#I just need to put words together Is That So Hard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlightkyeom · 3 days ago

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hit replay | x.mh

(where your ex moves into the empty unit in your apartment building and maybe the relationship isn't over after all)

pairing: xu minghao x afab!reader genre: exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers | fluff, romance, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 12.7k (this was less than 4k yesterday idk) warnings: mentions of food & drinks, talk of the previous relationship, massages (f. receiving), body worship, light nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), briefest hand job, protected sex, they're just very soft for each other, that's it, reader doesn't use gendered language but has female anatomy

a/n: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios for hosting The Lonely Hearts Collab ❤️ make sure you check out all the amazing fics! this ended up much softer (and longer) than i thought it would, but i'm not mad at that. we all need soft hao for love day. i hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya, @lostmembrane (join my svt taglist here)

Sometimes you think your life should come with one of those signs like they have in workplaces. You know, the ones that say how many days since the last accident? The ones that people always seem to use as memes? You think that might be appropriate in your case, too. Except, instead of days since the last accident, it would count days since you’d last seen your ex. The man who shattered your heart. The one you can’t seem to get over no matter how hard you try.

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396

You’re not sure why your brain counts the number. Not sure why you can’t just put it out of your mind. Move on, for real this time. Of course, that’s not the same number as the days since he broke your heart. No. Unfortunately, you’ve run into him a couple of times since then, despite him moving away. A consequence of you still having a number of friends in common. And you can’t even blame them for keeping in touch with him. He didn’t really do anything wrong. Not to them and not even really to you. The two of you just…grew apart.

Thinking back on it, even years later, you still can’t really pinpoint where it all went wrong. You remember falling for him, entirely too hard. Back when you didn’t think he took much notice of you. Always too absorbed in his latest project. You were friends, kind of. More on the periphery of each other's circles. Until you went to an art show with some mutual friends. Until you saw yourself in several of his works. None of your friends seemed all that surprised. They just let you have your little moment.

It all happened kind of fast from there. You learned that Minghao wasn’t always one for showing his feelings in words, but he showed them in a million other ways, as long as you knew where to look. He showed them in the little things he did to make your life easier. In the way he incorporated you into his art, sometimes without it even being obvious. In the way he quietly made space for you in his life.

Things were great, until they weren’t. And it still feels sudden all these years later. Even if it maybe, possibly, wasn’t sudden at all.

You remember finding a new job. The kind of job you never thought you would land. The kind that Minghao instantly encouraged you to follow. Except it meant much more normal hours where Minghao kept weird hours. Sometimes he wouldn’t come to bed until the sun rose and other times he had been at work for hours when you woke up. Something about inspiration and lighting and just letting it all come together. Neither of you notice when it starts getting harder to make time for each other. At least, you didn’t notice. Only focusing on making the most of the time you do have.

So, when Minghao tells you that he thinks you need to talk, you’re completely caught off guard. Haven’t seen all the signs that may have been there. He tells you he’s got the opportunity of a lifetime to further his career and it means he’s going to be leaving your city. Leaving the country entirely. Tells you that it’s been great and he still loves you, but he’s got to do this. Tells you that he thinks it’ll be right for both of you because you’ve been growing apart, haven’t you? You’ve both been prioritizing other things like work and friends over each other. He’s going to take this chance and he hopes you’ll understand.

Maybe you do actually remember it falling apart after all.

But, it’s time to cast aside your walk down memory lane. Time to leave everything behind in the old year and get ready to ring in a new one. A feat you tried last year as well and seemingly didn’t succeed at. This is the year, though. New year, new me and all that. You take one last look at your outfit before rushing out the door. Your slightly eccentric (and totally loaded) neighbors are having a party up in the penthouse of your apartment building. And even though you normally hate anyone with that kind of money, they’re actually cool and incredibly kind. They go out of their way to understand their privilege and involve themselves directly in charity. You can’t even hate that they’re barely older than you and have it all. Plus, who are you to turn down a party like this for the new year.

The party is in full swing when you get there. Soyoon always does an excellent job of setting up a party, too. She makes sure there’s an area for people to dance and for people who want things a little quieter. And she always stocks up on top shelf drinks with so many snacks you could make an entire meal out of it. It only takes her a second before she’s waving you over. You weave through the people to get to her, so focused on your friend that you don’t notice anything else. Though you should.

“Hey! You finally made it!” she says and pulls you into a hug.

“Worrying I wouldn’t show?” you joke back.

