#I just hate myself if I’m doing THIS to myself

[luvergirl777]

Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

Summary | Dean can't stand new people, especially people intruding on his life and telling him what to do. You drive him insane, Sam having to separate the two of you before fists and teeth start flying. You finally get under his skin for the last time with your dumb stunts, pushing him over the edge.

Index | Dean and reader fight constantly, Sam is the babysitter, Dean hates you because you are him, you're also incredibly hot, not that he'd admit it, perhaps maybe just a bit he admits it. Unprotected sex, wrap it up folks. Soft dom Dean, a bit of sub Dean. He's whipped and will listen to a pretty girl. Two idiots in love.

Dean is never fond of new people, it takes him a very long time to warm up to newcomers. When the two brothers find you battered and bruised, barely still alive after fending a demon off on your own, he’s a bit impressed. Upon further investigation, Sam watching over you, Dean realizes you had managed to damn it back to hell all on your own. Even more impressed, Dean is confused as to how you managed to survive. “You said it was aggressive?” Dean double checks, wondering if you somehow got lucky and encountered the impossible, un-aggressive demon. Sure, that would explain how you managed to survive on your own. 

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? You think I beat myself up after killing the damn thing?” 

“Well you didn’t technically kill it but-” 

“Oh shut up, pretty boy.” You grit, rolling your eyes as you hold onto Sam’s arm to stand up. Sam, ever so caring, nearly lifts your weight with no effort. He’s supporting all of your weight easily as you try and hobble along to safety. 

“Easy now sassy, you’re about one hit away from dying.”

“You gonna hit me?” The face you give him is unreadable, and Sam is preparing himself to jump in between the two of you if needed. You’ve stopped walking, completely turned around as you face Dean behind you. Dean, never one to back down, takes a step closer to you. 

“Guys, c’mon.” Sam intervenes, pushing his brother by the chest to create some distance between the two of you arguing. “You two sound like a couple of 5 year olds.”

Both you and Dean roll your eyes, and you’re hobbling your way out the door to get to some sort of hospital to get a check up. The pain is actually ridiculous, and if you weren’t so battered, you probably would've fought with Dean more. “Here, let us give you a ride,” Sam offers, quickly chasing you in fear you would topple after leaving his side. 

“She is NOT bleeding all over baby,” Dean protests as Sam walks you out of the door, taking you to the car. Dean closes the door behind him after glancing inside once more, still in disbelief of what the hell is happening. They burst open your door expecting to damn something to hell, and instead found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor. And now you and Dean are arguing as you hobble your way to the back of Baby. 

“You call this car baby?” You roll your eyes, “You gotta take care of her better if you’re gonna call her a fucking pet name. This thing has 2 years of fuckin’ dirt on it. Baby my ass.” Dean almost stops in place, arms raising slightly in defense, jaw dropped as he looks at Sam. Usually you're more pleasant, however, you're battered and bruised and in pain.

After absolutely giving it to Dean, you’re opening the back door and limply climbing in. You’re collapsing against the seat before Dean can jab at you. Dean wants to dish it out once again, and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t deal with the two of you, he really can’t. Closing the door behind you, Sam’s turning around to talk sense into his stubborn older brother. “She damned a demon on her own, she could help us.” 

“Her, help us?” Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’d rather be kicked in the balls.” 

“I’m about to if you don’t shut the hell up,” Sam shoves him around the car, “It could be good, finding someone to put you in your place every now and then.” 

That's how you met, and it’s been years already. Despite being together almost 24/7, you and Dean are still constantly at each other’s throats. If you’re not lashing out at Dean, he’s dishing some snarky shit out to you. Sam stays as uninvolved as he can, always letting you two at it before it’s clear intervention is needed. 

--- 

“You really don’t have to sit there and watch me like some hawk,” Dean’s annoyed as you perch yourself on a stool, watching as he works on Baby. It’s about a million degrees and Dean has refused to drink anything but alcohol and coffee for the past 24 hours, and not to mention it’s the middle of the day with the sun beating down overhead. “I don’t need a babysitter. “

“Sammy’s worried about you, said you’re going to have a heat stroke or pass out. Figure I’d come out here and pester you into coming back inside.” You shrug, completely unbothered as you don’t move from the stool. Your tone is nonchalant, only getting on his nerves more. Baby is technically sound and purring like a kitten on the road, Dean’s just been itching to tinker and a distraction from you waltzing around the bunker. “God know’s Sammy’s not gonna do it-” 

“Stop calling him that?” 

“Calling who what?” 

“Sammy.” Dean mumbles, already turning around from you to focus back on the engine. You’re already getting on his nerves, and if he looks at you any longer you’ll succeed in pestering him back into the house. “Go back inside and tell my nerdy little brother I’m fine out here. By myself.” 

“Sam’s not gonna take that for an answer.” You’re still calm and collected, leaning forward on the stool as you get a closer look at what Dean’s doing. You watch his hands work, nimble and quick as he easily gets into every corner he wants. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your thoughts, and you’re trying awfully hard not to laugh loudly. Dean can almost hear the joke writing itself in your head, and feel the smile growing on your face. “You know you’re really good with your fingers-” 

“Okay! You win!” And he’s storming back into the bunker to get water from an expectant Sam in the kitchen, already in a glass with ice. “Don’t.” He speaks to him, raising a finger to Sam. He can already hear the thoughts in his head, too. 

---

“Oh really, that’s your smart ass plan?” You mumble, listening to Dean attempt to explain the plan of waltzing into a bank and trying to sweet talk a bank teller to the vault. It would never in a million years happen, regardless of how annoying charming Dean could be. No one is that stupid, not even a bank secretary who doesn’t know who Dean is. 

“Well, if you have anything better, please enlighten me.” He’s slamming the folder down on the table in front of you, crossing his arms. 

“Anything is likely better-” When you stand up from your seat, and Dean steps toward you, Sam is quick to intervene before you two start dishing it out. 

“OKAY!” Sam basically yells to get your guy’s attention. You two calm down, you sitting down, Dean stepping away from you, and Sam finally taking a breath. 

---

Or the one time you drove Baby, absolutely full throttling her around turns as if you were a professional driver. In your defense, you didn’t crash and actually handled it quite well. Poor Sam is laying down in the back of the car, injured and praying you get to the hospital soon. But Dean was about to have a heart attack in the passenger seat of his car. He’s pressed against the door with the force you’re jerking the car around, gripping anything he can reach. 

“Never again, never again.” Dean almost prays underneath his breath, but he’s not and never will be a religious man.

---

Or the one time you were the bait for some creepy old man, needing to steal a weapon he had on display in his house. You were in the middle of his bed, about to fake vomit as he ran his hands along your waist. “Listen, I heard something you had. Something very impressive, an ancient weapon of sorts.” You purr, rolling your eyes as he goes along with it. 

“Of course I do, it’s in my office. I can show you after we’re done here.” He mumbles, and you’re swinging and clocking him against his temple, toppling him over. He lands with a thud on the hardwood floor, knocked out cold. At the commotion, Dean is bursting through the door. 

“HEY!” Dean screams, puffed up and ready for action. 

“He’s knocked out, dick for brains.” You mumble, climbing off of the bed and adjusting your dress which had ridden almost all the way up to your waist. He swears he catches a peek of the pink panties you’re wearing, but for his benefit, he’s trying to convince himself he saw nothing at all. News flash, not and never was going to work. Dean watches with wide eyes, his gaze following and trailing along your bare skin down to your thighs as you cover yourself back up. “Thanks for caring, pretty boy.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, walking over to the man that is unconscious against the hardwood floor. He’s mumbling something underneath his breath, landing one more blow onto the old bastard, before finally catching back up with you in the office. 

—-

You and Dean are on a hunt the first time he lays hands on you. You both had been separated, running and hiding in respective locations of the mouldy, broken down house. Dean’s frantic and stressed after hearing you yelp on the other side of the house, rushing over to find you and seeing no one. He's running around the house at this point, stopping for two seconds in the middle of the hallway to try and find his thoughts. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, grip hard enough to leave bruises underneath his jacket. He's whipping around before he can even think another thought, hand balled up into a tight fist as he spins. It’s too late to pull his punch when he realizes, eyes wide as he makes contact with your confused expression. He can pull it about 90%, softening the impending blow to your cheek bone. He's yelping for you when his fist makes contact with your skin, already groaning at himself. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Sorry! You scared me.” Dean’s explaining immediately, arms catching you before you even have the chance to stumble backwards from the blow. He cradles you before you can air out your grievances, one hand coming to hold your cheek in betrayal. “I thought they had you, god I thought they had you.” He mumbles as he holds you, reassuring both you and himself that you’re okay, or trying to at least. 

“Dean, god.” You groan, peering up to look at him. “Let's finish this job, please, without any more collateral damage.” You mumble, shuffling around to find your knife. “Fuckers took my blade.” 

“It's okay, I'll get them.” Dean mumbles, quickly pressing his lips to your hairline before letting you go. You stay behind Dean, this time a considerable distance, as he finishes the job and gets the both of you out of there safely. Dean has reason now, speeding out of there like hell after killing anything in his path. 

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parks the car and doesn’t move an inch. You already know why, and you already know the speech he’s about to dish out. “Listen-“ 

“It’s not your fault.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head. You already have a bruise forming on your cheek despite Dean doing his best to pull his punch. The guilt eats him every time you look at each other and he has to divert his eyes. 

“Alrighty,” Dean presses his lips together as he thinks of another solution. “Give me one,” Dean nods, waving his hands to get you to come closer. You scoff at him, shaking your head as you fight off the laugh that bubbles. You’ve seen him and Sam go at each other like this, getting even in a way only brothers can. He taps his cheek, looking to the side. “Give me two, actually. One to make it even, one for putting my hands on a woman.” He waves you closer, dead serious. 

“Dean-“ 

“Lay 'em on me, one at a time, back to back, hard as you want, doesn’t matter, come on.” He’s still looking away from you, refusing to take no for an answer and he waits for the blows to land. He didn’t mean to, you know it, and you know he’s going to feel bad for a while. You scoff and shuffle, Dean tenses as he waits for the blow. You kiss his cheek, grabbing his face and turning it, before kissing his other cheek. 

“There, two blows, back to back.” You smile, “Now let’s go inside so I can get ice for my cheek.” 

Dean’s blushing like an idiot before scurrying after you, “I'll get the ice, you go lay down!” 

---

You had been sick for well over a week while the boys were on a job, sitting by yourself in a house and working as the information specialist for the time being. When they would call, you’d give them all the information you had been collecting within the past couple of hours. Always hours, never days, because you’d get too worried about them. Dean, not admitting it, also calls every couple of hours to make sure you’re still kicking. You sound like hell, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that you are not taking care of yourself while they’re away. 

Sam’s out on a home visit, and Dean is fidgeting with his phone in his hands. Pressing buttons, deleting the numbers, and the cycle repeats itself. Finally putting his big girl panties on, he dials your contact and calls. “Dean? Is everything okay?” Your voice is worried, the call slightly random from the semi-schedule you guys have grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, hey, yeah we’re good. Sam’s just out making some runs, you know.” He sounds awkward and like a loser, he already knows it. He can pretty much hear Sam’s voice mocking him. “Just wanted to call, see how you’re holding up. Taking that medicine I got? Eating everyday?” He’s interrogating you, for your well being of course. 

“The medicine you got me is like ketamine…or something.” You laugh. 

“What?! It is not-” 

“It so is! Some random pills you got from who knows where, from who knows, and you’re telling me to take them?” You’re scolding him softly, but he can still hear the humour in your voice. 

“Whatever, when we get back I’m gonna smother you back to good health.” You roll your eyes at this, Dean knows that without even being in the room with you. “Pills and all.” 

“Dean, whatever. Just don’t die and get back here soon.” You laugh softly on the other side of the phone. Dean can hear the tone of your voice, almost pleading with him. In your defense, the two of them had been gone for over a week on the job including travel time to get there. 

--- 

Dean will never admit it but after that he gets softer around you, starts looking out for you more than he lets on. He’s a softie, even if he won’t show it. The first time Dean almost dies since you’ve joined the team, it’s the first close call the three of you have had to someone actually dying. Sure, the three of you have been hurt and wounded, but nothing quite like when Dean’s guts were outside of his body for far too long to actually be okay. 

He’s been in surgery for hours at this point, Sam had left a while ago to try and put some distance in between him and his brother possibly dying in front of him. You’re left in the cold waiting room by yourself, elbows on your knees as you wait. Your face has been rubbed more times than you can count, one more and your face will come off. You curse Sam for leaving you alone, but part of you does understand as well. 

You rocket out of your seat at the beginning of “D-” whipping around to face the nurse before she can even finish his name. You’re frantic, sure, but you can’t help it. “Dean? Is it for Dean?” Your voice comes out more of a mumble, the poor nurse nodding her head softly. She leads a shaky you to his room, heart in your feet. The nurse stops at the front, stepping to the side to allow you to walk in on your own. It takes all willpower in your body to not immediately crumble to the floor at the sight. Dean’s eyes are open, squinted almost completely shut, as his head rolls over to the side to look at you. 

His eyes widen the slightest bit at the sight of you and not Sam and the tears immediately begin flowing down your face. You try hard not to audibly sob, but it’s taking a lot of effort. “H-hey, Dean.” You sound pathetic as you shuffle over to the side of his bed, almost scared that your presence alone will send him back into a near death state. As soon as you make it to the side of the bed, his arm reaches over and brushes against your leg. “You fucking dick!” You’re hysterical as he makes contact. “You can’t scare me like that! Ever! Don’t ever do that again!” Absolutely ridiculous as you crumble down onto the bed, your arms wrapping around his head. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He’s quick to comfort you, arms weakly wrapping around your waist. He grunts with the effort it takes in his current state. You’re almost climbing into the bed with him at this point, not wanting to let go of him. He’s trying not to cry with your state of general mess, seeing you so upset is getting him emotional. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Dean. God, I was so scared. Sorry. Sam is just out to get some air. You know how he deals with this, I’m sure they’ve called him.” You’re prying your arms away from his form, sitting down on the bed next to him. Maybe it’s the hysterics, but you’re running your fingers through his hair and gently holding his face in the other hand. Leaning forward, you place the shakiest kiss on his forehead. “You’re never allowed to go by yourself ever again.” Sam walks in on the two of you like this, you obsessively petting his head while holding his face in the other palm. Your entire face is wet at this point, tears soaking your features. 

Sam lets you sit for a moment longer, the wet patch on your shirt indication that this is needed. Eventually, he has to butt in otherwise Dean will think his brother hates him. When he finally clears his throat, you almost scatter away from Dean.  

---

Eventually, you become a part of the little family they have. It takes a long time for Dean to come around, and Sam takes less time. When Sam lets you call him Sammy for the first time without correcting you as he does everyone else, Dean knows you're in for the long haul. Technically it’s the first and only time you’ve called him Sammy in front of him, the circumstances and situation making you talk before thinking. 

Sam and Dean had been fighting the entire job, at each other’s throats for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Usually it’s banter and general sibling bickering, but this time it’s different. The tipping point comes when Dean mumbles something under his breath in the hotel room after a long day, Sam immediately reacting as he jolts up. Before you can even comprehend what the argument is about, fists are flying and the two are grappling each other. You’re watching with wide eyes, never quite seeing the two get this distant from each other. Sam is Dean’s baby brother, he’d do anything for him. 

“Guys, what, stop!” You mumble, trying to intervene as Sam has gotten Dean pinned by the throat underneath him. You know they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to each other, but you still feel your stomach flip at the position. “Guys, please!” Your eyes are watery and you’re trying with all of your force to pull Sam off of him. Sam, easily outweighing you, doesn’t budge an inch and is just more annoyed at you pulling him. 

“If you want to leave, leave. We don’t need you.” Dean spits, pushing at Sam’s arm that remains at his neck. Sam clenches his jaw, clicking his tongue. 

“I won’t come back this time.” Sam spits, deadly serious. You’ve never heard Sam this serious in the entire time you’ve known him, not on a hunt, not on an investigation, nothing. Dean’s about to say something before you’re slapping a hand over his mouth. You’re crying at this point, pathetically holding Sam’s arm as you rest your face against his shoulder. You can’t move him. 

“Sammy, please.” You cry, a horrid sob leaving your throat as you plead with him. Even Dean looks sideways at you, shocking him as well. At the plea, Sam steps back, releasing the pressure he’s holding Dean to. “Sammy, stop. You can’t leave us, we need you, please.” You cry softly, letting go of Dean’s face to hold Sam’s arm instead. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Sam mumbles softly, shrugging you off his arm in favour of pulling you into his embrace. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam mumbles, trying to console you. You nod into his chest, reaching over to hold Dean’s face rather than slapping your hand over it. Dean leans into it, pushing his cheek into your palm. For the first time, it’s you being the negotiator between the two brothers rather than Sam being in between you and Dean. And for the first time, it was actually scary. 

---

With Sam, Dean doesn’t keep tally on who saves who’s ass. He’s family, it’s expected. And with you, he doesn't either. (He totally does, he just won’t admit it. However, you’re two up on him, and it kills him every time he thinks about it.) He swears to himself he’ll make it even eventually. 

---

Dean’s final straw is you washing Baby, wearing an all too small bikini as you wash the grime off of her. You had been giving him shit for it for awhile now, always quoting his dad on how he should’ve been taking better care of the car. It kills him, always being lectured about his precious baby that has been HIS car for years now. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, the front door of the house you’re staying in swinging open. He’s walking out just enough to watch closer, arms crossed as he stands on the sidewalk to the front door. You’re in the driveway, squatted down, washing the rims when he interrupts you. 

“Washing your dirty ass car.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I have to ride around in the thing, it might as well look nice.” You shrug, continuing to wash. Your back is facing him when you talk, and Dean is watching almost your every move. His eyes trail down your back, over the curve of your ass, before landing on your thighs. They flex underneath your weight, a sight for sore eyes as he watches you. 

“No, smart ass, why are you doing it? Shouldn’t I be the one to wash my own car?” Dean mumbles, moving closer to you. You don’t budge, still crouched down next to his car. When he walks closer, it’s immediately a bad idea, and it’s too late before he realizes. 

“Well, you haven’t in let's say, the better part of 2 years so,” For the first time since he’s talked to you, you break your focus to look at him. Much closer to you, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Still squatted down, in that tiny ass bikini you’re wearing. It covers enough of you to be legal, but god damn it, he’s reeling. 

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!” 

“Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Dean grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“What I know I’m doing is washing your car. You’re the one that came out here for whatever reason. To fight with me? Who fuckin’ knows.” You turn your attention back to the car, “You can help me, instead of sitting there and bitching. Shirt off though, that’s a requirement.” You laugh out the last part, reaching to the side and throwing soap at him. It makes his white shirt see through, showing his skin through the cloth. 

“This is ridiculous,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to play along. For a moment,  you’re sure he’s just going to walk back into the house. You smile softly when he’s pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere back towards the front door. You giggle, now playing a game with him. You smile as he reaches into the bucket, taking another sponge and beginning to wash the back rim. 

In the time you’ve known him, Dean is easy to rile up. Some good banter, a few batted eyelashes, maybe even look up at him, and he’s a goner. You’ve seen him get more numbers at bars than you can count on both hands and feet, never leaving a town without one. It’s a part of why you’ve never made  a move, because you know him. And you know his type, and you know what he likes to do. Just a little bit of fun, a little playing here and there. Regardless, it’s fun. 

You giggle, moving from the rim you’re washing to the hood. You’re leaning over the hood, bending at the hips to reach the top. Dean stands up from the back, determined to watch you wash the hood. He scoffs softly, walking around to you. “You’re doing this wrong,” He mumbles. 

“You haven't washed this in years and you’re lecturing me?”

“Just, shut the hell up for a second.” He mumbles, reaching around you to move your arm. He moves the sponge in circular motions, leaning over you. His hips barely make contact with yours, only the side of his hip brushing against your ass. If he moves over a single step, he’d be completely behind your bent over form. Suddenly, it’s all too much, he’s too close, and you’re so incredibly warm. “What, you’re finally listening to me for once?” Dean chuckles at your silence. 

You’re quiet, face beginning to flush. “Not listening, smart ass. I’m just learning the right technique, according to you.” You’re pressing your ass against the hip that’s next to you, trying for the life of you to get him to move. His hand flys down to grab at your waist, holding you still. You’re still in this ridiculously small bikini, and his hand is now on your bare skin. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Dean mumbles, his head falling forward slightly. His forehead hits your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling himself up. Putting some space in between you, his hand still remains on your waist. For a moment, a realization hits him at how small your waist is, especially compared to his hands on your skin. 

“If i’m not, who else would be?” You giggle, leaning further forward to reach the very top of the hood. From his teaching, you wash small circles. “You know, everyone’s out of the house until later tonight, right? Some dinner, poker match. I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.” 

“What’re you saying, hm?” Dean mumbles, once again leaning over you. This time, he’s slightly more behind your hips, giving you more leverage to press back against him. 

You smile, feeling his chest hit your back as he leans forward, head beginning to nestle in the crook of your neck as he talks, lips brushing against your ear. As his weight falls further onto you, you allow your arms to fold as he presses against your back. You rest on your forearms, the change in position pressing harder into his hips. 

“Was this your plan the entire time, hm?” Dean grits, one hand moving to adjust your jaw, pushing your head to the side to make you look at him. “Wear this slutty excuse of a bikini, walk out here and wash my prized possession, get me to join? Hm?” 

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” You giggle. “Maybe just since you walked out here.” You shrug, whining when he adjusts his hand, allowing his hand to move from your jaw to your neck. 

