brows pinched together. A little line draws between them, and the veins in his forehead bulge a little. The tip of his perfect, freckled nose nudges against your mound as he swipes his tongue over your clit, eliciting the sweetest sound from you. 

His eyes dart to the mattress where you tug at the sheets. Saying nothing, Roman takes your hand and holds it, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. He does so intentionally, tracing each rise and dip of your joints, and it becomes something of a way for you to ground yourself amidst the discomfort. Roman devours your cunt, eating you for his pleasure alone. You taste so sweet, so very you. There’s no real pattern to it, just Roman blindly licking you, alternating between a flat tongue and a pointed one. He drags his tongue in swirls, figure-eights, circles. Even writes his name. 

When he wraps his lips around your clit and suckles you there, it makes you writhe and shudder. “Lie still,” Roman mumbles into your thigh, then goes right back to working you. 

Pleasure builds in your gut, but it doesn’t feel…right. It’s too intense, with no real start or stop of the sensation. It makes you feel like you’re breaking into a million pieces, and it makes you feel scared. You know it for certain - you are fucking scared. 

Roman savors the sweet noises of you quietly weeping and cumming, the choking sobs turned moans. He knows you’re way too high right now, just how he wants you. Fucking braindead and frightened to the bone. 

The pleasure doesn’t end there, however. The aftershocks of your release continue to roll through you, and you can feel it so awfully in your fingertips. You don’t even realize that Roman’s completely naked now, and so are you. He’s hovering above you, leaking cock tapping your wet cunt. You’re terrified. 

“I’m so scared, Romey,” you sniffle. “I wanna be done.”

Roman clicks his tongue and draws the head of his cock up and down your folds. He’s so pleasantly tickled by you, this whole thing - he thought you’d be all limp and mindless, but you’re afraid like you’re his fucking prey. “Yeah. But you’re not done, is the thing. Sorry.” 

“Rome–”

“You can cry, sweetheart. I don’t mind.” Roman holds your face, rubbing your cheek in circles, then notches his tip at your entrance and quickly thrusts into you. He reaches for the pen again and inhales a lungful for himself, one before he shotguns you again. You struggle a bit, grabbing at his wrist as you wiggle your body, trying to throw him off of you. Roman laughs and coughs, smoke blowing in your face.  You’re so fucking high that you’re barely moving, despite all of your efforts. Isn’t that just the funniest fucking thing? 

“Another,” he tells you, about to take another hit. “Open your mouth.”

“No, please. Don’t. I’m so fucking high, Roman.” 

“You’re really not,” he laughs, then grips your jaw tight enough to hurt. “Fuckin’ pussy.”  He squeezes your mouth open, takes an uncomfortably long hit, and forces all of his warm breath down your throat. Roman moans, feeling your cunt pulse around his length as you cough repeatedly, lungs on fucking fire. Your head spins as he giggles and lowers his mouth to your ear, and whispers, “You’re fucked.” He licks the shell of your ear as he draws out of you, and pushes slowly back inside. 

Roman pulls out again, so tender as he does it. Another gentle push inside, and soon enough, he’s found his pace. It’s not particularly hard, not particularly fast or brutal. As soft as it is, it still scares you. You don’t have a say in one thing that happens to you right now - not what you think, not what you feel, not how your body moves. Not even what you’re wearing. It’s all Roman - you are all Roman’s - and you can’t do one fucking thing about it. Your limbs are heavy as your mind races with incoherent thoughts. 

It’s all too much. Your heart pounds as Roman cages you in, slowly fucking in and out of you. You feel claustrophobic like this, smothered by his warmth and his weight, and your hands are pinned above your head. You don’t even remember that happening. “I’m too high, Roman,” you tell him. “I need–”

“It’s just a little weed, honey. You’re fine.”

“No, I’m really not. I feel - I’m scared,” you whisper, wriggling in discomfort. Roman pins you down with a hand on your tummy, keeping you in place. You’ve never felt afraid like this before. It’s not an immediate fear, not like seeing a spider on your refrigerator or hearing something go bump in the night. It’s dread more than it’s fear, really; a quiet and suffocating sort of terror. “I’m just so fucking scared,” you sob.

“Shh, hey - hey. You’re fine. Just look at the pretty lights, okay?” Roman tilts your head in the direction of the colorful glow, “What colors do you see, baby?”

Roman turns your face to the side, urging you to look at his lights as he fucks you gently. They shift in color, electric blue turning to violet, then magenta.

