#I hate him but I love him but I want to throw him against the wall
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t1ts-4-donaldson · 1 day ago
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Mutual masterbation with Stanford Art
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It’s a scorching Saturday afternoon when you find yourself laid half naked in Art's bed, the AC unit in your dorm had broke Thursday morning and you’d been doing what you could to stave off the heat, spending most of your day in the library or cafeteria between classes but you always had to go back to your god forsaken room at the end of the day.
Art had noticed your condition the past few days sweating through lounge clothes that fit a bit to tight for comfort short enough to show a little more skin, he understood your discomfort but fuck you looked so good each forced to excuse himself after each encounter around hard as a rock. It was confusing to you not noticing how hard he was or his obvious infatuation towards you but you paid no mind.
Art been in love with you for ages pining pathetically for years. Patrick mocked him comparing him to a dog utterly devoted yet all of his attempts were in vain, someone else always caught your eye or you’d write off any of his compliments as friendly banter. He was on the verge of giving up but the summer heat finally gave way to the possibility of anything happening between you two.
you hit your boiling point unable to handle the exasperating heat
so now you're here at his front door pleading for some relief.
“Art it’s too hot I need air please" you stammer the words completely jumbled together, he’s taken aback a bit but steps aside letting you in
 “can I strip please I’m begging you" clammy hands tugging at the hem of your shirt
“of course yeah.” Art acquiesces voice cracking as he turns away respecting your privacy utterly shocked, his best friend here almost nude. You strip grateful in too much distress to notice his unease.
“lay in the bed” he offers still staring at the wall, you squint the blatant shyness but don’t care stumbling forward falling back exhaling deeply the breeze from the air-con finally hitting your body the cold calming you down
"Art lie down" you hum patting the space next to you, the boy shuffles over landing next to your body making sure there’s miles of space between you both
You frown shoving your shoulder against his, gripping his arm and pulling him closer "why are you freaking out you've seen me in a bikini before" you ask puzzled.
"this is different" he shrugs "underwear" he gulps, he hates himself for acting this way clamming up like a child it’s pitiful.
"Art it's just me, your best friend" you grin cupping his face tilting his head meeting his worried gaze.
Best friend he winces but wills that strain away shutting his eyes giving in tugging his shirt off as well. “I guess I need fresh air too” he sighs settling against his pillow not before peeking at your chest, nipples pebbling through your lace bra. He averts his gaze quickly when you pinch his arm coughing awkwardly knowing he’d been caught.
“Artie.. something you like?” You joke scooting a bit closer to him
“you wish” he sneers but shifts uncomfortably tugging his shorts trying to tamper down his growing boner, you follow his movements, realizing of what’s happening hitting you. 
“want me to help?” you ask.
“Shut up” he whines embarrassed “you’re fucking with me” he rolls his eyes with disdain 
you try to sound sincere “I will..” you nod, hand slowly shifting over his stomach towards his crotch “only if you want” you stammer sitting up on one elbow.
 “yes, yeah go for it” he chokes out eagerly in disbelief
You settle back down palming his hard on, “fuck” he throws his head back you smirk ego slightly inflated, hand slowly tugs the waistband of his boxers down mouth salivating at the sight erect tip flushed pink leaking, it makes you feel sorry for him. “So needy” you pout running your fingers up and down his member squeezing his balls lightly
“Tease” he chokes out gripping the sheets firmly, you give in feeling bad once his chin starts to wobble, you spit in your palm looking into his eyes as you do so his reaction priceless, mouth slack eyes blinking languidly
you tug his spit slathered dick slowly up and down, rolling his balls between your hand roaming up again running your thumb over his tip smearing pre cum over it, holding back a giggle when a whimper escapes his lips twisting your wrist with each pump.
“Fuck I’m close” sweat beading on his forehead enough of an indication, you lean forward and suck his neck nipping a bit before rising your mouth barely touching his “cum for me.” 
He shudders beneath you panting softly one hand gripping your thigh with a vice surely leaving red indents on your flesh. 
You attempt make his high last as longer milking him dry until he grabs your wrist, “too much” he heaves chest flushed red just like his cheeks.“Didn’t know you’d be that good” he laughs. 
“Doubting my skills? that hurts” you mock lifting your hand observing the thin creamy substance on your skin bringing your fingers to your lips sucking them out of curiosity. Art gulps eyes fixated dick beginning to harden again.
You sigh in contentment, leaning back against the headboard staring up at the ceiling “hope that was nice” you smile knowing it was. 
You stiffen as Art unexpectedly grips your waist. “Can I do you” he pleads meekly.
“no need to return the favor” you laugh ruffling his curls but he shakes his head desperately. “Please.. let me make you feel good” his body vibrates “been wanting to for a while-” he admits eyes watery “please-” 
“alright..” you whisper caressing his cheek wondering where his eagerness is coming from.
what really takes you back is him kissing you, immediately latching his mouth on yours without warning biting at your bottom lip, demanding to open up. You cave tongues lashing together as spit dribbles down your chin. His hand snakes down stopping right over your mound running his fingers up and down your slit over your underwear the cotton rubbing against your clit just right
 you gasp mouth dropping at the sensation he smirks fingers slipping into pussy gathering juices from your hole smothering it over your clit tracing he circles around it
“shit” you groan feeling his fingers slip inside you lost in your own pleasure nails digging into his arm body rolling in time with his hand. 
An idea pops up, finish at the same time
 you sneak a hand between his boxers knowing you can pull another orgasm out of him, Art hisses at contact involuntarily slowing his ministrations cursing trying to concentrate on his movements, “together come on” you urge pecking his lips gently
He nods both of your bodies trembling in tandem, exchanging moans between open mouths, gripping skin trying to find some semblance of control.
“Art I’m close” you squeal eyes shut tight chest rising and falling rapidly 
“come on fucking cum” he grunts sinking his teeth into your shoulder your legs clench together as pleasure rips through you like lightning, a sudden gushing sensation releases between your thighs you gape at his soaked palm 
“I didn’t know I could do that” you pant trying to catch your breath
“doubting my skills?” He whispers pecking a sloppy kiss on your cheek
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morganaawriterr · 2 days ago
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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 04;
— Your Sweet Love
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Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.
Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Slow Burn; Angst; Fluff; Smut (kinda) Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 6k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!
A/n: I procrastinated on writing this chapter so badly and I don't know why :( The story is coming to an end and I'm so sad :/ Its been great to write this for you guys, I hope you like this new chapter. Because it is kind of a calm chapter, its not as long as the last one, but I worked very hard on it anyway! Also, I want to warn you: this chapter talks about death. Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3
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After standing in front of your bedroom door for what feels like an eternity, Sunghoon still can't seem to find the courage to knock. His hand hovers in the air, frozen in hesitation. His thoughts are clouded with regret, and he experiences a sense of weight as if he is being pulled down by gravity. Knowing he’s too frail to make a move tonight, he sighs and turns away, deciding to retreat to his room. He can try again tomorrow morning.
Inside his large bedroom, the scent of clean laundry greets him, and as he approaches his bed, he notices you’ve changed the sheets. The soothing fragrance makes his chest ache, your presence lingering in the room despite the distance between you. His own words replay in his head like a cruel, endless movie. Sunghoon closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to push you out of his mind.
The air in the room is ice-cold, the forgotten open window letting in the freezing night breeze. His skin prickles as he crosses the room to shut it, hating how the icy air mirrors the chill between you two. He moves around, searching for his sleeping clothes. An old black T-shirt and loose pants that hang low on his waist.
Cursing under his breath, he slips under the covers, only to be met with cold once again. Sunghoon's body shivers as he adjusts beneath the heavy blankets, but they do nothing to bring him comfort. He exhales a deep, tired sigh, his head sinking into the pillow. More than anything, he just wants this crappy night to end.
But hours pass, and it feels like absolute hell. A cold, lonely hell that he’s trapped in. For four agonizing hours, Sunghoon tosses and turns, his body as restless as his mind. His thoughts refuse to quiet down, and every time he closes his eyes, the image of you crying resurfaces, keeping him wide awake. Frustrated, he lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his heartbeat pounding fast against his rib cage.
Without thinking, he throws off the blankets and gets up. His feet carry him to the hallway before his mind can catch up. Your door seems miles away, and with each step, his legs grow weaker.
Once again, he finds himself standing in front of your room, anxiety clouding his head. What if she's asleep? He wonders. It’s four in the morning. His hand hesitates in mid-air, lingering over the door as he debates whether to knock or walk away.
What if she hates me and wants to leave me? His anxiety screams inside his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and swallows hard, his hands trembling as he slowly reaches for the wooden door. But to his surprise, it opens slightly before he can touch it, leaving him confused. From the small gap you’ve created, you stare at your husband with tired eyes.
“I didn’t even—” Sunghoon starts, but you just offer him a small smile. Shaking your head, you glance at him again before responding. His beautiful brown eyes are red, with dark circles beneath them, a clear sign that he’s been just as restless as you.
“I heard your footsteps,” you finally say, easing some uncertainty swirling in Sunghoon’s mind.
“Can I come inside? I want to talk,” he mutters, his shy gaze flickering away from your face.
“Sure,” you reply simply, not wanting to seem too eager to see him.
Sunghoon stands awkwardly in the center of your room, facing your bed. It’s the first time he’s been inside, and it looks exactly how he imagined. Decorated in warm, earthy browns and soft greens, with dim yellow lights glowing in the corners and small plants perched on the windowsill. The familiar scent of your perfume lingers in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. He exhales slowly, feeling himself relax just a little.
His curious eyes never leave your silhouette as you quietly close the door and crawl back into the messy sea of blankets on your bed. He notices you’re wearing the same thing as the other day when he brought you tea. A plain, oversized deep blue T-shirt with no shorts. Sunghoon quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere before his body reacts to the sight of your exposed skin.
“Are you going to say something? Or just stand there in silence?” you tease, your eyes burning holes into him.
“I want to say I’m sorry. I never meant to say those things to you,” Sunghoon finally confesses, his voice quiet, his gaze still avoiding yours. “I was stressed and overwhelmed from work… I didn’t mean anything I said.”
As the last words leave his lips, Sunghoon’s warm brown eyes finally meet yours. The sight makes his chest ache; your eyes are still red and your face slightly swollen.
“Sunghoon, you can’t just say whatever you want and then blame it on stress. Those words… they… hurt me… more than I can even admit.” Your voice is low and unsteady, a knot forming in your throat as the words leave your mouth.
“I know, I know.” Sunghoon insists, stepping closer to your bed. “You’re absolutely right, and that’s why I couldn’t sleep until I came here to apologize. I’m sorry, Y/N. It won’t happen again.”
You hold his gaze until he finishes speaking, searching for any sign of insincerity. But the way his eyes soften reassures you that he means every word. Under his intense stare, you feel breathless, the air slipping away as his piercing eyes stay locked on yours. The tension in the room shifts in an instant, like a single spark igniting a space filled with gasoline. Frustrated, you throw yourself onto the bed, your back pressing into the mattress, legs slightly parted. You want to scold him for being so cruel, but your thoughts are a disorganized mess.
Sunghoon observes you in silence, his frustration growing. Your lack of response does nothing to ease the guilt twisting in his chest. He notices the way you cover your eyes with your arm, hiding from him. A sudden inappropriate thought crosses his mind, and a smirk tugs at his lips. Meticulously, he crawls onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs, his knee nudging them apart just enough to fit.
Your head snaps up instantly, and when you move your arm away, you’re met with Sunghoon. He is so close, you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Your cheeks flush under his intense stare, his dark eyes absorbing every inch of your face.
Still annoyed by your silence, he finally speaks.
“Do you forgive me, Y/N?” His voice is deeper, dripping with something that makes your stomach twist.
You want to resist, want to say something sharp, but instead, you just nod, too flustered to form a single word.
Suddenly, Sunghoon’s right hand gently pushes your right knee up, his warm fingers gliding over your calf in a slow, deliberate motion. A breath catches in your throat, your skin erupting in goosebumps at his touch. Then he leans in, his lips hovering near your ear as he whispers,
“I don’t like this silence you’re giving me. Use your words, princess. Tell me you forgive me for my stupid actions.”
You don’t know if it’s the unexpected nickname, the husky rasp of his voice, or the way his fingers continue their teasing path, trailing higher, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. Your eyes flutter shut as a soft, unintentional moan escapes your lips, your body betraying you under his touch.
And it feels exactly how you imagined it—confident yet gentle, just like Sunghoon.
“Sunghoon…” You manage, your throat dry as your eyes lock with his once again. “I forgive you…” you breathe out, still trying to steady yourself.
Sunghoon’s smirk deepens as he takes in your flustered state, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“See? Was that so hard?” he whispers against your lips, and you swear they brushed against yours for the briefest second. Just as quickly as he settled on top of you, Sunghoon shifted, falling onto the bed beside you.
You turn onto your side to face him, and the smug smile on his lips says it all. He enjoyed teasing you and relished seeing you so helpless beneath him. Your gaze wanders over his face, taking in how effortlessly handsome he looks dressed casually, his black hair slightly tousled, and a playful smirk curving his lips. Half of his face is hidden behind his dark strands, making him look even more alluring.
Your eyes wander lower, and your breath catches at the sight of his bare neck and collarbones, the loose t-shirt draping off his shoulders. His pale skin is smooth, scattered with small beauty marks that you never noticed before. Heat rises to your cheeks as your curiosity gets the best of you, and your gaze dips even lower. The way he’s lying down causes his shirt to ride up, revealing a sliver of his toned waist. Your hungry eyes trace the lines of his abs down to his v-line, which is teasingly visible beneath the low-hanging waistband of his pants.
This is the first time you’ve ever seen your husband in such casual, revealing clothes, and it’s affecting you more than you expected. But before your gaze can travel any further, Sunghoon’s hand gently cups your chin, tilting your head up, so your eyes meet his again.
“My eyes are up here,” he teases, amusement flickering across his face.
You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn even hotter. “Shut up,” you mutter, hating how easily he has you wrapped around his finger.
“I’m feeling so sleepy now,” Sunghoon sighs, ignoring your flustered state. Then he yawns, letting his body sink deeper into the mattress.
“Since you were good to me and apologized,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant as a tiny spark of confidence grows inside you. “You can sleep here with me tonight.”
Sunghoon lifts his head off the pillow, giving you a surprised look, as if not fully believing your words. Without another comment, you snuggle back under the covers and switch off the light on your nightstand. In the darkness, you turn your back to him, pressing your burning face into your pillow. The ghost of his earlier touch still lingers on your skin, making it impossible to calm your racing heart.
A moment later, you hear him shifting beneath the covers. Then, slowly, Sunghoon inches closer, his warmth seeping into your back as his arm snakes around your waist. He pulls you firmly against him, and you feel everything—his solid chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the way his legs press against yours. His head dips close to your ear, his hand sliding up, resting just below your chest.
“Thank you, princess. Good night,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your earlobe.
With a tight grip on your waist, you hear his breathing begin to slow. Your eyelids grow heavy too, and without resistance, you drift off in his arms. Outside, the full moon shines brightly in the vast, star-filled sky, casting its bluish light into your bedroom, illuminating your tangled bodies.
The night slips away quickly, and soon, the sun begins to rise, bringing warmth and light into the world. Inside your bedroom, you and your husband remain entwined, both of you breathing slow and steady.
Sunghoon scrunches his face in irritation as the bright morning rays reflect off his closed eyelids, forcing him to wake. He yawns, then carefully pulls his arm from under your head, needing to stretch his stiff body. Beside him, you sleep peacefully. Your hair is a mess, and soft snores are escaping your lips, but even like this, Sunghoon thinks you're the cutest woman alive.
Resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers against your serene face, he rubs his eyes and sits up, resting his back against the wooden headboard. The quiet atmosphere is comforting, and for a brief moment, he wishes it could always be like this—calm, steady, safe. He’s not sure if he can handle any more chaos.
His sleepy eyes wander around your bedroom, finally able to take it in fully in the daylight. As he scans the space, something catches his attention. A small frame on your nightstand, nestled beside the poetry book you always carry around. He leans forward to get a better view, but he is surprised that the picture inside is of a man.