“This is unfair,” Dean mumbles, softly biting into your shoulder. “My favorite girl, out here washing my favorite car, and you expect me not to take the bait?” 

He allows his hand to move, instead of holding your waist, he holds your abdomen, pushing you back against him. You can feel him pressed against your skin, able to slot his hard cock in between your folds when you move a certain way. The fabric leaves little to the imagination, and he can feel the heat in between your legs. 

“You gonna be mean, and take me right here? Or be nice and take me to the bedroom hm?” You tease him, moaning softly when he grinds against you. 

“You know me, I like it all. So both.” He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. His fingertips dip underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing down to exactly where you need him. “You’re fucking soaked,” Dean mumbles, “You were thinking about this for awhile, huh? Pretending to just be washing my car, what a load of shit.” Dean mumbles, groaning softly as his fingers slip through your folds. He rubs gentle circles into your clit, slowly building pressure. 

“You, I, just maybe.” You whimper, immediately weak in the limbs as he toys with you. The circles speed up, drawing out the softest whines and whimpers. He chases the noises as if it’s his own high, humming along softly when you let out a particularly loud whimper. 

“How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” Dean asks, snaking one arm behind you as he gently slips a finger into your pussy, slow and careful in his movements. You whine even louder, tightening around his fingers as he slips in another, fucking into you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He’s adamant, chasing your high before thinking of himself. “Answer me,” 

“Not long, since you’re all over every single girl you can get your hands on.” You mumble, riling him up. He fucks more roughly into you, grinding harshly against your g-spot. “Just need some relief, and you’re the only one here.” You’re lying through your teeth. 

“You know all that shit is just me messin’ around, and you’re a bad liar, you know that?” Dean mumbles, beginning to kiss along any skin he can reach. “This wet? And you expect me to believe this is for anyone, hm? I bet if Sammy came out here, you would’ve immediately covered up, huh, hide all of this.” His hands reach up to pull at your bikini top, exposing your tits to his touch. He roughly gropes and feels your skin, twisting and pulling at your nipples, punishing you for riling him up. 

“Okay, maybe not Sammy.” You shrug, “I could find a cutie at the bar, though, I’m sure.” His hand moves forward to wrap around your throat once again, squeezing just enough to make your mind fuzzy and to stop talking like a smart ass. 

“But you wouldn’t, if you wanted to, you would’ve already done it.” He shrugs, you can feel the movement against your shoulders. You’re close, squeezing down around him. You don’t even have to tell him, he’s already teasing and pulling your strings before you can speak. “See, who else can rile you up like this, hm?” 

“Can you make me cum, or are you all talk Dean?” You grit, almost unable to speak with him all over you like this. Every sense of you is filled with him, he’s all you can think of. 

“Yeah, sure,” He laughs softly when you clench hard around him, teetering close. “You don’t have to tell me you’re close, I can feel it. If you keep being smart with me, I can stop. It won’t take much, you know, rip this pretty little orgasm away from you in a second.”

His fingers slow, no longer giving you the stimulation you need to actually cum. “Please, please, I’m sorry. Please make me cum.” You plead with him. 

“There she is,” He laughs, speeding up once again to allow you to fall off the edge. When you come undone, it’s violent. Your legs shake, you tighten around him, and you thank god for baby underneath you to hold your weight up. Dean forces you to ride out the high, slowing down only barely to not push you into over-stimulation. 

“Fuck me.” You mumble, roughly pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter how, you need it. “Now, Dean, unless you can’t get it up in your old age-”

He slips one of his fingers into your mouth, roughly pulling on your cheek. “A please would be nice, huh Pretty girl?” Dean mumbles, and you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. It’s fast and hasty, and you already know he’s pissed off with you constantly nagging him. “Just demand demand demand, whine whine whine.” Dean grits, roughly pulling your bottoms to the side, “Is that all you do, huh?” He’s pushing into you before you can react, pulling a loud moan from you as he holds your mouth open. 

“Fuck, fuck, thank you,” You whimper, squeezing around him tightly. He bottoms out, grinding against your hips as he savours the feeling of being completely inside you. His hips are rough, battering into you with little remorse. Fucking the smart ass out of you, that’s what he’s gonna do or die trying. From the mewls and whimpers slipping past your lips without your control, he feels he’s doing a pretty good job. 

“That’s more like it, there’s my girl.” Dean groans, cock throbbing at hearing you finally shut up for the first time, literally, since he’s met you. For once in his life, you aren’t spitting some sarcastic ass shit at him, and he’s not spitting it back at you. “Feels good hm, does my girl feel good?” Dean’s deep voice sends goosebumps across your skin, the vibrations running through you like a live wire as you work yourself up further. 

“Your girl, hm? That’s new.” You mumble, moaning softly when his grip moves to press down on your tongue, stopping you from talking. Drool pools around his finger, and he groans when you wrap your lips around it, tongue moving slightly underneath his touch to run along the pad. 

“Is that a problem?” 

You can’t respond, and he knows it. You clench tightly around him, a vice grip in response, and he almost genuinely laughs at how needy you are for him. His hips react immediately to you, thrusting rougher into you, chasing the pleasure the both of you are feeling. Moving his grip from your waist, he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, trying to get you over the edge. It doesn’t take much to get you to fall over the edge, legs shaking underneath both of your weight. 

“Good girl, easy, easy, ride it out. Don’t hurt yourself now,” Dean patronizes you gently, continuing to chase his own high. 

“Cum, cum Dean, please.” You mumble around his fingers, tightening around even further. You’re so tight and just absolutely soaked that he’s spilling into you soon after, chanting your name gently in your ear as he comes undone. “Fuck, fuck,” You mumble, finally beginning to relax as he slows down his movements. 

“C’mon pretty girl, I gotta give you the second half of my promise.” Dean laughs softly, “Or not, if you can’t take it.” 

“If I can’t take it? Are you kidding me?” You smile, carefully pushing yourself up on your hands, glancing back at him. “Let’s go, your bed so I don’t have to wash my sheets later.” At this, Dean rolls his eyes, of course. Still, the second you turn around to face him, he’s hoisting you up onto his waist, pushing at your legs to get you to wrap around his torso. He carries you easily, walking through the empty house and straight to his room. Your back hits the bed, Dean toppling with you soon after. 

“Gonna make soft mushy love to me, huh Dean?” You joke with him, your legs still wrapped around his torso, arms holding his head in your palms. 

“After bending you over Baby, yeah. Best of both worlds or whatever they say.” Dean smiles, his characteristic smirk etched on his face. His head dips down slightly, softly kissing against your jaw, moving down to your neck, before sucking light marks into your chest. Far enough down not to be interrogated by Sammy later, but enough to leave a reminder of him. His head continues to trail down, hands pulling at your bikini bottoms while he bites at your thighs, once again leaving his mark on your otherwise perfect, unbroken skin. 

“Never would’ve thought I’d have you here like this, hm?” He’s rolling his eyes at you, moaning softly when your hands come to pull at his hair. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, tightening the slightest bit around his head when he draws closer, finally making contact with you. “Fuck Dean, you gonna be nice, Dean, please?” 

“To you, of course.” 

Dean is skilled, to say the least. He knows what he’s doing, where he needs to work, what strings he needs to pull, how to get you there. Dean isn’t quiet about his skills either, you’ve heard sly remarks about the girls at bars, road side pubs, and everything in between. He’s living up to his legend, your thighs clamping around his head within minutes. You don’t let him get any smart ass remarks in, pulling him closer when you know he’s about to make fun of you. You control him so easily, muscular legs holding him in place. He’s not going to tell you, you’d never let him live it down, but he’s absolutely shaking at the thought of the hold you have over him. 

“Gonna cum for you Dean, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, thighs flexing to grind against his face. He moans into you, caught off guard by your movement. You do it again, whimpering when you realize he likes this, he’s into this. “Cumming, fuck, cumming.” 

His hands move to run along your thighs, trying to calm the shaking underneath his touch. “Good girl, so good for me.” Dean praises. Before he can react, you’re ripping him up. You're holding anywhere you can, forcing Dean to hover over you, legs once again around his waist. 

“You gonna let me kiss you, or is that crossing a line?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please.” Dean mumbles, sighing deeply when you immediately connect your lips. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible. Dean wants to melt into you, fuse with you. He’s riling himself up, he knows that, but he swears your lips on him are heaven sent, curing his soul from whatever horrors it has been forced through. Like a breath of fresh air, like he’s alive again. He’d never tell you that, he can only imagine your reaction and the shit you would give him. 

You’re kissing him as if your life depends on it, hands tangling in his hair. Dean could kiss you for hours and not complain, he could do this all day if you’d let him. He’s unsure of how long you’ve been kissing him like this, so needy and whiny underneath him, but he doesn’t care. When he pulls away to catch his breath, your lips are slightly swollen, slick with saliva. Your face has flushed a bright red from the kiss, making you look cute despite being in such a lewd state. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean mumbles, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. 

You blush softly, but you try to hide it as just flushed cheeks. “Don’t get too sweet on me now.” You smile, tightening around his waist with your legs. 

“Right, right.” Dean smiles, fighting off a laugh when you reach to unbuckle his belt. He’s kicking the jeans off in record speed, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him move that fast. He’s back with you just as fast. “Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, shaking as his cock slides in between  your folds, easily sliding with your slick. It’s so intimate that he’s unused to it, and there’s the smallest fear in his chest that he won’t last having you like this. “Fuck, pretty girl.” 

You whine as he pushes in, so slow that it makes you squirm underneath him. Bottoming out, he allows his head to fall forward, landing in the crook of your neck. “Dean,” 

“Just, fuck, give me a second.” 

“It’s okay,” You mumble, understanding his situation. While you’re understanding, you’re not forgiving as you clench around him like a vise. Your hands reach around, holding his back as you pull him close. You kiss along his skin, waiting until he calms down. 

Dean groans, unbelievable, it’s unbelievable how he’s stuck like this. “I can’t believe this shit,” Dean mumbles, drawing away from you to hook your legs over his elbows, folding you in half when he leans forward again. Finally having some sort of advantage, he’s able to target exactly where he needs to hit. “I feel like a fuckin teenager again.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” You laugh, relishing in the moans that slip past his lips. Finally getting his wits about him, he’s able to finally move, grinding against you. Dean’s not going to last, he knows that, as he begins gently rubbing light circles into your clit. He’s gotta get some sort of leverage, something. Bending further forward, you’re covered entirely by his weight. When your lips gently connect with his, Dean thinks he could conquer the world. Kissing him so gently, so sweetly, has him absolutely reeling. 

“I love you,” Dean blurts, before he can even think to stop it. You don’t think he means it, not in any other way than being horny and worked up. “God, I fucking love you,” He mumbles again, shrugging your legs off of his arms in favour of caging you underneath him, head in between either of his arms as he kisses you. His hips don’t slow for a second, kissing you and chasing his high as if his life depends on it. He’s hitting your g-spot and grinding against your clit at the same time, kissing you as if he would die otherwise, and pressing all of his weight onto you. 

You can’t answer or speak, can’t tell him off for saying that shit mid-fuck. Maybe it’s the position that has him acting up, or it’s the softest he’s fucked in awhile and he doesn’t know how to behave. You’re pulling him closer by his back, kissing him back just as feverishly. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, please, need to feel you wrapped around me.” Dean moans, trailing a hand down in between your bodies. He’s on a mission, truly, needing to get you there before he can allow himself to. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

“Dean,” You whine, “Sensitive, ‘m sensitive.” You complain, overstimulated and worked up. 

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, just one more. Come for me one more time, please. I need it, hm?” Dean pleads with you, “Doing so well for me, taking my cock so well.” Him talking you through it is almost all you need to tip over the edge, the smallest bit of stimulation you need. Throwing your head back, you can’t even look at him when you come undone. Dean kisses along your exposed neck, not leaving any marks for your own sake. 

“Please, please, Dean. Come, no more.” You whine, tightening around him from over-stimulation. You need him to cum, and have a break. You don’t have to tell him twice, hell, you don’t even have to tell him once. He’s been on edge since he brought you into his fucking room. His head is buried in your shoulder, and you whimper when he bites down into the skin. 

You’re so sore and over-stimulated, mumbling as his hips finally slow in their movement. “Y/n,” Dean is mumbling along with you, “Easy pretty girl, you’re okay,” He attempts to soothe you. “Listen, what I said.”

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.” 

“I meant it, I mean it still.” Dean explains, carefully sliding out, careful to not accidentally stimulate you any further. You’re still caged underneath him, his arms around your head. 

“You don’t have to tell me that, it’s okay, really. Heat of the moment, or whatever.”

“Please, listen. I mean it.” He’s speaking so softly it’s genuinely been awhile since you’ve heard this tone, and it’s never been with you. With Sammy, likely. “I know you don’t believe me, and I wish I saved it for a more romantic moment, I do. But I do mean it.” 

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

“I haven’t been with anyone in forever, you know that. Getting a number is different, that’s just me trying to get information Y/N.” Dean speaks, pulling himself further off of you, giving you space. He’s reaching for his bag, trying to find something to cover you with. He finds a t-shirt, carefully putting it over your head. It goes down to your thighs, covering you. He’s snatching his boxers next, he’s gotta have some decency for this conversation. “I love you, Y/n. You don’t have to say it back, but you deserve to know the truth at least.” 

He’s fully prepared to be shut down, given your reaction thus far. You lean forward, and he thinks you’re about to climb away from him, move out of his bed. Your lips softly connect with his, the gentlest kiss. He’s smiling like an idiot into the kiss, almost unable to kiss you from the extent of his smile. “We can’t tell Sammy, he’ll think you’ve lost it.” Dean almost giggles at this, yes, giggles. What has gotten into him? What the actual hell is happening right now? Still, he nods along with you in agreement. 

“We can’t tell Sammy, or you don’t want to tell Sammy?” 

You’re rolling your eyes. “We don’t have to tell Sammy, he’ll know.” It’s the truth, he’ll figure it out before you or Dean even have a chance to tell him. Dean nods again, the faintest of smiles beginning to spread across his face again. It grows tenfold when you’re leaning forward, cupping his face in your palms, and once again kissing him. He’s shaking when you lean forward, forcing his back to hit the bed, your legs soon straddling his hips. You’re fully seated on his lap, legs underneath his body to give you more leverage to plant yourself against him. 

Your hands wrap around his head, pulling him into you. “Dean, say you love me again.” You mumble, diving back in to kiss him. He can barely mumble the words out, speaking with your lips on his the entire time. Not knowing it was possible, you’re kissing him harder. 

“Riling yourself up, pretty girl?” Dean chuckles softly, hands holding your waist snugly. His grip tightens when you grind against him, drawing out a strangled moan. Dean’s head falls back, face scrunching up. He can’t watch you grind against him in his t-shirt, he really can't. You’re so warm it makes him shake, completely bare as you grind against his boxers. You’re soaking through the cloth, he can feel it. He curses his old age in the back of his head, regretting he can’t recover as easily as he used to. You’re not too much younger than him, but it’s still making him frustrated as you’re ready for round 3. 

“Dean,” Your voice comes out as a whine, your body slumping forward as you curl into his warmth. Your hips continue to grind against his, lips running along his skin. You’re fighting off the urge to leave marks on his skin, losing yourself in the feeling of being close to him. 

“C’mon pretty girl, show me what you’re made of.” Dean’s already regretting his words. He knows you’re quite literally going to make him eat them. Your feet remain underneath his body, flexing as you seat yourself more heavily against him. Your hands move all over his body, finally stopping in his hair as you connect your lips with his. Deans losing his mind. He feels his thighs shake when you lift your weight up and reach down, pushing his boxers down past his hips. He assists you momentarily as he lifts both of your weight off the bed for easier removal. “Gonna make me regret my taunting?” 

“You know it.” You almost giggle, and it only solidifies his belief that he will, in fact, eat his words. You’re soaking wet as you make contact with him, easily sliding through your folds as you slowly and carefully rock your hips. Without warning, in one swift roll of your hips, he’s sheathed inside of you all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck, fuck, goddamn it.” Dean’s head is thrown back against the pillow, muscles straining in his neck with the force he’s exerting. Your hips grind and roll against his, drawing the prettiest moans from yourself. Dean knew this was gonna happen, and yet he’s shocked that it is. “Should’ve, fuck, picked my words better.” 

Dean shuffles against the bed, sitting up so his back rests against the headboard. He easily pulls you along with him, hands securely holding you by the hips. He’s closer this way it feels like, can smell the sex and heat rolling off of your body. Your arms wrap around his head loosely, leaning down to connect your foreheads together. “Wanna cum like this Dean.” Your breath is basically a pant, grinding rougher as you chase whatever high you have left. 

“Do what you want, please, use me.” Dean’s losing it as he leans forward and marks your skin, too fucked out to even think about what he’s actually doing. You’re going to scold him for this later, something he’s almost sure of, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. You’re coming undone embarrassingly soon, clenched tightly around him as your thighs shake gently. Your hips never stop moving, riding out your high long past the comfortable point. “My girl, my good girl,” Dean is cooing, almost babbling when he watches you use him. 

He’s so overstimulated and so worked up it hurts, but he’ll grit his teeth and bare it if it means he gets to have you like this. You’re arguably more overstimulated than he is, legs shaking and small mewls or moans unconsciously slipping past your lips. He’s moving before you can react, your back hitting the bed. His hips pick up immediately where yours left off, pace barely faltering. You’re soaking wet, the sounds sending a shiver up his spine. “You’re so good to me, holy fuck, this is what I've been missing out on for years. Are you kidding me, fuck.” Dean groans, neck burying into your shoulder. 

“I just, fuck, haven’t been touched in awhile. Easily excitable,” You joke, legs moving to wrap around his torso. With the amount of effort it takes to whine that sentence out, he knows you’re lying. He huffs slightly in annoyance, a small smirk on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation the two of you are in. 

“You’re so full of shit,” It’s gruff and harsh, his brows scrunching together with the effort he’s exerting. His abs have never been clenched harder in his life, torso rock solid from the over-stimulation and effort. “Even if you could quiet down and stop whining, you’d still give yourself away.” He teases you, and you know he’s right. “Wanna try it, hm pretty girl? Shhhh,” It’s gentle and soothing rather than rough, despite his situation. He gently shushes and coos to you, eventually getting your whining and moaning to mere pants. Like he said, you still give yourself away with the slick noises each time his hips roll into yours. “Do you fuckin hear yourself? Listen pretty girl, just listen.” 

You’re beyond fucked out, listening as Dean explains to you. Your lips are caught tightly in between your teeth, fighting hard to keep as quiet as you possibly can. Your head is thrown back against the bed, straining as your legs lock around his torso harder than before. “Dean,”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know. You give yourself away, hm?” He mocks, hands coming to run along your thighs, squeezing the muscle underneath. “One more for me, just give me one more and I’ll clean you up all nice and gentle.” 

“I can’t-”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s soft, but just enough to be patronizing. 

“Please, let’s cum. Last one.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly around him. It’s hard to push in, so overworked and sensitive. Dean’s voice alone works you up more than you ever realized, and having him so close, talking in your ear like this. It’s bad news. Dean’s hips are stuttering as you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, working himself up now. The noises you’re making would be embarrassing if it wasn’t Dean, who’s so beyond into it. Maybe it’s the both of your instincts being heightened from years of fighting fuck knows what, but the front door opening has the both of you immediately stilling. 

Dean has never seen your eyes widen this much, almost comical as you look at him. There’s a wicked smile on his face as he shuffles his arms around, ever so gently placing his hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.” Dean’s whispering in your ear, hips slowing just enough to grind into you, clit grinding against his skin. You’re fighting hard to keep quiet, opting to bite down on Dean’s hand instead. He’s hissing softly, repositioning so you bite into the side of his hand. 

“C’mon, give me some slack. Cum for me, please. I need to cum pretty girl, you’re gonna make me cum for you.” Dean swears your eyes are going to roll back and out of your skull and he’s going to be permanently like this with how you’re wrapped around him. Dean’s about to beg, he can feel the words on his tongue. Plead with you, even. His silent prayers are granted when your head throws itself back, your arms moving to wrap around his biceps. With the force you’re holding him, he thinks you’ll leave bruises. He’s following you soon after, hips faltering as he comes undone inside of you. Your legs lock around him and suddenly you’re a bodybuilder with the amount of strength you have. 

Your legs are securely locked, not allowing him to rock anymore, needing no more stimulation. Like you thought, you would be embarrassed with how wet you are if it wasn’t Dean who was the one making you sound like this. “The others are back, I have to go.” You whisper, immediately faltering when your weight settles on your legs. Your bottoms are put on with the help of Dean, who keeps you upright. Too fucked out, your legs are almost unusable as you wobble your way towards the door with bikini top in hand. You have to get going before everyone comes into the back of the house, that you know. 

“You can’t even walk straight.” Dean’s right behind you, trying to keep you up on your feet. He’s trying very hard not to laugh at your condition, but you can hear it in his voice. 

“We can’t scar Sam like this.” You’re trying hard not to giggle, slowly peeling open the door. Dean catches you before you can sprint away from him, yanking you back into his embrace. He's grinning down at you, lips softly pressing against yours. You're distracted, beginning to get lost in the kiss. Reminding you, Dean begins to peel the door open slightly. Once it’s open enough, you’re making a sprint for your room. You hear footsteps soon after you make it to your room, ear pressed against the door to listen. 

“Dean, do I wanna know why I just saw Y/N sprint across the hall in your tee shirt?” 

“No, no you do not.” 