“Purple,” you answer. “And…blue…Can you pl–”

“Oh, fuck. Yeah? Kinda cool, huh?” he grunts, “What’s your favorite?”

“Pink,” you mumble, watching the colored lights and shadows dance on his ceiling. Roman’s bathed in all the same colors, his gorgeous skin painted in those gorgeous hues. 

“That’s good,” he says, “I want you to focus on the pretty lights and just let Daddy’s cock slide in and out of you, okay? That is aaalll you have to do. It’s very easy, honey. Be a good girl for me now, yeah?” 

Roman looks down at you and admires his work. Your skin glows under the multicolored lights, face sticky with tears as you cry softly. Your body is so soft, so fucking pliant. Close to dead, even. He did this to you. Roman did. And Roman’s all you have right now, for better or for worse. 

He kisses your neck, feeling your throat twitch under his lips as you hiccup and sob. “Oh, I know. Must be so hard, huh? Being Daddy’s pretty little fuck doll. What’m I gonna do with you, pretty girl?”

You don’t answer. Roman fucks you gently, steadily chasing his release. He licks his fingers and finds your swollen clit, and rubs it as he rolls his hips into you. The lights multiply and dance as pleasure builds inside you again, just as overwhelming as it was before. Lost in the colors, you cum while crying Roman’s name incoherently, and he guides you through your climax. His stupid, stoned fucksleeve. 

It’s not long before Roman cums too, shooting hot ropes of his spend inside you. He pulls out at the last minute to paint your cunt with his cum too, that last little bit. He rubs it into you with the tip of his dick, then lays next to you. He’ll have to clean you up before morning - or maybe he’ll leave you to lie in the mess he made of you. Depends on his mood. 

Roman turns your face to meet his and wipes your tears away. Poor thing. Your face is all puffy, eyes rimmed red by both the weed and your crying. Roman pulls you in for a hug, and buries your face into his chest that’s damp with sweat. You’re still vibrating with the effects of the high, but you can start to calm down in Roman’s arms. All you can do is melt there, and try not to think about any of it. Maybe in the morning the memory won’t be there. 

if you enjoyed, lmk ♡ i loooove you. scream at me in my inbox or be gross in reblogs!

[e-dubbc11]

Such a Flirt

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Hunter Reader; supporting character Sam Winchester

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ please or I’m telling on you) fingering, oral, p in v protected sex (be safe out there everyone), couple of swear words, love confessions

Word Count: 3.3K-ish

Summary: Dean and Sam ask for your help getting information from a bartender at a local bar. You’re a smooth talker and can get info from anyone but Dean hates having to watch you flirt with handsome men.

A/N: Fair warning, there’s only a little plot with this one. I really just wanted to get to the smexy time. I had the strongest urge to write some smut for this smexy son of a bitch, I don’t know why but I’m just very much in love with all things Jensen Ackles right now(I’ve watched Tracker, My Bloody Valentine, and started watching season 3 of the Boys again plus random episodes of Supernatural) I can’t wait to meet him in October! I hope you like this one!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Dude, why are you grinding your teeth like that?” Asked Sam.

Dean’s eyes were fixated on you as you flirted with the bartender. You were trying to see if he knew anything about a man who was in the bar a couple of days ago.

Later, the man couldn’t explain why he had beaten his girlfriend to death after being seen in the bar with a beautiful woman who was definitely NOT his girlfriend.

“Does she have to flirt so hard with that guy?!” Growled Dean. “He’s not even that good looking!”

Dean angrily took a sip of his beer and continued to watch you like a hawk.

Sam rolled his eyes, pressed his lips together in a straight line and tried to continue talking about the case with Dean but he was more interested in what you were saying to the bartender.

“She’s trying to get information for us, Dean. Relax.” Said Sam.

The boys didn’t always need a third “FBI agent.” Sometimes they just needed help getting information from the opposite sex. Men were a lot freer with their words with you rather than the “feds.”

You mostly hunted on your own but they would call you from time to time when they needed your…”wits,” so to speak. Plus, you liked to watch Dean struggle with his feelings for you and you very much liked him back but it was fun to make him jealous.

**********

Before leaving the bunker, you had asked, “What kinda bar is it?”

“What do you mean what kind? It’s a bar, y/n.” Answered Dean.

“Ok, I realize that, Dean but is it a biker bar, a country western bar, one that doesn’t have a theme? I need to know what kinda clothes to bring. I threw a whole bunch in my car, I’ll bring the one outfit I need, and pick up the rest back here before I head home.” You replied.

Sam was already on his laptop doing research so he did a quick search and found the bar’s website online.