“No,” she says, smiling her megawatt smile. She indicates to someone. “I wanted you to meet your new neighbor I mentioned, the artist…”

Something drops in your stomach when you register that she says artist and you slowly turn to see the person she’s indicating. Hoping against all hope that you don’t recognize them. Instead, you see the lean figure of someone you know well. Dressed all in black and still looking like one of the most fashionable in the room. The black also works well to offset his blond mullet. It’s not a color you’ve seen on him before, but you’d know him anywhere.

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396 0

Fuck.

“Minghao,” you say softly, immediately kicking yourself for the way it comes out.

“Yeah, oh. I thought you hadn’t met yet,” Soyoon says with a slight frown of confusion.

Minghao is quick to answer, casual as can be. “I hadn’t run into her yet but we knew each other once, years ago.”

“Oh, how fun! Shall I leave you two to catch up?” she asks.

You say no just as Minghao says yes. Soyoon looks confused, but ends up leaving the two of you alone anyway. It’s the last thing you want and there’s nowhere to go. At this rate, you’re going to get a much different start to your year.

When you wake up well into the first morning of the New Year, your brain feels a little fuzzy. Not hungover though, so you can thank past you for that. You cannot thank past you for anything else. Not when the night before comes rushing back to you and you remember. Remember kissing Minghao, not just at midnight. Remember admitting that you still think about him. Remember wondering if he was single. Don’t remember asking him why he’s back now and without a word to you. Not that he owes it to you. It’s been years, after all. You just can’t believe that the mysterious new resident two doors down from you is none other than the ex you can’t seem to forget.

Thankfully New Year’s Day is really about recovering from the night before and getting ready to face the rest of the year. It also gives you time to figure out what you’re going to do about Minghao. You’re sure there’s something in there about second chances. About how people change as they grow. It’s not for you, though. The more time you spend thinking about the night before, the more you realize that things are better left alone. This isn’t some great sign to revisit a painful past. It’s a way of telling you that it’s okay to finally figure out a way to move forward in your life.

You’re just going to ignore that the person you’re moving on from lives two doors down from you. Shouldn’t be a problem at all.

As you’re considering what you want to do for food, the doorbell rings. You’re not expecting someone and your heart plunges a little. What if it’s Minghao stopping by to talk about the night before? You can’t exactly remember all of your conversation, so you’re not sure if there’s something else that you need to talk about. You’re not prepared for any of it. When you open the door, it’s not him. It’s just someone delivering from one of your favorite take-out places.

“I didn’t order anything,” you say, confusion clear on your face.

The delivery guy only shrugs and shows you his phone. It’s your name and address. “I just deliver the orders I get. The tip was nice, too.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” you say and accept the bag of food.

You decide to eat it on your couch so that you can settle in and binge something truly awful on TV. As you ponder who could have sent it, you think about Soyoon and how she loves to do this kind of thing. Yes, that seems likely. You’ll have to send her your own little thank you and thank her in person the next time you see her. Sending a text wouldn’t do it because she always says that doesn’t feel as personal. Eccentric, but endlessly kind. She’s definitely the kind of person that would want to make sure her guests are taken care of after such a great party. All feels much more calm as you settle in and your mind stays firmly off Minghao.

The whole idea of keeping your mind off Minghao works for a while. You see him around the building and he’s always perfectly polite, but never forces a conversation. Says hi in passing and smiles. That’s just kind of how he is. It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty to say, he just doesn’t chase after anyone for a chat. Doesn’t see the point in forcing something when both people aren’t interested. Honestly, it’s a bit disarming because as well as you knew him once, it’s not what you’re expecting. There are times when you even consider if you should strike up a conversation with him. At the very least, there are things left unsaid from New Year’s. Things you know that you should get out of the way. Especially when Soyoon asks for details on what’s going on and you’re not really sure how much to share.

But, then life catches up with you, as it seems prone to do. Things pick up at work and you find that you’re back into your routine without a second thought. That’s always the thing about the new year. It starts and it’s kind of slim on holidays while you’re getting into it. It also seems unspoken that people just don’t take time off then. Not when so many take time off around the holidays. (Something you also did, taking off the two days after New Year’s so you wouldn’t have to go back for a short week. Best decision you’ve made in a long time.)