The next case you work, Sam doesn’t mention a single thing. In fact, Sam doesn’t mention anything, ever, even the next morning when you’re awkwardly making coffee in the kitchen while he sits at the kitchen counter. Perhaps you should have asked how he felt about this before you went and created your master plan of you and Baby the other day. You’re sucking in your bottom lip as you’re thinking about how you’re going to bring this up, Dean out for the next half hour or so as he grabs food. 

“Sammy?” You mumble softly, placing a mug of black coffee on the table for him. He won’t drink it with cream or sugar anymore, neither does Dean. 

“Hm?” He asks absentmindedly, thumbing through the newspaper as he reads. He’s not listening to you, you know that. When he reads, he’s entirely immersed in the information he’s processing. He fumbled around for the coffee mug, and you slid it closer to where he’s smacking the table so he can actually find the handle. 

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” You ask softly, waiting for him to process what you asked after he finishes whatever sentence he’s currently on. You don’t have to specify, you already know he knows what you’re referring to. Finally, he breaks his focus from the paper to look at you since you’ve walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. (You don’t know it, but he looked at you to make sure you grabbed his mug as well.) 

He laughs, and for a second you’re disheartened. “Are you serious?” 

“I-what?” You don't know whether to be confused or offended. You were going to genuinely hear him out, but this is not the tone you were expecting. 

“You and Dean have been at each other’s throats since you met. I’m surprised you guys didn’t jump on each other sooner.” He laughs, sipping his coffee and shaking his head softly. He laughs at you more, “You think I would care about that? Oh my god, I’ve never seen Dean run out of the house faster this morning to get you food, wide eyed and bushy tail. I think he thought he was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” 

“Fuck, should I go lay back down?” You genuinely wonder, making Sam laugh even harder. 

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re telling me this is the first time? I honestly thought you guys have been hate fucking since we met.” 

“Sammy, pleaseeeee.” You whine, tossing your head back. Sipping your coffee, you want to whine and pout. 

“No offense, but I don't care what the two of you guys get up to. As long as you’re happy and don’t die on a hunt because you’re distracted, it’s not a problem.” 

“Right, right. It won't interfere with hunting, I promise.” You nod your head to him, “But seriously, should I go get back into bed?” 

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he refocuses on the newspaper he’s reading. You don’t, because Dean’s walking into the door soon after your conversation with Dean. Making eye contact, his face falls completely and Sam was definitely correct with his guess of breakfast in bed. Regardless, Dean pretends he just got food and had no other motive. “Breakfast has arrived,” He announces, placing the bags on the table. “What, no coffee for me?!” 

“Oh come on, give me a break. You were nowhere in sight this morning.” You defend yourself, “Not even a BRB note, how was I supposed to know when you were coming back?” 

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

“Sammy was sitting in here in the kitchen when I woke up-”

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

“It totally isn’t! Just because he uses it more often than I do-”

“OKAY!” Sam interrupts, and he’s smiling like an idiot when you turn to look at him. Nothing has changed between you or Dean, and this just proves that. Sure, you’re eyeing him up like a starved woman, and Dean is trying hard to ignore you in your little pajamas, but nothing has changed between the two of you. “You guys gonna eat or fuck against the kitchen counter?” 

Both you and Dean groan in annoyance, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags. After breakfast, you guys go over the main points of the new case you’re working on. The drive makes you want to bash your face into Baby’s window over and over, and you can already feel the tiredness in your bones. You guys start the drive not long after, packing up everything and getting a jump start to the job. 7 hours in and Sam switches with Dean to drive, now in the passenger seat. 

You kick the seat when he leans it back and pins your legs to the backseat, “Don’t make me come back there!” He threatens, to which you stick your tongue out at him. Another seven hours in and you’re switching with Sam, who sleeps in the backseat. 

You and Dean talk in the front. “So, Sammy doesn’t care then?” Dean whispers, and you shake your head no. You’re whispering in an attempt to not disturb Sam, even though you think Sam could sleep through an earthquake. Giving him some type of courtesy, you try to keep the noise down to a minimum. 

“Sammy said he thought we had been, quote, hate fucking since we first met, end quote.” You giggle, glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. Dean is trying awfully hard not to howl laugh right now, and god is it hard. You giggle softly, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, in that case.” Dean shrugs, reaching over the front bench and grabbing the inside of your thigh as you drive. 

“Winchester.” You warn, genuinely warn, as your voice remains low and calm. 

“What? You said he doesn’t care.” Dean mumbles, chuckling softly. Glancing back into the back seat, Sam is passed out. He wouldn’t do that in front of Sammy, but he can push your buttons. Dean slides his hand closer to your hip, slipping down onto your inner thigh further. You give him no reaction, knowing the second you do it’ll only fuel the fire. Dean bites at his lips, trying extremely hard not to laugh at your resolute attitude. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, making your hips jolt back into the bench. 

You’re grabbing his hand, ripping it backwards and twisting his arm. “Fuck, I love it when you’re rough with me.” Dean groans softly, a smile still playing on his features. “Okay, okay sweetheart, I hear you loud and clear.” He smiles, pulling his arm free and kissing your knuckles. 

You finally get to the motel after what feels like 2000 years, you driving the last leg of the trip. Sam shuffles into the motel without saying a word to either of you and Dean, still half asleep as he pushes into the room. He’s  falling into the bed and back asleep in no time, and you and Dean share a look. Dean has a soft chuckle, and you giggle when he slides his hand across your thigh, pulling you by your hips across the bench of Baby. 

“No, no, no pretty boy. You made me drive the shitty shift.” You mumble, shuffling so you’re pressed against him. He’s easily manipulated, allowing his body to fall back against the passenger side door. Your legs easily swing over his hips, settling down on his lap with ease. You hate driving at night, and he knows that. “And you’ve been teasing me for the past 20 miles. I’m gonna do what I want, and if you ask nice enough by the end of this, i’ll let you cum, hm?” 

Dean whimpers from underneath you, eyebrows knitting together as you speak to him however you like. When you slam your lips down onto his, he groans into it. You’re frustrated, and annoyed, and slightly angry but not exactly at him. You need an outlet, and Dean is a willing one. Your hips press heavily down into his, using your legs underneath him as leverage to seat yourself against him. Your hands are everywhere and anywhere, running all along his skin underneath his clothes. There’s a whimper that escapes him when you rip off your shirt, not allowing him the pleasure of doing so. 

“This isn’t fair-” You grip his face in between your hands, holding his chin. With the slight pressure, his lips pucker out slightly. You gently peck his lips like this, releasing some of the grip you have on his face. Dean’s hands land on your waist, gently brushing and rubbing along any exposed skin you’ll allow him. 

“Be good, Dean.” You mumble, “You’ll be good for me, hm?” You ask softly, picking your hips up enough to yank your shorts and underwear off in one swift movement. “Let me ride your fingers, baby, get me ready to take you.” You command, voice leaving zero room for disagreement. 

“Yes, yes,” He mumbles absentmindedly, hands shuffling to slip further down your hips. You hiss softly as he makes contact with your clit, well practiced and well trained at this point. He gently rubs along your clit, drawing soft, tight circles into the bud. There’s a small gasp as he slides a digit in, expertly curling and moving in the way he knows you like. You pant softly when your hips grind against him on their own, searching for any touch or stimulation he’ll allow you to have. You chase it like you need it to live, to breathe. And Dean chases the little whimpers and whines as if he’ll die without them. Another digit makes you slump down against him slightly, seeking his warmth and closeness, hips still moving against him. 

“My pretty boy Dean.” You whimper, mumbling partially against his lips as you talk. One of your hands rest behind his head, the other one running your fingers through his hair. Dean reels at the soft compliment, head pushing into your hand as he seeks for your touch. You’re using him like a goddamn toy, and he can’t help but twitch at the thought. He’d let you do anything, anything you ask if it’s from your pretty little mouth. You kiss him hungrily, breaking contact more often than he wants as you moan and pant against him. He seeks your kiss, neck craning up. 

Your hands sloppily fumble with his jean buttons, wanting them off right this second, losing your patience. You push them just below his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers. “Easy, pretty girl, you gotta let me make you cum first.” Dean mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your neck that is burning up. 

“Need you,”

“Need you to feel good, baby.” Dean mumbles, working more feverishly into you to push you past the edge. There’s a boost in his pride when you fall apart against him, arms locking around his head gently as you cum. 

“Dean, wanna fuck you. You gonna let me do that?” You mumble, carefully taking him in your hand. Dean hisses when he slips in between your folds, head thrown against baby for some sort of stability as he tries to compose himself. Cumming when she wants me too, he reminds himself. Your hands are gentle but firm, and dean’s more than aware you’re not giving up your current position on top of him. 

“Gonna let you do anything,” dean mumbles, picking his head up slightly as he watches you line his cock up. He fights to keep his head up, watching as you devour inch by inch of his length. You’re grinning wide when you catch him. 

“Gonna watch me take you? Gonna watch me fuck you, hm?” you pant softly against his lips, snapping your hips down against his. You grind and rub against his his pelvic bone, fully seated against him, tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. Dean’s head falls back against the door, unable to watch. He can’t watch this without cumming earlier than your word. He groans when you hear the tsk sound as you kiss your teeth, whimpering when you pick his head up. 

“I’m trying to listen to you, don’t wanna cum early sweetheart.” Dean mumbles, biting hard onto his bottom lip. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you take him, a shiver running up his spine as he tries not to think about anything for too long. You’re so tight, and wet, and just absolutely pulsing around him. He’s sure there’s a pile underneath him from how wet you are around him, his abs clenched harder than he thought possible as he fights off his orgasm. “God damn it, baby. You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he groans, reaching down and rubbing tight circles into your clit. The sharp gasp sends goosebumps up his arms, listening to your soft noises. 

“This is cheating Dean,” You moan, continuing to fuck yourself down onto him. 

“C'mon baby, lemme have it pretty girl,” Dean whimpers, doing his best to snap his hips up against you. Your weight jolts against him, allowing him more room to snap his hips up. He grins, as he finally has some advantage as he fucks into you. When you come undone, it’s shaky and messy, hips slamming down against Dean's to get the movement to stop. His hips continue to rut into you, milking the orgasm for as long as you’ll let him. 

“Being so good Dean,” You coo into his ear, your face burying itself into his neck. Dean's quite literally fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. He could cry, eyes watering as he screws his eyes shut. 

“C'mon baby, cut me some slack,” He groans, sitting up abruptly to lean into your body. You squeal slightly at how quickly he jostles you around, your legs wrapping around his torso as he moves. 

“I like seeing you so pent up, ‘s cute,” You mumble, holding his head in your palms as you kiss him. Reaching around, you softly pull at his hair, scratching his head where you’re pulling. Your hips grind against him, doing more for you than him. Dean's hands grip your waist and thighs, moving you against him. 

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean groans, leaning forward to bite into your shoulder. 

You smile, holding him gently by his neck as you lean back, taking him with you. He’s groaning into your skin, head falling into your shoulder. “C'mon, want you to feel good,” You mumble, catching his lips gently when his head picks up to glance at you. 

“I do feel good. Feel good if you’re feeling good,” Dean grunts, hissing softly when you push his hips before pulling him back in with your heels. He almost wants to let you make him cum like this, but the shake in your thighs assured him you wouldn’t be able to. “My girl,” Dean moans softly, snapping his hips into you. Your soft mewls spur him on, groaning softly when your hands pull at his hair. Dean's losing it, moaning into the crook of your neck as he buries his face into your skin. 

His weight is pressed entirely against you, elbows digging into the seat on either side of you. You're whimpering in his ear, and he’s been holding off for what feels like years at this point. You pick his head up, pressing your lips to his. The both of you are moaning and panting so hard it’s difficult to kiss, riling yourselves up. “Feels good, Dean, do I make you feel good?” You pant against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist. Your hands are all over him, touching any inch of skin you can, feeling every muscle flexing with the effort of his ministrations. “Talk to me Winchester, my pretty boy.” You moan, one particular thrust sending goosebumps across your skin. 

“I- fuck- can't.” Dean almost grunts, lips never leaving yours as he talks. “ ‘s too good, this pussy, fuck, made for me.” He groans, lips leaving yours to kiss along your cheek and jaw. Your hands settle on his biceps, trying hard to ground yourself here with him. “Never wanna leave it, never wanna leave you.” He groans, pulling you closer by the back of your neck to properly kiss you. “Fuck, please let me cum.”

You hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you, a giant smile creeping over your face at how good he is. “Cum, Dean. Cum inside me, please, need it.” You mumble, grip tightening to hold yourself against him as he roughly fucks into you, chasing the high he’s been craving. You squeal and jerk under him as he bites into your shoulder, roughly laving over it with his tongue to relieve the pain. You squeeze tighter around him from it, making his hips falter in their place. You’re over-sensitive, beginning to squirm. “Cum, Dean, please, can’t take it.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly more. 

“Fuck, taking it so good. Just a bit more, be patient for me sweetheart.” Dean groans against your ear, thrusts becoming more erratic as he finally lets himself go. Your legs are practically numb as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming inside you. You complain softly as he lazily fucks his cum into you, enjoying the absolute mess you’re making underneath him. 

“Please-” You hiccup, pulling his hair softly. Dean slows, stilling as he kisses you properly for the first time in forever, no longer panting and moaning against you. You relish in it, not rushing as you kiss him back. 

“I think I’ll make you drive the shit shift more often.” He’s smiling, carefully getting you cleaned up. He’s proud of how fucked out you are, pride oozing from his demenor. You have the same pride, knowing the second he touches that motel bed he’ll be out for the night. 

You peck him quickly, not wanting to rile him up again. “Sure, but next time you wont cum.” You giggle, taking off before he has the wit to catch you and pin you to baby again. Running into the motel room where Sam is knocked out, you're in the shower before Dean can catch up to you. You hear a snarky remark from the other side of the door, making you giggle.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you’re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

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[zhelin-thames]

The Joker was ranting again, his shrill laughter echoing off the walls of the Justice League’s holding cells. Danny Fenton—or as they knew him, the Ghost King—leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a scowl etched on his face. The tension in the room was palpable, the League standing by in case the infamous clown decided to get creative. But Danny wasn’t worried. He’d dealt with worse.

“You think you’re so scary, huh?” Danny muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. The Joker’s grin faltered for a split second before he burst into laughter again, clearly unfazed—or pretending to be. Danny rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. You’re just loud and messy. Real fear doesn’t need a laugh track.”

The room went silent. Superman shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Danny and the Joker. Batman’s eyes narrowed, taking in the Ghost King’s uncharacteristic venom.

It wasn’t that Danny was usually chatty during these encounters, but his utter disdain for the Joker—his unwillingness to engage in anything more than curt dismissal—was becoming a pattern. Everyone noticed it, and no one dared ask. The Joker, for his part, didn’t push further. Something in Danny’s glowing green eyes made even him hesitate.

But when Jonathan Crane—the Scarecrow—was brought in a few weeks later, the mood shifted entirely.

Crane was quiet as he was escorted into a separate cell, his lanky frame hunched but his eyes sharp, calculating. The League had just wrapped up an exhausting mission to stop one of his fear toxin rampages, and they were still on edge. Crane didn’t bother with his usual monologues, which was unusual enough to make everyone uneasy.

Except Danny.

As soon as Danny saw Crane, he snorted. Loudly. The kind of derisive snort that made Wonder Woman glance his way in confusion. “This guy?” Danny said, pointing at Crane with his thumb. “Seriously?”

Crane’s head tilted ever so slightly, his curiosity piqued. “The Ghost King,” he said, his voice low and rasping. “A being of great power and…fear. How delightful.”

“Don’t,” Danny interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, I’ve heard it before. And honestly? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Crane blinked, caught off guard. “Embarrassing myself?”

Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get it. You’re all about fear. Big bad Scarecrow, master of terror, blah blah blah. But do you even know what fear is? Real fear? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a guy with some glorified bug spray.”

The room went dead silent. Flash stifled a laugh. Batman’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering between Danny and Crane. The Scarecrow, however, didn’t seem angry. If anything, he looked…intrigued.

“And what,” Crane asked slowly, “would you consider real fear, Your Highness?”

Danny’s eyes glowed brighter, his voice dropping an octave. “Real fear is the kind that makes your soul ache. It’s the kind of fear that lingers in the dark corners of your mind, whispering that you’re not enough, that you’ll never be enough. It’s watching everything you love slip away and knowing you can’t stop it. It’s the void staring back at you and realizing it doesn’t care.”

He leaned forward, his face inches from the glass separating them. “Your little toxins? They’re cheap tricks. Flashy illusions. A waste of potential. You could actually do something with all your knowledge, but instead, you play Halloween in Gotham like some knockoff horror movie villain.”

Crane didn’t reply immediately. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. The others stared at Danny, half-impressed, half-confused. Even Batman’s ever-stoic expression had a flicker of something resembling surprise.

Finally, Crane chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted. “But fear, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps one day, you’ll see the artistry in my work.”

Danny scoffed again, turning to leave. “Don’t hold your breath, Doc. You’d pass out before you made anything actually scary.”

As Danny walked away, Superman stepped up beside him, lowering his voice. “You’ve faced worse, haven’t you?”

Danny shrugged. “I’ve been worse. That guy? He’s just a waste of scary.”

Superman frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Danny smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Stick around, Big Blue. Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

[megamindsecretlair]

hey i just need something real nasty between husband and wife with mr.aaron (i say it key and peele😂😂) with some angst before the actual plot🤭

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive, beautiful.

Made You Fall For Me

Pairing: Husband!Terry Richmond x Wife!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem and male receiving), PIV, oral (female receiving), Reader is able to be picked up, use of pet names, angst. Mentions of death of a loved one, trauma. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: It had been two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death and Terry still beat himself up over it. Tired of Terry not letting you in, you join him in the shower and show him that he has a life to lead right here and now with you. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog

Word Count: 5,371k

AO3 Link

A/N: Thank you so much for dealing with my hiatus. I'm stronger mentally than I have ever been. Definitely worked on myself and stopped being so hard on myself. The kind asks really helped me find my way back, so have this smutty fic as a giant thank you! Thank you so much for all your continued support! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Terry sighed as he entered the bedroom. You looked up from your phone to watch your husband. 

His tall frame moved fluidly around the space, taking off of his pants and his shirt. It was soaked through having just finished at the gym. He sat on the edge of the bed to fling off his socks and toss it in the knit hamper. 

“Hey babe,” you said. 

“Hey baby,” Terry sighed.

You stared at the back of his head as his shoulders drooped the longer he sat on the bed. He looked so…dejected. Like someone sucked the air from his tires. You leaned up and let your powder blue throw blanket fall from your shoulders.

This was the second week in a row that your husband was still in this funk. Two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death where it seemed like Terry relived it all over again. It started with a dream, the very moment he ran into the hospital carrying Summer. Hopped up on adrenaline, a bullet in his shoulder, and him looking for the next threat. 

Then he would slowly withdraw mentally, checking out of conversations. Floating through the motions of going to work and getting back home. You were worried that he would get into an accident but he was able to operate on auto-pilot, navigating the world just as he normally would. 

It was both sad and amazing that he was able to do so. But this wasn’t your husband. This was a guilt ridden man who sometimes realized that he had no family. You were his family, of course, but he had no living blood relative alive. Mike was his one and only connection and that was severed by hate and pride. 

“Baby, will you please talk to me?” You asked. You fiddled with the edge of your phone. He wasn’t facing you, but you were still nervous to look at his face. You didn’t know which would be worse. Hearing you and choosing not to speak or not hearing you at all because he was lost somewhere you couldn’t reach?  

“I-I’m trying,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. You longed to comfort him, hold him, console him in some way. But every time you reached out, he would stare at you as if he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel you. 

You didn’t know how to help him through this. You’ve lost people, sure, but you always had enough family and friends to fall back on. You didn’t know what it was like for him and he was too stubborn to let you take some of his pain. 

You moved forward and crawled on the bed towards him. He stiffened as you got closer and you wrapped your arms around him anyway. You held on and placed your hand over his heart. It beat rapidly beneath your fingers and you inwardly sighed in relief. He was still in there. His heart still beat.

“You have to stop beating yourself up about this. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself forever,” you said. You kissed his back and rested your cheek on his skin. He was always so warm, like your own personal fire pit. But due to the sweat, he was cold and clammy. 

“I was supposed to protect him. That was my one and only job,” Terry said. 

“You were supposed to love him. But what happened was out of your control,” you said. 

Terry sighed and stood up, breaking your embrace. He hung his head as he walked to the bathroom. The door closed decisively and you flinched from the harsh sound. The light turned on underneath the doorway. The shower turned on and you didn’t hear anything further. 

Some days you wanted to knock your husband’s teeth in. His overprotective instincts went into hyperdrive, past the point of what was healthy. He refused to think of himself and the consequence be damned. Other times, you just wanted to wrap him in a floofy blanket and never let him out of your sight. You couldn’t very well fault him for wanting to keep you safe when you were the exact same way. 

But this…it varied on when he’d be able to pull himself out of this. Sometimes you’d say or do something to bring him back. Sometimes he’d take a deep breath and release that dark cloud. And sometimes, he’d disappear for a whole day and return back to the sweet, loving man you married. 

But fuck this. You missed your husband. And you were tired of seeing him walk around like a zombie. You got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom.

Steam rushed out and passed over your exposed skin. You closed the door behind you and noted the discarded underwear on the floor and a red towel on the edge of the sink. Terry’s silhouette moved just behind the foggy glass doors. 