“Looks like it’s quite the nice place, y/n. Reviews say it’s an after work hot spot for bankers, real estate brokers, professionals, etc.” Said Sam.

You replied, “Soooooo a little swanky, but don’t dress like a high end call girl, got it. You guys will fit in perfectly wearing your FED suits.”

You decided to go for the “classy attorney” look but without a blazer. A Kelly green fitted silk blouse, black wide-leg pants that had black studs on the seam, and black ankle boots. Your perfectly chosen outfit, paired with a black structured tote bag seemed like impeccable choices.

Eat your heart out, Dean Winchester.

While they were out eating lunch, you did your hair and makeup. You didn’t do this super girly stuff very often but you liked…feeling pretty. The times that the boys needed you to turn on the charm and bat your long lashes to get information, were really fun for you.

Drawing on your black winged eyeliner after having a little too much coffee proved to be difficult sometimes but you were a professional and could probably do it with your eyes closed if you needed to.

A medium tone matte eyeshadow and a bold lip completed the look while a strobe light like highlighter emphasized the high points of your face.

Satisfied with your look, you watched a little tv before changing clothes. They would be back soon to pick you up for drinks after they talked to the local cops.

While in the bathroom, you heard the door open and Dean called out to you.

“Y/n?! You better be ready; we gotta go!” Said Dean.

You emerged from the bathroom fully dressed with the exception of your shoes.

“Ok, ok keep your shirt on, Winchester. I just need my boots.” You replied.

After slipping into your boots, you picked up your bag and finally had a chance to look up. For once, Dean’s brow wasn’t furrowed and you could see his hypnotizing green eyes much better which caught you off guard.

“What is it? Do I have something on my pants?” You said, gazing down at your pants then turning in a circle with your head over your shoulder, trying to look at your own ass.

Dean was speechless and couldn’t get any words out so Sam answered as he tossed a burger at you, “Nope, all good. Let’s go. You can eat in the car.”

They walked up ahead as you locked the door behind you.

“Dude, what is wrong with you? You were staring at her.” Said Sam.

Dean replied, “She looks too good, Sam.”

“Can you wrestle with your feelings for her another time? She’s supposed to look nice.” Sam said.

Nervously, Dean whispered, “Well she’s distracting! And I don’t have THOSE kinds of feelings for her.”

“Whatever you say, dude.” Replied Sam with raised eyebrows.

You covered your mouth so they wouldn’t see you crack a smile.

While riding in the car, you leaned forward so the boys could hear you better. Making sure he could feel your breath on his ear, you said, “You two can go in first, have a seat, and I’ll make my way in after a few minutes. You can keep an eye on me as I walk up to the bar.”

A sly smirk stretched across your lips as you slinked back into your seat and looked at Dean in the rearview mirror, trying his hardest NOT to appear flustered but failing miserably.

You could have made it easy and told Dean how you felt about him but he deserved to be on the receiving end of the teasing. Women made it easy for him, just falling at his feet which meant he had his pick and he hated every time you teased him.

And now, drinking at the corner of the bar, you could feel him burning a hole in your head with his angry stare. It appeared that Dean couldn’t take just sitting there anymore. Sam tried to grab hold of his jacket but he missed and Dean started to walk over to the bar when the bartender walked away to wait on someone else.

“I’m getting some good stuff, Dean. Get outta here!” You whisper yelled at him without looking and without drawing attention to yourself.

He nonchalantly whisper yelled back at you, “You’re being a little TOO friendly with him, don’t ya think?”

“I’m perfectly capable of weaseling information out of a dumb bartender. Now get outta here before I kick your ass all over this bar!” You growled.

“Need something, friend?” The bartender asked Dean.

A tad flustered, Dean replied with a narrowed expression, “Two more beers, buddy. Thanks.”

You got what you needed from the bartender and after another hour or so, you paid for your drinks and left. Dean and Sam followed you out a handful of minutes later.

“Can we get pizza?” You asked.

Dean was always in a better mood if he was fed properly so as a peace offering, you bought pizza on the way back to the motel. And of course, Dean picked up more beer.

Settling in with your dinner, you told them everything Jeremy, the bartender, told you about what he witnessed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I didn’t know the two of you were on a first name basis.” Said Dean.

You rolled your eyes.

“Will you let me finish, please!?” You asked.

“Dean…let her finish. Come on.” Said Sam.

Dean continued to pace back and forth while you talked.

“…So the woman that he left with, Jeremy had never seen before. And this guy hung on her every word, gazed at her like she hung the moon, she said all the right things. Almost like he was legit under a spell or something.” You finished.