He doesn’t seem much older than twenty, his blonde hair falling messily over his face as he makes a peace sign for the camera.
Sunghoon hesitates for a second before slowly leaning over your sleeping body, reaching for the frame. Just as his fingers curl around it, your body shifts, and suddenly, your face is too close to his.
“What are you doing?” you murmur sleepily, your eyes still closed.
Sunghoon grips the picture tightly before sitting back up, waiting for you to fully wake. He expects you to scold him—maybe even get mad for touching your things without permission, but instead, you simply roll onto your side, meeting his gaze with a soft, sad smile.
“Who is he?” Sunghoon asks cautiously, noticing the way your expression shifts despite the small grin on your lips.
“Nishimura Riki,” you say slowly, a lump forming in your throat. “He was my ex-husband.” The words feel heavy, and no matter how much time has passed, the pain still lingers.
Sunghoon watches you closely, sensing the weight behind your words. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his gaze unwavering, his tone gentle, trying to offer the same patience you always show him.
“Yeah, but maybe not now.”
The moment the words leave your lips, he nods silently and hands you the frame. He observes as your eyes flicker over the image, small tears forming as you stare.
Slowly, you set the frame back in its place, taking a deep breath as if trying to compose yourself. Sunghoon remains silent, but inside, confusion stirs. You’ve never mentioned being married before, not once. You’ve never even spoken another man’s name in front of him. And yet, the way you look at the picture sends a cold shiver down his spine.
Something about the entire situation feels… discomfiting.
“What should we do today?” Your voice breaks the comfortable silence. Slowly, you shift under the covers, resting your head on Sunghoon’s thighs and looking up at him.
“Do you want to go on a date with me?” he asks confidently, though his heart pounds in his chest. His hand drifts to your head, gently patting your hair.
You smile at him. “Of course I do, Sunghoon,” you reply, avoiding his gaze as a wave of shyness washes over you. The excitement bubbling inside makes you feel like a twelve-year-old girl falling in love for the first time.
“I’ll plan everything—you don’t have to worry about a thing!” he exclaims, his voice laced with excitement as he watches you fondly, his fingers threading deeper into your hair.
A peaceful silence settles between you, filled with the warmth of the blankets, the soft morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the soothing sensation of Sunghoon’s delicate fingers massaging your scalp. You stare at his face, admiring his cute moles and messy bed hair. Your tongue wets your lips as your gaze shifts to his plump lips, so inviting. It makes your stomach twist with the need to feel them against yours.
Sunghoon seems to sense the shift in your eyes because his fingers, that were in your hair, started to trail down to rest behind your neck. Slowly, he leans in, your sweet scent enveloping him as he lowers himself to reach your lips.
And once again, he stops just millimeters away, his warm breath ghosting over your eager lips. “We can't. Not yet,” Sunghoon whispers, turning his head at the last second. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes at the tender touch and pout as he pulls away.
“I know it’s frustrating, but I’m waiting for the right moment,” Sunghoon explains, his fingertips gently tracing your warm cheeks.
Then, he carefully guides you to sit up on the mattress before leaving the bed, and you watch him in confusion. Just when you thought Sunghoon couldn’t get any more handsome, he proves you wrong. He stands before you with a soft blush dusting his cheeks, neck, and ears.
“Wear something nice—we’re leaving in two hours,” he tells you with a bright smile, standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob.
You nod, biting your lip as your heart skips a beat under his gaze. His sharp fangs peek out as he grins at you one last time before disappearing through the door.
The atmosphere in your room will never be the same. His presence now engraved in your sheets.
“Can we go somewhere else before doing what you planned?” you interrupt the silence as the car comes to a stop at a red light. Turning to face Sunghoon, you watch as he furrows his brows before responding.
“Sure. Where do you need to go?” he asks, his eyes carefully flicking to the right mirror outside the car.
“The cemetery.”
This time, the silence that settles between you isn't comfortable or light. It’s suffocating. It eats away at your ability to breathe, making your chest ache. Sunghoon doesn’t ask any questions, and you’re grateful. You need all the courage you can muster to finally tell him about your ex-husband. Your unhappy gaze remains fixed on the window, the sight of the familiar place making you take a deep breath.
The sun blazes against your back as you and Sunghoon walk through the cemetery, the atmosphere heavy and uneasy. He follows a step behind, letting you lead the way. When your high heels click against the cement path, he realizes you’ve reached your destination.
You stop in front of a wall lined with unfamiliar names. Slowly, your delicate hands leave your pockets, reaching for a particular spot. Your fingertips softly graze over a familiar face, and as your teary eyes meet his, Sunghoon finally understands what was going on.
“He was such a sweet boy,” you begin, a melancholic smile forming on your lips as small tears start to fall. Sunghoon immediately steps forward, standing by your side. His hand finds yours, and he interlocks your fingers, silently giving you the strength to continue.
“Ni-ki and I grew up together; he was always there for me.” You pause, turning back to Ni-ki’s picture on his grave.
“What happened?” Sunghoon asks carefully, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand.
“We were planning our wedding when we found out he had late-stage brain cancer,” you say, your voice trembling. “I was devastated. I cried every single day. But… he stayed positive, always smiling, even when his hair started falling out from chemotherapy. We knew he had only a few months left, so I put on my wedding dress and married him in the hospital. I wanted to be his wife before he…” Your voice cracks as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.
Sunghoon holds your shaking hands with unwavering care, his warmth grounding you.
“He died two days after we got married,” you whisper. “I was holding his hand. The last thing he said to me was, ‘I will always love you.’” Your breath hitches. “He was only twenty, and I was twenty-two. We were young, I know, but I couldn’t let him go without marrying him—”
A loud sob cuts off your words, your body trembling as grief crashes over you once again.
“It’s okay…” Sunghoon murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispers, his voice tight with emotion. You don’t notice the warm tears slipping down his own face, his heart aching at the sight of you in pain.
“Ni-ki was my everything. He was my only reason to live,” you admit brokenly. “My mom hated me; my dad was gone… I only had him. After he passed, I fell into a deep depression. I barely ate for months, and no one cared. Then, one day, I received a bill. A heavy debt that Ni-ki’s relatives refused to pay. He grew up in foster care, so no one cared about him. No one but me. Instead of telling me, he tried to cover the medical costs himself with what little he made from teaching dance classes. But it wasn’t enough. That’s why I agreed to marry you,” you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Your father said he’d pay off the debt if I accepted.”
Sunghoon tightens his hold on your hands, his gaze never leaving yours.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t love again.” Your voice trembles as you press your fingers together, nervous. “But then… you showed up.” You lower your gaze to your hands, too scared to look at him. “At first, I hated you. Then I started to accept you. Then I understood you. And now…Now I’m afraid of what I feel for you.”
Sunghoon gently tilts your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His gaze is so warm, so deep, that for a moment, the whole world disappears, leaving just the two of you.
“I’m not afraid of what I feel for you,” he whispers. His thumb caresses your tear-streaked cheeks with infinite tenderness. “I never knew you were all I needed… but now that I have you, I won’t let you go.”
A smile grows on both of your faces as he speaks, love dripping from his words. You rest your head against his chest as you hug him, craving the comfort of his embrace and his familiar scent. Sunghoon hugs you back, pressing a kiss to your hair before resting his chin on top of your head.
You remain entangled in each other for a few moments, your gaze fixed on your ex-lover’s grave. You wish Ni-ki could understand how much you loved him and Sunghoon. The two men are so different, yet so alike. You hope he isn’t upset that you’ve made space in your heart for someone else, despite him never truly leaving.
The sun remains high in the sky, its warmth easing the ache in your chest. When you look up at Sunghoon, you find that he’s already watching you, making you smile.
“We can go now,” you assure him, taking a deep breath.
Sunghoon intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk back to his car. “Thank you for telling me this. I know it wasn’t easy.” His voice is laced with genuine affection, his smile soft.
“I felt like it was time.”
“Was Ni-ki as patient as you?” Sunghoon asks, encouraging you to talk about your ex-lover so that remembering him won’t hurt as much.
“He was way more patient than me.” You smile. “I learned patience from him. Mostly because he loved to get on my nerves. At first, I hated how childish he could be because I was never allowed to be. But he showed me kindness, love…” Your voice trails off as memories of his playful nature resurface. His loud laughter echoed through the small apartment you once shared, his grin mischievous as he ran from you, clutching your favorite chocolate half-eaten in his hands.
Sunghoon catches your smile in the rearview mirror as he drives to your date’s destination. The conversation remains on the same topic throughout the ride, with him asking questions about Ni-ki and enjoying the way you recount your memories—your voice filled with both excitement and tenderness.
Sunghoon could have never imagined you had gone through all of this. You always seem so calm and collected, as if you always know exactly what to do and say.
“Woah, what is this place?” you ask sarcastically, laughing as you spot the bold red letters of the sign above the building. “The movie theater?”
“It’s cliché, I know,” Sunghoon admits while carefully parking his car, his gaze flicking back to the rearview mirror. “But it’s perfect for a date. Plus, I haven’t been here in so long, and there’s this horror movie I really wanted to watch with you!” He explains as he turns off the engine, finally looking at you.
You adjust your black dress and nod, charmed by his adorable way of thinking. “Shall we?”
Sunghoon quickly gets out of the car and rushes to your side, opening the door for you. A giggle escapes your lips at the gentlemanly gesture, your heart skipping a beat. After closing the car door, he walks beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist and a smile engraved on his lips.
The theater is bustling with people and loud chatter. The queue seems endless, but after a few minutes, you finally get your tickets.
The movie room is packed, with not a single empty seat in sight. You steal a quick glance at Sunghoon, only to realize he’s already looking at you. He hands you the popcorn, and as you grab a handful, a few pieces spill onto the floor. He gives you a stern look, and you suppress a smile.
The movie turns out to be scarier than you expected. With every bloody scene on the screen, you squeeze your eyes shut and instinctively lean closer to Sunghoon. He notices your discomfort in the dimly lit space and reaches for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. You hold onto him tightly whenever something terrifying happens, making him smile at your cute reactions.
“That was… something else,” you murmur as you toss the empty popcorn container into the trash while walking out of the theater.
Sunghoon chuckles. “I thought you liked horror movies.”
“I like horror, not gore. And that was all gore!” you pout, earning a laugh from him.
Suddenly, he stops mid-step and turns to face you. His hands reach for your cheeks, gently pulling at them, making you squirm under his touch. “You’re so cute,” he teases, his eyes locked onto yours.
You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress a smile. “Obviously,” you reply, pulling his hands away from your slightly sore cheeks.
“Are you hungry?” Sunghoon asks as you resume walking.
“I’m always hungry,” you respond teasingly, shaking your head dramatically.
He laughs again. “Let’s get dinner then.”
He opens the car door for you, giving you space to slide inside. Once you’re seated, you glance up at him with a nod, and he circles the car before driving to the restaurant.
Your mouth falls open in awe as you step inside. The restaurant is decorated in black and red, with tall windows and dim lighting that gives the place an intimate, sensual atmosphere. Sunghoon smiles at your reaction, admiring the way you take in the space.
He stands beside you, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you to a table tucked away from the main dining area, the spot he always chooses, right by the window.
As Sunghoon pulls out the chair for you to sit in, he finally takes a moment to admire you. To his surprise, your dark, smoky eye-look remains perfectly intact despite the earlier tears, and your lips are still stained red from the new lip tint you bought. The black silk dress you wear drapes elegantly over your figure, hugging you in all the right places. A delicate pearl necklace rests against your collarbone, making your skin look even more alluring than usual.
The menu is already on the table, so you take the initiative and browse through it, still unsure of what to eat. Your gaze drifts to the prices, and your eyes widen in shook. If you had never married him, dining here wouldn’t even be an option.
“Shall we order steak?” Sunghoon asks, breaking the silence. You quickly glance at him, your eyes shining with excitement.
“Yes!” you respond with a smile. “And to drink… rosé wine?” You pout slightly, knowing your husband prefers red.
“Of course, princess. Whatever you want—today is all about you.” He flirts, flashing you a seductive smirk, his dimples on full display.
A sweet waitress takes your order, but your attention remains fixed on your husband. Sunghoon looks exceptionally handsome tonight, with his black hair neatly styled back, and a pair of thin glasses resting on his nose. He wears a simple white button-up shirt paired with a black blazer, but the confidence in his demeanor makes even the simplest outfit look effortlessly refined.
“You’re staring…” Sunghoon murmurs, trying to suppress a smile. His ears grow warm under your passionate gaze. Those beautiful doe eyes of yours will be his downfall.
“Sorry, you just look so handsome tonight, husband.” You compliment him with a grin.
“Thank you, wife. You look absolutely stunning, too,” Sunghoon flirts back, another smirk threatening to break across his lips.
The dinner passes slowly, filled with lingering glances and playful jokes. You feel calm and safe as Sunghoon shares funny stories about his old friends, his charming smile captivating you more and more. He remains attentive throughout the evening, always checking to ensure your glass is never empty and helping you cut your steak when the pieces prove difficult. His caring nature is one of your favorite things about him—because you’ve spent your whole life being the one to take care of others, when he takes care of you, it touches an area deeper in your heart.
Now, you walk side by side along the vast road by the Han River, enjoying the occasional cool breeze brushing against your skin. The moon has begun to rise, its glow casting a silver shimmer over the moving water. You pause to admire it, drawn to the soothing sound of the waves.
“The moon looks so beautiful tonight,” you remark, stealing a quick glance at Sunghoon. He stands behind you, his eyes glued to your figure. The gentle wind causes your dress to ripple, accentuating your curves.
“It’s beautiful,” he agrees, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist. “But not as beautiful as you.”
“You’ve been so flirty.” You tilt your head slightly to look at him.
“You don’t like it?” He raises an eyebrow teasingly.
“I do… It’s just…” You pause, locking eyes with him. “I have to get used to it, that’s all.” A soft smile curves your lips as you turn fully to face your husband.
Sunghoon realizes this moment is perfect. You’re smiling, your cheeks slightly flushed from the wine, looking like an absolute goddess under the moonlight. He slowly slides an arm around your waist again, pulling you closer, his heartbeat hammering in his chest as he leans in.
Your hands grow slightly clammy as you grasp his wrist, your lips parting in anticipation—hoping, waiting for him to claim you as his. And then he finally does.
The moment his warm lips meet yours, the air leaves your lungs. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and a smile blossoms on your lips. Sunghoon feels it against his own as he kisses you, and it makes his head spin.
Uncertain if he should go further, he starts to pull away, but your hands fly up to his face, pulling him back toward you, craving more. He gets the message, and he’s more than happy to oblige. His lips move against yours with slow, deliberate care, savoring your taste.
Your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, and he grants it—just this once. You take the lead, eagerly deepening the kiss, your tongue tangling with his in a slow, intoxicating rhythm.
When Sunghoon finally runs out of air, he pulls away, breathless but utterly satisfied. You rest your forehead against his, relishing the feeling of his breath fanning over your damp lips.
If you had any doubts before, now they’ve completely disappeared.
You love him.
Jiwon stares blankly at the white wall of her bedroom. The lights are dim, the room is warm, and she sits on the edge of the bed while a handsome man sits beside her. His fingers trace invisible shapes on her exposed waist as his lips occupy themselves with her neck, biting and sucking the soft skin.
It’s like she can see them right in front of her when she closes her eyes, the memories making her skin crawl. She had thought Sunghoon was distant because the company was taking up all his time, but she was wrong. And that is what pisses her off the most.
The man beside her presses down on her shoulders, causing her to lie flat on the mattress—but she isn’t there. She’s long gone, lost in the sight of you. She wanted to laugh when she caught you and Sunghoon at the restaurant she used to love. How dare he bring you to her favorite place?
At first, Jiwon thought she was imagining things, but Sunghoon’s face was impossible to mistake. She watched you both the entire time—how you laughed at his jokes, how his eyes lingered on your face, how at ease he seemed with you. She envies it badly. But deep down, she knows it was her fault for crushing his confidence.