You quickly stripped, flinging your lavender sleep set to the ground with his briefs. You stuffed your bonnet beneath a shower cap and slid the glass doors back. Terry looked over his shoulder at you and you entered the spacious shower behind him. 

The custom shower with tiles painted in different shades of brown was roomy enough for about three people comfortably if they were all intimate. Water cascaded down from a waterfall shower head, pouring down over Terry’s strong body. Water dripped from the edge of his wide nose, his full lips, and his well-defined chest. You followed the trail of water down his belly and over his long, thick dick. Water fell down in his long legs and huge feet. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m taking a shower,” you said. You shoved past him and grabbed your wash cloth, pulling it under the spray of water to get it wet. 

Terry huffed. “Had to be now?” He asked.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. Instead of grabbing your favorite soap, you grabbed his and lathered up the wash cloth. 

“C’mon,” Terry said. He tugged on your arm for you to turn around. 

You did so and slapped the wash cloth against his chest. “I miss you,” you said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He closed his mouth and grimaced, jaw flexing. 

You flattened both of your hands against his chest and stepped closer. Water hit your back at a lukewarm temperature. You had no clue how he could shower like this but that wasn’t the point. “I miss my husband and I need you to come back, right now,” you said. 

Terry closed his eyes and his long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. His mouth worked like he wanted to say something but the words never came. Whatever he wanted to say lodged in his throat and he couldn’t choke it out.

“So after this shower, you better step out of it and remember that you did everything right for Mike. And he made his own choices. That’s not your fault. It has never been your fault. And it’s time you accept that,” you said. 

You moved the wash cloth over his skin, scrubbing him down. Soap transferred to his body in thick suds, falling down his skin. He watched you and shut his mouth as you scrubbed him all over his chest and moved on to his arms. 

His eyes never left yours as you massaged the cloth between his fingers. He sighed and hummed as you found tense spots. You rubbed him deeper in those areas, working out the tension. 

You maneuvered behind him so he could rinse and then washed his back, creating big circles of soap. You moved down to his ass, teasing him a bit. He grunted and then chuckled. Well, that was a good sign. If he was chuckling then at least he was starting to relax. 

You washed down his legs, tickling him in areas. He danced out of your way and you warned him to be careful in this slippery ass shower.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back and kill you again,” you warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and smirked. 

You worked your way back to his front. His dick twitched and bobbed in your face. You looked up at him and his head was tilted to the side as he looked down at you. Fuck, he was pretty like this. Above you, staring at you, and in all his naked glory.

He needed to walk around like this more often. For your eyes only. That beautiful male body needed to be on display 24/7. 

You looked at his dick and then slowly dragged your eyes up his body and back to his striking ocean eyes. He took in a deep breath as his mouth curved upward. The rise and fall of his chest had an answering throb in your clit. You dropped to your knees on the hard flooring but it barely registered in your mind. 

Your husband worked his way back to you in the best way you both knew how. Sex was everything to the both of you. The one way you knew you were on solid ground. From the moment you two met, it had been electric and consuming. Always finding ways to touch each other or be near each other and breathe each other’s air. 

You dragged the wash cloth over his dick. At the first press of your hand, he hissed and jerked his hips towards you. You steadied your left hand on his hip and then stroked him with your right. 

He lifted his head towards the showerhead and let the water run down his face. Since he leaned back, water fell on top of your head and face but you kept looking towards him and the look on his face. 

He was hands down the most beautiful man you had ever met. And the kindest. He wasn’t always nice. He had more than enough words to say about folks that crossed him. But he was always kind, always treated people with respect. And he was a gentleman on top of it. Always opened your doors, always stood on the side of the street closest to danger. Every day, you found new ways to fall in love with your man. You only wished he’d forgive himself. 

“I love you. And I miss you. I need you to come back,” you told him. You increased the pressure, giving him long, slow strokes. All the way down to his base, squeezed, and then worked your way back to his tip. 

He groaned and rolled his neck, moving his hips. Your pussy throbbed seeing cum leak from his tip. He leaned one hand on the side of the shower, fingers pushing into the grooves. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have to let me in when things get dark, Terry. I don’t like feeling like I’m on the outside,” you told him.

Terry nodded his head and his eyes turned darker. But he didn’t look so far away now. His eyes were clearer, more present. “I hate feeling like I failed,” he said. His jaw flexed and you matched him stare for stare. 

“You did everything you possibly could. You deserve a life too. Not to punish yourself for the life Mike doesn’t have,” you said. You paused stroking and let the sound of the shower fill the room. 

Steam rose to the ceiling in wispy clouds. Soap and water rushed down Terry’s body. His chest rose and fell in heaving sighs but then evened out. Once his breathing returned to normal, you began stroking him again.

He groaned and dropped his head as you increased your strokes. You watched his face and watched the emotions play across his features. His lush lips parted and he moaned, deeply and guttural. “I’m gonna bust,” he moaned.

“Give it to me,” you whispered, just loud enough to be heard above the spray of water. You kept your same pace and three strokes later, Terry’s dick throbbed and his cum splashed onto your neck and titties. 

Terry’s moans were sweet music to your ears. You grinned evilly and kept stroking. He jerked and stuttered with chuckles and reached out to still your hands. He huffed and chuckled, giving you a saucy wink. 

He pulled you up by your arms and crushed his lips to yours as soon as you were within reach. He grabbed the cloth from your hands and hung it on the lip of the shower door. He cupped your neck in both hands and angled your face to meet his rough kisses. You moaned into his mouth. You missed this. You missed him. So damn badly.

The ache in your chest finally lifted now that your man was back. He healed and soothed with every kiss, every swipe of his tongue, every caress of his thumb on your wet skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he harshly whispered between kisses. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered back.

Terry pulled back and looked into your eyes. He narrowed his and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I will call and get help later today. There’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting. You deserve better from me,” he said.

You tilted your head and kissed his wrist. “I do. But I also know we’re in this for life. So I need you to let me in more,” you said.

Terry nodded. “I promise. Thank you, for sticking with me through this shit,” he said.

“That’s what wives are for,” you said with a giggle. 

Terry took a deep breath and then a mischievous gleam made his hazel eyes twinkle. A smirk curved his lips and he began to massage your neck. You hummed and your eyes drooped. “Husbands are for protecting you and taking care of you, right?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said slowly, eyeing him. He was up to something…

Terry flipped you around and pressed your chest against the glass shower doors. You cried out from the sudden cold on your nipples as he pushed until your titties flattened against the doors. He kicked your legs wider to spread for him and your body shivered from his casual roughness. 

“T-Terry,” you sighed. 

Terry locked your arms behind you, hooking his arm around your elbows so that you were unable to move. Terry licked the shell of your ear and you shuddered. He slipped his free hand around your throat to pull your neck back and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna make up for my bullshit,” he promised with heat laced through every syllable. 

“Terry, you don’t–”

Terry cut you off by moving his hand from your neck to his dick. He ran the tip through your dripping folds and then plunged inside with a rough thrust. “Oh shit!” You cried out, twisting your hands to try and slow him down. But because he had your arms trapped, you had no choice but to take his dick.

He angled your hips into a more comfortable position and then he slipped his hand back around your throat. He grunted with every deep thrust, filling you up, and making you take it. 

“Too much, too much,” you whined, trying to lean away from him. Terry pushed into you harder, pinning you to the door, while he continued to fuck you. Your forehead leaned on the doors and your breath fogged up the glass with your moans and sighs. 

“You can take it, baby,” he said, sinking you deeper and harder onto his length. He kissed your neck, licked and nibbled in areas, and moved upwards to your ear. “I love you so much. And I know I’ve been an ass. I haven’t been fair to you,” he whispered in your ear while he continued to dig into your guts.

You weren’t quite prepared for him to be so sweet and so nasty all at once. He gave you no time to fully hear his message or fully focus on his dick inside you so you were stuck in a twisted limbo. Suspended between absolute pleasure and your heart swelling with emotions. 

“That ends today, okay? I’ll prove that I’ll do better,” he said. He grunted and cursed under his breath. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned. 

“That’s my job as your husband. And it’s a job I take seriously,” he said. He smiled against your neck and then pulled you into a rough kiss over your shoulder. Your lips danced and played with each other as your orgasm rushed to the surface. 

You began to cry and stutter as it washed over you. Terry moaned as you squeezed around his dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he panted into your ear. 

When you came down, Terry let your arms go. He slipped out with a grunt and stepped back. You missed the heat of him instantly. He rubbed the feeling back into your arms from having them bent back for so long. He grabbed the discarded wash cloth from the top of the shower and rinsed it out.

He lathered up with his soap and then carefully washed down your back and your ass. His finger slipped between your cheeks to tease as he washed you down and you giggled with him. 

Terry turned you around and washed down your front. Washed the cum from your chest that didn’t rinse off from the water. You smiled at each other, finding your way back with every swipe of the cloth across your titties, your tummy, and down your thighs. He ran the cloth between your legs, careful not to get soap in between, and you moaned just from having his hands on you again.

His lips on yours. His eyes seeing you again after weeks of zoning out. Hints of your husband poked through that barrier he erected and now you were let in behind the wall. You grinned at him and leaned on your toes for a kiss. 

The kiss was meant to be innocent and sweet, just something to show that you loved him. That you were there and never letting him disappear again. But Terry kissed you deeper, grabbing you about the neck once more and crushed his lips to yours. 

His tongue slipped inside and then he gently nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth. “Terry,” you sighed. Your stomach flipped with desire. Pussy throbbing. Once wasn’t nearly enough. 

“I know,” he said. He lifted your chin and brought you in for a sweet kiss. He deepened the kiss even as he maneuvered you towards the shower wall. He lifted you by the ass to wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Fuck,” you cried out. It never ceased to amaze you that he was so strong. He worked hard in the gym to take care of himself but also to lift every pound you had. He lifted without effort, without strain, and grinned when he caught the look on your face. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Terry said. He stared into your eyes as he pushed back into you. Back into your warm, wet heat and you both groaned as he pushed in slowly, all the way down to the base. 

Your nails dug into his back and shoulders, clutching on for dear life. He was huge and thick. Long. He pulled back and then sank in once more, repeating this over and over to make you feel every last inch of him. Feel his mushroom head push against your soft, spongy walls welcoming him in. 

Your mouth dropped open, needing to release something. A cry, a moan, a word. Nothing came as he stroked into you, increasing with each one. Soon, he was slamming into you. His wet, loud strokes echoed in the tiled shower and your cries soon joined it. 

“You feelin’ me?” He asked. 

You nodded. You adjusted your arms around his neck and he dropped his forehead to yours. 

“Look at me,” he whispered. You locked your eyes with him and it somehow made his strokes even more intense. He throbbed inside you. 

“You feel me. Right here and now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going away again,” he moaned while he stroked. 

“Terry,” you sniffled. 

Fuck, this was all you ever wanted. You didn’t need him to be perfect. You didn’t need him to be a textbook definition of a husband. You just wanted him present and with you. Sharing his pain and his joys. Sickness and health. Better and worse. Those were the vows you swore before a room full of your close friends and family. 

“I feel you. I feel you right here,” you promised. 

Terry switched up his strokes, getting deeper than before and bottoming out. You both groaned and threw your heads back, getting lost in the sensation of him filling you up. Connecting the both of you. As close as you could possibly be to another human being. 

Terry leaned down and kissed you, playing with your lips, even as his hips slammed into you over and over. Pressure built in your belly, making your thighs quake and your arms tremble. “Terry, please, I can’t,” you begged. It was too much. It felt like you were out of control, out of your norm, unrooted. 

Terry only continued exactly what he was doing. “You’re taking me so well, baby. You can keep going,” he said. 

Your eyes swam and your vision turned blurry as you clung to him and came undone on his dick again. Your cries were loud enough to echo and bounce off of the tiled walls and ceiling, giving you a feedback loop of your own pleasure. It amplified your orgasm and you shut your eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming feeling. 

Terry kissed you all over your face, neck, and shoulders. He pumped you into you until his own hips stuttered and shot loads of thick cum into your pussy. You whined and shivered as he fucked his cum deeper and deeper. 

He slowed to a gradual stop and you stayed connected like that while you both recovered. Water still pelted the both of you and you kissed on each other, soaking up the moment. Terry leaned over and turned off the water, still holding you.

He smiled and kissed your lips. He nuzzled your nose. “Missed this,” he said.

“Me too,” you said. You kissed his cheek. 

Terry carefully stepped out of the shower with you still wrapped around him like a spider monkey. You were glad. Because now that you had him back, you weren’t ready to let him go. As if you would keep him here with you by sheer force of will. 

He moved the towel from the edge of the sink and placed you down, slipping out of you. You kissed and loved on each other while he dried the both of you off. Greedy for more, you reached between you to play with his heavy balls. 

Terry groaned and tilted his head down at you. “You sure you wanna do that?” He asked.

You continued fondling his balls, rubbing them between your fingers, and making him moan. His hips canted towards yours and you bit your lip, needing him back inside. Two orgasms weren’t enough. No number would satisfy you. 

“It’s been too long,” you pouted and looked at him. 

He chuckled and kissed you, taking possession of your poked out lip. He suckled on it and you moaned, feeling your pussy respond and ache from just this small action. 

“Get that sexy ass on our bed. Let me clean up in here and I’ll take care of that,” he said. 

You pouted again and whined but he bit your lip. “Now.” He deepened his voice and arched a perfect eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes and his eyebrow lifted higher. You grinned and hopped off the sink. While being punished for your attitude would be fun, you just wanted him right now. No extras, no games. You wanted to enjoy him and enjoy his body. 

He smacked your ass as you walked out and he chuckled after you shrieked and hid your ass behind your hands. You skipped to your bedroom and laid down on your bed. Cool air blew across your damp skin but it wasn’t freezing or uncomfortable.

The temperature was just right to make you hyper aware of your body. Of the feel of your skin and the thorough fucking Terry just gave you. Your pussy was still sensitive but you couldn’t resist teasing your clit. You ran your other hand along your skin, your belly, and your titties. Squeezing your nipple between your fingers and moaning from the dual sensations. 

“Terry…” you called out, drawing out his name. If he didn’t get in here soon, you were about to take matters into your own hands. 

The afternoon sun was setting low, rich oranges and golds slanting through your curtains and casting a warm glow about your room. Most days, you hated that your place faced east and west, but on lazy days like today, it was perfect. 

Terry moved about the bathroom, you had no clue what he was doing. So you closed your eyes and continued to play with yourself. You grew wetter by the second, your mind filling in with images of Terry’s broad chest. His narrow hips. That monster he had between his legs and the unbridled pleasure he managed to provide every single time. 

God, you loved that man. In every which way you were able to get him. You didn’t have the words to convey it but you’d spend the rest of your life trying to find them. 

You moaned as your imagination took over. Replaying what happened in the shower, the look on his face, the fire in his hazel eyes. You sighed as Terry entered the room.

“Oh, you bold,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. 

You didn’t stop though. You spread your legs further and shifted on the bed so that he could get a clearer view. “All warmed up for you,” you teased. 

Terry’s eyes dropped to the core of you, at the way you held your pussy lips open. Your other hand teased around your clit in figure eights, dipping into your pussy every so often to gather up more essence. 

Terry’s tongue swiped out to lick from one side to the other. Your fingers lost their rhythm. “Keep going,” he commanded. 

You whined and started up again but you couldn’t think straight. Not with him leaning against the wall looking at you like you were a five course meal and he was a starving man. When you just couldn’t find that spot again, Terry smirked and walked closer.

“What happened?” He asked.

“You,” you said. 

Terry smirked and took his time kneeling at the edge of the bed. He grabbed your thighs and pressed his thumbs to your inner thighs, massaging them. “Fuck,” you moaned and twisted, trying to close your legs and trap his hands there.

“Naw. Open back up. That’s what you get for trying to handle it yourself,” he said. 

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” you said and smirked. Terry lifted an eyebrow but his eyes were still on your throbbing pussy. He had to see how you were clenching around nothing. Clenching and reaching for him. 

He leaned down and kissed your clit. He retreated too quickly for your blood and you whined, pushing your hips back towards his face. 

“I’m still apologizing so I won’t make you beg this time,” he said. Without further ado, he dragged his pink, juicy lips through your folds, hunting for your clit. His tongue darted out and teased, dragging the tip through your folds. His tongue was warm as it flattened against your clit and he licked.

“Fuck!” You screamed out. 

Terry smiled between your legs before getting down to business. He suckled and licked and nibbled while he feasted on your pussy. Your pussy throbbed and ached while he slurped up your essence noisily. 

“Fuck, baby. Right there,” you moaned.

Terry locked in to the spot and swirled his tongue around in tight circles. You clutched to the covers, nails digging in for dear life as you twisted and jerked. You reached down to grab onto the back of his head and push his head deeper. 

Terry placed his hands to your thighs and pinned them to the bed while he ate you out, never stopping for breath. He just ate like a man possessed until you were twitching and crying out on his tongue, reaching your climax in record time.

Terry continued to eat you out through it, whispering into your pussy how perfect and sexy you were. How much he had to make up for. Your throat was scratched raw from all the moaning you were doing, too spent to respond. To tell him that he didn’t have a damn thing to make up for. His pain was valid and he had a right to see it through, but he had to see it through. Not just disappear into his head.

None of that came through. Your vision swam as you looked at the popcorn ceiling, too blissed out to form a coherent sentence. Terry replaced the view of the ceiling, leaning down on his fists, as he smirked at you.

“Still with me?” He asked.

“Always,” you sighed. 

He chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. It dipped beneath his weight, jostling you a bit. His knees pushed your legs on top of his thighs. His eyes sparkled as he slipped into you, meeting no resistance from your pussy.

“Shit,” you grunted. You pushed feebly at his chest. Not necessarily to make him stop, but fuck, you needed time to recover. Time to catch your breath. He stole the motherfucker, the least he could do was let you gain it back.

“Nothing feels better than this,” he said. He sank deeper into you, making you curl into him and squeeze his hips with your legs. He grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head, poking your chest out for his lips to capture your nipples.

He suckled on them, going back and forth between the two, while he fucked into you lazily. Unhurried. Like he managed to pause time long enough to focus on delivering you pleasure. His eyes found yours and he smiled, his dazzling grin turning you stupid and pliant.

He groaned as he felt your body relax and he dug into you, harder, deeper, faster. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” you moaned.

“Cum with me, baby,” he said.

You whined and focused on cumming with him like he said. You could feel him throbbing inside you, close, oh so close. You panted, sweating, legs trembling, back bowing. He leaned to one side so that he could slip his free hand between your legs to play with your clit.

Your moans increased to a near panic as your orgasm came running at his beck and call. You cried out and your squeezing pussy milked him. He moaned and dropped his head as he spilled into you over and over, his body trembling from the force. 

He kissed your cheek but you otherwise laid there and enjoyed the feeling of him crushing you to the bed. Who needed oxygen anyway?

Your stomach rumbled, breaking the beautiful silence after such a powerful moment. You both laughed as it rumbled again. Terry released your hands and you covered your tummy. He pushed your hands away with his chin and then kissed your belly. 

“We’re gonna need another shower and then I need to feed my wife,” he said.

“Feed your wife or feed your wife?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows. You were spent and tired but you could find another round in you for him. Always for him. 

“Both, nasty ass,” he said. He stood up and then pulled you with him to stand as well. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss and promised over and over with both his tongue and his actions that he would become a man worthy of your love. 

The end.

I love you all. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[angelfic]

theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

[amxritt]

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

[shockercoco]

Shambles

Feyd Rautha x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, knife kink, blood kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving, squirting, penetration

Word count - 2783

a/n - request: "Hi! Your fic Bloodlust (feyd) has me in SHAMBLES. 🥵😂 I’m so in love with it!!!!" - read the rest of the request here @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascalI . I got this request about 4 months ago, but I've just been so distracted with college that, as you can see, I've taken forever to get to it. I do want to be more active on tumblr, but I'm also writing a feature length screenplay on the side. As always, tysm for the love while I've been gone and your patience, and I hope you guys enjoy :)

“Which one do you suggest, my darling?” Feyd asks you, his bare back to you.

You look over at Feyd from your place on the bed, who stands in front of his walls of weapons. His fingers ghost over a few before glancing back at you, waiting for an answer. His injury from his fight is no longer leaking on his arm, but your red handprints are still very much visible on his body.

You know he means to use one of the weapons on you, but hearing him say those words out loud made your throat dry and heat drip from your opening. You feel your walls clench around nothing at what’s to come. “For what?” you innocently ask.

Feyd doesn’t take his eyes off of the wall when he answers, “You know exactly what I mean.”

You hate the fact that this situation is turning you on, when it should be doing the exact opposite. Turning on your side, you point towards a weapon. “How about that one right there?”

Feyd turns his head to look at you, and then follows to where your finger is pointing – the smallest knife on the wall. It honestly looks kind of pathetic next to the others. He smirks to himself already knowing you would choose something like that. “Are you sure? That one’s kind of tiny, don’t you think something more commanding would be more fitting for a woman such as yourself?”

“Big things come in small packages,” you tell him, giving him a small shrug.

You know Feyd’s extremely skilled with almost any weapon in existence, and you trust him enough to know that he wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, but that still doesn’t stop the fact that he’ll be putting an actual blade to your skin.

Feyd’s eyes linger on you for a second, before breathing out a small laugh and removing the tiny knife from its place on the wall. The knife is barely longer than the distance from his wrist to the tips of his fingers, but it’s still sharp and intimidating. He rotates it in his hand, watching in excitement the light catch it, before turning away from the wall.