Sam had his laptop open. His fingers swiftly typed words into the search engine and he then flipped the screen around to show you and Dean what he found.

“I think we might be dealing with another siren.” Said Sam, confidently. “Two other women were murdered by husbands or boyfriends after encounters with beautiful women at that bar. Sirens need love and they compel people to kill to show devotion to them.” He turned to Dean. “Remember that one we dealt with before? The time where we were trying to kill each other?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I remember. I try not to though.”

Preoccupied with Dean’s eyes, they had darkened a little to match better with the green shirt you had on, you covered your infatuation by pushing the chair across from you out from under the table.

“Take a load off, tiger. You’re makin’ me nervous with all this pacin’ around you’re doin’.” You said in between bites of pizza.

The Winchester brothers were your second family and you knew them well, especially Dean so you knew when something was really bothering him. And right now, something was definitely bothering him.

Sam’s face was buried in his laptop, it was quiet in the room except for the sounds of fingers moving across a keyboard, and the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Something about you being there was keeping Dean on edge so you finally decided to break the silence.

“Dean? Come on. What is it? You’re being extra grouchy right now, so grouchy that pizza couldn’t fix it. Ever since I walked outta the bathroom earlier, you’ve been short with me.” You said, calmly.

He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and traced the outside of his lips with his thumb and forefinger before narrowing his eyes at you.

You knew that look. The look of an extremely handsome literal green-eyed monster glaring at you from across the table. Dean was close to blowing a gasket.

He pointed at you and in his low gravelly voice said, “I don’t like it when you flirt with other men. There! I said it, ok!? You happy!?”

In one fluid motion, Sam closed his laptop, grabbed the keys to the car and said, “I’m gonna go talk to the cops again. Lemme know when you two work THIS out.”

You started to say, “O-ok, well just be—“

“Yep, I’ll be careful. I know what to look for. I’ll see ya guys later.” Said Sam.

The door closed behind him, the Impala roared to life, and Sam drove off, leaving you and Dean alone in the motel room.

“Well that was weird. Anyway…Dean, I’m just doing what you guys asked me to do! You needed me to get information, so I turned on my charm and I got what we needed just like any other time you’ve needed me for something like this!” You said with a raised voice.

Dean stood up from the table and loosened his tie a little. Unbuttoning the top button on his dress shirt, he didn’t take his gaze away from you.

“You don’t have to be THAT good, ya know! They eat it up every single time! Lemme ask you this…did that Jeremy guy ask for your number?”

Seeing Dean this upset made you think that he didn’t just have a little crush on you.

Feeling a little warm, you unbuttoned a couple of buttons on your blouse and stood up also. You were reluctant to answer him but finally said softly, “Yes, he did.”

“HA! I fuckin’ knew it! They always do and did you give it to him?” Asked Dean.

You started to answer before he interrupted you, “Dean…”

“Did you!?” He asked again.

Not wanting to confess your feelings first, you tried to stall.

“No, I didn’t!” You shouted.

The table was in between the two of you. Both of you were breathing heavily, your jawlines tight with anger and frustration, and the sound of your heart beating inside your chest was deafening.

“Oh yeah?! And why should I believe you, y/n?!” Dean growled.

“I’ve never given any of them my number, Dean! Not a single one!” You bellowed.

His expression softened as he asked, “Well…why not?”

After a long day, you couldn’t help but collapse onto the bed. You allowed your legs to give out and sat down on the edge of the mattress before answering him.

“Why do you think, ya big dumb animal?! Because the only guy's number I want in my phone is yours, Dean! And Sam’s but for different reasons. You know what I’m trying to say, stop looking at me like that.” You said, nervously.

He walked around the table, gazed down at you with his beautiful green eyes, they were the color of fresh blades of grass, and leaned over to inch his face closer to yours. The sprinkling of freckles across his nose was so youthful and adorable. You swallowed hard as you felt his breath against your eyelashes.

“And why do you think I get the way that I do when I see you flirt with other guys? You know why, don’t you sweetheart.” He said, melodiously.

Dean’s lips were ghosting over yours. You were silently begging him to just kiss you and kiss you hard. All the tension that had been building over the years was coming to a head right now. His tie dangled down from around his neck, you were dying to just pull him on top of you and find out what he tastes like…all of him.

“Because you want me as much as I want you?” You replied, gently touching his tie.

Still holding his tie, you inched yourself up toward the headboard. Dean followed your lead as you removed his tie and began to unbutton his dress shirt.