As she closes her eyes to relive the moment, the man is now on top of her, unbuttoning her corset and completely unaware of how distant she is. Not that she minds. She chose him to make her forget about this stupid night. After watching you two have dinner, Jiwon followed you to the Han River. She needed to see just how close you two really were.
She had expected some light skinship, but when she saw Sunghoon lean in and kiss you, she lost control. Hot, salty tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned away, heading back to her car. She wasn’t sad, she was furious. How could Sunghoon move on so quickly? How could he kiss you like that for everyone to see?
Jiwon was shaking by the time she reached her car, and once inside, she screamed until her throat burned. Her hands trembled as she pounded against the steering wheel, feeling betrayed, humiliated, and replaced.
Now, back in the present, she lets out a soft moan as the stranger’s fingers trail up the inside of her bare thighs.
A perfect plan begins to take shape in her mind as his hand ventures higher, grazing over her underwear. The plan will be flawless. She just has to enjoy her night first.
As the man slowly and teasingly pulls her panties down, she allows herself to relax—while a malicious scheme lingers at the edge of her thoughts.
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frmisnow · 2 days ago
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ㅤ▌ ͟CHERRY LOLLIPOPS & CHEAP MOTELS! ‎⠀⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀ ♬᭢ 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 smut . nsfw
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SUMMARY in which jungkook picks you up in his shitty car, takes you to an even shittier motel, and makes you forget why you ever said you wouldn’t do this again.
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the parking lot outside your boyfriend's apartment, if you could even call it that, smelt like piss and burnt rubber. no, another correction ⎯⎯ the parking lot outside your exe's apartment complex smells like piss. you shake your head, one of your heels clicking against the hard ground in an effort to distract yourself; you keep on having to remind yourself that he cheated.
i mean how horny does one have to be, getting a blowjob at the exact time when you were supposed to have the date. 'the date' is an abomination and an overstatement. by that you mean overglorified sex meeting, or whatever, that you had planned.
you roll your eyes, one of your nails digging into the cigarette that you then put out, your heel digging into the little butt. your fingers work on unwrapping one of the cherry lollipops that he liked so much. now you had a whole pack somewhere in your basement, for no damn reason. you didn't even like cherries.
your brows furrow, as you taste the oversugared candy just as your ears pick up the low, rough engine approaching from your left side. you'd recognize that shitty sound from everywhere. if that ain't love.
jungkook pulls into the dirty street, like he owns the whole thing. one hand slung over the wheel, the other resting against the worn out gear shift, ink-dark tattoos flexing under cheap fluorescent light. while his confidence was certaintly cute, his car was everything but such. scratches and dirt adoring the most likely decade-old car.
the window’s already rolled down, but he doesn’t say anything at first. just lets his gaze drag slow over your frame — your bare legs, your mascara which was ruined well just a little, the slight pout of your lips around the lollipop. it's not even sexual, he's looking over you like he's observing a situation, figuring you out, where you stand, how you're feeling. calculated.
“don’t,” you say before he can open his mouth.
jungkook’s smile curves, the kind of expression that makes you want to throw your lollipop at his face. “don’t what?”
“don’t.” you punctuate it with a click of your tongue, the sharp crack of candy between your teeth. your mood is just a tad bit rotten, and jungkook is the very last person you need needling at your pride.
still, he gestures toward the passenger seat with a flick of his fingers. “get in.”
you hate how fast your body moves before your brain can catch up, your hand reaching out to open the car door, which opens with another sharp noise, barerly. and you hate how the seat smells like him, warm leather and cigarettes, that one perfume that he still wears, no.97 april cotton. it firmly recks, of it all. of familiarity and something you once considered mellow.
but most of all, you hate how he can tell. how he witnesses you lean back into the seat, were anyone else would see it as you getting more comfortable, he could tell it was you chasing the comfort that it itself provided.
his palm settles on your thigh, warm and familiar, like it belongs there. his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your bare skin, just once, just enough to make something tighten low in your stomach.
you should push him off. should cross your legs, turn toward the window, pretend you don’t care. but you don’t. you won’t. instead, you sink further into the seat, pressing into the scent of his cologne like it might drown out the bitterness sitting in your throat.
“so,” he muses, casual as anything, drawing out the vowel, like he wanted to see you squirm under the pressure of what his question awaits. his sadist ass would probably enjoy that. “are we gonna talk about it?”
you roll the lollipop between your teeth., before you let it go with a soft pop, anything to distract him from your heartrate. could he feel your heart through your thigh? god, you hope not. “nothing to talk about.”
he snickers, but it's dim, faint, gentle, there's no real malice. other then the fact that he expected just that answer, and those actions, in that exact order. why was he so smart? it seriously freaked you out, all you were left to resort on doing was continue on with the lollipop.
cherry all over your tongue. rotten.
“you want me to fuck him up?”
you sigh under your breath, lifting one of your legs to rest on your other one, his hand ultimately falling off as a result, "no- i," you pause, eyes out the window, focusing on the bright neon signs and eventual car that drives by, "he didn't promise me anything. i didn't promise him anything either, it's- really." you hate, absolutly despise, how your voice flatters, unsure and uneven, "nothing."
jungkook's fingers drum against the wheel in a steady rhythm, letting your words settle into the thin air. before he echoes your words, "nothing." and you see a muscle in his jaw twitching, before he smiles, though it's all half-lidded and lazy in execution, bit forced perhaps, "you're a shitty liar."
"you used to be better."
you do your best to ignore him, his words and presence all together. just twist the straw of the red candy which by now, has probably painted your tongue in a similair shade, starr out the window because that was all you could fathom doing. stupidly. naively.
being confronted by the past stung because you haven't changed, really. it's the similar sting of sugar against your tongue.
his hand moves again. not to your thigh this time, but to the lollipop stick, tugging it from your lips without asking. the candy snaps from your teeth, cold air replacing it before you can protest.
he licks what was left of the little red circle, as the car stopped at a red light, now his tongue was red as well. just one more thing on the long list, tying you both by fate. his brows furrow only slowly, before his eyes settle on you, thumb gently gracing your lips that carried the same taste which was now between his very own.
"i thought you didn't like cherries."
your tongue darts out instinctively, tasting the sugar still clinging to your lips, "no. no , i don't like cherries." the car behind you honks, sharp and impatient. the red light had long since turned green.
total silence fills the practically broken car as he continues driving, the lollipop lazily rolling on his tongue as you shift in your seat, one leg folding over the other, skin still buzzing from where he touched you. your heel dangles off your toes, threatening to fall, and you wonder if he’s watching, you could never quite tell with jungkook.
“you wanna tell me why I’m driving you to a motel?”
you blink. once, twice, thrice, before it was to unnatural as to not respond.
“you picked me up.”
“you told me to.”
“you didn’t have to listen.”
jungkook huffs, something close to a laugh but not quite. “that’s cute.” god, dimples. beautiful little dimples on both sides of his face.
the lollipop clicks against his teeth when he bites down, cracking the hardened sugar like it’s nothing, as if to break the tension, or worsen it.
you sit still, legs crossed for the rest of the two minutes. before you can clearly witness the motel sign in front of you, one of the lights clearly broken. MTEL, charming.
his voice cuts through the tense air while he's turning the car off, "do you want to be alone tonight? i'll let you."
you'd say you hate how you don't hear your own voice, your lips mouth or don't feel any physical reaction for that matter, but that'd be a lie. because you wanted it, wanted him, the real craving to repeat the past just once more.
the room he gets is upstairs. third door on the left. the hallway smells like cheap lemon cleaner, and there’s a buzzing light that flickers overhead, casting long shadows yet it highlights his tattoos as well, the pretty ink you used to lick and trace patterns off. you want to burry yourself into the grey carpet beneath you.
he steps inside, flicks on the lamp, and tosses the key onto the nightstand. the light casts his face in amber, warm and unreadable. he’s watching you again. that same slow, calculating gaze from the car as the door falls shut, with a tiny click.
“take your shoes off,” he mumbles, arms leaning back onto the dark brown desk, he just tossed the keys onto.
you don't move, a little pout adoring your face, the one you do whne you were unsure of.. well.. what to do.
his gaze flicks down to your heels, then back up, slow. “you wanna fuck on a motel bed in six-inch stilettos?”
you huff, a little defiant, but the heels come off. you bend, slip them off slow, and he watches. of course, he does. that same hooded gaze, tracking the movement like it’s something to be studied.
“pretty girl,” he murmurs, pushing off the desk, and you barely get the chance to straighten before his hands are on you. firm, sure. the rough pads of his fingers skim over the fragile skin of your face, thumbs tracing over your flush cheeks.
his mouth is hot against your throat, dragging slow kisses down the sensitive skin. he lingers just below your ear, exhales long, lets you feel it. then, his teeth — just a little.
“always got an attitude,” he mutters, hands smoothing down your back, “m' gonna fix that,” he rasps, pushing you toward the bed, turning you so you stumble back onto the mattress.
the mattress creaks under your weight. the air is thick, humming with the heat between you. his eyes are half-lidded, burning, dark.
he pulls his shirt over his head, lets it drop to the dirty motel floor, then his belt clinks, the soft shift of a zipper. his cock slaps against his stomach, flushed red, thick, leaking at the tip.
your mouth goes dry.
“spread your legs.”
you do. you don’t think. you just do, and he groans, a deep, pleased sound that makes you squirm.
he grabs your thighs, drags you closer to the edge, and just — sinks in.
you choke on a gasp.
no prep. nothing but how soaked you already are. it’s too much, just right, stretching you open in a way that makes your head spin.
his hands settle on your hips, grip unforgiving, and he doesn’t move. not yet. just sits there, thick inside you, like he’s letting you feel it, making sure you know, making sure you remember. how it was like, how it used to be.
“jesus,” he breathes, looking down at where you’re stuffed full of him. “tight fuckin’ cunt. always so good for me.”
then, he moves.
slow at first, measured, like he wants to see how you take it. then, rougher. faster.
the headboard knocks against the wall. the slap of skin fills the room, slick and obscene.
your nails bite into his forearms. your back arches.
“oh, fuck—”
he grips your jaw, forces you to look at him.
“you have the prettiest fuckin' eyes,” he rasps, thumb pressing into your cheek, "fuck— look at me." and it's practically a whine which you can't help but comply to.
his hips snap into you, deep, brutal. his hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing quick, teasing circles.
your legs shake. your thighs clench around his waist, body tensing.
“that’s it,” he murmurs, watching you unravel beneath him. “c’mon, baby — fuckin’ come for me.”
you do. hard.
“gonna fill you up,” he pants, grip tightening on your hips, pinning you in place, chasing his own high. “bet your fucking pussy remembers everything, remembers who i am.”
his hips stutter as you clench around him. a sharp inhale. then, warmth. deep.
he doesn’t pull out. doesn’t move, just breathes, dragging a hand up your stomach, up between your breasts, stopping at your throat.
your heart pounds against his palm.
his lips move barerly, a small smile while leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, pulling out just enough to let his cum drip between your thighs.
he lets you breath for about a minute, before he flips you over like you weigh nothing. like he’s got all the time in the world to manhandle you, spread you out over the mattress just how he wants.
your cheek presses into the sheets, legs bent under you, ass up. you barely get a second to breathe before his palm cracks against the curve of your ass, sharp, hot.
“fuck,” you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets.
he just hums, rubbing over the sting, soothing before landing another — harder this time.
“too fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters, palming at your waist, dragging his cock through t he mess between your thighs, nudging against your clit. “can’t get enough of you.”
he grips your hips and pushes back in, one slow, aching stroke, stretching you open all over again.
“shit,” he rasps, watching himself disappear inside you, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “always so fuckin’ tight.”
your fingers fist the sheets. your back arches. he’s deeper this way, heavier, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress as he starts to move.
slow at first. taunting.
then, he grips the back of your neck, pinning you down, and snaps his hips forward.
you moan, high pitched, wrecked, and he groans in response, fingers flexing over your skin.
“that’s it,” he breathes, pace quickening, slamming into you hard enough to shove you up the bed, the headboard banging against the wall. “take it, baby.”
his other hand sneaks under you, pressing against your stomach, feeling the way he’s deep inside you, grinding in hard, slow circles.
“can feel me, huh?” his voice is rough, almost teasing. “fuckin’ you so deep—”
you whimper, clenching around him, and he hisses, dragging you back onto his cock, fucking you harder. the room is filled with noise — the wet slap of skin, the creak of the mattress, groans of the both of you.
“gonna come,” you gasp, fingers slipping against the sheets, weak, small bits of sweat glistening on your skin. your vision whites out while he fucks you through it, his own release hitting only seconds later.
jungkook collapses beside you, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against your shoulder. you’re just a tad bit ruined, limbs useless, but you hum in contentment when he continues pressing lazy kisses up your spine.
you can firmly feel that signature smile of his against your skin, pressing another kiss to your shoulder before pulling back. the bed dips as he stands, leaving you feeling cold for all of two seconds before he’s back with a warm cloth.
the first press of it between your thighs makes you shiver. he’s careful, gentle, murmuring soft praises as he cleans you up.
“so good for me.”
“always take me so well.”
when he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and climbs back into bed, dragging you against his chest. his fingers trace slow circles against your bare back, lulling and soothing.
“you want water?” he asks, lips brushing your temple.
you nod, still half-asleep. he reaches over to the nightstand, pressing the bottle to your lips, "c'mon drink." carefully watching as you take a few small gulps before pushing it away.
his fingers move through your hair, once again lulling you into soft sleep.
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zepskies · 15 hours ago
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All righty, here we go, diving into more of the angsty love triangle!! *rubs hands together* 😈
However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.
Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol
When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you.
I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀
He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.
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He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.
Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭
It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.
God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲
But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!!
The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭
"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother. Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.
💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣
"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted." But I do want her.
TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol
Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.
Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭
Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.
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"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."
Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪
But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.
Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏
(Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)
"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."
Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄
"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.
LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣
And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭
The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield. He thought it was cute.
OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉
"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.
ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕
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Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader
POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV
Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.
Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover
Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)
Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes
Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person
A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
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Dean POV
Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.
Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.
And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.
Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.
When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.
Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.
Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.
Not some asshole from another universe.
The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.
He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.
The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.
Fuck.
His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.
Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.
It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.
Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.
He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.
He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.
Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.
He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.
He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.
That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.
Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.
The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.
Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.
It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.
However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.
But then Ben had shown up.
When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.
But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.
Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.
All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.
Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.
The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"
Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?
Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.
Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.
"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.
Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.
Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"
"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."
Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.
"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.
"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.
"I'm kinda what?"
"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"
Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because she hasn't made up her mind."
"But why?"
"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"
Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"
"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.
He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.
"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.
"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"
At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."
"I think it does."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."
"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.
"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."
But I do want her.
The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.
"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.
Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"
"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.
Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."
"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.
"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.
"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.
Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"
"Just leave me alone Sammy."
And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.
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Reader POV
Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.
It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.
You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.
It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.
I have nothing to be guilty about.
You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.
Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.
Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-
You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.
You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.
In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.
No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-
The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.
Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.
But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.
Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.
You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.
Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.
Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.
Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.
Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.
Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.
You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.
At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.
Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.
Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?
The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.
It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.
You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.
You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.
But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.
You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.
Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.
Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.
You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.
Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.
You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.
The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.
What the hell is wrong with me?
When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.
But what?
He turns when he hears you walk in.
You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.
"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.
"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.
"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"
"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."
You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.
Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-
"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.
"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.
"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"
"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."
Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?
The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.
You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."
You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.
Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"
"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.
Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.
"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."
"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."
Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"
You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.
But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.
Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-
"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"
"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"
"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.
"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"
"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."
Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.
An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.
The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.
If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?
You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.
Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!
You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.
"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 
Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"
"No I-"
"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.
"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.
"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.
Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!
"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.
"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."
"But-"
"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"
His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.
Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?
"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.
You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.
"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.
"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?
Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”
"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”
You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.
“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”
Is he out of his MIND?!
"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.
"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together
"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"
You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.
"This is different!" He fumes.
"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"
Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?
You didn't think that you did.
Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.
"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"
You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."
"I compliment you." He huffs back.
"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"
Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."
"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."
"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."
"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"
"That's not what I-"
"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.
His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”
His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.
You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.
“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”
Why is it a big deal?
“It just is!"
"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.
"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”
“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.