You feel your heartbeat speed up as Feyd walks towards the bed, his strides slow on purpose as he continues to rotate the knife in his hand. Your gown is gone, but your body still feels hot. He stops right in front of the bed and looks down at you, his smirk never faltering.

Feyd lets out a small hum as his eyes travel up and down your bare body, your soaked panties being the only thing giving you some sort of coverage as they cling to your opening. You would be lying if everything pooling in your panties was from your previous orgasm. 

You shift a little as he stares at you, starting to feel uncomfortable. His smirk widens as he notices your movement. He knows how much you hate his intense gaze – that is when it’s on you. You enjoy watching Feyd stare down his opponent in the arena.

“Should I clean myself up for the lady before we get started?” Feyd questions, referring to the blood stains on his bare torso.

“No,” you don’t hesitate, but watching Feyd’s expression makes you regret how eager you just sounded.

Feyd’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Well, look at you. You’re changing, my love, and I’m enjoying every second.”

“You’re a bad influence,” you tell him, to which he nods in agreement.

He only admires you for a moment longer before sinking to his knees in front of the bed. You let out a small squeal as he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you towards his face, your legs now dangling off of the edge of the bed. You push yourself up onto your elbows to keep him in view.

Feyd’s smirk seems to turn sinister as he’s now face to face with your covered cunt, his eyes mimic the shade they turn when he’s in the arena. You begin to feel like his prey. Feyd’s mouth waters at the fact that your wetness has made your panties almost transparent, allowing him to see the outline of you and your sweetness pooling at your entrance.

A gasp leaves your lips as Feyd lays the flat side of the blade on the skin of your leg, gently tracing up to your thigh and then to the edge of your panties. Goosebumps form on your skin at the feeling of the cold metal floating across you.

You watch as Feyd carefully places the blade over you through your panties, making your body slightly jump as you feel everything through the thin fabric. Your body feels as if it’s buzzing, and Feyd’s just getting started.

Feyd tears his eyes away from between your legs to look you in the eyes, giving you a questioning look as he looks for any sign of you wanting him to stop. When Feyd doesn’t see anything, he continues his movements.

Given the extreme sharpness of the tiny weapon, it only takes a small press for your panties to begin tearing. Once the fabric has been rendered useless, Feyd tosses it aside and moves his face closer to your cunt, enjoying the way your hole winks at him.

His eyes close as he breathes in your scent, a pleased sound leaving him as he smirks. Your hips jerk as he places a thumb on your clit and begins to rub tiny circles into you, before running his thumb up and down your slit. Your eyes close and your head tips back at the feeling.

“Looks like I already prepped you well,” Feyd says, mainly to himself as he watches his thumb move along your folds with satisfaction. A clicking sound forms from your wetness being spread around.

He quickly dips the tip of his thumb into your opening before pulling it back out and going back up to give attention to your clit. A small whimper leaves your lips as your back hits the bed, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up. Your limbs already feel weak.

You suddenly feel something stiffer and harder touch your clit. You glance down to see Feyd rubbing the tip of the knife’s handle into you. Your mouth falls open as your hips subconsciously begin to move. 

Feyd then slides the handle of the knife through your folds, spreading your lubricant around the handle. He clenches his jaw as he feels himself grow hard from the sight before him and the sounds of your pants growing louder in his ears.

Once the handle seems to be coated enough, he dips it further down for it to prod at your entrance. Your hands grip the bed sheets in anticipation at what’s to come, nerves flooding your stomach as your heart continues its fast pace.

“Just do it al-,” you begin to say, but cut yourself as you feel Feyd apply more pressure and push the handle into your welcoming opening. A gasp leaves your lips at the off yet enjoyable feeling of the ridges along the handle rubbing along your inner walls. Your head falls back against the bed as Feyd pushes and pulls. 

The grasp Feyd has on the actual blade is not too tight, but the blade’s edges are still digging into his palm. Feyd lips part as he watches the handle repeatedly disappear inside of you, the corners of his mouth twitching. He quickly swallows when he feels his mouth start to water in hopes to keep himself under control.

“You’re such a pleasant sight, my love,” Feyd muses. “I could look at you all day.”

But when he says this, he never takes his eyes away from you dripping opening. The grip you have on the sheets tightens as you moan at his words

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your eyes rolling towards the back of your skull.

The sound of your slick grows louder the longer Feyd continues his motions – this just turns you on more. You can feel yourself dripping onto the fabric underneath your body. Your back arches as your hips move with Feyd’s hand. Everything is so lewd and unlike anything you’ve ever done.

“Feyd-,” you breathe out, accidentally cutting yourself off with a whimper. Your body is trembling and you can already feel yourself approaching the end.

“I know, I know,” Feyd coos, finally looking up at your blissed out expression. He smirks at the way the back of your head digs into the sheets, your eyes squeezed closed with pretty noise repeatedly leaving your lips. Feyd notices your squirming becoming more evident and does everything he knows to bring you to the edge.

He suddenly pulls the handle out of your cunt and tosses it aside on the bed, your walls desperately clamping around nothing at the sudden loss. Your eyes open in confusion as you tilt your head down at him. He doesn’t give you a chance to question him before he’s shoving two long fingers inside of you.

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes!” you cry as Feyd curls his fingers along your sweet spot.

Feyd places his unoccupied hand on your stomach to pin your body to your bed and to give himself more leverage to roughly finger you.

“Come on,” Feyd grunts to himself.

It doesn’t take much longer for your climax to arrive, causing every inch of your body to feel tight and loose at the same time. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as your eyes widen and roll back.

“Fuck!” you pathetically sob out. The wet squelches of your cunt grow louder as Feyd’s fingers contine.

Your arousal comes out in spurts around his fingers – some landing along his palm and forearm while the rest pools onto the soaked sheets. Feyd tries to prolong your squirting as long as possible, his smirk never faltering as he uses more force to hold your body down. The crazed look on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you hate the warm feeling beginning to form again in your stomach.

You squeal as you blindly bring a hand between your legs, your thighs closing around his hand. This has no effect on Feyd at all. You choke and pant as you use your shaky hands to try and crawl away from the tortuous pleasure. A deep chuckle leaves Feyd’s chest as he allows you to pull away and watches as you push yourself back to the headboard.

Your chest heaves as you stare at the ceiling to help you collect yourself. This, though, causes you to miss the wonderful view of Feyd removing your juices from his fingers with his mouth. He groans as his lips surround his fingers and his tongue savors your flavor. Your sweet taste doesn’t help the thick bulge growing in his underwear, but Feyd finds the pain pleasurable.

“What a mess you’ve made,” Feyd muses.

The thin layer of sweat covering your body contributes nothing to how deliciously filthy you feel. A constant buzz is running through your limbs and your head feels light. Your eyes catch the sight of the abandoned knife a couple inches from your body – the wetness coating the handle can be easily seen.

You’re brought out of your little daze with the feeling of large hands wrapping around your ankles. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already? You would think I’ve trained you better than that with the many nights we’ve shared,” Feyd’s tone is condescending as he talks, his expression smug.

Nothing comes to your mind that seems worth it to say, so you just stay silent and continue to try and catch your breath.

“Come on, my sweet, I know you have more in you,” Feyd purrs as he pulls you back down to the end of the bed.

Just as your heart rate was about to return back to normal, you feel it pick back up again at the meaning behind his words. Your legs feel limp, so it’s easy for Feyd to spread them apart and place his face between them, his eyes never leaving yours.

His warm breath tickles your sensitive opening, causing goosebumps to appear across your skin as you tremble in his hold. Feyd moves his attention to your messy folds, which take up his field of view in such a perfect way. He blows a puff of air onto your cunt and watches as your body jumps and your walls clench around nothing as your arousal continues to seep out.

You can help but let out a soft moan at the feeling.

Feyd sticks his tongue out to give you a small kitten lick before slipping his tongue back into his mouth. Your thighs go to close again, but Feyd keeps them apart with his hands. He tosses your legs over his shoulders to make sure your precious cunt is as close as possible to his face.

“Feyd, baby,” you softly whimper out as you look down at him.

“Will you let me have a taste? A powerful woman such as yourself deserves to be cleaned up,” Feyd teases as his eyes meet yours again, “Don’t you think?”

You let out a small whimper as Feyd begins to place light kisses on your trembling inner thighs. He doesn’t break eye contact as he waits for your answer.

“What do you say?” he questions, hovering his mouth over your drooling cunt.

“Yes, just do it,” you weakly breathe out.

Feyd barely lets you finish your sentence as he dives into your opening, swiping and licking up every bit of your arousal he can find. He begins to thrust his tongue in and out of your opening, making you whine. Despite your sensitivity, you buck your hips into his face, giving Feyd deeper access to you as he holds you tight against him.

Feyd groans against your folds, sending the vibrations through every nerve ending in your body. You choke on a moan as a gasp leaves your lips and your back begins to arch again. Feyd slips his tongue out to place it on your clit, wrapping his lips around your swollen bud and gently sucking before sliding back into you.

It doesn’t take long for you to be brought to the edge of your next orgasm with the way he’s messily lapping at your folds. He feels your thighs begin to shake even more and doesn’t get deterred when he feels you tighten them around his head.

Your body begins to thrash in his hold, but Feyd only tightens his hold on your body as he continues to shove his tongue in and out of you. When you feel Feyd move a hand and place his thumb on your clit, you immediately fall apart – repeatedly bucking your hips into his face as your hands scramble along the sheets to try and find something to grab ahold of.

Only when Feyd finally pulls his lips away from you is when your body relaxes in his grip. Feyd hums as he licks your juices from his lips, closing his eyes to savor the taste. You don’t get much time to calm down before Feyd is removing the rest of his clothing, situating his hips between your thighs, and letting his aching cock rest against your abdomen. 

You feel yourself throb as you look down at his length on your abdomen, watching it twitch and the precum slowly leak from the tip.

“I hope you’re ready for another, darling. After all, I still haven’t had my release,” Feyd sends a fake pout your way. You want to roll your eyes at him, but you barely have energy left. 

“Baby…I can’t,” you whine, and Feyd just shakes his head.

Feyd places a gentle hand against your cheek as places his forearms on either side of your head, trapping you with his arms. He moves his lips towards your ear to whisper, “You can, and you will. I believe in you.”

Your inner walls clench around nothing at his tone and the feeling of his warm breath tickling your neck. Feyd doesn’t give you a chance to say another word before lining himself up with your entrance, meeting no resistance from your soaked and welcoming opening.

The both of you share a moan as he pushes all the way in. Feyd leans his head onto your shoulder, needing a second to get control himself as he feels your tight, warm walls sucking him in. You can’t see the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull and his jaw clenches, before his hips begin to move against yours.

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[mxymii]

ERROR

pairing | android!jjk x humanfem!reader

warning | 18+, smut, possessive/obsessive behavior, p in v, naive reader, dom!jjk, sub!reader, unprotected sex, etc.

summary | when your android bot hates having people steal your attention from him…

a/n | hello guysss!!! so glad that you all loved my previous posts! i appreciate so much and now with this one i have decided to steer away from squid games a bit and get into k-pop starting with the man himself, jungkook. i hope you all enjoy and pls feel free to leave any feedback ! (i have the warnings up for you all to read, i am not your parent and will not tell you what you should or should not read :))

hard eyes stared back at you as you tried to continue your conversation with a fellow friend of yours. having a bot in your house was something you didn’t think was going to bring you so much trouble, but there he stood with a hard glare at the man besides you.

you could tell that your friend was getting uncomfortable with the stares jungkook was giving him, which had you stand up and drag him to a more secure spot. “jungkook stop it. why are you staring at him like that?” you told him softly, being careful to not let your guest hear your conversation.

“get him out before i do it myself.” he said harshly as his eyes glowed blue, a sign of anger coursing through his wires.

“jungkook i can’t just kick him out, we are simply just catching up. i would prefer if you will excuse yourself for a minute, go charge up or something…” you tell him as your hands slide down from your face, frustration building up. this wasn’t something knew. he always acted out whenever someone was either too close or invaded your house, he hated having people over.

his hand quickly grips your face, his finger firm enough to apply pressure but not too harsh to harm your face. “do it y/n, i’m not asking you again.” seeing this new side of jungkook scared you, he had become more possessive over you but you just brushed it off as him being protective. that’s what the manual had said.

he quickly pushes you back into the room where your guest stood, you didn’t want it to end like this but you quickly apologize and ask them to leave, letting them know you would catch up later on. as you try to say your goodbyes, jungkook is quick to shut the door close and lock it, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“you don’t listen, do you?”

“kook..what are you talking about?” you try to talk to him with his sweet nickname that he loved but it didn’t work at all. although he was a android, his humanly features were very prominent. if you had seen him in the street you wouldn’t even know he was a android.

“i don’t want people coming here anymore. it’s only going to be me and you, that’s it.” he said firmly as he made his way towards you slowly.

“you can’t make that decision, it’s my house jungkook, plus you’re my bot and you do as i say…” your breath hitches up as his hand grips your throat tightly. “well baby..the rules have changed.”

your eyes widen at the fact his demeanor changed overtime, jungkook was never like this but being so naive and trying to justify his actions you failed to realize how crazy he has gone. “what? can’t talk now?” he states as his lips graze the side of your face, his finger marks being visible by how firmed he had gripped it earlier.

“no one is allowed near you..you stay here with me y/n.” he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck, sucking and teething to leave marks all over your skin. “jungkook…” you whine as you try to push your head away, although your mind tells you this is wrong your body betrays you, asking for more.

“i bet he wasn’t able to have you like this huh?” he locks his gaze with you for a minute before smashing his lips onto yours, nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip to give him access to his tongue. “kook…”

he picks you up just to drop you on the couch, his hand fumbling with your pants as he quickly takes your garments off as well. his knee meets with your cunt as he has you grinding on him. “you’re mine to kiss, to love on, to look at…” he says against your ear as his grips your waist, helping you grind on him faster. “fuck jungkook..”

“if i see anyone in here other than myself, ill kill them y/n. is that what you want?” he trails his hand down to your clit, massaging your clit in circles. the way he was talking to you was just making you turned on even more. your head pushed back against the cushion as you feel his finger plunge into you at a fast pace, not even letting you adjust for a bit. “fuck!”

“look at you…so fucking wet for me..” he whispers softly as he leaves wet kiss against your body, trailing down towards your wet pussy. his tongue darts down to your clit, as he sucks on it harshly, his finger picking up the pace even more. the room is filled with screams of pleasure and wet noises coming of your pussy but you could care less, the amount of pleasure he was giving you was all new to you.

“fuck jungkook! please don’t stop!” you screamed as your fingers gripped his hair tightly, your legs furiously shaking as you were close to your high. “gonna cum baby?” he says softly against your clit for a second as he continues back to sucking your clit and pussy lips clean.

“ngh jungkook!” you screamed as your body shook from the intense orgasm he had given you, he quickly sucks your cum up but lasting a bit longer which as your legs shaking a bit from the overstimulation.

he quickly takes his pants off, his cock hard and oozing out with precum. he bumps his cock at the sight of your tired body from the orgasm you just had but that only stimulates him more, he wasn’t done you just yet. he tease his tip against your entrance. soft grunts and groans leave past his lips. “no one can fuck you except for me baby..you’re mine.” with that he thrusts into you, hard.

leaving no room for adjustment, he is quick to set a pace, his hands digging onto your skin knowing that’ll leave a mark the next day but you couldn’t even protest as your eyes rolled back and your mouth was left agape.

“so fucking tight baby..” he moaned as he tilted his head back, sweat trickled down from his forehead. he could easily cum right there by how your walls clenched onto his cock but he held himself back, wanting to have you cum before him.

“fuck! jungkook!” your nails clawed against back, your head tilted back and your hair sticking onto your forehead. he grunts at your moans and the way his name left your lips, his guided his hand back onto your clit as he touches it vehemently. his other hand quickly grabs onto your legs as he lifts it up high, the new position giving him more access to feel deeper into you. he didn’t think he could hold back any longer as his grunts turned into loud moans, chanting praise against your ears.

“cum with me baby..” he moans softly as the both of you shook and came unraveling. “shit! fuck y/n..” he moan softly, his thrust slowing down as his cum filled you up full.

“this’ll teach you something now.”

a/n | helppp that was it !!!! hope you all enjoyed!!!

mxymii out!

[admirationandromantics]

Best Friend's Brother

This request is literally 10 days old, which, to some, might not seem as a long time. For me however, it is. I'm sorry, but as I've described, I'm just trying to balance writing and school right now, so I'll be writing a little less than before.

Word count: 1,6k (unedited)

could u write a best friend older brother trope josh x reader. luv you works btww xx -anon

I knock on the door, waiting for Beth to open up. We’d planned a movie night while her parents were gone, and Hannah was at Sam’s. Josh was still home, but she told me he wouldn’t be a bother, and would probably stay in his room the whole night. 

I have met him many times before, and would even call us friends. Though at the same time, I often wonder if he looks at me like another baby sister, despite only being one year apart. He often gives me a hard time, teasing me and joking around, but most times, I don’t mind. I usually also hope that he never means anything with his small occasional comments, because nothing will happen either way. My best friend’s brother? That would be a problem just waiting to happen. 

Josh and I have been drunk together, partied together and been on get togethers together, though I’m not familiar with everyone in their group yet. 

I stand outside, my patience running low in the cold weather, wishing I brought a scarf. I hear footsteps coming from inside. Finally. The door unlocks, and a broad, tan Josh in a thin rolled up sweater and some sweatpants stands there, arm against the doorframe. He gives a small smile, looking me over. 

“Well, look who decided to come while the parents are out” he coos, a small whistling sound coming out of his lips. 

“Well, hello Joshua, care to let me in?” 

He smiles, contemplating whether to make this difficult or not. I look around, sighing and waiting for an answer, thinking about shouting Beth’s name and telling her that her brother is being a prick. Luckily, he opens the door further, making space for me to walk inside. “Thank you” I say, trying to hide my smile a bit. I’ve been here many times before, so I immediately know where to hang my coat and leave everything else. Josh keeps standing there, watching me. 

“Beth is out, said something about getting snacks for your movie night” He explains, and I nod. The store is not far from here, so she will probably be back soon. 

“Well then, do you know which movie she’s got planned?”

“Of course I do, I’m the one who helps pick them out”

I give him a curious and sceptical look, not having heard this before. He keeps his gaze locked on my gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

“Have you?” 

“Every time” 

My mouth opens a little. Beth is always talking about her great taste in movies, never having mentioned this before. 

“No, are you serious? Beth has never given you any credit”

“Little sisters… what do you expect?” 

I hum, not knowing how to respond to that. I walk inside, him following closely as I sit myself by the kitchen counter. 

“So, what movie have you chosen then?” I ask, looking up at him again. Instead of sitting, he just leans against the counter with one arm, body turned my way. I can’t help my gaze, looking over his revealed forearms. 

“Something a bit different than usual…” he smirks, eyes following my gaze down to his arms. I break free, leaning forward a bit. 

“Okay, what movie?” 

“A scary one” 

“No”

“Oh yes” 

I whine, leaning back again. I hate scary movies, I hate jumpscares and gore. Why can’t people just like normal, funny, cozy stuff? 

“Josh, are you serious?”

“And there we go, you’re starting to use my nickname” 

“Joshua! Are you serious?”

“Well, that lasted for long”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. This is not how I want to spend my night, and considering that the walk home will be dark and scary, this movie will definitely fuel my fears. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s a good movie, maybe you just haven’t seen a good scary movie yet, this one might change your mind about the whole genre” He smiles, a hand going to my arm. I can't help the small blush coming from the touch, his fingers warm and comforting. I don’t want to do this, but I really can’t object when Beth is the one getting everything ready, and I just need to show up and have a good time. Or pretend I’m having a good time. 

The door opens, and his hand is immediately removed as Beth comes in, a big bag in her hands. She doesn’t notice me at first. 

“Beth!” I exclaim, and she lifts her head, nose a little red from the cold outside. 

“Hey, oh sorry, I didn’t have time to go earlier today” 

“That’s completely fine, here, let me take it” I state, walking over and taking the bag from her hands as she starts undressing. 

“My brother didn’t bother you?” 

I look over at him, and he just gives a small laugh, shaking his head and putting his hands up defensively. 

“No, he was fine” 

“Good, now, let's go” She smiles, leading me away from him, into their living room. She finds a couple of bowls, letting me distribute the snack in them as she works on getting the movie going. 

“Okay, so I know you’re not a scary movie-person, but I know this one is really good, so please, keep an open mind” 

I laugh a little, thinking back on the fact that Josh is the one who actually picked this out. 

“I’ll keep an open mind then” 

“Great” 

The movie starts, and we both sit down, a blanket over us as the lights dim. At first, the movie seems fine, the occasional jump scare, which scares me much more than it does Beth. Still, I keep watching, body tense and uncomfortable, but I can’t take my eyes off it. We’re in the middle when someone gets violently cut up, and the camera doesn’t bother to show us anything else than the blood and flesh flying everywhere, the gore not stopping. I take a breath, pulling my eyes from the screen and standing up. 

“I just need to use the bathroom”

“Gonna puke?”

I laugh a little, the tension in my shoulders easing as she talks. 

“No, but if there’s no important information in this sequence, please feel free to skip it, I'll be quick” I say, already making my way to the yellow-lighted hallway. It's light, in contrast to the room I was just in, and that makes me ease up a little more. Gosh, if this was to keep going, I wouldn’t dare walking home tonight. 