“I want you more.” He purred into your ear before his perfect lips crashed onto yours.

Dean covered your mouth with his own, devouring you with every kiss he placed on your lips, neck and jaw. You won the fight to be on top, although you were sure he let you win, and you continued to unbutton his shirt while he grasped clumsily at the buttons on yours.

They were small so he was having a hard time with them until you stepped in.

“I’ll do them, baby.” You whispered as he haphazardly tossed his clothes to the side.

You stood up and let your pants fall to your ankles while you finished unbuttoning your silk shirt. His desire for you was very apparent by the large tent in his boxers that you felt against your core as soon as you straddled him. The bottom of the shirt brushed against his thighs and goosebumps peppered across his skin.

You decided to let him finish undressing you.

Dean’s hands gently pushed your shirt off of your shoulders and all that was left was the black lace bra that was barely containing your breasts that he could not wait to get you out of. The man was a pro at unhooking your bra with one hand. If you didn’t want him so badly, you would have stopped to give him shit for it.

He lightly nipped the skin down the side of your neck, making you gasp when he got to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You felt like you could have come just by him biting down on that sweet spot. The growing ache between your thighs was torture and you desperately wanted him to touch you.

Like he read your mind, his strong hands migrated from your breasts down to your waist. Reaching in between your thighs, Dean teased your entrance with one finger, then slid another inside with ease.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He whispered as a strangled moan escaped your lips.

To suffocate your screams, you bit down on your lower lip as he continued to move his talented fingers, hooking them in just the right spot to make you see stars, and drew circles on your clit to really tease you.

“Dean!” You pleaded, just before you hit your peak and tightly clenched around his fingers.

“You can be loud, baby. These kinds of places are used to noises like that, if ya know what I mean.” He said with a wink and a smirk.

You smiled back, pressed your lips to his, and lightly bit down on his bottom lip before starting to pepper kisses down his chest.

After pulling down his boxers, you took him into your mouth. A deep guttural moan and words of praise fled from Dean’s lips when your tongue circled the underside. That made him draw in a sharp breath as his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, that feels good, sweetheart.” He hissed and mumbled something else incoherently.

Crawling up his body, he slipped on a condom and then as you straddled him, you replied, “My mouth isn’t just for flirting, Dean.”

He slid into you with ease, burying himself to the hilt, causing you both to gasp before he cut your moan short with a hard kiss. You circled your hips slowly, allowing him to go deeper inside you, and it sent sharp tingles down your spine.

You pulled him in close as your walls began to tighten around him, clinging to him like your life depended on it with your climax starting to build.

Dean’s body was a warm cradle for yours as his fast abrupt strokes were about to send you over the edge and fast. But he loved to look at you so he pulled away slightly and watched your pleasure surge through you.

As you were riding out one orgasm, Dean managed to pull another one from you as you loudly called out his name like no one else was around which made him feral.

His movements became faster, more brutal, pulling out of you just so he could slam into you again and again as his body went rigid underneath you. Crushing your waist, his arms were wrapped around you so tightly that all of the air escaped your lungs.

His release came hard and fast, followed by a strangled moan while your bodies trembled from overstimulation. Dean’s eyes were wide and unfocused as he tried to catch his breath while you leaned in for a gentle kiss and let your fingers glide through his soft brown hair.

Collapsing on top of him, you smiled against his chest as his fingers tickled the outside of your arm and the only thing you could hear was Dean’s heart beating rapidly against your ear.

Trying to get your breathing under control, you covered yourself with the sheet and finally managed to ask, “So…does this mean you don’t want me to flirt for information anymore?”

Dean kissed the top of your head and replied, “As long as you come home with me, I’ll allow it.”

“ALLOW IT?! You’re not the boss of me, Winchester.” You said, sarcastically.

He licked his lips as you looked up at him through your long dark lashes.

In barely more than a whisper, he said, “Well what if I told you you’re really pretty and that I might be…in love with you?”

“Awww…you’re really pretty too!” You said, jokingly.

Dean rolled his eyes, “Alright, I’m tryin’ to—“

Wrapped up in the sheet, you sat upright, cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his, your tongue slipped into his mouth to tangle with his as a low growl escaped his lips.

“I might be in love with you too.” You whispered against his mouth.

Chasing each other’s smiles, he continued to kiss you until you heard a key in the door. Sam walked in, took one look at the two of you and without missing a beat said, “Oh good, you two worked it out. So I was thinking, I might know who—“

He stopped, looked at the two of you and shouted, “Guys…that’s MY bed!!”

You and Dean started to laugh.

Oops.

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