Who does he think he is? We're not together.
“That’s not what this is about-“
“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”
"It is my business!"
"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"
"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.
A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.
"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”
“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”
“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"
“I’m not trying to!”
“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"
The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.
Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.
Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?
Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.
But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.
"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.
"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.
"Thought what?"
"That you wanted me to-"
"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.
"Well-"
"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."
Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"
"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."
"That's not what I'm doing!"
"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.
Dean pauses. "What?"
"Why after years of you hating me-"
"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.
"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.
It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.
"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.
"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"
"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"
"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"
You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.
Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?
"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.
Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.
Holy shit.
"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."
The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.
The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.
You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.
He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.
"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.
"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.
The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-
Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.
“What are you-“
“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.
His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.
You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.
You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.
But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.
Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.
Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.
"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"
Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."
"Then why?"
He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."
"I'm okay."
"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"
"This?"
"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.
"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.
"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."
You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"
There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.
"No.”
“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”
“No. But-"
 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."
Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"
"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"
His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."
Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.
"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.
You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."
"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.
"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.
"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.
Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.
Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.
"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.
"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."
"But-" You try to say again.
Oh this is so awkward.
"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."
Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.
Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.
Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."
The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.
"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.
Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.
"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."
"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."
"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."
Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."
"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.
The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.
The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.
But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.
Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."
Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.
Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."
"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”
Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.
And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.
"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.
Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"
"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.
"Just something come on-"
"But why-"
"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.
Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"
Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.
You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"
"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.
"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."
"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.
Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.
"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.
"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.
"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.
Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"
He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.
"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."
Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."
"Anything that I can do to convince you?"
"I can think of a few things…"
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Ben/Soldier Boy POV
"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.
It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.
He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.
Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.
He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.
Fuck.
He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.
And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.
But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.
Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email
When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.
I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!
Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.
And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.
Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.
Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.
Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.
"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.
The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.
Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.
It wouldn't be the first time.
"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.
"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.
"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."
"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.
He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.
The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.
"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."
"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.
Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.
"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.
Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.
"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.
"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.
Because the person standing next to his desk was you.
This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."
But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.
The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.
He thought it was cute.
As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.
It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.
"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"
"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.
"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."
Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."
You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.
Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.
"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"
"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.
Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.
Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.
"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."
"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.
He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.
"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.
"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.
It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.
"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."
He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.
"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.
And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.
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A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗
Reveal of the Poll:
🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.
💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.
Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣
Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!
Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:
@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies
@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg
@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy
@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78
@mochminnie @peachhiz
@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed
@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99
@chriszgirl92
@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug
@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never
@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned
@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27
@funkenniffler
294 notes · View notes
thinemoonshine · 1 day ago
Text
⋆𐙚₊ 𝓹𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝓴𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 ˚⊹♡
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—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ it’s not his fault. she left when they’re meant to be together. he just wants to keep their promise
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good boy!jungwon x bad girl!reader content(s): angst, suggestive, jungwon fell hard and can’t get up at all, profanities, (y/n) is a teeny bit mean in a way where she’s selfish, jungwon is obsessed, won is described to be like a cat—highly jealous, sneaky and sly, toxic relationship type: oneshot
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yang jungwon is like an affectionate cat. he loves nuzzling against (y/n) with arms curled around her and pawing whenever he wants attention or to get comfy. his favourite position is to have his face buried in the crook of her neck where her scent is the sweetest.
yang jungwon is like a clingy cat. he's always tailing after (y/n) whenever she's around and sits himself near her with doe eyes blinking prettily for her to notice and look. and when she does, you can almost hear him purr with delight as he grins with glee.
yang jungwon is like a jealous cat. he hates other men approaching his person. his round eyes will sharpen to blades and pierce anyone who dares approach (y/n). his hand will find home around her waist, hip or even shoulder just to show everyone she already has a pet. and if they still don't get it, he might just hiss.
yang jungwon is like a cat, through and through. and just like cats, he can be a teensy bit…cunning.
……
jungwon didn’t like what he saw.
his typically soft, playful eyes turned sharp and glaring at the scene he witnessed in front of him. even with the heavy rain that blurred his surroundings into splashes of colour and indistinguishable shapes, he could skillfully recognize (y/n) who was leaned against a lamp post with a man practically sucking her face off.
his hands traveled the surface of her clothes—clawing and pulling at the wet fabric—with the clear intent of wanting to just rip it off. thankfully, he still had some public decency and had left them on.
when they finally pulled away, jungwon’s seething breaths hitched momentarily at the sight of (y/n)’s radiant smile and it was as if she stood under a spotlight. with the moonlight that shone on her glistening skin and sparkling eyes, it pained him to see how gleeful she seemed to be with another beside him.
and he hated it. with all his heart and being.
his knuckles turned as white as a sheet as his fingers tightened around his now dripping wet phone with a screen flashing a bright blue dot on a map that marked (y/n)’s location.
so…this is why she hadn’t answered his texts.
no matter. just like the other boys she fooled around with, he’ll just be another toy she’ll cast aside.
that was a week ago and now, jungwon’s enjoying his little ‘won and (y/n)’ saturday sleepover with his head on her lap, her playing with his fluffy blonde hair while they’re both watching the show playing on TV.
it’s peaceful and lighthearted until the girl sharply clicks her tongue—grabbing the attention of the young man on her lap. he flips onto his back to look up at her who’s scowling at her phone.
“what’s up?” he asks, blinking with wide curious eyes.
the girl sighs before throwing her gadget aside. “just another guy who bailed. seriously, what is it these days? all the guys i reach out to always agree at first but then after we confirm the plans, they suddenly ‘can’t make it’ because of some sh!tyy excuse or whatever.”
she groans and lets her head fall back against the couch, her hand also dropping from his fluffy locks. “it’s been so long since i got laid. am i not pretty enough or something?”
jungwon gasps at that, more offended than she is and he quickly clasps her hand in his. “you’re the prettiest, (y/n). the most beautiful person i know inside and out. they’re the ones who are jerks.”
(y/n) chuckles at this and looks down at him who’s smiling up at her almost expectantly, as if hoping for validation or praise. she shakes her head with endearment before using her other hand to brush his bangs back. “but of course, you’d say that, wonnie.”
“i mean it, though,” he claims and he does—with his whole chest and existence. “you’re so breathtaking that i forget to even breathe sometimes. not that i need to.”
“yeah? why’s that?”
“all i need is you~” jungwon sings with his lips puckering exaggeratedly to elongate the ‘you.’
the other scoffs instantly at that and pushes his face away before immediately pulling back with a screech when she feels something wet and warm slide against her palm.
“yang jungwon! did you lick me??” she exclaims, flabbergasted, and yet the other only giggles playfully with a wiggle of his brows as he sits up.
“your hand lotion smells sweet,” he reasons and her brows jump with disbelief.
with a scrunched face, she dries her wet hand on his sleeve with a rough swipe. “it doesn’t mean it’ll taste nice!”
jungwon disagrees though. and he’s not afraid to show that by tilting his head with a frown of disagreement. “you always taste nice.”
(y/n)’s opportunity to retort is stripped away by him whose face is suddenly inches away from her as his eyes flicker between hers before zoning down at her mouth.
her breaths hitch when his own fans her lips and his tongue darts out to flick at the rosy nubs. “jungwon—”
“kiss?” he hums quietly and at the sight of it still closed tight, he draws closer with a little huff while his hand gently paws at her lap. “please? won wants kiss…”
(y/n) can feel her resolve shattering at his small pleas and she parts her lips to which he instantly dives into.
he doesn’t spare a second to practically feast on her in a messy choreography—tongues tangling, breaths blending and saliva stringing—and the intensity of it all shocks her, especially so when he straddles her.
thinking back, all of this started a week ago. she’s not sure what exactly sparked it but long story short, (y/n)’s apartment door had been rung incessantly and the moment she peeked through the eyehole, she was overrun with both worry and horror at the sight of a completely soaked jungwon standing outside her door.
various questions filled her head. what was he doing out in the rain nearing midnight? why was he at her door?
sure, she too herself had just come home an hour ago after a hooking up with some guy but that was her. a norm. jungwon? goody-two-shoes jungwon to be out of bed, out in the rain, soaked head-to-toe and not to mention, drunk??
something was definitely up. and that very same time was when jungwon started asking for kisses, saying something along the lines of “need to… need to clean…”
and if doing it was the only way to get him to calm down, she’d do anything.
at the end though, what she thought was a one time thing, a mistake by his drunken self, was actually some sort of new ‘diet’ jungwon had. something he had to have each day. something he began to shamelessly ask for.
and deep within (y/n)’s twisted little self, she reveled in the way he seemed to yearn for her kisses. like she was his lifeline. of course, she’s rational enough to not let it go beyond the line.
as if that would make it better.
“jungwon, kitty,” she calls after pulling away and the nickname makes him gasp softly as he shudders on her lap. growing up, he had a habit of sinking his teeth into things and (y/n)’s always the main victim. the fact that this knowledge is personal between them makes it so intimate, so special that he just can’t help but preen whenever he hears the name.
“hm?” he hums whilst nosing her cheeks and leaving soft butterfly kisses on her face.
her hand moves to gently push him away by the chest just so they can properly see one another. “what happened that day?“
he freezes, nervous gaze flicking between hers before looking down. he can’t tell her that he used their little friendship necklace that doubles as safety trackers because she wasn’t answering his texts. he can’t tell her that he saw her making out with some other dude and nearly lost his mind when he saw that she liked it. he can’t tell her that he practically had to drink himself away just so he could forget and not tear the man’s head off his neck.
so instead, he says, “i was just stressed. everything…everything is just overwhelming.”
good job, jungwon, he pats himself in the back. playing the typical overworked uni student will always be believable.
he throws in a small pout as his brows raise and dip at the ends and he knows she’s bought it when a soft coo sounds and her fingers start to play with the hair on his nape.
won simply melts at the touch, leaning slightly and baring his neck as he sighs dreamily.
“so is that what this is? your stress reliever?” (y/n) refers to the kisses.
he stays silent for an unnoticeable second. if he had to be completely honest, the kisses are because he wants to wipe off whatever filth was left behind by that man that kissed her.
but stress reliever isn’t precisely wrong he suppose. her lips are to die for. she is to die for.
he nods softly and curls himself into her—arms wrapping around her waist as his head rests in the crook of her neck—and he nuzzles to drown himself in her sweet, soothing scent.
his knees lock around her hips as his tongue flicks out to lick stripes against the skin of her neck and his ears perk at the sound of her giggles.
“that tickles,” she comments with a light jerk when he nips.
he smiles.
yeah, just this is fine for now.
no.
nonononononono no!
this isn’t supposed to happen!
jungwon stares with horror at the scene unfolding in front of him.
she’s back with that rodent. that…that little pest! how dare he crawl his way back to her?? after all i’ve done to make sure he stays away—
“jungwon!” (y/n)’s chirpy voice fishes him out of the depths of his rapidly darkening thoughts but he still can’t manage to put on a smile when his one and only comes up to him with her arm linked in another’s. “i thought you said had no class today.”
jungwon forces himself to form a small grin, enough to at least make him seem unsuspicious but not at the very least welcoming to the third party. “oh, i don’t! but i had to drop off an assignment.”
(y/n) nods at this and immediately gestures to her…company. “this is minoo. i’ve told you about him.”
yes, you did, won thinks bitterly in his head, teeth gritting beneath his strained smile. he’s a nasty waste of spa—
“jungwon, right? (y/n)’s told me about you too,” minoo says with a hand offered for a shake. the former’s feline eyes are quick to follow his motions before tracking back up to his gaze. with a small nod, he accepts his handshake—only by the tips of his fingers before having to physically restrain himself from shuddering. “said to me that you’re her childhood friend. hard to believe honestly.”
his comment vexes him and a dark brow arches up challengingly on jungwon’s face.
“why’s that?” he hisses and (y/n)’s quick to notice but says nothing. he’s always been defensive about their relationship. always the first to claw and hiss whenever someone makes an off-putting remark.
minoo doesn’t seem at all deterred and if anything, he seems more amused about it. a cocky chuckle sounds and he tilts his head—mockingly, won might add—before clicking his tongue. “oh, nothing. you guys are so…different. i get it, opposites attract and all but you know well yourself, she’s way better with someone like me than well…you.”
the girl’s eyes widen twice their size, ready to pull won away from spitting venom through his teeth which might end with some of them falling off by minoo’s fist if she might add.
but in contrary to her expectations, he…
drop!
the first of many tears cascade down his rosy cheek down to the dry cement below them before they thicken to streams.
“jungwon,” she gasps and reaches forward to cup his face that quickly turns flushed as he sniffles, turning his head to hide within her cold palm.
“i know…i know that,” he chokes out when he pulls away with a rushed inhale. his red-rimmed, brimming eyes staring straight at minoo with contempt and yet, defeat. “i know she’ll never choose me but, it’s not wrong of me to keep hoping! it’s…it’s not wrong… it’s not wrong to wish and hold on... it’s not wrong…”
hearing that confession spill from his trembling lips strikes a cord in her—an epiphany—and her eyes travel across his face for a moment, taking his raw emotion in all his entirety before taking a step back.
jungwon almost stops crying instantly at the loss of her touch and he looks up with confusion as she backs away to minoo’s side once again. “(y/n)…?”
“i shouldn’t have let it go this far,” is all she mutters and she doesn’t spare a moment for him to stop her when she suddenly spins on her heels while dragging minoo away with.
his tears dried instantly as alarms blare in his ears incessantly.
you’re losing her, jungwon.
what did you do? you ruined it!
“w-wait!” jungwon calls out, voice cracking but she ignores. not a single pause or glance.
she’s going further away, jungwon. you’re losing her. she hates you now. you’ve done it.
“i’m sorry! i-it was all my fault, i—!”
he gulps harshly. his throat’s too dry from having to strain himself to cry—to act like a meek, broken lamb. he never thought it would backfire.
and now he’s actually crying.
his arm outstretches towards her, wanting to keep up but he knows that going after her is going to escalate everything. he knows her enough to know that if his tears don’t work, nothing will.
but what else can he do??
you’re losing her. you arelosing her. youarelosingher. losingherlosinglosinglosingherlosingher—
you lost her.
jungwon heaves, chest too heavy and breathing suddenly all too laborious as he clutches his chest through his shirt. he watches with a trampled spirit and weeping eyes as her figure diminishes further and further away.
“i lost her.”
—-
——
jungwon’s not easily deterred. like a cat, he’s stubborn. like a cat, he has claws to sink.
he leans against the jagged stone wall of the dark alley. his black hood’s pulled up over his head while his hand is stuffed in his dark cargo pants, the other spinning around his phone between his fingers deftly.
it’s in the dead of the night in a place so quiet it’s unnerving, a striking contrast from the usually busy city. footsteps sound and they begin to echo the deeper they venture into the alley.
jungwon’s ears perk and eyes lift from the ground to the wall in front of him—sharpening to a glare the moment a figure steps between.
“i knew there had to be something wrong under that innocence face you play,” minoo chuckles with amusement. his brows raise with a daring smirk. “how’d you get my number, huh?”
“(y/n)’s phone. she doesn’t change her passcode,” jungwon casually replies and the other scoffs.
“really? thought you guys don’t talk anymore after your whole… crying fest.”
“i’ve had it for a while. just in case.”
“wah… so you’re a real creep, aren’t ya? and she trusts you wholeheartedly. you should’ve seen how she practically tore herself knowing how she ‘broke’ you,” minoo comments and leans against the opposing wall with his chin raised high. “fvck, it was such a bother. couldn’t even do anything with her being such a party pooper.”
“watch your mouth,” jungwon hisses as his hands curl at his sides, teeth gritted.
minoo raises his own hands in false surrender. “hey, don’t act like you’re such a saint. after all, we both know that you slashed my tires when i was about to go on that date with (y/n).”
the other says nothing to this—no confirmation, no refute—and minoo scoffs. he pushes himself off the wall and brings his face near him, grinning ear to ear. “hey, say something won’t you? why’d even ask to meet if you’re gonna stay mute like a little pussy?”
again, jungwon stays quiet—but just for a good moment. “stay away from (y/n). she deserves someone better than you.”