Suddenly, I hear a click, and the light goes away, leaving me in the dark hallway. I stop, looking around, unsure about what just happened. Another breath escapes my lips, reminding me that I can’t keep holding my breath everytime something startling happens. The hallway looks empty both ways, so I continue further, crossing my fingers that the light in the bathroom at least works. 

Before I can react, a couple of strong arms grab me from behind, caging me. I’m about to yell out, but as if anticipating it, the hand goes over my mouth, muffling my screams. I’m slammed into the wall, not too hard, luckily, but I close my eyes before the impact arrives. As I open them again, a smiling Josh is standing in front of me, biting his lips to hold in his laugh. My heart is still beating fast, breaths coming in and out in a rapid manner. I grab his hand roughly, dragging it off my mouth. 

“Joshua Washington! Are you fucking insane??” 

He bursts out laughing, arms against the wall beside me, holding himself up as he leans over. I shake my head, mouth still a little open in shock, whilst he can’t stop laughing. 

“Maybe, but you should’ve seen your face!” He chuckles, one of his hands going to his stomach to compose himself. It’s probably hurting right now from all the laughter. 

“Joshua! What the hell is wrong with you!?” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, just a little prank on my part” He smiles, finally calming down. 

“I have been watching a fucking horror movie, and you pull this shit?”

He bites his lip again, tilting his head a bit to examine me. 

“Oh, come on now, you’re totally thinking it’s funny” 

“No, I’m not” 

“Or you’re into it or something…”

“Wait, what, no I’m not, what kind of sick-”

Before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on me. I feel his breath, his body close, soft lips moving ove mine. My heart is still beating rapidly, but oddly enough, it calms with the way he’s touching me. Tender and carefully, not like himself at all. His hand goes to my waist, body pressing mine into the wall, opening his mouth a little. I hear a little groan leaving his throat. He pulls away, faces close as his eyes go over me, looking up and down. I almost think he looks a little vulnerable, but his signature smirk finds its way to his lips again. 

“Well then, calmer now?” 

I look at him, confused, conflicted. I scoff, shaking my head a bit. 

“No, I think I need a little more help” I state, hand going to the back of his neck, pulling him into me again. Capturing his lips on mine, already opening my mouth. He does the same, one hand on my hips, pulling me into him. 

“Hey, finished in the bathroom soon? I’ve paused the movie, the gore is over!” Beth shouts from the living room. We both pull away from each other and look over to the living room, luckily not seeing her there. I look back at him, seeing his chest heaving, hot breaths coming from his mouth. He turns, looking into my eyes. 

“Guess we better finish calming you down later” He smiles, pushing himself off me and the wall, walking back to his room. 

Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

[darlingdaisyfarm]

i think it’s Stan’s time to shine (he deserves more love and i’m here to fix that)

[sky-scribbles]

Party banter with Rook!Blackwall

(but it's just the part where he falls in love)

—

Thom: I have to say, Emmrich, you’re not what I expected. Thought necromancers would be all about commanding corpse armies and the like.

Emmrich: (sighs) Whatever depictions of our practice gave you such impressions, I assure you they are inaccurate.

Thom: So there aren’t corpse armies?

Emmrich: The Mortalitasi have not the least interest in conquest. We comfort the bereaved. We speak with our beloved dead, passing on their final messages, ensuring any last requests are met. We soothe the frightened spirit and calm the watchful.

Emmrich: Love is our business, Warden Rainier. How could we possibly be uncaring?

Thom: … Right. Well, that’s me put in my place.

—

Thom: Sorry about what I said earlier. Should’ve known better than to run my mouth about something I don’t know a thing about.

Emmrich: I appreciate that, master Warden. And I apologise if I was oversensitive. I think I was unprepared for how many… opinions everyone outside Nevarra would have about my art.

Thom: Well, I’ll keep mine to myself from now on.

Emmrich: Oh, you needn’t. I would much rather you be honest than continue to carry unspoken doubts that I cannot put to rest.

—

Thom: You said I could talk to you about the whole death ma – necromancy. Thing.

Emmrich: I’m entirely at your service. I hope I can set your mind at ease, even a little.

Thom: Look – there’s no question your heart’s in the right place. I don’t doubt your intentions. But all those skeletons walking... all those corpses speaking…. It’s not natural.

Emmrich: Magic is a part of our world, master Warden. A smith forged your sword into metal, giving raw metals a shape. Likewise, necromancers merely take a form of magic present around us, and give it shape.

Thom: But it’s not right. Moving a body around. Waking up bits of their memories. The dead should stay at peace.

Emmrich: I promise, every soul laid to rest in the Necropolis does so with the express hope that a spirit might inhabit their remains someday. The few who request to remain untouched… well, we simply don’t put hinges on their sarcophagi.

Thom: But how can anyone be at peace with that? How do they know it’s going to be a good spirit who finds their body? What if… because of who they are, they draw something… twisted? Wrong?

—

Emmrich: I know you find necromancy unsettling, master Rainier, but I hope our visit to the Memorial Gardens was able to provide you a deeper understanding of it.

Thom: It made some things make sense, certainly. I wasn’t expecting a necropolis to feel comforting. Suppose I’ve always thought of the dead as distant and haunting. Cold.

Emmrich: Whyever would they be? The dead are still people, as full of feeling and as fond of connection as ourselves. And what are the people we mourn, but repositories of our boundless love?

Thom: And what if the dead have reason to hate you?

Emmrich: Ah. Master Rainier… do you have someone to fear among the dead?

Thom: … Find me later. I’ll give you the full sorry story. And drinks for both of us.

—

Emmrich: If I may… I wanted to express my thanks for trusting me with your story.

Thom: I should be thanking you. For not turning your back on me.

Emmrich: Perish the thought! You’ve shown me no reason to look at you with anyone other than the deepest respect.

Thom: Well, now you know why I wouldn’t expect the dead to have any good feelings toward me. Callier and his family… they’d never love me. They shouldn’t. If anything of them’s out there, they deserve to not think about me at all.

Emmrich: But you love them. You have let them change you. Their memories guide your decisions. In every innocent you protect, every moment of compassion, you honour them.

—

Thom: What you said, about me honouring Callier’s family. Feels like a twisted legacy, to live on through your murderer. I doubt they’d find much comfort in it.

Emmrich: Perhaps not. But what of your comfort?

Thom: It’s not about me.

Emmrich: I beg to differ. That poor family is gone; you are alive. The living deserve peace as much as the dead.

Emmrich: If you ever wished… I could perform a memorial ritual. Some candles lit, a few prayers uttered. A simple tribute to them.

Thom: It wouldn’t help them.

Emmrich: My dear Thom, mourning rituals are not really about those lost to us. A memorial would not help them, no – but it may help you.

Thom: … I might need a stiff drink afterward.

—

Harding: You seem different, lately.

Thom: Different? Different how?

Harding: I don’t know. You’re talking a bit more. Smiling. Like someone took a weight off you.

Thom: I suppose going to the Memorial Gardens helped. All these years, pretending to be a Warden, then actually being one… I’ve been trying to make up for what I did. Even if it never feels like enough.

Thom: I suppose I never took a moment to think about… doing something for me. To help me live with it. Not ‘til Emmrich suggested it.

Harding: Hard to be kind to yourself ‘til someone else shows you some kindness, huh?

Thom: (chuckles) Well. Guess it’s a good thing for me that he’s not in short supply of that.

Harding: Look… maybe if there’s anything of that family out there, they do hate you. But I don’t think you need to hate you anymore.

—

Thom: Neve, you know you said you were going to check in on Dock Town? Could you take a note to Dorian for me?

Neve: Sure. But you could just come talk to him yourself. He’d actually be glad to see you.

Thom: And that’s how I know the world’s ending. (sighs) Look, it’s just… it’s one of those talks that’s easier to do by paper.

Neve: Hm. You’re nervous. Everything all right?

Thom: I think so. I just think… I need to ask his advice on… something personal.

Neve: If it’s that personal, isn’t it better you do it face-to-face?

Thom: Probably. And it’ll be fucking awkward.

—

Emmrich: Do you mind if I ask – are you still unsettled by necromancy? I hate the thought that I might be making you uncomfortable.

Thom: I think I’m getting used to it. When I heard about your mages, I thought it was some… obsession with death. Disturbing bodies that should be at peace.

Thom: But it’s not about that, isn’t it? You’re talking to your dead, all the time. Letting them help you. Care for you.

Emmrich: Exactly so! We maintain a dialogue with the dead, and in doing so, try to find peace with death itself. (sighs) Even if some of us still struggle with a certain cowardice.

Thom: You’re no coward. Cowards run from what they fear. I know; I was one. You look it in the face, work with it, even when it frightens you.

Emmrich: I… thank you. (clears throat) So are content with my art, then?

Thom: I think it’s admirable.

—

Thom: Lace, those flowers in your room. Are they real plants, or…. Fade plants?

Harding: They’re Fade plants! But Emmrich says they’re sort of… becoming real? Because I believe in them, or something.

Thom: So if you picked them, they wouldn’t, I don’t know… disappear, or something?

Harding: Haven’t so far! Why? Wait, are you giving someone flowers? ‘Cause I bet Emmrich could tell you which ones have meaning. You should ask him!

Thom: No, I’ll just… get some that look… nice.

Harding: Why not? He’ll be happy to talk about it, he loves flowers – oh!

—

Davrin: So, Rainier. Emmrich came by to ask if I knew who left flowers on his desk. I told him he should keep asking around.

Thom: You – what? No! Davrin – stay out of it!

Davrin: What’s the point of getting a guy flowers if he never knows? Can you face an ogre but not an old necromancer?

Thom: Look, it’s… it’s easy for all of you. You already know who you are, and what you like, and I… didn’t think I… (groans) Never mind.

Davrin: Oh. I see.

—

Taash: So, you talk with Dorian?

Thom: I did. It’s up there with most awkward experiences of my life.

Taash: So what’d he say? Did he help you figure shit out?

Thom: Well… I asked him how you know if you like men, and he asked me some questions about what was going on, and I told him. And then I said, ‘Doesn’t every man look at other men like that sometimes?’

Taash: And?

Thom: And he laughed at me for ten seconds straight, then said, ‘Oh, big man, no.’

—

Bellara: So, um… I know this is kind of nosy, but... what made you realise? About the professor, I mean?

Thom: No keeping secrets in this fucking Fade house, is there?

Bellara: I… sort of guessed a little while ago. You kept being protective of him in fights. I mean, even more than you usually are with everyone else. And you were helping him climb up things, and giving him little looks, and asking about what he liked…

Bellara: And I… maybe also saw you sneaking into his room with a load of flowers.

Thom: (sighs) I… look, he’s a gentleman. Treats everyone with respect and kindness, even when they’re dead. I like listening to how he talks. And… watching how he moves. He’s graceful.

Thom: Someone like that deserves to be courted. Honoured. Someone to make him feel as important as he makes everyone else feel. And I realised… I wanted to be the someone.

—

Taash: Hey. You know it’s okay to still be figuring yourself out, right?

Thom: (chuckles) When'd you get so wise?

Taash: I dunno. It's what Mae and Tarquin keep telling me.

Thom: Look, you’re young. It’s only to be expected that you’d be working this shit out at your age. But me… I’m getting toward sixty. Shouldn’t I have figured this all out by now?

Taash: That’s vashedan. You already proved it’s never too late to find out who you are.

—

Harding: You know, Thom, I’ve been thinking. Emmrich’s graceful, and good with words, and he’s kind to everyone. He even wears gold.

Thom: Uh… what’s your point?

Harding: The point is that I remember Josephine. You have a type, Warden Rainier.

—

Davrin: So, are you ready? Trimmed your beard? Found a shirt with no bloodstains? Had a bath for once?

Thom: Look, it’s just a visit to the Necropolis. For all I know, he just wants my help killing a demon of… mild disgruntlement or something.

Davrin: Hey, battle’s a good opportunity for this kind of thing. Just make sure after you kill it, you turn to him, wipe the blood from your mouth, and put our your hand to pull him up…

Thom: He’s the healer. You don’t think he might be the one helping me up?

Davrin: Good point. All right, after the fight’s done, you slump down, wincing bravely. Make eye contact as he treats your wounds.

Davrin: Better yet, take your shirt off so he can give you a proper look over. He’ll get in real close to do the healing magic. Play your cards right, and… well, there’s no one down there to see how far things go.

Thom: Keep on like that, and I’m going to put all my wood shavings in your bed.

Davrin: Sure, old man. I saw your eyes go all distant there.

—

Emmrich: Thom, my dear. Would I be right to assume that you were behind those flowers that kept appearing on my desk?

Thom: Sorry to keep you guessing. I was… figuring some things out.

Emmrich: Well, I did have my suspicions about who my secret admirer might be. I only hesitated to talk to you about it because I feared I might simply be… seeing what I wanted to see.

Thom: … Oh. Well, then.

—

Neve: So, Emmrich’s wearing a new bracelet, you’re bathing twice as often, and both of you keep smiling at nothing. Any chance that’s connected?

Thom: It… might be.

Neve: Good. You two fit well.

Thom: Glad you think so, 'cause I worry about that. A necromancer and a Warden? Sounds like the start of one of Sera’s jokes.

Neve: Well, let’s see. Emmrich reads romance novels in our book club as if he’s aching to have them become real for him. And you act like you’re ready to swear deathless devotion at the drop of a hat.

Thom: That a bad thing?

Neve: (laughs) No. I mean that neither of you do half-measures when it comes to feelings. Like I said: you fit.

—

Davrin: So, you and Emmrich took your time showing up to breakfast. Guess you showed him some swordplay last night? Or did he show you his favourite bone?

Thom: Davrin. Don't. Start.

Davrin: (chuckles) Seriously, though... glad you two are making it work. Not every Warden's brave enough to risk something, with the Calling hanging over them.

Thom: I've been a soldier and a Warden. That's a lot of death for one life. Being around him, it's... like taking a breath.

Davrin: Take your comfort where you find it, old man. Even Wardens deserve to get some. (pause) And to get some.

Thom: Maker help me, I will shove a chisel somewhere chisels where not meant to go.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Warmth and Care

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Noah takes care of reader while she‘s on her period

Words: 885

Warnings: Period and Cramps

A/N: Another version of this was requested but I felt like writing a second version just with Noah and Reader. But click here to read the other Version.

The soft glow of the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. Normally, you loved mornings like this—warm, serene, and quiet. But today was different. You lay curled up on your side, buried beneath a pile of blankets, clutching your stomach as a familiar, dull ache radiated from your abdomen. You groaned softly, shifting to try and find a position that didn’t make you want to cry.

You heard the faint rustling of movement outside the bedroom door, followed by the quiet click of it opening. “Babe?” Noah’s voice, warm and slightly raspy from sleep, reached you. You didn’t look up, too focused on managing the pain in your belly.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the tremor in your voice gave you away.

Noah crossed the room quickly, his bare feet silent on the carpet. He perched on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes filled with concern as they scanned your face. “What’s going on?” he asked softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Cramps,” you admitted weakly, closing your eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You look miserable,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “What can I do? Do you need medicine? A heating pad? Food?”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly at the sight of him. His hair was a mess of soft waves, his hoodie slightly rumpled, and his brow furrowed in concern. “I just need to rest,” you murmured. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to fuss over me.”

Noah didn’t move, his hand still gently stroking your hair. “Fussing is kind of my thing, you know,” he said with a small smile. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could protest, he was up and out of the room. You heard the faint sounds of him moving around in the kitchen—cabinet doors opening and closing, the clink of mugs, the hum of the microwave. Curiosity tugged at you, but the effort to move felt like too much.

A few minutes later, Noah returned, balancing a tray in his hands. “Room service,” he announced softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table.

“What’s all this?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Tea,” he said, handing you a steaming mug of chamomile. “I added honey because I think that’s supposed to help with cramps or something. And I brought you some toast in case you’re hungry.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you said, taking a careful sip of the tea.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. “If you’re hurting, I’m not just gonna sit here and do nothing.”

As you sipped your tea, Noah held up a heating pad he’d unearthed from the bathroom. “Want me to heat this up for you?”

“Yes, please,” you said gratefully.

While he handled the heating pad, he kept glancing back at you. “Do you want to watch something? I can set up Netflix. Or we could do one of those mindless true crime shows you like.”

You chuckled, touched by his willingness to cater to your every whim. “I’m good with whatever,” you said, your voice still soft but more relaxed now.

When he returned, the heating pad was warm and ready. Noah carefully tucked it under the blanket, adjusting it until it was snug against your stomach. “Better?” he asked, sitting beside you.

“Much better,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and grabbed the remote. “Okay, rom-com or murder mystery?”

“Rom-com,” you said with a grin. “But you hate those.”

“I’ll survive,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Besides, I’m here to make you feel better, not myself.”

The next hour passed in cozy bliss. Noah sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders, occasionally making sarcastic comments about the movie’s cheesy plotline. You laughed weakly at his remarks, grateful for the distraction from the lingering cramps.

At some point, Noah got up and returned with more snacks and a bottle of water. He handed them to you without a word, sitting back down and pulling you close again. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing soothing circles as the movie played on.

When the credits finally rolled, you turned to him, your heart full. “Thank you,” you murmured, looking up at him.

“For what?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“For taking care of me. For making me laugh. For being the best boyfriend ever,” you said, your voice warm with sincerity.

Noah smiled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Always,” he said softly. “You’d do the same for me.”

He stretched out beside you, pulling you into his arms so you were nestled against his chest. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body eased the tension that had been gripping you all morning. As his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, you felt the pain and discomfort melting away, replaced by the overwhelming comfort of being loved.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that no matter how bad the cramps got, you’d always have Noah to make it better.

Taglist: @courta13

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part seven//t.c.

Warnings:yearning, sexual tension, flirting undertones, kissing, cursing

The following week leading up to the Golden Globes, Timmy took every opportunity to get close to you.

You got a paper cut, resulting in the tiniest little cut on your hand, but he insisted on being your little nurse. “Come here let me see.” he said, taking your hand to the sink to run it under some cold water. He held your hand, pretending to examine the cut. You tried to hold in a giggle while this was happening. It was hard.

He even put a bandaid on your hand. “Timmy there’s not even any blood and the bandage will be in the way when I do things.” you laughed.

“I don’t care. I have to take care of you.” he asserted. Once he got the bandaid adhered to his liking, he pressed a kiss to the barely-there wound. “All better.” he grinned.

It seemed every other time he had to stand next to you, his hand nonchalantly found its way to rest on your lower back.

There was one time when he brushed your hair off of your shoulder, and let the pads of his fingers trickle along the side of your neck, slowly, giving you shivers.

“Timothée.” you warned in that moment, but you were weak in the attempt.

“I know.” he answered. There was melancholy in his voice. But he perked back up after a moment, saying, “Hey, I got you something to wear to the Globes.” He moved quickly to his coat closet nearby.

“Oh? That’s not necessary Timmy, I’m sure I have something.” you insisted, following him.

“Shhh.” he hushed you, grabbing a garment bag off the rod in the closet. He handed it over to you, that damn grin all over his face.

“Timmy, I-I’m just an assistant.” you reluctantly took the dress from him, “I don’t need anything special.”

“You are much more than just an assistant to me. Anyway, it’s nothing crazy, but I thought the color would nice on you. Try it on and show me.”

You winced, “Ugh, this is silly. I don’t need this kind of attention.”

“Go, bathroom, now.” he demanded.

You mumbled a protest on your way to the bathroom to change.

………

You were surprised that he knew your size. The dress fit really well. It was almost as if you picked it out yourself.

Timmy was right: the color did suit you, and the length wasn’t too short or anything.

“I told you to come back out so I can see it.” he called from the other room.

You sighed. This was not something you did;parade in front of a man. But it was Timmy, so maybe it would be okay. And anyway, he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer right now.

You exited the bathroom, feeling a little shy, being so dressed up in front him.

“Whoa.” he said, his eyes widened.

“Does it look bad? I think it’s kinda nice. I like the color and the flowers, and the sleeves.” you rambled a bit, thinking he hated the way you looked.

He cleared his throat, nodding, “Yeah, it looks perfect. You’re so beautiful.” He came over to you, looking at you up and down.

You blushed.

“Here,” he began, reaching behind your head, unclamping the claw clip that held all of your hair up, “you should wear your hair down. That will look best.”

You shook your head a bit, letting your hair loose on your shoulders. “Okay, whatever you say, boss.”

“Hm.” he grinned, “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

“Is it the dress? Maybe I should change back into my other clothes.” you joked.

Timmy shook his head, “No, no, it’s just you.” He put his hands on your hips, sliding them across your back.

Your bodies touched, your hands went to his chest.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You didn’t ask permission before.” you pointed out, referring to the night he came over to your place.

With that, his lips met yours in a brief, longing kiss. He pulled away after a moment, saying, “We should stop now, because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself if I kiss you again.”

………

The morning of the Globes came and he texted you first thing: ‘can u spend the day with me?’

‘I can if you need me to.’ you replied.

‘please🥺’

You showered, got ready and brought your dress inside of its garment bag, and your hair and makeup stuff along to Timmy’s house.

You let yourself in with all of your things.

“Hey, you’re here.” you heard him say, and his footsteps drew near.

“Yeah. Are you by yourself? I figured Aidan and your friends would be here.”

“Nope, just me and you for a while.” he said, taking your makeup bag from you.

“Oh, why is that?” you asked, following him further inside.

He helped you set your things down on the table, turning to you, he said, “Stop it, you know why.”

“Your girlfriend could have kept you company.”

“You are more my girlfriend than she is.” he took your hand, looking down at it, slowly running his thumb over your fingers.