You blink and January fades into February. Your brain is somewhere else entirely when you rush into your favorite coffee shop by your office, running a little bit late because you’re heading in on the weekend. The shop is decorated for Valentine’s Day already, like it seems to be every year once the calendar hits February. Something in you fights rolling your eyes. It’s not that you hate the holiday, it’s just that you’re a little bitter for another one spent without a partner. As much as you may say it doesn’t matter, it feels like it would be nice to have someone. Even if all you did was stay in to have a nice meal or play a game or watch something on TV. Just a moment for the two of you in the midst of all the chaos. When the barista asks for your order, you shake away the thoughts and give it, pulling your phone out to tap and pay.

“Oh, it’s covered,” she says and your brow furrows.

“What?” you ask.

“Someone already covered your order today,” she repeats.

“But how did…” you start to ask under your breath and trail off.

“Did you need anything else?” she asks brightly.

“No, I guess not,” you say and put away your phone.

As you head down to wait for your order, your brain whirs into action. Who is out here just somehow paying for your order? You cast your eyes around the shop and nobody looks familiar. Well, a few people do in that way that regulars stick out when you’re also a regular. Nobody seems to be paying attention to you, though, or giving you any indication that they paid for your order. It shows up on the counter before you can think any further about it.

The rest of the week goes in a similar fashion. Your coffee order is taken care of any time you stop in and the barista only smiles when you ask her who’s doing it. The only answer she gives is that you’ll realize it if you think about it. Not entirely helpful. At work, you get a surprise lunch just as you’re on the verge of a breakdown over a project. Mingyu, one of your closest friends even outside of work, offers lunch as a break and you take it without question. After all, the two of you were friends before becoming coworkers so it’s not unexpected that he would realize you’re feeling burnt out. Another of your friends asks you to go with him to a show you’ve been wanting to see and won’t even let you pay him back for the ticket. There are other little things, too. Things that you wouldn’t normally notice, but it’s like everything is going your way. It makes you a little wary. Mostly, though, it just makes you grateful. It feels like such a good way to start the year.

It isn’t until the weekend that you finally put it all together. Saturday morning comes and you let yourself sleep in after being out a little later the night before to go to the show. There’s an unexpected knock at the door that gives you a little deja vu back to New Year’s Day. You yawn and stretch as you get out of bed and head to the door. This time, there’s no delivery person waiting for you. There’s just a basket, clearly put together very thoughtfully. You bring it inside and start to look through what’s in there. A calming tea. A bath bomb. Some chocolates. A candle. A book that you've never heard of and somehow know you’re going to love. It’s the perfect kit to have the best and most relaxing day.

And that’s when it hits you. The coffee, the lunch, the show, all the little surprises. It’s all coming from one person. The one person who likes to let his actions speak louder than his words. The one person who clearly hasn’t just been letting you be since the party. This is Minghao all over. You’re a little surprised at how easily the realization clicks into place. Also a little surprised that it didn’t click sooner. Maybe you had forgotten more about him than you thought. Maybe he wasn’t the only person taking up residence in your mind anymore.

There’s a lot to think about and you figure that you’ll use the time taking a bath to do just that. Well, you shower first to make sure you’re clean and because you didn’t do it after getting home the night before. But then, you’re ready to relax in the bath and just let your mind wander. Hope you’ll end up coming to a decision about what you want to do. There’s so much history. So many nights spent trying to figure out how things might have gone differently. Until it clicks. Minghao was right back then. You both needed that space. Needed the separation to go off and figure yourselves out. Needed to learn who you were as an adult before you could learn to make space for another person. When he left, it cleared a path for you to take chances you never would have otherwise. Maybe it did the same for him.

That’s how you find yourself outside his door after the bath, the tea in hand because you know that it’s a brand he loves. Or, at least, he did once upon a time. He opens the door too quickly for you to second guess if this is a good idea. Or to wonder if he’s even home. His eyes seem to sparkle at the sight of you and at the tea in your hands.

“You got my care package,” he says, leaning against the doorframe.

“And figured out who was behind all those wonderful things this past week,” you admit, causing his smile to slip into a more genuine one.

“About time,” he says under his breath.

“Can I come in for a cup of tea?” you ask and he regards you for a moment. That’s always been the hardest part about being around Minghao. He has a way of looking at you and peeling back all the layers. It’s like being naked in front of him. And you’re not as comfortable in front of him as you were once upon a time. It makes you shift on your feet and cast your eyes down.

He steps aside and you let out a sigh of relief at the movement. “Come on in.”