“yeah? like who? you?” minoo scoffs and tilts his head tauntingly.
won’s fists grow taut, nails digging into his palms as they tremble but again, he doesn't voice an answer. "just stay away."
minoo clicks his tongue and he leans back, now more annoyed than he is amused. he drops his head low as his eyes glare into the other's. "and if i don't?"
then without warning, jungwon smacks himself across the face—shocking the other and minoo straightens with eyes popping—but he doesn't stop once, no. he does it again, again and again from various different angles until his lips are cut and bleeding.
"what the fvck, man?? the hell are you doing?!” min bursts, both weirded out and unnerved.
“what i have to,” won replies almost monotonous and he grunts when he slams himself against the brick wall behind him—harsh. he repeats it, back of his skull knocking against the jagged stone with a clear ‘THUD!’ and his vision blackens for a moment as head spins.
he hisses and brows knit, clearly in pain as he stumbles from the momentary dizziness but he’s swift to turn around just to smash his forehead against the serrated screen from years of neglect.
“STOP IT, MAN!” minoo finally shouts, clearly perturbed and terrified and he grapples his shoulder to pull him away.
but jungwon doesn’t stop. not yet.
just when minoo manages to yank him a good distance away, he leaps straight back into the wall like he’s trying to materialize through it—like a madman. a self-destructive maniac.
“FINE! FINE! I’ll leave her alone so just stop acting like some fvcking psycho, dude!” minoo finally yields, face pale and breaths shallow from the anxiety as he watches jungwon continue to ruin himself like a brainless zombie.
he was ruthless—bashing his head against the brick wall, smashing himself against it as if daring it to crumble if not him first and fingers pounding and clawing, leaving traces of blood from the torn, tattered tips. he was brutal, unforgiving and yet, he’s grinning through it all.
he turns around with a stagger, panting heavily as he lifts his focus to him. minoo’s petrified at the crazed look in his bulging, widened eyes and the unnatural spread of his bloody lips from ear to ear is near predatory—devilish.
minoo’s insides are near to leaping out of his skin but he relents—standing frozen as jungwon approaches.
the latter rests a hand on the other’s shoulder and he tilts his head. the blood dripping from his temple drops onto the hard ground and his tongue swipes against the oozing red on his busted bottom lip. “i trust you will as i hope you’ll be smarter.”
he then tucks his hand into minoo’s hoodie’s pocket and fishes out his handphone with a screen lit by the clear recording symbol. the owner freezes, not expecting for jungwon to find out.
the latter ends the tape before permanently deleting it from his phone and waving it at the side of his face. “smarter than this.”
no matter how unassuming it sounds, chills runs down min’s spine. it feels like a threat—one that’s grim, that’s written in blood. deadly. and he shudders when won’s feline eyes glint with a foxy intent—quickly snatching his phone back before stuffing it into his jeans.
“whatever…” minoo mutters and rushes out the alley, leaving jungwon alone in the haunting darkness. one that seemed to emanate from him.
won breathes heavily as his vision blurs—the blood loss and heavy hits he took starting taking a toll on him. but he can’t lose himself, not yet.
he takes out his phone and clicks on a number, hearing it dial for a few times before the other line answers.
“jungwon? it’s so late, why are you—”
jungwon coughs harshly and wheezes after, putting on his best performance in exaggerating his wounds—not that he’s not severely hurt but he’d be lying if he said it’s unbearable. he’d rather have this pain a million times than the pain of losing (y/n).
“h-help…” he croaks. “minoo—!”
CRACK!
he drops his phone onto the stone floor and smiles when he hears her panicked voice screaming through the phone—asking where he is and if he’s fine before ultimately rushing out her door.
jungwon sighs contentedly and sits himself on the ground. his eyes rake over the wall painted with his blood before at the torn, grated skin on the bloody tips of his fingers.
now, he waits.
a week has passed since then.
minoo, the ‘perpetrator,’ is a serving time at a correctional facility for his ‘acts of violence.’ while the ‘victim,’ jungwon, is almost healed up and had been released from the hospital to instead rest up at home with a pardon from school.
and (y/n)? she’s been taking time off just to nurse after him, much to his utmost delight.
she has been going above and beyond for him due to her guilt—apologizing profusely for letting minoo in her life and undoubtedly bringing him to jungwon. and won, of course, always denies it, saying “it’s not your fault! it never is!” because truthfully, it isn’t.
it’s his. minoo didn’t even lay a hand on him. he was the one who damaged himself but they will never know that, will they?
not when his little friendship necklace with (y/n) that doubles as a tracker was found in minoo’s hoodie. imagine her shock and horror when she went out to find jungwon only for her to be lead to minoo.
but the anger she portrayed after, it was a sight to behold, the police were called and so was the ambulance after they found out jungwon’s location from minoo.
he claimed innocent. begging and pleading to be heard.
“it wasn’t me! he was insane!” “he kept running through the wall! punched himself and all!” “i’m the victim! h-he must have snuck that necklace into my pocket!”
how pitiful.
jungwon wished he could’ve been there to see it.
“how do you feel, baby? need something else?” (y/n) asks with utmost care as her hand brushes back his bangs.
jungwon purrs, pushing his head into her touch. “no, i’m okay. thank you for taking care of me.”
(y/n) stares at him as he clings to her, his pretty, doe eyes blinking at her like she’s his world, his saviour, his reason for living. he looks at her like she’s his world.
and she knows it’s her doing. she should’ve cut things short but she had been selfish.
“don’t…don’t thank me,” she quietly says, remorseful, and jungwon’s sparkly eyes soften as they study her grey mien before he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“lie with me?” he invites and she nods with a soft smile—joining him on his bed and tucking herself into his arms that gladly scoop her up.
he pats her back and strokes the back of her head. they revel in the peaceful silence and warmth that envelope them—one indulging in it much more than the other with a lovesick grin on his face and hearts glowing in his eyes.
“i don’t need anything else. i just need you,” jungwon mumbles into her hair and she chuckles. “like our promise.”
his words linger in the air for a moment before she sits up, a hand on his chest while the other props her up on her side to look at him.
“promise?”
won meets her gaze and nods. “back then, we promised to stay together forever. that’s why we got those tracking necklaces—so we can always find our way to each other more matter where we are.”
his words rekindles the memory in her head and her brows knit with guilt.
“you still remember?” she croaks, tears brimming and jungwon’s swift to bring his thumb up to wipe away a stray tear of hers.
“of course, i do. i remember everything about you—about us,” he says without a single doubt and sits up to hold her face. he bends down slightly to meet her height. “hey, hey… don’t cry. please, don’t cry. you’ll hurt your eyes again. shh, shh…”
he hugs her close and pushes her head gently to rest it on his shoulder—biting his lip when she brings herself closer to burrow into the crook of his neck. “i remember because well… i’ve always believed that i will stay with you—then, now and forevermore. promises aren’t meant to be broken. so you’ll stay with me, won’t you?”
“i will. i will, jungwon. and i’m so so sorry it took me so long to see that. to say this to you,” (y/n) sobs against him and he coos among comforting hushes as he pats her back.
“don’t be sorry. you don’t have to apologize for anything,” jungwon assures, his voice lulling and he presses a warm, lingering kiss on her temple. “in my eyes, you can do no wrong. you can slap me, kick me, stab me with a knife if you wish but as long as i know it’s your hand that’s holding it, i’ll gladly let it pierce my heart. you’re my everything, (y/n). i hope you know that.”
her cries only heighten at his genuine confession, heart aching like it’s breaking as tears overflow at the uncritical fondness he holds for her.
if she wasn’t in his embrace, she’s sure she would have shattered into pieces like fragile ceramic—completely oblivious to the wicked, toxic thoughts that fill her little angel’s head the longer he has her in his arms.
at this point, if she knew he was the one who baited minoo into a bear trap, made him watch as he thoroughly crushed and bled himself to the point of minoo’s mental ruin, snuck his necklace into his hoodie and called (y/n) for the fantastic finale, she’s still gonna think that jungwon did it for a good cause.
because just as he sees (y/n) as the embodiment of perfection, she now sees him as a poor, pathetic lamb who can do no sin—a saint.
and along with the guilt that now haunts her, he’s permanently tethered her to his side.
she can’t leave now, she can’t leave ever. they belong together, forever.
104 notes · View notes
phosphns · 2 days ago
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⌗ . . . behind the camera with streamer!chris
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warns. established relationship. pet names [baby]. cursing. kinda public sex. oral [f. receiving]. teasing.
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to say you were bored, was a understatement. chris, your boyfriend, had been streaming for over 3 hours now, basically ignoring you, and you were getting impatient.
you were continuously glancing at him, annoyed, hoping that he’d catch your stare and finally give you attention.
“chriis” you huffed, your tone low so that the chat woulda had difficulty to hear you.
the triplets’ fans knew you two were together. obviously, there was a big part of them who hated, no, loathed you. they sent you loads of threats and insults, but you didn’t care much. “at the end of the day, it’s me who he’s with” you once said to a paparazzi guy.
anyway, the majority of them liked you. they thought you were a healthy person, who perfectly matched chris vibes.
“yes?” he answered, his eyes not leaving the screen. he was in the middle of the hundredth fortnite match, cursing under his breath at every missed kill. he looked angelic; his hair sticking on his forehead, the long-sleeved black sweater underneath you knew there was nothing else, which did nothing but increased your hunger of him.
you observed the way his fingers moved on the keyboard, an image that reminded you of how skilled his hands where — if put in a good use.
god, you were about to lose it.
to be completely honest, you had spent the night together, between intimate touches and cuddles, with your legs interlocked and his arm around your body. but did it mean it was enough? absolutely no. nothing was never enough with chris.
“i… uhm, can i play?” you asked, putting on a fresh love t-shirt and walking over him, standing behind his chair.
you were wearing a pair of his boxers as bottom, and as much as you didn’t care, chris wasn’t the happiest to have people conspiring about your sexual life.
he finally turned his head to you, removing the headphones from his head and placing them on the desk. he smirked, raising a brow.
“since when you like fortnite?” he investigated, careful to hide your body behind his figure. his eyes wandered around it and stopped a few more seconds on your tits, who weren’t being kept in a bra so your nipples were visible through the shirt.
“since you love it more than me. what do they say? if you can’t beat them, join them?” you quoted, winking at the camera. he let out a laugh, throwing his head back, and pulled you on his lap.
he leaned over your ear, his warm breath on your neck making you shiver. “couldn’t last another hour without my attention, could you?” he whispered, purposely putting an hand on the mic not to make the chat understand.
you pushed back to his chest, your ass now pressed on his crotch as you felt his growing erection on your back. you simply smiled to the camera, acting like nothing was happening.
“you’re a needy little thing,” he added, before removing the hand from the microphone and yelling a “let’s goo” to the stream.
you greeted the chat, which welcomed you happily and filling you with compliments. you felt chris’ arms circling your waist, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the fans.
«omg the hand placement»
«theyre soooo»
«i want this»
«im so jealous rn»
he started explaining how to play and which buttons to use, but all you could focus on was his voice, low and raspy that did certainly something to your core, and the way his jaw brushed against your shoulder.
“you got it, c’mon, babe” he told you when you started playing. you weren’t that bad, actually; it wasn’t your first time playing, especially since you were with chris, so you pretty much knew what you were doing — until you started feeling something tickling your thigh.
you shifted uncomfortably on chris’ lap, who hadn’t said anything but knew damn well what was happening.
luckily for him, that part of your bodies were hidden from the camera, so the stream couldn’t see anything but you stirring on your boyfriend’s thighs.
you continued playing acting oblivious, even though your trembling movements that were making you miss all the shots.
“fuck!” you groaned in frustration at the tenth waisted opportunity, while you felt a finger fidgeting with the hem of your knickers.
you looked at chris with the corner of your eyes, signaling to him that he needed to stop now or it wouldn’t have ended well.
he, however, ignored your signals and continued to yap about how he was a better player than you, whilst his fingers kept getting closer to your heat.
you involuntarily pushed back towards his hand, which caused his fingers to touch your opening and nearly making you moan.
“you okay babe? you hit your foot on the table or something?” he feigned ignorance, like he wasn’t the reason you almost came.
“n-no — i mean yes, i’m o-okay” you replied, trying to focus on the game. there were just 4 people left in the game, the competition was getting fierce.
as you killed a player, you felt a finger slide in you, making you basically nudged back against his chest, cursing under your breath.
chris gave you a smug smile, pushing you forward with the free hand, before saying:
“that’s my girl”.
you shivered, but you kept your hands firm on the keyboard, on one side because you were close to win, on the other because if you hadn’t, that twitch stream would have been transformed in a live porn one.
chris must had noticed the way your body was reacting, because he started pumping his finger faster than before, adding another one. his gestures were rapid and rough, but they were also limited, since he couldn’t move as freely as you both wanted. it was driving you insane.
“shit! where the fuck is he!” you yelled at the game, as the storm was approaching and there were left just few minutes.
your boyfriend’s fingers moved at an accelerating pace as you were literally about to levitate from the chair. you had to bite your bottom lip to keep back your moans that were begging to come out.
you also could feel chris’ hard-on under you, which provoked him to stay in silence, besides some comments that he would make about your skills.
your chest was moving quickly now and your breath was becoming heavy as you sensed the knot in your stomach growing. the chat didn’t seem to notice, though, probably convinced that your state was instigated by the tension in the game.
when chris added another finger, you actually felt like you could pass out. his digits were thrusting furiously into you, causing your whole body to tremble.
miraculously, you managed to kill the last one player, resulting in you to win. chris screamed in victory, but both of you couldn’t really move, because the same instant you won, his fingers won you over too, making you come and riding you out of your high.
“oh my god! chris — fuck!” you couldn’t help but let out a cry, but fortunately it was covered by your celebrations.
chris smirked mischievously, keeping his hand down your crotch.
it had been one of the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever experienced.
“i think you’ve changed your opinion on fortnite, haven’t you baby?” he asked, with a teasing tone, caressing your side with his other hand.
you nodded, not being able to say anything after the strong load of sensations that you felt in more or less twenty minutes.
after that, chris decided to wrap up the stream, claiming to be tired, but you and me both know that it was nothing compared to how much he would have been tired the next morning.
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yaps. i think it’s pretty evident i have a thing for fingers… anyway i saw this tiktok and decided that i had to do something about it.
tags 💌 @ultrviolenxe ៹ @chrissbows ៹ @courta13 ៹ @chriss-slutt .
wc 1,2k
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captain-hawks · 3 days ago
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thinking about down bad, closeted pervert bestfriend!mattsun who hates himself because every minor thing you do turns him on so much and he can’t even blink without picturing you completely fucked out in his bed and he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship by hitting you with the good ole “I have to tell you something” so he just drives up his water bill with cold showers 🫠 even worse if you’re dating someone bc in his head you two have already fucked on every surface of his apartment
you + seijoh throw a surprise party for mattsun at his and makki’s apartment.
the music’s too loud. there’s too many people. too much alcohol.
you look far too lovely for mattsun’s tattered, beer-addled restraint. especially when you parade him around the living room dancing and laughing and singing happy birthday. kissing his cheek, fingers carding through his messy hair.
(he wants to kiss you on the mouth, wants to show you how much he likes the new dress you bought for his birthday, wants to shove everyone off of his stupid couch and tug you into his lap.)
he forces himself talk to a girl whose name he really couldn’t care less about, because your boyfriend eventually shows up and shakes his fucking hand like they’re friends and really it’s not his place to care—
but then he escapes to the quiet of his room for a breather.
and you’re there, curled up in his bed. wearing one of his sweatshirts.
your boyfriend didn’t stay long and he thought you left with him without saying goodbye and—
he goes to tuck you in, though he won’t lie to himself and say it’s not partly because the sight of your bare legs tangled in his sheets is enough to wreck him on the spot.
“issei?” you mumble, half asleep, fingers tangling with his to stop him from pulling away.
he pauses, breathing in slowly. “yeah?”
(he knows his pillow is going to smell like your shampoo and his stupid, traitorous dick aches at the thought.)