“Don’t get used to saying things like that out loud.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out, grabbing you, “I just want you.” he placed you against the wall.

You moaned softly as you felt his body on yours and his lips met your neck.

His hands swept up your thighs, up your hips to rest there. He slid his palms toward your lower back, then lower.

You gasped as you felt him give your ass a squeeze.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Shit, the guys are early.” Timmy cursed.

January 19, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala

[arixella]

Unspoken Words

╰┈➤ pairing: Shanks x female! reader

a/n: send request if you have any <3

summary: After a long and unexpected reunion with Shanks, the two of you share a quiet, intimate moment on the deck of the Red-Haired Pirates' ship, where Shanks finally confesses that, despite all the years and distance, he’s never stopped loving you.

wc: 900

contains: fluff, tiny angst

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink as the sea lapped gently against the hull of the Red-Haired Pirates' ship. The sounds of the crew bustled in the background, but up on the deck, away from the ruckus, the air felt still, like the world had paused just for you two.

You hadn't expected to be here—on this ship, with him.

It had been years. Years of wondering, waiting, and hoping that one day you’d see him again. Shanks. The man who had left without a word, disappearing into the vast world, only to reappear like a distant memory brought to life. You had kept the promise you'd made to yourself: to move on. Life had taken you down its own winding roads, yet deep down, a part of you had always carried him with you.

Now, you stood beside him once more. Your heart ached with emotions you couldn’t quite sort out. His fiery red hair caught the light of the fading sun, and that trademark grin played across his lips, but there was something in his eyes—something softer—that made you wonder just how much time had really passed.

"You’re quieter than I remember," Shanks chuckled, turning his gaze toward you.

You blinked, breaking from your thoughts. "I guess I’m still processing this whole... reunion."

He tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, but there was a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath. "I didn't expect you to be speechless. Was I that bad of a captain to make you nervous?"

The teasing tone didn’t reach his eyes, though. His grin faltered for a brief second, and you noticed the subtle way his fingers tightened around the railing. He’d always worn that easygoing facade, but the longer you looked at him, the more it became clear—there was something on his mind. Something he hadn't told you all these years.

You took a small step closer, letting the warm evening breeze sweep through your hair. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Shanks laughed softly, a sound you had missed so much. "I know," he admitted. "But... it’s been so long, I wasn’t sure where to start."

You gave him a small, wry smile, your gaze steady on him. "Start with the most important part," you said quietly. "Why did you leave without a word? We didn’t even get a proper goodbye."

His expression shifted, and for a moment, he was silent. He turned his gaze to the horizon, the fiery orange sun reflecting in his eyes. “I wanted to come back. God, I wanted to. But... I didn’t think it was right. I thought you’d be better off without me, that I’d just get in the way of your future."

You were silent, processing his words. “So you left because you thought it was for the best?” you asked, your voice a mix of frustration and sadness.

Shanks nodded, his shoulders tense. "I’ve always been a man who lives in the moment. But I’ve never been good at thinking ahead. Back then, I couldn’t offer you anything solid. I didn’t want to drag you along with my reckless lifestyle... And I hated the idea of you waiting for me, wasting your life on someone who couldn’t promise you anything."

The weight of his words hung between you, but as you watched him—this man who had always been larger than life, full of energy and joy—you saw something that you hadn’t expected: regret.

"I spent all these years thinking about you," he continued, his voice softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. "Wondering if you hated me, or if you had moved on with someone else. I tried to convince myself that it was better this way. But it’s been... hard. Every damn day, harder than the last."

Your heart clenched as you took a step forward, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. "Shanks, you don't have to apologize. You did what you thought was best... but I wish you’d known I would've waited for you."

He turned to face you then, his gaze locking onto yours. The playful spark was gone, replaced by an intensity that made your breath hitch. "I didn’t know," he murmured, his voice low. "But I do now."

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the sea and the faint creak of the ship’s wooden planks. Shanks shifted, closing the distance between you, and before you knew it, his hand gently cupped your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, a simple touch, but it sent a jolt of warmth through your chest.

“You’ve always been a part of me, Y/N,” Shanks whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “Even when I was a thousand miles away, I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped loving you.”

The words hung in the air, as if they were both a confession and a release. A truth he’d kept hidden for far too long. You stared at him, your heart racing, and a bittersweet smile curled on your lips.

"I don’t know what to say," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly.

"You don’t have to say anything," he replied, his grin returning but this time it held a tenderness that hadn’t been there before. "I just wanted you to know... I never stopped loving you."

Your heart swelled, and without another thought, you leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips were warm and gentle against yours, like a long-awaited reunion, and for a moment, the world melted away. The past, the years of separation, the pain—it all faded into the background as you kissed him, letting the emotions that had been hidden for so long wash over you both.

When you pulled back, breathless and with your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “I missed you, Shanks.”

He grinned, his eyes still soft but filled with that familiar spark. "I’m not going anywhere this time."

And for the first time in years, you believed him.

The sun dipped below the horizon, but the warmth between you both remained—quiet, unspoken, and enough to carry you both through whatever the future held.

♡♡♡

[samanthacastano02]

Seungmin - Christmas Love (18+)

Seungmin x FemReader

Warnings: Smut, PnV, Unprotected sex (Don’t do(Use protection)), Breeding Kink, Oral (fem rec), Making love, Fingering, talks of pregnancy, reader is pregnant in epilogue (epilogue isn't important to the story so you don't have to read it, you wont miss anything important, just some banter between all the members), Cursing, probably more, MDNI 18+

Photos not mine, credits go to the photographers

Word Count: 4845

Summary: Seungmin comes home from doing his Chanel photoshoot, his outfit turns you on to no end. You decide to take things to the bedroom, having fun with each other. Things take a romantic turn and you and Seungmin forgo the condom. (I have no idea to write a summary for this) 

Minors Do Not Interact

It was late but I knew that Seungmin would be home soon from his Chanel photoshoot. He had said that I could go with him but my week had been busy and I wanted to stay home and relax for a little while. I knew that he was slightly disappointed but would never hold that against me, and there was always next time. I was lounging on the couch watching a random k-drama when he walked through the front door, slipping off the nice dress shoes he had on and slipping on his house slippers. When he walked into the living room he stopped in shock when he saw that I was still awake, I was so engrossed into the show that I hadn’t even heard him come home. 

“Love what are you still doing awake?”

“Jesus Seungminnie, you scared me, warn a girl.”

“Sorry love. Must be a good show if you’re that into it.” he said as he walked over to the couch, lifting me up gently while sitting down, cuddling me into him. He may seem off standish with his band members but this man hates to not have some type of skinship with me.

“It’s very good, how was the shoot? I love the outfit that they have you in.”

“It was good, I knew that you would love it.” he said while kissing my forehead.

“Stay’s going to go crazy when they see it, you know that right?” “Oh, I know that. The stylist and I were joking about that while we were leaving. Did I tell you that her boyfriend finally proposed?” “Finally?! After what, seven years?” 

“Yep, she said that she was going to send us a wedding invite whenever they get the wedding date set.”

“I’m excited and happy for her. She deserves to have the best day ever, she's been a godsend for dealing with your dumbass for the last four years.”

“My wife must hate me.” he feigned dramatically

“Minnie, you are so dramatic.” I kissed his cheek, he feigned being upset by shoving his face into my neck. 

“Why must you hate me?”

“You’re a dork.” ‘But I’m your dork.” he kissed my neck repeatedly.

“Minnie stop that tickles.” “Never, I'm gonna do it even more now.” he continues to kiss my neck, I try to wiggle out of his arms to escape but in the process he tightens his arms around me.

“Minnie.” I sigh on accident when he kisses my sweet spot.

“You're a tease, wiggling.”

“You’re the one who was kissing me, I was just trying to escape.” I try to defend myself as he slowly continues kissing my neck, no longer in a teasing manner. I tilt my head back, giving him better access.

“Mhm, sure.” he begins to kiss my neck to my jaw. Slowly my body was getting more and more heated. 

“Seungmin please.”

“Please what, my love.” “I want more.” “More what?”

“You're going to make me say it aren’t you.”

“Always.” “I want you. Can we please move this to the bedroom?” I whine into his chest, trying to hide my face from him.

“Of course my love.” He grabs my chin gently, tilting my head up towards him. He kisses my lips softly. Before I can even respond he’s standing up with me in his arms and walking us towards our bedroom. I lean my head on his shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the exposed skin as his shirt moves. 

When we enter the bedroom he gently lays me on the bed, he stares down at me with so much love and compassion that it brings tears to my eyes because I know that this man would do anything for me and I would do anything for him. He gently crawls onto the bed over top of me, looking at me deep in the eyes. 

“You are so beautiful Jagi.”

“Minnie, I love you.” I blush brightly at his words. 

“I love you, beautiful. Can I take this off?” He tugs at my sweatshirt, that happened to actually be his, that I had been wearing.

“Yes, please.” I respond quickly, he soon wastes no time in dragging the sweatshirt over my head and throwing it somewhere across the room, knowing that we’ll find it in the morning. 

“God I can never get enough of your body, do you see what you do to me?” he asks me, he pushes his hips into me to prove his point even more. I grab onto the sides of his shirt, hinting that I want it off. With quick work he drags it over his head, leaving him in his black dress pants and me in my sweats. 

“If stays were in my position, they’d lose their ever loving mind. I don’t think they’d be able to handle how hot you are.” I say while tugging on the necklaces that he still had on, wanting to kiss him. He was blushing fiercely, hiding his face in my neck again, leaving open mouthed kisses. 

“No one but you gets to see me this way, this is a privilege only meant for you my love.” he begins leaving kisses down my body. Starting at my cheek and working his way down to my neck and ending at my sweatpants right above my pantie line. 

“My love, can I take these off?” he gently tugged at the hem of my sweats.

“Yes, please baby please.”

With quick work he tugged them off, quickly throwing them behind him. They disappeared so quickly that I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Seungmin looked up at me while I was laughing, he didn’t know what I was laughing at but he started laughing with me. 

“My love, what are we laughing at?”

“Just at how eager you were to take off my pants.”

“I mean can you blame me, you have on my favorite pair of your panites. Your lacie black pair, it’s like you wanted me to ruin you tonight.” “I mean maybe I wanted to get lucky tonight, but not necessarily ruined.”

“Love, you know that any time you wear these, you're getting ruined.” I look at him, laugh and roll my eyes at him. He just smirks at me and begins to leave kisses up the sides of my thighs. 

“You know, it’s not fair that I’m pantsless while you still have pants on.”

“If you wanted me to take my pants off all you had to do was ask.” He smirked at me while standing up to take off his dress pants. When he slid them off, his arousal became much more prominent. 

“Shut up and come here.” I make grabby hands at him, he just chuckles at me and climbs back over me, nudging my legs apart so that he can slot his hips between them. He gently rests his hips at the apex of my thighs, allowing me to actually feel just how turned on he is. 

He leans down and begins to kiss me, wrapping his arms around me. I feel him unclip my bra with one hand, so I arch my back so that he can remove it which leaves me only in my panties. As we continue to kiss he begins to grind himself into me, causing both of us to moan out in pleasure.

“Seungmin please, I want more.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you.” “You gotta be specific, love.”

“Anything, just please do something.” he seems to get an idea, as he begins to kiss down to my panties. Soon he reaches my panty line but skips over them and begins kissing my thighs, starting at my knee and kissing up until he's almost at where I want him before stopping and then he switches over to the other leg, kissing up that leg until he stops just shy of where I want him.

“What do you want my love?”

“I want your mouth, please.” “Can I take these off?” he tugs at my panties.

“Yes, god please.”

I think he’s gonna take them off with his hands but he shocks me by biting the top of them with his teeth and dragging them down before finally pulling them off and spreading me wide for him. He looks at me like I’m his next meal and I begin to shake with excitement because I know what’s to come. He throws my panties across the room to where the rest of our clothes are and then looks up at me for permission, I give him a quick nod. That’s all he needs before he dives in, his mouth immediately attaches to my clit. He sucks it into his mouth, licking at it and prodding at my entrance before moving back to my clit. He eats me out like it’s his last meal, he knows all of the right places and it feels so good that I can’t keep quiet even if I tried, not that I want to. I soon feel fingers prodding at my entrance, before they push into me. He angles his fingers just right that it’s hitting my sweet spot, making me see stars. I moan loudly at the pleasure that he’s bringing me, he never gives me his cock before making me finish on his fingers and tongue, both he and I don’t enjoy quickies so we don’t do anything unless we have time for it. That doesn’t mean that we don’t tease each other though. Soon I hear him moaning along with me and I muster up enough strength to look down at him between my legs and see that he is grinding himself down on the bed while eating me out, I moan out loudly at that. He has always gotten off on bringing pleasure, he always said that my pleasure was his pleasure. He could always finish just by making me finish. He repeatedly hit my sweet spot and soon I could feel the pressure in my stomach building to its peak, I knew that I was close.

“Oh god Seugnmin. I’m close, please don’t stop.” at that he seemed to suck harder but kept his fingers going at the same pace. There was a new feeling and I felt like I had to pee, I tried to push his head away but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Seungmin!” I moan his name loudly as I finish, squirting all over his mouth and chin. He pulls away from me with a lazy smile. 

“Minnie, I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, why are you sorry?” “I don’t know what my body just did.”

“Baby, you just squirted.”

“What!”

“It’s ok, it was hot as fuck.” I didn’t have a response for him, so I just leaned up, kissing him on the lips. Tasting myself as he deepened the kiss, pushing me back so that I was laying down again. He came to hover over me again, he looked like a god over me. 

“Do you want to continue?” “Yes, please.”

With my response he got off of the bed and took off his underwear, his cock sprang free and smacked his lower stomach. No matter how many times we have sex, I always get excited by how big he is. He’s big and he knew how to use it, and he had the stamina of a dancer and could go for hours if he wanted to. He began to walk over to the nightstand, reaching for the box of condoms that we kept there but I grabbed his wrist before he could pull the drawer open. 

“Love?” “What if we maybe didn’t use a condom tonight?” “But you aren’t on any form of birth control?” He asked, confused.

“I know, I was sort of thinking. We’ve been married for two years, it might be nice to have a little you or me.” “Are you saying what I think your saying?” “I want to start trying for a family Seungmin.” I say hopeful. “Really?” “Yes, I know it’s a big decision. I know we haven’t talked about it much, it’s ok if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Forget I mentioned anything.” I panicked, reaching for the drawer with the condoms and began to pull one out but he grabbed my wrist stopping me.

“My love, if you are sure, I would love nothing more than to have a family with you.” he looked into my eyes to see if there was any doubt, but he didn’t find any.

“I’m sure Seungmin, I want this with you. I know that you are still touring but Chan has offered time and time again for me to join you guys and the guys would probably be over the moon to have me on tour, and when the baby got here they’d be the best uncles.” “”If you’re sure, then so am I.” He got onto the bed, kissing me sweetly. 

“I’m sure Seungmin.”

With that he slowly positioned his cock head at my entrance, he locked eyes with me as he pushed himself into me. The stretch of him shocked me everytime, he still went slow, going inch by inch until his hips were flush with mine. He dropped down to his elbows, sliding his hands under my head but keeping his arms out to support himself, it was soon obvious that this wasn’t going to be fast and rough like our usually fucking. It was going to be sweet and slow, not fucking but love making. He was looking into my eyes with so much love that it took my breath away. 

“God, y/n I love you so much.”

“I love you Seungmin. You can move.” With that he slowly began to pull out, pulling out until only the tip of him was left, before he slowly thrust back into me. He thrust hard enough that it felt good but not hard enough that it would be considered hard fucking

“You feel so good, so tight.” “You're so deep.” 

“You take me so we.” He pressed down on my stomach, intensifying the pleasure for both of us. At the same time we both moaned when he thrust into me.

“Seungmin!” I moan out loudly. He picks up the pace a little, but not by much enough that the bed is rocking into the wall.

He continues to thrust into me, focusing on making me finish before he finishes. He sucks love bites into the side of my neck and top of my chest. The pleasure was so intense that I could barely keep my eyes open but I wanted to see everything that he was doing to me, but soon it became too much and my head fell back. 

“You are so beautiful like this y/n, you’ll look so beautiful with my baby.”

“Seungminnie you can’t talk like that.”

“Why, you gonna finish too fast?” He snaps his hips hard into me, teasingly.

“Minnie.” I moan into his ear. “I’m going to pump you so full of cum it’ll have no choice but to stick.”

“Please! Please Minnie, I want it.”

“Yeah? You wanna be my good girl, wanna be my baby mama?”

“Yes! I’ll be so good for you.” “I know you will baby, I want to go slow but I’m so close. Are you close, baby?”

“I’m so close, please Seungmin.” I beg him, wanting him to finish. 

“Can I go hard, just for the last bit?” “Please baby!”

With my permission he snaps his hips even harder into me, picking up the pace even more. He is thrusting so hard into me now that my body is being forced up the bed, not that either of us care at this point in time. We are both so close that the only thing that either of us can care about is reaching that finish line together. I want to reach it with him, so I reach my hand between our bodies and begin to rub my clit, bringing myself closer to finishing. My body begins to shake and that's my tell tale sign that I’m close so I remove my hand and grab both of Sungmin's, which he pins above my head. He thrusts hard into me, rapid and frantic, but oh so good. It takes three more thrusts before we finish together, with a cry of each other's names. As he comes down from his high, he stays inside of me but flips me so that I am laying on top of him, he is worried that I might enter subdrop, he scoots us over to the side of the bed and reaches for the glass of water I randomly had there left over from last night. He sits me up and has me slowly drink from it, before slowly pulling out of me. After seeing that i’m not going to enter a sub drop he lays me down on the bed and walks into the bathroom, as my eyes sleepily close I can hear the bath water running. 

When I next wake up, I’m cuddled in Seungmins arms in bed while he’s scrolling aimlessly on his phone. I must have fallen asleep and he must have bathed me and gotten me into a new set of pajamas before changing himself. When he notices that I’m awake he puts his phone down and smiles at me, giggling to himself.

“Going raw for the first time must have done a number on you baby.” “Why do you say that?”

“You fell asleep before I could even get you into the bath.” He chuckled quietly.

“I mean, it was a new feeling. Which felt amazing by the way.” “It did, I don’t know how we’ve gone this long without trying it.” “Me either, but we don’t have to worry about going back to condoms for a while, right?” I ask him, hopeful.

“If you were serious about wanting a baby, then so was I. I want what you want, baby.” “I want a baby with you Seungmin. I think you would make such a great father.” “And I think that you would make such a great mother.” With that he tugs me down under the covers more, and I can feel myself get tired again. We both drift off into dreamland holding each other and dreaming of the future. 

Epilogue 

It’s been two months of trying and after last month's negative test, it was hard to want to keep trying, the excitement of it all was now scary. What if you couldn’t get pregnant, what if there was something wrong with me. Seungmin sat on the couch with Me while you cried and voiced my worries, but he kept reassuring me that you would keep trying until it happened, and if it didn’t happen, then we could always talk about other options. 

I was hopeful but I didn’t want to be because I had been feeling sick and my period was a week late. I hadn’t mentioned anything to Seungmin yet because I knew that he was preparing for a comeback and I didn’t want him to also worry about me even if he said that was his job as my husband. I knew that with my period being a week late I needed to take a test but I wanted to wait until he was home. As soon as he walked in the door, I mentioned it to him.

“Minnie, I think I need to take another test.” I said to Seungmin once he got settled in from coming home from the studio for the day.

“Why do you say that, my love?”

“My period is a week late.”

“It is?” He asks me with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

“Yes. I wanted to wait until you were home though, to take the test.”

“Well, I’m here now my love.” he kissed my head.

“I’ll go take it.” I said nervously 

I walked past him into our bedroom, ready to take the test, having to use the restroom for the better half of the day but not wanting to take the test without him and scared that if I went I wouldn’t be able to go again when he got home even though logically I would be able to. I quickly peed into a cup, wanting to be able to take more than one test. I know the web said it’s better to wait until the morning to take the test but I couldn’t wait that long, nerves and excitement were getting the better of me. After I dipped the plethora of tests into the cup, I dumped the rest out and washed my hands, before calling Seungmin into the bathroom. I didn’t want to wait for the results alone. He heard me call him and rushed into the bathroom, he obviously didn’t quite know how pregnancy tests worked. 

“Do you have the results?” He asked me excitedly.

“Not yet baby, I just didn’t want to wait alone, I’m nervous.” I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Ah, it’s ok my love. Whatever the results are, we will get through it, ok?” He wrapped his arms around me tightly, kissing my head. He led me over to the side of the bathtub, sitting on the edge before pulling me onto his lap. He knew that I had set a timer already.

“I know, I just want this so badly.” “I know, so do I. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.” “I know, I just hope that it’s meant to happen now.”

“I do too, my love.”

“I love you Seungmin.” “And I love you y/n.” he kissed me gently. 

As we wait for the timer to go off we sit together in silence and hold each other. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s peaceful and comforting because we both know that no matter what happens we will both be there for each other. Before we both knew it the five minutes were up, the box said three but I set the timer for five to give Seungmin and I an extra two minutes to prepare ourselves for whatever the outcome may be. Seungmin gently taps my bottom to signal me to stand up so that he can check the test for me, knowing that I’m too nervous to do it, I quickly stand up and walk with him over to the counter where the tests are. He stops in front of them, turning towards me, hugging me tightly before grabbing one of the tests. He looks at me for confirmation to see if I’m ready or not, when he sees that I nod at him he flips the test over. 