Stepping inside his apartment almost feels like stepping back in time. Everything about the decoration feels familiar. There are a few things that you do recognize but mostly it’s just because it’s so inescapably him. Everything has a place and it looks like it could be featured in a magazine. But, it’s better than that. Better because it feels lived in, like a home even though it is straight from some aesthetic moodboard. You turn back to him when you recognize a figure that you gave him years ago. It makes your heart constrict that he kept it all this time.

“Did you want to share that tea with me?” he asks, noting the box in your hands.

“Oh,” you say, a little startled back into the present. You look down at your hands and then back to him. “Yeah. Well, if you still like it, that is.”

“I do, yes,” he says and accepts the box from your hands. “You can go sit down and I’ll bring the tea out in a minute.”

It’s so impossibly normal and also one of the most abnormal things in the world. The contradictions are making your head hurt, so you just do as Minghao suggests. Sit down on the couch in the living room and sigh. This is the most comfortable couch in the world. That’s another thing you remember about him. Everything fits his aesthetic and it’s never at the expense of comfort. None of that unusable furniture for him. Without even thinking about it, you pick an art magazine off the table. It’s the only thing that seems out of place and there’s a sticky note attached to it with an advanced copy for you to look over scrawled on it. That’s when the cover catches your eye, previously covered in part by the note. Minghao looks back at you, surrounded by some of his artwork. It seems like it’s a profile on him. He must be doing even better than you realized.

“I hated posing for that,” he says softly as he appears with two cups of tea.

You start a little in surprise at hearing his voice and drop the magazine back on the table. “I didn’t mean to…”

“There’s no need to be scared,” he says with a low chuckle as you accept the cup. “You can read it if you’d like.”

“It seems like things are going well for you,” you comment, looking back at the magazine.

“Professionally, sure. Although I’m finding creating a little more difficult lately,” he says and you look at him.

“Why’s that?” you ask and then shake your head.

“What?” he asks.

“We’re just…talking like no time has passed,” you say.

“I guess I thought that after that party and sending you the food the next day like we…” he starts.

“That was from you?” you ask, clearly surprised.

“Would…what?” he asks, shifting mid thought. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you sure?” you ask with a laugh.

“No, I’m sure. I just thought…well, we talked about it that night,” he says.

“I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I don’t remember exactly what we said that night,” you say and look down.

“Ah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well, I figured we’d talk about everything when there weren’t people around and we could have time to ourselves. Then, I sent the food and just never heard from you,” he says.

“You could have said something,” you tell him.

“I’m not always very good at that, the saying something part,” he says.

“You’re great at taking care of things I need, though. Everything the past week or so has been so thoughtful,” you say.

“I know I should have talked to you. I just didn’t know how to start the conversation,” he admits.

“It’s been a long time,” you say.

Just as an awkward silence is about to fall over you, Minghao turns to face you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Before we go down a path of talking about everything that happened back then and about how much I miss you now, do you think it’s worth it?”

You consider that for a long moment and miss the way Minghao seems to hold his breath. Miss the way he searches your face for a sign of the answer before you give it. Don’t realize how many ways your face has changed in the years since he really knew you. When you meet his eyes, you finally see that he looks unsure. All you can do at first is nod.

“Is that a yes?”

You take a deep breath. Ready yourself to jump in with both feet. “I think it’s at least worth having a conversation, yeah.”

And so that’s what you do. You sit down and talk about all the things you wish you had said back when he left. All the things you could have done differently. All the ways you’ve changed since then. It feels good to say all the things that you’ve kept to yourself over the years. There’s something very open and honest about the way you talk. Somehow even more honest than back when you were in a relationship. Maybe because there’s no fear about the other person’s reaction or feelings. Or maybe it’s just because you’re much more mature now than you were back then. You’re not really sure. Not really sure it matters either.

This is probably the most you’ve ever heard Minghao say at once. He even admits it’s because he knows that he’s going to have to do things that make him a little uncomfortable if he wants you to consider trying again. He’s also very understanding as he listens to everything. Not defensive when you point out how things could have gone differently. And you know you can’t be defensive when he points out the things you could have done, either. After all this time, you finally realize that it was very much both of you responsible for the way the relationship ended. Yes, Minghao’s the one that accepted a position that would take him far away from you. He’s the one that suggested that maybe the relationship needed to end. But, you also had your role in all of it. You also have to acknowledge that you got distant. Prioritizing other things in your life over him. No longer able to communicate as effectively as you had earlier in the relationship. Both of you had been growing at different rates and in different directions.