“did everyone leave yet?” you ask, like you own the goddamn place (he wants to laugh at the irony, of all the things you don’t know are yours already.)
he doesn’t answer fast enough, his mind whirring over that ridiculous thought, and you add in a tired, whiny voice, “—cause i wanna cuddle.”
it’s probably shitty, the way he locks his bedroom door and texts the group chat and tells them he’s got a headache, he’s going to bed. the way he bends to your sleepy, tipsy, petulant will as you berate him for wearing jeans in bed.
(the way his hazy mind is caught somewhere between the fantasy of kissing you slow and soft against the pillows and fucking you into the mattress as you tuck yourself against him and drift off to sleep.)
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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 18 hours ago
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todays the day | s.r. x fem liaison!reader
something in the air told you. today was the day. you were gonna marry spencer reid, well first a proposal should happen then the marriage. but you didn’t need a huge wedding anyway, you just wanted to marry that man.
last month marked three years of dating, this month marked a year of living together, and today will mark a new occasion. you knew after your first anniversary that spencer was the only one for you and he even told you himself “i still can’t believe i get to call you mine. one of the few good things out of my life.”
so today was the day. it was a rare day off from work, fingers crossed for the whole twenty-four hours, and the two of you were just enjoying laying in your bed until noon. spencer curled up as you big spooned him, nose nuzzled into his lean neck, spencer’s hands holding onto yours that hugged his torso.
a delicate press of lips to skin, “spence…” wanting to wake him up slowly. he shifted and hummed in his throat, you pressed another kiss at the bottom of his neck, “i need to ask you something.”
you heard his deep inhale then he slowly rolled over so now the two of you were eye to eye. his sleep heavy eyes blinked slowly and his lips barely curled up, “hi.” the word an octave lower.
you brushed some rough curls away from his eyes as you drank him in, “hi handsome.” whispering to keep the atmosphere warm. his large palm came to sit on your exposed hip, his thumb rubbing into some of the soft flesh of your stomach. “what’d you want to ask me?”
you let your fingers trail along his profile, “will you, spencer reid, will you marry?”
he smiled, “of course i’ll marry you.” giving his answer as more of a statement then the finite answer. “i just wasn’t expecting you to be the one asking, not that i’m against the norm, but yes of course i want to be married to you.”
you pushed onto your elbow, “no, i’m serious spencer. would you like to get married, as in today. at the courthouse.”
now spencer sat up, a slight concern to his pretty features. “are-are you sure? well first, yes i want to marry you like i said. that’s a no brainer for me, but don’t you want a wedding ceremony?”
you shook your head, moving your body so you were able to rest both knees at spencer’s hips. you grabbed both his hands and intertwined your fingers, setting them on your chest. “i just want to be married to you. i don’t need a big fat greek wedding, or a-a million guest watching us say i do. although i would like us to get some professional pictures taken, but that can wait.”
three kisses to the back of spencer’s knuckles, “i don’t really want to wait any longer. and we’ve both said it, we love each other and always talk about our futures. so let’s start making them come true. i want to be able to call myself mrs.reid.”
spencer smiled and his eyes shown brightly in the afternoon light, “do you really want to get married today?”
“absolutely. i don’t think i could wait another moment being single-ish.” needing to restrain yourself from getting jumpy.
“okay, we’re getting married today! we’ll work everything out as we go.” spencer agreeing to your spontaneously ridiculous request and you screeched in delight. throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. “we’ll call penelope as our witness.”
“oh she’s gonna love and hate us.”
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rebelssvy · 8 hours ago
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kiss it better ✧.*
bakugo x reader ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
⋆·˚ ༘ *
part one! link here
summary: part one just kissing, this is smutty. bakugo frat guy but he’s lowk bipolar and a woman pleaser
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here you were, after a quick trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up, you stood in front of a random frat guys bedroom at a random party you despised being at. your anticipation was overwhelming as you for him to come to the door. as he opened the door you walked in, a complete stranger to him.
“a part of me didn’t think you would show, but then i remembered you rubbing against me like you were my bitch” he laughed out as he closed the door, you didn’t watch him as he walked behind you. thinking of a quick remark to catch him off guard.
“that’s funny because all i remember is you saying that i could be a problem for you,” your words poured out like venom. ignoring the need in between your legs. you stared straight ahead as he walked towards you. he was behind you now, you felt his chest-his buldge, press up against your backside. before he moved around and cleared a way for a spot on your neck. pushing any hair or fabric you had to leave him a spot to kiss on.
“seems like you can’t resist me.” you said as his head dipped between your shoulders, kissing and licking at your skin.
“maybe i can’t.” he said, boldly lips still against your skin. you expected him to insult you, make you feel lesser then him. but it never came. he pulled away before making you face him.
“what’s your name baby?” he asked you while his hands traveled your body, his head going back to its spot on your neck. his tongue sucking and checking on you like candy.
“y/n, and i didn’t know you were such a gentleman”
“i can be… but i can also fuck you like your my fucking slut. which way do you want y/n? wanna be my bitch? or my slut?” he watched as you buffered before picking you up and throwing you on his bed. “i need an answer baby before i make you feel good. please gimme an answer baby.” he begged while he grabbed at his bulge hidden underneath his pants.
“i didn’t know assholes like you-“ he cut you off with a soft kiss, lingering. lacking of lust, only love.
“stop pretending like you hate me and let me make you feel good baby.” making quick work of both of you, your clothes found the floor and you were fully vulnerable to him. you gasped at his body, he was huge in every way.
“my name is bakugo by the way.” he said while looking you up and down. “and i know i was rude to you earlier but i fully intend on taking you on a date after this.” he said while flipping your body into a missionary position.
“what if i don’t want to date you, bakugo?”
“oh you’ll want to date me after this. i promise.” his face had changed to a smile a while back but your just now realizing it.
pushing his length into his hand immediately found your clit, rubbing circles into your gummy folds. stopping for a second to pull his fingers into his mouth.
“fuckkk you taste good,” he groaned as his hands found your clit again. you clenched around his from his words. sheer arousal pouring out of you.
“you like that huh? you like me lovin’ on you lil slut- fuckkk yea you like that” he moved his length in and out of you, his words only made your need for him words. he was so close to you. this was too intimate for a guy you just met. and you yet you were the one that found your way back here. back into his room.
your words were struggled moans as he continued his assault on your hole. fucking into you.
“y/n ah-! fuck your so tight..” he spasmed into you as you neared your finish. all your senses overwhelmed as he fucked you, made love to you.
“bakugo fuck-! ah i’m cummingoh fuck-!” you grinded yourself into him and his hand as you climaxed. you saw white as he fucked you through your orgasm, back arching off the fabric.
you saw him admiring you as you came back to consciousness, kissing every part of your skin “your definitely gonna be my problem holy shit…” he groaned.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
this is a dispointmnt i’m srry
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darkintothedawn · 3 days ago
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POCKET-SIZED LOVE || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'
Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader
Summary — Based off of the whole 'He's so cute, I want to put him in my pocket.' train of thought people get.
Word Count — 1037
Warnings — Fluff.
It was late, but neither of you were in any rush to move. The glow of the lamp in Stiles’ room bathed everything in warm gold, the only sound between you the faint hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of fabric as one of you shifted.
You were in Stiles’ lap, your arms wrapped securely around his neck, legs lazily draped over his. It was a position you had ended up in a thousand times before—sometimes by accident, sometimes because he yanked you into him with that playful strength of his, and sometimes because you just needed to be close to him.
Tonight was one of those nights.
“You’re crushing me,” Stiles mumbled against your shoulder, though his arms around your waist told a different story.
“You love it.”
“I do, but also, my legs are falling asleep.”
“Sounds like a you problem, Stilinski.”
He huffed out a dramatic sigh, flopping his head back against the couch. “This is abuse.”
You grinned, shifting just enough to look at him. His face was flushed—not just from warmth, but from you, from the weight of your body pressing into his, from your fingers trailing lazily up and down his back.
His eyes flickered open, and even in the dim lighting, you could see the way they softened as they landed on you. It made your heart ache in the best way.
God, you loved him.
You reached up, cupping his cheeks between your hands, your thumbs pressing into the soft skin. “You’re so pretty,” you whispered, almost in awe.
Stiles immediately stiffened. “Oh my God, don’t—”
“Too late,” you interrupted, squeezing his cheeks together until his lips puckered. “I’m in love with the prettiest boy in the world.”
A strangled sound escaped him, something between a groan and a laugh, and he weakly batted at your hands. “Stop it.”
“Nope.”
“I’ll kick you off.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tighter.
You grinned. "See? You’re stuck with me."
"You are physically on me, so yes, I’d say that’s accurate.”
You laughed, pressing a quick, loud kiss to his cheek just to watch the way his nose scrunched up. He looked at you like he was debating whether to throw you off or never let you go.
“Y'know," you mused, tilting your head as you traced slow circles over his jaw with your thumb, "I think I should just shrink you down and keep you in my pocket forever.”
Stiles blinked. “What.”
“I mean it,” you continued, undeterred. “I’d keep you safe, take you everywhere, make you a little bed out of my shirt pocket. I could set up a tiny desk so you could still solve your little mysteries, and I’d feed you tiny snacks—”
Stiles groaned, pressing his face into your shoulder. “I hate you so much.”
“No, you don’t,” you teased, scratching your nails gently against the back of his neck. “You love it. You love me.”
His fingers dug into your sides, his voice muffled against your shirt. “I really do, and it’s awful.”
You smiled, pressing your nose against the side of his head, breathing him in. "Would you really let me keep you in my pocket?"
Stiles pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wide, thoughtful, and for a moment, something soft flickered across his face, something he almost looked scared to say.
"If it meant always being with you?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."
The words knocked the air right out of you.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling so much that it almost hurt. Your hands slid from his cheeks down to his shoulders, gripping him tighter, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin.
“We could run away, you know,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice light, even though your heart was pounding. “Just you and me. Somewhere quiet. No werewolves, no responsibilities. No one trying to kill us every other week.”
Stiles let out a breathy laugh, but his hands tightened around you like he was holding onto the thought, like he was considering it.
“You really mean that?” he asked after a moment, voice softer than before.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes searching his face. His freckles, the scar on his chin, the way his lower lip was slightly fuller than his top—God, he was unfairly pretty.
“Of course, I do,” you said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. You could feel his heart hammering against yours, his breath a little unsteady.
“Okay,” he whispered.
You tilted your head, a small smile playing at your lips. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” A small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. “If you ever do find a way to shrink me down, just… make sure I get a comfy pocket, alright?”
You let out a breathless laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “I’ll keep you somewhere warm, right next to my heart.”
He groaned. “You have to stop saying things like that, my heart physically can’t take it.”
“Then stop being so adorable.”
“I am not—”
You cut him off with a kiss, slow and sweet, your fingers threading through his hair. He melted immediately, hands gripping your waist, pulling you even closer even though there was barely any space between you.
When you pulled back, his breath was shaky, his eyes still half-lidded as he stared at you.
“I love you,” you murmured.
His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just looked at you, like he was still trying to figure out how this was real, how you were real. Then, he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours again.
“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much, it’s stupid.”
You smiled, closing your eyes.
For a while, you just sat there, wrapped up in each other, whispering quiet confessions into the space between you. And even if you couldn’t actually keep Stiles in your pocket, you were going to hold onto him as tightly as you could, for as long as he’d let you.
And knowing Stiles?
That just might be forever.
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biblical-chronicles · 3 days ago
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Led on
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_________________________________________
where you confess to Noel who doesn't quite reciprocate at first.
(happy endin' no worries I wouldn't do that to ya lot)
_________________________________________
The worst part wasn’t that you fell in love with Noel Gallagher.
The worst part was that, deep down, you knew you shouldn’t have.
You weren’t naïve. You knew what he was like—the sharp tongue, the half-smirks, the way he moved through life like he was already three steps ahead of everyone else. But that was the thing about Noel, wasn’t it? He could make you feel like you were the only person in the world one second, then leave you wondering if you ever really knew him the next. And still, you let it happen.
He was warm when he wanted to be, his arm slung around your shoulder, his lips brushing against your temple in passing, his voice low and teasing in your ear. But then, just as easily, he could pull away—retreat back behind that smirking indifference like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t just looked at you with something almost real in his eyes.
And still, you let it happen.
Maybe you had been stupid.
It started slow, harmless almost. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You were just friends, weren’t you? Friends who stayed up too late talking about everything and nothing, who shared cigarettes outside venues long after everyone else had left, who could sit in comfortable silence like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Friends who touched more than friends should.
Who looked at each other too long.
Who let things slip in drunken moments that neither of you ever brought up the next morning.
He didn’t do that for just anyone.
You knew that.
And yet, there he was, always at your side, always making sure you knew you mattered to him. And it wasn’t just words, it was in the way he acted—the way he’d throw an arm around your waist without thinking, the way his fingers would graze yours just a second too long when he passed you something, the way he’d listen to you like you were saying the most interesting thing in the world.
So, of course, you fell.
And tonight, you were going to be reckless enough to tell him.
Noel sat across from you in the dim glow of the bar, half-empty glass resting against the table, fingers tapping idly against it. He looked relaxed, shoulders loose, eyes half-lidded with that lazy amusement he always wore when he was in a good mood.
You should have just left it.
Kept your mouth shut.
But it had been building for too long, pressing against your ribs like a weight you couldn’t carry anymore. And before you could talk yourself out of it, you just—said it.
"I think I’m in love with you, Noel."
The shift was immediate.
His fingers stilled against the glass. His jaw went tight, the casual ease bleeding out of him all at once. And then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to yours.
It was unreadable.
And that scared you more than anything.
The silence stretched.
And then—"Are you takin’ the piss?"
It wasn’t lighthearted. Wasn’t teasing. His voice was sharp, like the crack of ice splitting in two.
You flinched. "No, I—"
He scoffed, shaking his head as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. "Christ, I knew this’d happen. Knew you’d get ideas."
You felt your stomach drop. "Ideas?"
He exhaled harshly, gripping the bridge of his nose. "You’ve built this up in your fuckin’ head, love didn't ya?" His voice was clipped, defensive, like he was gearing up for a fight. "Jesus, I don’t—what d’you want from me?"
Your throat tightened. "I’m not asking for anything." Your voice was small, shaking. "I just—I thought maybe—"
"Well, you thought wrong."
And just like that, you broke.
It was humiliating, how quickly the tears came, burning hot down your cheeks before you could stop them. Your breath hitched, shoulders trembling, and you hated yourself for this—for letting him see you like this.
"Fucks sake, don’t—" Noel shifted, hand half-lifting off the table like he wanted to reach for you, but he stopped himself. His expression flickered—just for a second, something almost guilty breaking through.
But it didn’t matter.
Not anymore.
You shoved back your chair, the legs screeching against the floor, and stood up on shaky legs. He looked at you then, observed even, like maybe he hadn’t expected you to actually cry. But you didn’t want his pity.
Didn’t want anything from him at that moment.
You swiped at your face quickly, jaw clenched, and turned on your heel. The door slammed shut behind you with a sound that felt like the final nail in the coffin of everything you had allowed yourself to hope for. Every step away from him felt heavier than the last, each one a reminder that you were walking away from the only thing you’d ever truly wanted.
By the time you made it inside your apartment, you could hardly breathe. It was suffocating in here, but in some sick way, it was better than suffocating out there, where everything was just so fucking clear. You could feel the tears threatening to pour even before you shut the door behind you, but you didn’t have the energy to fight the lock to close them properly.
You stumbled through the dim-lit space of your apartment and collapsed against the couch, the tears coming, but this time they weren’t quiet. They came with a force that was almost violent, crashing through your chest like waves against jagged rocks.
You pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your hands, rocking back and forth, trying to find a way to stop it—stop this, stop the pain that was clawing at your insides.
You wanted to scream, but all you could do was sob—deep, guttural sounds that felt like they were being ripped from the depths of your soul. Every tear felt like a small betrayal, every sob an admission of just how far gone you were.
You hated yourself for it. Hated yourself for ever letting yourself feel so much, for allowing him to get under your skin, for thinking he was someone who could care. You had told yourself it was all harmless, that you could keep things casual, that it didn’t have to mean anything. But it did mean something, God, it did. And now you were paying the price for it.