I watch his face for any reaction, I see his eyes tear up, I can’t tell if they are happy tears or if they are sad tears. I take a step towards him before lifting a shaky hand towards him. He turns the test towards me, and when I look at it, I can clearly see it say, pregnant. I immediately burst into tears, wrapping my arms around Seungmin. He drops the test and wraps both of his arms around me, crying into my neck, while also kissing my neck. 

“I can’t believe it baby, we’re gonna be parent’s.” I say excitedly to him. “I can’t either, this is the best news ever.” he kisses my face repeatedly

Later that night:

Seungmin and I lay in bed, his hand laying on my stomach, drawing lazy circles. I’m in and out of sleep drained from the emotional excitement of the day, but I would take this excitement over the heartache of not being pregnant any day. Seungmin taps me awake when he notices that I’m drifting off, I look up at him sleepily, wondering why he won't let me sleep.

“What’s up baby?”

“I want you to come with me to practice tomorrow.” “Why?”

“I want you to be there with me when I tell the boys.” “Shouldn't we wait to tell them?” “You know that I can’t keep a secret from them.” “You're right. You really can’t.” I sigh

“It would only be the boys.” “Only the boys? No one else?”

“Only the boys.” “Ok, I’ll go with you tomorrow then.” “Perfect. Sleep now my love.”

The next morning:

Seungmin tried to let me sleep for as long as possible before waking me to come with him to go to practice. I knew that once we told the boys I could either crash on the couch in the practice room like old times or their driver would take me home. He didn’t tell the boys that I would be joining him today, so they were pleasantly surprised when both Seungmin and I walked into the practice room hand in hand. 

“Hey pup, y/n.” Chan said as he looked up from where he was stretching on the floor. Felix and Hyunjin stopped messing around across the room and made their way over, Han and Lee Know got up from the couch, standing nearby now. Changbin and I.N. came into the room behind us, Changbin rustled SeungMin's hair but he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. 

“What are you doing here y/nnie?” I.n asked, giving me a hug. 

“There’s something that Seungmin wanted to tell you guys, but he wanted me here for it.”

“What’s that?” Felix asked, curious now.

“You aren’t leaving the group are you?” Lee Know asked nervously. 

“Yah, don’t ask that. We don’t need that negative energy.” Chan jumped up quickly, smacking Lee Know upside the head. 

“God no, why would you ever even ask that. I would only ever leave this group in a body bag or the military service. Sorry baby.” Seungmin responded.

“I know how much you love being in this group babe, I’d never ask you to leave it.” “Gah, you two are sickenly cute.” Hyunjin dramatically exclaims.

“Nice to see you too Hyunjin.” I wave to him.

“You too y/nnie.” he waves back smiling at me.

“So what is it that you wanted to tell us?” Han asks, getting us back on track.

“Oh yea. Y/n’s pregnant.” “No way! That’s amazing, congratulations y/nnie.” Chan walks up to me, giving me a hug. The rest of the boys follow suit, giving similar congratulations. 

“You know, I always thought that it would be Channie who would have kids first out of all of us.” I.n pips up first. 

“Honestly same.” Seungmin says from next to me.

“What can I say, the Mrs isn’t ready yet. She just wants it to be the two of us for right now.” Chan replies.

“I just know that Stays are going to lose their shit when they find out that not only are you not single but you're married.” I tell him teasingly 

“It’ll be funny when they figure out it’s her that I wrote Railways about.”

“And Drive and Connected and Red Lights.” Hyunjin calls from across the room where he continues to stretch. 

“Yea yea. Call me out all you want.” Chan calls back to him.

“It’s ok Chan, she loves it. And so do Stays.” I tease him 

“But seriously, congrats guys. I’m really happy for you.” Chan gives both Seungmin and I hugs.

“Seungmin, does this mean you're going to go on hiatus?” Felix asks.

“No, I know Chan has offered it before in the past when we’ve gone on tour, and I assume the offer still stands but y/n plans to travel with us. During her pregnancy and after. The only time I’ll go on hiatus is right before the baby is born until the baby is around six months, then y/n and the baby will travel with us. As long as that's still ok with Chan?” Seungmin explains.

“That should be fine, the fans know that you have a wife. It might make it a little more tricky traveling wise but we can make it work.” Chan responds.

“I actually wanted to talk to both you and Seungmin about that.” I respond before Seungmin gets the chance.

“What’s up babe?” Seungmin asks.

“With me being pregnant now, I think it’s time that your fans know what I look like. They’ve always been supportive of the fact that you’ve been married, and now that we’re expecting, if they know what I look like it’ll make it easier to get through the airport if I can walk with you guys and your security.”

“That's a good point actually, y/n.”

“I agree, my love.” “Then it’s settled, we will talk to staff and on the next scheduled live stream for you, we will have y/nnie join you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I spend the rest of the day watching the boys practice for their upcoming comeback and dosing on the couch. Seungmin asks me multiple times throughout the day if I want to go home but I’d rather stay here with him and be surrounded by the people that I love most. I know that everything will be ok.

[nickgurl4life]

ᢉ𐭩Shattered Chainsᢉ𐭩

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend! + Ex Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: abuse, child endangerment, manipulation (none of this is Chris), and other angst things, If I missed any let me know!

Summary: reader is in a toxic relationship and Chris is trying to save her and her baby.

w/c: 4,931

a/n: I thought of this idea, if you do NOT like reading about domestic violence or any type of threatening with women/children, do not read! If you read and end up being uncomfortable do not blame me! This is your warning.

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Chris stood in front of the familiar house, his heart pounding in his chest. He had played this moment over and over in his head, imagining how it might go. Would she smile when she saw him? Would they talk about the good times, maybe even laugh about how foolish they’d been to let each other go? After three years apart and a fresh breakup of his own, he couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, they were meant to find their way back to each other. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell. The door swung open, but instead of her, a man stood in the doorway. Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a smug expression, the stranger looked Chris up and down like he was sizing him up. "Can I help you?" the man asked, his tone sharp. Chris cleared his throat. "Uh, hi. I’m Chris. I was hoping to see her—" he started, but the man cut him off. "Yeah, I know who you are," the man said, leaning against the doorframe. "She’s mentioned you." His tone made it clear that whatever she’d said wasn’t flattering. "What do you want?" Chris faltered, already regretting his decision to come. "I just... I wanted to talk to her. Is she home?" "She’s busy," the man said, crossing his arms. "Look, I get it. You’re the ex, right? Thought you’d swoop in here after three years and win her back or something? Hate to break it to you, man, but she’s moved on." He glanced back into the house and smirked. "We’ve got a good thing going here."

Just as Chris opened his mouth to respond, she appeared behind the man, holding a small baby in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw Chris. "Chris?" she said, her voice soft with surprise. She shifted the baby in her arms, her expression unreadable. "Hey," Chris said, his voice cracking. "I... I didn’t know you had a baby." he man turned, glancing at her and the baby, then back at Chris with a mocking grin. "Yeah, this is Ellie. She’s ours." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "You’re a little late, buddy." "Adam," she said sharply, stepping away from him. She looked at Chris, her expression now tinged with guilt. "Can we talk? Just us?" Adam raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sure, go ahead. But don’t take too long. Some of us actually have responsibilities." He gave Chris one last condescending look before disappearing into the house. She sighed, stepping out onto the porch with Ellie still in her arms. "I’m sorry about that," she said quietly. "Adam... he can be protective." "Protective?" Chris echoed, his voice laced with bitterness. "He’s a jerk." She winced but didn’t argue. "Chris, why are you here?" Chris looked at her, his chest tightening. "I don’t know," he admitted. "I guess... I thought maybe there was still something between us. After my breakup, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us." His voice broke, and he ran a hand through his hair. "But I see now that you’ve got a life—a family."

Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. "Chris, what we had was real, and I’ll always care about you. But things are different now. I’m with Adam, and Ellie... she’s my whole world." She looked down at the baby, her expression tender. Chris swallowed hard, nodding even though his heart was breaking. "I just... I needed to see for myself. To know for sure." She reached out, touching his arm gently. "I hope you find someone who makes you happy, Chris. You deserve that." Before he could respond, the door opened, and Adam leaned out, his smirk firmly back in place. "Everything good out here?" he asked, his tone dripping with false concern. Chris forced a tight smile, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah. Everything’s fine." He turned to her one last time, his voice soft. "Take care of yourself." As he walked away, Adam’s smug laughter echoed behind him, but Chris didn’t look back. He knew he couldn’t change the past, and now, it was clear there was no going back. Two weeks later, Chris found himself driving past her house again, unable to resist the pull that had taken hold of him since that fateful day. He told himself he was being stupid, that he should leave well enough alone, but the sight of the driveway—empty of Adam’s car—ignited a reckless kind of hope. Maybe they could talk without Adam looming over them, making everything tense. Maybe he could finally say what he hadn’t had the courage to before.

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Two weeks later, Chris found himself driving past her house again, unable to resist the pull that had taken hold of him since that fateful day. He told himself he was being stupid, that he should leave well enough alone, but the sight of the driveway—empty of Adam’s car—ignited a reckless kind of hope. Maybe they could talk without Adam looming over them, making everything tense. Maybe he could finally say what he hadn’t had the courage to before. He parked a block away, his palms slick with nervous sweat as he approached the front door. The memory of Adam’s smug smirk and sharp words haunted him, but this time, it didn’t matter. He rang the bell, and when she answered, the baby perched on her hip, she looked surprised but not angry. “Chris,” she said, her tone cautious. “What are you doing here?” “I saw Adam wasn’t home,” he said quickly, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I swear, I’m not here to cause trouble. I just… I wanted to talk. Please.” She hesitated, glancing down at Ellie, who cooed softly, then back at him. “Alright. Just for a few minutes.” She stepped aside, letting him in, and they sat in the living room, the baby in her lap. Chris couldn’t help but smile at the way Ellie’s tiny hands reached for her mother’s face, the love between them so evident it almost hurt to see. “I wanted to apologize,” Chris began, his voice low. “For showing up out of nowhere last time. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I didn’t mean to make things awkward for you.” She softened slightly, giving him a small nod. “I appreciate that. It was… unexpected, but I understand.

Breakups mess with your head.” Chris swallowed hard, his hands gripping his knees. “I just can’t stop thinking about you. About what we had. I know it’s been years, and I know things are different now, but I can’t shake the feeling that I messed up the best thing I ever had.” She looked down at Ellie, her expression conflicted. “Chris… I won’t lie and say I don’t think about us sometimes. You were important to me. But my life now… it’s complicated. Adam—” Before she could finish, the front door swung open with a loud bang, and Adam’s voice boomed through the house. “I’m home!” Chris froze as Adam appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing the moment he saw him. “What the hell is this?” Adam snapped, his face darkening. “It’s not what you think,” she said quickly, standing and bouncing Ellie on her hip in an effort to diffuse the tension. “Chris just came to talk. That’s all.” “To talk?” Adam spat, glaring at Chris. “You don’t belong here. I told you to stay away.” “Adam, stop,” she said firmly, her tone sharp enough to make him hesitate. “I let him in. He’s not causing any trouble.” Adam’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “This guy thinks he can just waltz in here and play the hero? What, you think you’re gonna swoop in and take her away from me? From us?” Chris stood, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s not what this is about,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing in his chest.

“I just needed to say my piece. I’m not trying to ruin anything.” "Yeah, well, you being here is enough to ruin things,” Adam snapped. “You don’t get to come in here and act like you still have a claim on her. She’s with me now. We’re a family.” “Adam, that’s enough!” she shouted, her voice trembling but firm. Ellie began to cry, the tension in the room too much for the baby. She turned her back on both of them, trying to soothe her daughter. “This isn’t about you or him. It’s about what’s best for me and Ellie. And right now, what I need is for both of you to stop acting like children.” Adam’s face softened slightly at her words, though his glare at Chris remained. Chris took a step back, his heart heavy but his mind clear. “She’s right,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.” Without another word, he turned and walked out the door, the sound of Ellie’s cries echoing in his ears. This time, he knew it was really over. No matter how much he wished things could be different, her life was no longer his to be part of.

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The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. Ellie had finally fallen asleep after the tension-filled evening, her tiny breaths audible through the monitor. She leaned against the sink, her hands gripping the edge tightly as she tried to calm the storm brewing inside her. Adam stood across the room, pacing, his footsteps heavy against the floor. His jaw was tight, and his eyes burned with barely contained anger. “I can’t believe you let him in here,” Adam finally snapped, his voice low but cutting. “What were you thinking? After everything I’ve done for you—for us—you let him walk back into your life like it’s nothing?” She turned to face him, her own patience wearing thin. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Adam. He showed up, and I didn’t want to make a scene. He just wanted to talk, and I thought it would be better to let him say whatever he needed to say so he’d leave for good.” Adam scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “So what, you’re just inviting your exes over now? Letting them sit in my house, around my family? What’s next, you’re going to let him hold Ellie?” “Stop it!” she hissed, her voice sharp but quiet to avoid waking Ellie. “This isn’t about you or Chris. It’s about me trying to handle something from my past so it doesn’t keep coming back. He’s gone now, Adam. You don’t need to keep blowing this out of proportion.”

“Blowing it out of proportion?” he repeated, his voice rising despite her warning. “How do you think this looks? He’s still in love with you—it’s obvious! And you just let him walk in here like nothing’s changed. Do you even respect me? Us?” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she fought to keep her composure. “Don’t you dare question my respect for you, Adam. I’ve been nothing but honest and committed to you since the beginning. But that doesn’t mean I owe you control over how I handle my past. Chris is not a threat to us, and the fact that you’re turning this into something it isn’t says more about your insecurities than it does about me.” His face darkened at her words, but he didn’t respond immediately. The silence between them stretched, heavy and tense. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but still laced with bitterness. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not just mad because he showed up—I’m mad because you let him make me feel like I’m not enough. Like he still has a place in your life.” She shook her head, exhaustion settling over her. “He doesn’t have a place in my life, Adam. I told him that tonight. You’re the one I chose. You’re the one I’m building a life with. But if you keep letting your jealousy and pride get in the way, you’re going to ruin this yourself.” Adam stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turned and stormed off toward the bedroom, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen. The baby monitor hummed softly, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. It wasn’t Chris who was threatening her future—it was Adam. And as she stood there in the quiet of the night, she couldn’t help but wonder how much more of this she could take.

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A week later, she sat on the edge of the bed, the baby monitor humming beside her. Ellie was asleep, and the house was quiet, but her mind was anything but. For days, Adam had been acting colder, more controlling, monitoring her every move. She felt trapped, suffocated by his paranoia and manipulations. She needed help, someone to remind her of the person she used to be before all of this. Against her better judgment, she dialed Chris’s number, her hands trembling as she held the phone to her ear. “Hello?” Chris’s voice came through the line, warm but cautious. “Is everything okay?” She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Chris, I—I don’t know what to do. Things with Adam… they’re worse than ever. I think—” “What the hell are you doing?” Adam’s voice boomed from the doorway, making her jump. Before she could react, he stormed over and snatched the phone from her hand, glaring at the screen before pressing it to his ear.

“Listen here, you piece of crap,” Adam growled, his voice venomous. “Stay out of my family’s life. You’ve got no business talking to her, and if I ever catch you calling her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.” "Put her back on the phone, Adam,” Chris demanded, his tone steady but firm. “I’m not going to let you treat her like this.” Adam laughed bitterly, pacing the room with the phone in his grip. “You’re not going to let me? Last I checked, I’m the one here, not you. She doesn’t need your help. She doesn’t need you. Stay out of it before you make things worse for her.” She stood frozen, her heart pounding as she watched the scene unfold, tears welling in her eyes. Adam ended the call abruptly, throwing the phone onto the bed before turning to her, his face twisted with fury. “You think running to him is going to fix anything? You think he’s going to save you?” She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as Adam loomed over her. She knew she couldn’t stay silent much longer—something had to change before it was too late.

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Chris hadn’t been able to get her call out of his mind. Her voice had been shaky, scared—nothing like the woman he’d known years ago. Something was wrong, and no matter what Adam had threatened, he couldn’t ignore it. He drove to the house late that evening, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, determination coursing through him. The driveway was empty, and the lights inside were dim, but he didn’t let that deter him. When he reached the door and knocked, there was no response. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether to leave, but a gut feeling told him not to. The thought of her and the baby in danger gnawed at him. He tested the doorknob, and to his surprise, it turned. Quietly, he let himself in, his footsteps cautious as he moved toward the muffled voices coming from the living room. As he got closer, the voices became clearer—her voice, trembling and pleading, and Adam’s, sharp and venomous. Chris froze when he stepped into the doorway and saw the scene before him. Adam was standing over her, holding Ellie in one arm while his free hand was raised, hovering over her as though he were about to strike. “You’re so ungrateful!” Adam barked, his face twisted with rage. “I’ve done everything for you, and this is how you repay me? Sneaking around and calling him?”

She cowered slightly, her hands raised in a futile attempt to protect herself. “Adam, please,” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean—just calm down. You’re scaring Ellie.” Chris couldn’t stay silent any longer. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, stepping into the room. Adam spun around, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the sight of Chris. “What are you doing in my house?” he growled, clutching Ellie tighter. The baby whimpered, sensing the tension, and Adam barely seemed to notice. “I came to check on her,” Chris said, his voice steady despite the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “And it looks like I got here just in time. Put the baby down, Adam. Now.” Adam smirked, shifting Ellie slightly in his arms. “Oh, you think you’re going to play the hero? Walk in here and save her? You’ve got no idea what you’re messing with.” Chris took a step closer, his eyes locked on Adam. “I said put her down. You’re scaring her, and you’re scaring her mother. This ends now.”

Adam’s smirk faltered, his grip on Ellie tightening for a moment before he finally relented, setting the baby down in her playpen with a roughness that made Chris’s stomach turn. As soon as Ellie was safe, Chris stepped between Adam and her, positioning himself as a barrier. “She’s done with this,” Chris said firmly, his voice low but filled with conviction. “You don’t get to treat her like this. You don’t get to threaten her and the baby.” Adam glared at him, his fists clenching at his sides. “You don’t get to decide what happens in my house,” he spat. “She’s mine. Not yours. She doesn’t need you.” “She’s not yours,” Chris shot back, his voice rising. “She’s her own person, and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. You can’t keep her trapped here.” He turned to her, his expression softening. “You don’t have to stay, you know. You and Ellie can come with me. You don’t have to do this alone.” Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Chris, her body trembling. For the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of hope—an escape from the nightmare she’d been living. But before she could respond, Adam lunged forward, shoving Chris hard.

“Get out of my house!” Adam roared. “You don’t belong here!” Chris steadied himself, standing his ground. “I’m not leaving without her,” he said firmly. “You’ve lost the right to call this your family.” Adam looked like he was ready to explode, but the sound of Ellie crying from the playpen cut through the tension. The baby’s wails filled the room, and for a moment, no one moved. Then she stepped forward, her voice trembling but strong. “I’m going with Chris,” she said, her eyes locked on Adam. “And if you try to stop me, I’ll call the police.” Adam’s face twisted in fury, but he didn’t say a word. Chris placed a protective hand on her back, guiding her toward Ellie. Chris gently picked up Ellie from the playpen, her cries beginning to subside as he held her close. His touch was calm and steady, his voice a soft murmur of reassurance as he cradled her. “It’s okay, little one. You’re safe now.” He turned to her, nodding toward the door. “Let’s get her to the car.” She followed him, her legs shaky but determined. As they neared the door, Adam’s voice cut through the tense silence. “You think this is over?” he spat, his tone dripping with venom. “You think you can just leave and everything will be fine? You’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”

She stopped in the doorway, turning to face him, her body trembling but her resolve firm. “No, Adam. The biggest mistake of my life was staying with you as long as I did,” she said, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I’m done. You don’t get to control me, manipulate me, or scare me anymore. It’s over.” Adam’s face twisted with rage, but she held her ground, her voice unwavering. “You can say whatever you want, but I’m leaving with my daughter, and I’m not coming back. You don’t love me, Adam. You just love having power over me, and I’m done giving you that.” Chris, who had stepped outside with Ellie, reappeared in the doorway, his presence a silent reassurance. “She said it’s over, Adam,” he said firmly. “You need to accept that and let her go.” Adam glared at him, but there was something different in his eyes now—frustration, defeat, maybe even fear. For the first time, it seemed like he realized he wasn’t in control anymore. She didn’t wait for him to respond. Without another word, she turned and walked out the door, her steps growing stronger with each one. When she reached the car, Chris was already securing Ellie into the car seat, his movements careful and practiced. He looked up as she approached, his expression soft but filled with determination.

“You’re doing the right thing,” he said gently. “You’re stronger than you think.” She nodded, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I just want to keep her safe. I want her to have the life she deserves.” Chris placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re giving her that now. And you’re not alone in this anymore.” She looked back at the house one last time, then climbed into the car, leaving Adam—and the life she thought she had to endure—behind. For the first time in years, she felt the promise of a new beginning.

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Authors Note: here's something that's not super angsty but it's sad, writing about abuse/domestic violence is a bit out of comfort but I had an anon ask for it (I think I accidentally deleted their ask whoops) but ENJOY BABES~

who wants a part two!?

Taglist: @mattsplaything @emely9274 @pvssychicken @mattsslutt @chrislilcumslvt @cupiidk1lls @loud-sturniolos @p14th0mps0n @3xclus1vel0v3r @bilssturns @nateismybf @chrissweetheart @jassturn @kaybug88 @kennastromboli @goingtojohnkramershouseee @matthewsroses @whore4chris @trevorsgodmother @sweetshuga @chrissdiorstar