What the fuck were you thinking? How could you fall for him?
It had been so easy to fall into the rhythm of him—the late nights spent talking about everything and nothing, his soft touches, his smiles that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. But none of it had been real. He had never been real with you. You had imagined it all, built something from the fragments of empty moments, hoping for something more. But now, you were nothing more than a fucking fool.
You pulled at your sides as if the pressure of it might ease the pain. You’d promised yourself, you’d sworn you’d never fall like this again. How could you let him—of all people—do this to you? How could you let yourself need him, want him in a way that left you hollow when he turned his back on you?
It hurt too much to think about it. You couldn’t even get your breath back long enough to stop crying. It felt endless.
And then you heard the faintest click of the door behind you.
You didn’t hear him at first. Not the soft, deliberate steps that followed, not the weight of his presence as he crossed the room. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own misery, echoing through the hollow walls of your apartment.
But when you looked up, there he was. Standing in the doorway like a ghost you’d thought was long gone.
It hit you all at once. The shock of seeing him—the sight of him in this space, the last place you wanted him to be—and everything you were feeling crumbled in on itself. You could barely comprehend the fact that he was there. You were too much of a mess to understand what it even meant.
And then, in a voice that was barely more than a rasp, you whispered, "Why...?" The question cracked under the weight of your heartbreak, your hands reaching out for something, anything, to hold onto, but finding nothing. "Why would you do that? Why would you make me feel like this, like I'm nothing? You said I mattered. You said... you said I wasn’t crazy to think—"
You didn’t finish the sentence. It was too painful. Too much.
He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, staring at you—his own face unreadable. But when you looked into his eyes, all you saw was guilt. Or maybe pity. You couldn’t tell anymore.
You couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t breathe.
"Go," you choked out. "Just leave. Go back to where you belong. You made your choice. So just leave."
A broken laugh bubbled up from your throat, a bitter sound that hurt more than you cared to admit. "Is this what you wanted? To see me like this? To see what you’ve done to me?" You were trembling now, unable to control the way your whole body was convulsing with emotion, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want him to see you like this, but it was already too late.
He didn’t deserve to see you like this.
"You—" you hiccuped, sobs mixing with your words, "You never... you never even cared, did you? You just led me on, and now you're here to watch me break, aren’t you?"
Noel didn’t speak, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, and it was like everything in you was being pulled toward him, no matter how much you wanted to resist. You hadn’t expected him to follow you, not this far—not into your personal space—but there he was. And the rawness in his eyes made you falter, if only for a second.
You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring yourself to face him fully because, fuck, you didn’t want him to see how broken you were. You didn’t want him to have any more power over you than he already did. Not now. Not when everything inside of you felt so fragile.
The next thing you knew, Noel was sitting in front of you, his body so close you could almost feel the warmth of it against your skin. You flinched instinctively when he reached for you, pulling you toward him, like he couldn’t help himself. His hands found their way to your shoulders, then to your arms, and it was as if he was trying to fix everything with just that touch.
But you couldn’t let him do it.
"Don’t," you whispered, pushing him away, your hands finding his chest and shoving him back, though you didn’t have the strength you needed to make it mean anything. "Don’t do that. Don’t give me your pity, Noel. Don’t fucking come here and pretend like you care now. You don't get to make it better with a touch, with whatever this is."
He winced, his brow furrowing in pain, but you weren’t finished. You couldn’t stop. "You can’t give me this warmth, this comfort, and then walk away like it never happened. I don’t want your fucking sympathy. I don’t want any more of these 'ideas' you give me. You got what you wanted, okay? You got me, all of me, and now you’re walking away, and I—I can’t keep doing this. I can’t."
There it was. The thing you had been holding back, the pain and the frustration of it all. You felt the weight of your own words settling in your chest.
Noel’s arms came around you then, almost violently, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. He wasn’t gentle this time; he pulled you into him with all the force of someone who was finally breaking. And when he spoke, his voice cracked, each word rough and shaky.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured over and over, like a broken record. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.”
His grip tightened, like he was afraid you might slip away from him again if he didn’t hold you close enough. He buried his face in your hair, as his breathing hitched.
The warmth of him was almost unbearable, yet it was the only thing keeping you tethered to this moment, the only thing that didn’t feel completely empty. But you pulled away, just enough to look at him. His eyes were red now, his face full of emotion, and for the first time, you saw some of the vulnerability that he never let anyone see.
“Noel…” You swallowed thickly, your voice barely a whisper. “You’re such a fucking moron.”
He flinched, the words landing harder than expected, but he didn’t pull away. He only sat there, his eyes wide with a mix of regret and something darker, something that spoke of how much he was hurting, too. He opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t know what to say, so instead, he just let his hands drop to your arms, his fingers digging in slightly, as if trying to hold you together.
“I get it if you don’t want owt to do with me, love,” he finally said, voice low and quiet, like he was bracing for your rejection. “I’ve fucked this up. I’ve fucked us up.”
You stared at him, a pain in your chest that you couldn’t name, your throat tight with the sting of his words. But you didn’t want to hear it anymore. Not the excuses, not the apologies that were too little too late.
Instead, something inside you snapped. You couldn’t keep doing this—couldn’t keep trying to walk away from him when every part of you wanted him.
Before you could even think about it, your arms were around his neck, pulling him close, so tightly that it was almost frantic. You buried your face against his chest, feeling his heartbeat thudding in your own ears. Your hands tangled in his shirt, gripping him like you needed him to breathe.
“No,” you breathed, shaking your head into him, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you fucking dare. I—I don’t care if you’re a fucking idiot. I don’t care if you don’t know what you’re doing. But don’t you dare tell me you’re done with me. I—” You choked on the words, and everything else in the world seemed to disappear in that moment. The tears came again, so suddenly, and you pressed yourself harder against him, your sobs shaking both of you.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” you whispered through your tears. “I just—I can’t walk away from you.”
You felt him hold you tighter, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t get close enough. And when he spoke, his voice was strained yet somehow soft against your ear.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, love.” His breath was warm, his lips brushing the edge of your ear as he spoke. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was scared, alright? I was fuckin’ scared of this, of you, of everything. I—” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with that desperation. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m scared I’d fuck it all up.”
You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your blurred vision, trying to make sense of his words, but it all was a bit too much to understand all at once in your state. You pulled him to you again, your hands on his face, cradling him like you could somehow make him stay, make him realize how much you needed him.
“Don’t be scared anymore.” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper, the words coming out broken and raw. You closed the distance, crashing your lips against his, not caring about the tears or the mess of everything around you.
He kissed you back with the same desperation, his hands shaking slightly as they cupped your face, his lips pressing into yours, as you held onto each other like lifelines.
_________________________________________
now that was quite long, hopefully didn't bore you lot to death
and to whoever wanted angst hope this satisfies ya but I'll be back on me fluff / smut posting now as that is what me heart needs after this lmao x
love ya !!
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daenerys-apolog1st · 2 days ago
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I'm gonna be so serious right now, every time I see someone from Team Green say that the show- "favors team black" -I just wanna ask what fucking show they're watching and if they can send it to me.
This ridiculous show has taken like 75% of the shit that happens in the books and either changed it or completely omitted it, all to either make TG seem more sympathetic or TB look bad.
Want some examples?
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In the books, Rhaenyra's sons' legitimacy was questioned, but in all likelihood they were 100% legitimate and the "bastard" rumors were mainly spread/believed by TG and their supporters---Rhaenys even had "dark" hair just like Rhaenyra's sons and, if I remember correctly, Aemma's appearance wasn't described but she had Arryn blood which would lend to the boys' dark hair as well.
In the show, they made her sons definitively bastards (at least by blood) and took away how Rhaenys looked in the book, making her have the stereotypical Targaryen features just to make Rhaenyra look stupid I guess.
In the books, Alicent Hightower was 18 years old and willingly went after Viserys because she---like her father---wanted power and wanted her blood on the throne. Viserys, at the time, was like 27 if I remember correctly.
In the show, Alicent is about 15 and is forced by her father to go after Viserys, who seems to be of about 40-50 years of age.
In the books, Alicent Hightower---a grown woman---had beef with an 8 year old little girl for no reason other than the fact that Viserys wouldn't write her off as heir in order to favor her son.
In the show, Alicent hates Rhaenyra because of childhood best friend drama---they made her and Rhaenyra the same age---and the fact that Rhaenyra didn't tell her about having a one night stand, betrayal yada yada, plus jealousy because Rhaenyra is "free" and Alicent "isn't" (even though they have similar power at the time as queen and princess, Rhaenyra just actually utilizes it).
In the books, Alicent has 0 remorse for Rhaenyra's sons dying and TG quite literally throws a party after Aemond kills Lucerys.
In the show, Alicent sends letters to Rhaenyra apologizing for his death and Aemond killing Luce was apparently an "accident" that he kinda feels bad for.
In the books, Alicent Hightower 100% supported usurping Rhaenyra and did it knowingly---she didn't give a fuck about Viserys wishes, her father didn't do jack shit, she just wanted her son on the throne and put him there.
In the show, apparently Alicent was "manipulated" into the usurpation by her father and really thought that Viserys wanted Aegon as heir---his dying wish or whatever---and she thought all the usurpation talk was just...idk a joke or something- (even though this retcon literally goes against what was established in S1).
In the books, Rhaenyra was said to always be dressed in jewels and fine fabrics, remembered for her beauty and how she adorned herself. Rhaenyra was also said to have had multiple ladies in waiting that she was close friends with, including Laena Velaryon and Harwin Strong's sisters.
In the show, Rhaenyra tends to be dressed in plainer or just downright ugly clothes and her femininity is stripped away, meanwhile Alicent Hightower is the one the showrunners decided to give the beautiful detailed gowns to and they allowed her to be feminine. Also all of Rhaenyra's female friendships were removed and tossed in the trashcan so that Alicent was her only friend.
In the books, Daemon really did love Laena as well as Baela and Rhaena. Daemon fought for Laena's hand and literally begged Viserys to let him present his daughters at court.
In the show, Daemon doesn't give a fuck about Laena or his daughters and the few scenes that were filmed that show Daemon being a loving husband/father got cut.
In the books, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Laena were basically a throuple---they were said to visit each other often, fly their dragons together, and as soon as Rhaenyra heard that Laena was in childbirth she flew all the way to Driftmark to attend to her. After Laena's death both Daemon and Rhaenyra were heartbroken, with Rhaenyra even sitting vigil at Laena's bedside.
In the show, Rhaenyra's relationship with Laena is completely erased. Daemon and Rhaenyra fuck at her funeral.
In the books, Rhaenys is Rhaenyra's number 1 defender and is immediately ready to go to war for her birthright because she understands how she feels and still feels robbed of her own birthright.
In the show, Rhaenys has beef with Rhaenyra when she's a child, criticizes her for going to war when she's older, and only seems like mildly annoyed about not being queen.
In the books, Jeyne Arryn 100% supports Rhaenyra because 1. Arryn on her mothers side and 2. because women need to stick together in this "world of men." Rhaenyra also has support from the majority of the houses and the smallfolk, all said to have marched even after her death to "fight for Viserys' little girl."
In the show, Jeyne Arryn doesn't give a fuck about Rhaenyra and the other houses don't seem to either, Rhaenyra's title as the "Realm's Delight" is apparently just bullshit I guess.
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I could go on, but y'all get the point.
The idea that this bullshit "favors Team Black" is ridiculous, and do you wanna know the worst part? They're not even writing the changes well. I think I'd take the changes better if the show were actually written well and fully leaned into them, but instead they're just throwing around half-baked ideas and even going back on things that they already established in their own show!
I mean Alicent was 100% down with usurpation in S1, but in S2 apparently she didn't know? Be so fucking serious 💀
This show is just trying to make money off of some stupid- "choose your side" -marketing scheme and the writing is suffering for it, plus it's just changing the story into something completely different. If they wanted to change it this much then they should've just made an original show or something, because this is getting ridiculous.
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emma23 · 2 days ago
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Stay with me :
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Marc spector x reader
The air in your shared apartment was thick with tension. It had started as a petty disagreement—something about Marc forgetting to pick up groceries—but it had spiraled into something bigger. Something that cut deeper than it should have.
“You always do this!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up as you paced the living room. “You shut me out, you make decisions without me, and I’m just supposed to sit here and deal with it?”
Marc stood near the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly against his chest, jaw clenched. His eyes—those deep, conflicted brown eyes—followed you as you paced.
“I’m not shutting you out,” he replied, his tone sharp. “I’m trying to protect you, Y/N. There’s a difference.”
“Protect me?” you repeated, stopping in your tracks to face him. “You think I need your protection? From what? You? Khonshu? Or just every bad decision you make without thinking of me?”
The words stung. You could see it in the flicker of pain that crossed his face, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down.
“Maybe if you didn’t always question everything I do, you’d see I’m trying to make this work!” he shot back.
“Oh, so this is my fault now?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You know what? Forget it. I’m done with this conversation.”
You turned on your heel, heading toward the bedroom, your anger boiling over. But as soon as you moved to leave, you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
“Y/N, you aren’t just gonna leave things like that,” Marc said firmly.
His grip wasn’t painful, but it was unyielding. He pulled you closer, his face inches from yours, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of both your ragged breaths.
“Let me go, Marc,” you whispered, but there was no strength behind your words.
“No,” he said softly but resolutely. “I’m not letting you walk away from me. Not like this.”
The argument dissolved into silence as you stared at him, your chest rising and falling with the weight of your emotions. His eyes softened, and you could see the guilt swimming in them.
“Y/N…” he began, his voice quieter now. “I know I mess up. I know I make things harder than they need to be. But I’m trying, okay? I’m trying for you.”
The vulnerability in his tone caught you off guard. Marc wasn’t the type to bare his soul easily, but when he did, it was raw and unfiltered.
“Why do you have to make everything so damn hard?” you muttered, feeling your resolve crumbling.
“Because I don’t know how to be anything else,” he admitted. His hand still held your wrist, but now his thumb gently brushed against your skin. “But I know I don’t want to lose you.”
Tears pricked at your eyes, and you hated how easily he could break down your walls.
“Marc…”
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. The tension in the room shifted, replaced by something heavier, more intimate. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb wiping away a stray tear.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “For all of it. Just… don’t walk away from me. Please.”
One moment, you were standing there, caught in the storm of his emotions, and the next, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t a gentle kiss—it was desperate and messy, filled with all the words he couldn’t say.
You melted into him, your hands gripping his shirt as if to ground yourself. The world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together in a web of love and frustration.
“Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, his voice hoarse. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Good,” you replied breathlessly, pulling him closer. “Because you do the same to me.”
Hours later, you lay tangled together on the couch, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back.
“Marc?” you asked softly.
“Yeah?”
“Next time, maybe don’t wait until we’re screaming at each other to talk to me.”
He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest.
“Noted,” he replied. “But in my defense, you’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”
You smacked his chest lightly, but you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped your lips.
“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head.
“And you love me for it,” he countered, his smirk audible in his tone.
“Unfortunately.”
His laugh echoed in the room, and you couldn’t help but join in, the weight of your earlier argument finally lifting.
“You know,” Marc said, grinning, “if we fight like this every time, I might start picking arguments on purpose.”
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ray935sworld · 2 days ago
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i physically NEED to know your opinions on a/b/o pedronzo
pls i need it like there is no tomorrow
-mango anon 🥭
Oh 🥭, my dear you are sending me down a spiral with this one. Funny enough I was actually thinking about a marcmarc ABO AU today 😂
Alright, first off, talking about designation. Right out of my guts, I'd say Omega Dani and Alpha Jorge. (Partially cause that's how the smut ABO scene sitting in my draft is written, ups). Just from their whole dynamic, it'd make sense to me. Dani being more calm and level headed while Jorge can be totally unhinged and easy goes over the top. Especially when it comes to Dani.
And I totally see Jorge trying to "court" Dani with his weird behavior. Cause that boy has no idea how to court an omega properly. Especially one that's older than him. So I'm putting his whole asshole behavior when they were teens as him trying to prove to an older omega that despite his age he is tough and can defend Dani. But that idiot kinda went over the top and made it look like he was fighting Dani himself rather than defending him, ups. Idiot Jorge.
And then he tried to prove himself to Dani on track. Like in his mind the omega only choses the best one so he is desprete to be the best even if it ends up with him fighting on track against Dani. And when he stepped up before him, oh Jorge was heartbroken. Definitely saw it as a set back and that he wasn't good enough yet.
Meanwhile Dani is kinda interested in Jorge but he is so not into that macho asshole imagine Jorge is pulling up.
Soooo maybe, let's say... A little break down from Jorge? Like he is trying SO HARD to get Dani to notice an like him but the more he tries the more Dani ends up hating him. So one day he is fed up. He is tired but he can't stop trying. Like he's alone and he's ready to throw away all attempts and never think of Dani again. Then he steps in the paddock and between all those 10000s of smells he immediately clocks Dani's and he's like. "Nevermind. I want that" and he's gone.
And it hunts him SO MUCH that when Dani once again ignores his attempts and wants to leave Jorge is like "No. Just fucking tell me what I have to do! I've been trying for years now. Please. Please, whatever it is, I promise I will be what you need. I'll be a good alpha. I'll be the perfect alpha for you. Just - Just let me try. I can protect you. I can defend you. I can - Please!" something like this. I imagine him angry in love if that makes sense. Like he is in love, he is soft and all, but he still has so much anger in his chest that it has covered his love up too much.
And Dani just stands there, staring at him. He stares at Jorge, not understand what is going on and then maybe he realizes that Jorge is not just the angry macho kid he thought he was. "Jorge [first time he called him by his first name if you care]... An omega doesn't need an alphas protection. We don't live in 1920s. An omega needs an alphas love"
And THAT RIGHT THERE is where Jorge understands he fucked up. So he either ends up googling or asking someone he trust. Probably an omega though. And he then starts trying to use the textbook courting way. He is polite, even though he feels really awkward. He uses all the knowledge he gathered about Dani in the years (do I think he has a small diary with all the things Dani mentioned to him/ in an interview that he likes? Yes. Yes I do.) to kinds wooh him. He buys him his favorite chocolate, flowers, a blanket, stuff like that. And then the first hoodie exchange (both had already stolen shirts from the other for the smell)
Okay now this is all still very very soft cause I think that's what's needed at first. Soooo let's spicy it up a little, shall we?
Heat or rut? So either unexpected rut with Jorge returning to his asshole tendencies and Dani being fed up and distance cause he doesn't know about the rut yet only to be found by a very desprete and begging Jorge (Dani is getting fucked into the next week after that) or unexpected heat?
Both are great BUT I think I'll go with the unexpected heat. Now what if Dani is being clingy with someone else? Maybe his teammate? Nicky Hayden? For the record this would be in a way that Dani feels sick and weak and very out of his own skin and Nicky had massive dad vibes. So nothing actually sexual. Maybe Dani is even a little bit scared cause he knows now that he and Jorge are dating, the heat will be even worst than the ones he spent alone. So either torture when he's alone or him in heat with Jorge when they hadn't really talked about the whole rut/heat thing (or for the drama, it's early in the relationship and they didn't had sex yet).
And when Jorge notices that Dani is hanging to Nicky he is kinda sad/ jealous even though he knows Nicky isn't after Dani. But still, that is his omega. He definitely hates that the Americans smell is on HIS Dani.
So once Jorge and Dani meet, it's even worst. Dani definitely can't think straight atp anymore and just straight up hangs on Jorge. Like full on, hugging his arm, forehead against his shoulder, begging him to go anywhere where they are alone. Jorge is fully concerns cause he has never seen Dani, strong, confident, cold like this. And once he understand what's going on ("Jorge... Please... Please, alpha... Said... You said you'd protect me. Please, save me. It's so hot.") OH THAT BOY IS STRESSED!
He is so scared to somehow fuck up, it's almost scary. He is taking Dani to his hotel room. (Dani by then is wearing the hoodie Jorge wore a minute ago. He was sitting on Jorge's lap during the taxi ride and Jorge was really thankful for the dark window to the driver. Heavy make out session with Dani's hand dangerous close to Jorge's pants.)
And as soon as the door is closed, the action begins. Im not gonna go into to many details cause I'm not that confident in my NSFW writing but Dani wants to ride Jorge just as hard as he rides his bike. He is screaming and wants more and more and comes more time than Jorge knew a human body was capable of. He is getting knotted and continues. (Sorry) Jorge is so in love and crazy he definitely bits Dani's shoulder. Maybe even the mating mark.
And then once the heat goes down, Jorge is slightly panicked cause he's unsure if Dani was even clear enough to actually give his concent to the whole thing. Meanwhile Dani is laying next to Jorge, really happy, still drunk on all the sex and more than happy to still have a reminder of that.
Okay now this kind of escalated. For the record I did NOT think about Pedrenzo in an ABO verse yet so if there are some things that don't add up/ make sense/ not properly thought through it's cause I made this whole thing up while writing in like 30mins.
Anyway, the other alternative would be Alpha Dani and Omega Jorge. Intresting as well. This would include a very in denial/ lying Jorge, that's trying to hide his designation from the world. So he's overly agressive in his teens to make people think he's an alpha and to keep them away from him so they don't find out the truth. His father definitely has something to do with that. And then there's alpha Dani, calm and trying not to draw to much attention on himself outside of the track. And they always seems to collide.
I'm thinking since Dani would not fit the typical alpha behavior, Jorge would call him out in one of his rages when Dani was trying to talk to him about his unsafe riding "I am NOT taking criticism from some small, weak freak. I don't care what a fake alpha like you think of me. You can't even fight properly" Now something about this hist Dani really hard cause while they subconsciously are connected and competable, both don't know yet. So hearing *his* omega call him fake, weak and especially small (biggest insecurity and so far Jorge was the only one not to throw this at him) this would definitely bring a scar he can't explain himself.
So what if Dani starts keeping his distance from Jorge and since Jorge is an omega this would cause him loss of anxiety and frustration cause he knows he shouldn't act the way he did towards *his* alpha.
Next point would be, idk how but somehow Dani ends up being stressed and sad and panicked. (Maybe a crash?) and he hides in a dark corner having a panic attack and Jorge ends up looking for him. Like he is already distressed and suddenly he smeels Dani having a panic attack and all the fights are forgotten. He is going to comfort Dani. Especially after what he said. So he does exactly does.
Jorge sits down next to him. "What do you want? Do you want to yell at me again and call me fake? Weak? Small? The useless pedrosa, can't even be a real alpha and-" And Jorge just hugs him. Dani accepts and Jorge leans against him, head against his chest and he apologizes and tells him the truth.
And after that Dani is slowly starting to court him. He shows Jorge love and they are happy. *possible unexpected rut/heat - but in this case actually preferably Dani being in rut to make Jorge fully understand how crazy Dani is about Dani*
Thoughts? Did you like it?
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whimsicalpolitical · 3 days ago
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need ross to be my weighted blanket while i’m on my period 😓😓😓
same literally!! 🤗
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ross dries off his hands, tossing the dish towel onto the counter with a little sigh. the rain outside hasn’t let up all evening, hammering against the windows in heavy sheets, and the flat feels colder because of it. he knows you’re curled up in bed, miserable, and he doesn’t like that one bit.
when he steps into the bedroom, you’re exactly where he left you—bundled under the duvet, barely a lump beneath it, only your hand peeking out. he smiles a little at the sight but keeps his voice soft.
"how we doing in here?" he asks, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "bit better?"
you shake your head and let out a pitiful groan, burrowing deeper into the blankets. "no. everything hurts. my fucking back is killing me. my stomach too."
ross frowns, reaching out to smooth a hand over the blankets where he assumes your hip is. "medicine still not working, I s’pose?”
"no. betrayal, honestly," you mutter, shifting to peek up at him. "my own body hates me."
he snorts. "well, your body's being a right little bastard then. do you want me to get the heating pad? and are you cold, i can change the room temperature.”
“temperature is fine.”
“alright. heating pad then?”
you hesitate, then instead of answering, stick out your bottom lip in a dramatic pout. ross raises an eyebrow.
"what's this now?" he asks, amused.
you wiggle your fingers at him. "kiss?"
he laughs—actually throws his head back a little, shaking it at you. "oh, poor darling," he teases, leaning down anyway, pressing a firm, warm kiss to your lips. "there. that help?"
"mmm," you hum, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes over your cheek. "maybe one more."
he obliges, kissing you again, then once on the forehead for good measure.
you hum and enjoy his knuckles brushing over your cheek. ross notices that you’re closing your eyes, probably exhausting from trying to live with the pain.
“you’re a strong one," he murmurs, pressing one last kiss to your temple before pulling back. "now, heating pad?"
you sigh dramatically. "fine."
"oh, like it's a massive inconvenience for you," he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he gets up. "stay there. not that you’re moving anywhere."
when he comes back, he’s holding the heating pad like it’s a prized offering. "right. here you go," he says, handing it over. "what’s worse—stomach or back?"
"back," you say instantly, already trying to get comfortable.
"alright, on your stomach then, i’ll put it on your back."
but you shake your head, clutching the heating pad to your chest instead. ross gives you a look, one eyebrow quirking up.
"what now?"
you shift, making grabby hands at him. "come here, need you.”
ross exhales through his nose, but his face softens. "yeah?"
"yeah," you murmur. "i'll just—" you slide the heating pad underneath yourself and sigh at the warmth, then tug him toward you. "you can be my personal heater. always works."
he lets out a quiet chuckle, already moving to lay down on top of you. at first, he's careful, but you hook your feet around his legs and pull him fully against you, and he huffs.
"alright, alright, love," he mutters, adjusting so he can wrap an arm around you. "i can be your weighted blanket.”
"you love it."
"unfortunately, yeah," he sighs, his hand already moving over your hair until he’s giving you a soft massage to your scalp, "that alright?"
"mmm. yeah," you mumble, melting into him. "so warm."
ross smirks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "told you. human radiator, me."
"mmm." your voice is getting sleepier now. "best boyfriend."
“yeah yeah,” he laughs.
the heating pad is helping, but the pain is still stubborn, still clawing at your lower back and stomach. you shift slightly, pressing your fingers into his back, nails dragging lightly over the fabric of his shirt.
he lets out a quiet sigh—one of those contented, sleepy ones that you love. "mmh," he hums. "keep doing that."
"feels nice?" you ask, your voice soft, fingers still tracing slow, lazy patterns.
"so nice," he murmurs. "could actually do with a nap right now”
you smile a little, but then a fresh wave of pain rolls through your stomach, sharp and unrelenting, and you hiss through your teeth, shifting uncomfortably. ross tenses immediately, his hand stilling.
"hey, hey," he soothes, lifting his head to look at you. "bad one?"
you nod, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "yeah. fuck."
ross frowns, pressing his lips together like he’s actually mad at the pain for hurting you. "wish i could take it for you," he mutters, “what can i do?”
“it’s alright. l i just wish the pain killer would work.”
“yeah,” he silently agrees.
he lifts himself up slightly, bracing on one arm so he can reach over to the bedside table. "here," he says, grabbing the glass of water he left earlier. "have some water."
you groan, reluctant. "don’t wanna move."
"you don’t have to," he says simply, bringing the glass to your lips, his other hand cupping the back of your head gently.
you take a sip, then let out a heavy sigh, sinking back into the pillows. "i hate this."
ross quirks an eyebrow. "what? having a cuddle with me? harsh."
you give him a weak glare. "obviously not."
he grins, setting the glass back down before lowering himself again, pulling you close. "really, though," he murmurs after a moment. "i’m sorry you have to go through this every month."
"me too.”
“you’re doing good though,” ross whispers as he leans to your face to kiss multiple kisses to the corner of your mouth.
a few moments pass in comfortable silence, just the sound of the rain outside and ross’s steady breathing. his hand starts moving again, gentle and slow over your arm, his touch soothing.
"you tired?" he asks softly.
"mmm. a little."
"good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. "get some rest. i’ll be here when you wake up."
you nuzzle closer, sighing contentedly. "love you."
ross tightens his hold on you, voice quiet but sure. "love you too."
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good-news-every-1 · 1 day ago
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You know what I really love about logical argumentation? People who are unable to do so will show it so freely.
Calling your idiocy "Watsonian" does not make it any less idiotic
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The part where you claim Bucky would be Steve’s’ “brother” is especially interesting. So you need to make up a false family relation to make Steve such a poor person but calling for tony to murder his real child is somehow a different matter? That’s telling on how objective you are.
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The point wasn’t about sacrificing Bucky, btw. It was about Steve never telling Tony about his parents murder in a controlled situation. He admits having known, so him not telling is not even about Bucky, but the fact he simply was hiding things from Tony nobody should hide only because it made his life easier.
But since you already proved you a) cannot read or argue like a responsible adult, I see little reason to throw away my free time to point all the logical fallacies you committed up there. Especially the Zola and fascism mentioned fall under this wide category.
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And btw, stop tagging me in posts that have no connection to me. If you want to incite hate against me or cry not everyone is sooo in love with Steve do it how normal people do and link the post. Or ask yourself if Reddit and 4chan aren’t the more fitting environment for being butthurt.
One claim I often see Tony fans making is that Steve was being selfish for not "considering children born during the Snap" in the team's desire to bring everybody back.
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This is obviously a form of emotional blackmail After all- how could *anybody* want to erase *billions* of children?
Well, this claim is wrong for a number of reasons
1: There is no evidence of large-scale births or an increasing birth rate during the Snap. Tony fans often say that there must have been millions and milions of children born during the Snap, but this makes no sense because, as a general rule humans do not simply "get over" losing their entire family an "move on".
Even losing one child can be an emotional blow that person never recovers from. Clint Barton lost all 3 of his children, and we know he did not simply "move on" and start a new family.
People do not simply recover from such things in a few years and create new families. It almost never happens.
Furthermore, population dynamics come to play: some planets lost as much as 3/4 of their population due to Thanos pre-Snap genocides.
Even for those who lost "only" half though this would mean half of all birthing females and existing children snapped.
Fewer birthing females means..... a lower birth rate. Also take account of things like infertility and the fact that some women who lost thier children would have been beyond childbearing age: notable case - Queen Ramonda.
Even assuming people were interested in relationships and reproduction (and most were not) the birth rate during the Snap would have been expontentially lower then it was before.
Real life disasters and catastrophes also reveal that it takes a long time for the population to recover. The Black Death killed 1/3 to 1/2 of the population of Europe in the Middle Ages- and it took something along the lines of 3 to 4 centuries for the population to reach the level that it had been before the plague struck.
Literally: it can take HUNDREDS of years for the population to recover. The idea that the world would have returned to normal after only 5 years is ludicrous.
2: The children killed by the Snap.
Half of the human race were snapped. This would have included children. Potentially hundeds of millions of children were killed by the Snap. This is far more than the number who who have been born during the Snap.
There's another issue however: many children would have died after the Snap.
Sick children whose parents or doctors were snapped and were unable to get the medical treatment they needed
Young children whose parents were snapped would have died within a few days if nobody found them.
Children in poorer countries would have been the first to succumb to things like famines and food shortages caused by the Snap.
However, children in rich countries would have followed. Food shortages and the breakdown of intractructure would have caused problems witht the availability of food and medical supplies. Diseases would have become more common without the medicines to keep them in check, and poor sanitation.
In other words, potentiallly hundreds of millions more children would have died after the Snap in addition to those who had been Snappped.
None of those children would have been bought back by Bruce's Snap in Endgame. They would have stayed dead. All because of Tony's selfish insistence that he "didn't change anything from the last 5 years".
So, no matter how Tony fans want to try and twist things: Tony Stark was quite prepared to sacrifice *hundreds of millions* if not billions of children for the sake of his desire to preserve his personal paradise.
He did not, in fact, "save everybody" at all. He saved only those bought back after the Snap and ... not really even them as they had to contend with years of social and economic problems.
You know what the most interesting irony of it all is though? Tony fucked over all those people for nothing. Pepper was already pregnant before the Snap, so reversing it would not have erased Morgan anyway.
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