Now, years later, you can realize that it’s something both of you needed. You had to separate to grow in ways you couldn’t do together. Had to be alone to learn the hard lessons, the scary things. To understand what you need and what you want and when to compromise. You’re no longer wearing the rose colored glasses of your early 20s.

“So, what now?” he asks.

“What do you want?” you ask and he sighs a little. “I know, I can’t make you be the only one to talk.”

“I want to know if you still have any space for me in your life and…” he says, but trails off.

“In my heart?” you guess.

“Yeah,” he admits softly.

It’s another crossroads. One of those moments you’ll look back on. You know that you need to be a little brave. “I never really got over you. Not fully.”

Minghao’s face brightens at that and he meets your eye with your favorite smile. The soft one that you always felt like belonged only to you. “Me either. I’ve lived all over the world since we broke up and I still get my best inspiration from you.”

That one sentence pushes all the air out of your lungs. Has you entirely speechless. You hold out your hand and he intertwines his fingers through yours without a word. “So we try?”

“We try,” he agrees.

Trying is both intimidating and the most comforting thing in the world at the same time. A weird duality just like the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Going on a date with someone that you dated for years and then broke up with years ago is like starting well into the relationship. There are all sorts of things that you already know about each other. Yet, there are also things you can’t assume. Things you may have known once may not be true anymore. Or it’s possible that you remember something that wasn’t true at all, even then.

So, you start with the most obvious date night activity: dinner. It gives you something to do without being too distracting from a conversation. Minghao surprises you a bit, too. He’s somehow more thoughtful and more open all at once. He still doesn’t always know how to say what he wants to all the time, but he’s trying harder to get his thoughts out. You’re also trying much harder to meet him where he is rather than expecting something that just isn’t who he is. Another byproduct of how much the two of you have grown in your time apart. You can appreciate how well the two of you fit together now. Can appreciate how your individual strengths complement each other.

After dinner, Minghao starts to suggest going back to the apartment building. You have another suggestion, though. There’s this Art After Dark event that the local art museum runs on the second Saturday of every month that you’ve wanted to check out. Life has been too busy until now. And you also can admit that some part of going felt a little difficult. What if you saw something that Minghao created? Or something that reminded you of him? Or what if there was just a piece of art that you couldn’t understand? You’ve always appreciated the beauty in creation, but some things just went over your head.

The suggestion makes Minghao’s face light up. He’s heard of the event and somehow hasn’t been since moving back. Not that he’s been back all that long. Still, it’s nice to know that you’ll be able to experience something that’s meaningful to him for the first time.

The drive over is quiet, mostly only filled with the sounds of the playlist Minghao picked. It’s not uncomfortable, though, far from it. You’re thinking of how easy it is being in his presence again, especially given how long you spent thinking you needed to avoid him. In the passenger seat, Minghao scrolls what looks like the website for the museum. Probably seeing what installations are there currently on display. Or what special events they have for the evening. Either way, you’re happy to let him prepare before getting there. It’ll only help you on top of it because he’ll be able to walk you through everything. (If you think about how pretty his profile looks in the low light, then that’s your business.)

Once you get there, you insist on covering the admission because Minghao paid for dinner without giving you the chance to even offer. It’s nowhere near even, but it’s the least you can do for now. They also check your IDs on the way in because there’s an open bar, apparently. You each grab a drink off of the tray going around and then head into the first room. Live music drifts softly through from somewhere you can’t see. It adds something nice. Something that makes the whole setting somehow more intimate when combined with it being less busy than during normal hours. Minghao doesn’t wait for you to ask him to lead the way, he just knows. You follow close to him, not quite brushing your arm against him.

This has always been one of your favorite things about Minghao. Watching him at a museum or an art gallery is just special. He walks through and talks about the different artists, the influences, and the history. He can tell you about different periods of an artist’s life and why they might have created the way that they did. There is so much living in his brain that it puts the plaques with each piece of art to shame. Occasionally, you notice someone standing in the area stop and listen to the way he speaks about a piece. It’s endearing to watch him when he’s passionate. Somehow softer and less guarded. Some people might find it sexy, and you do as well. It’s just that you find him cute first. There’s nothing about him that sounds like he’s bragging or talking down about his knowledge. Minghao has always believed that art should be accessible to everyone. That it’s a gift for all people to enjoy. When he speaks about it, that comes across. It’s something familiar, something you’re glad is the same.

Minghao always wants to know the pieces you’re most drawn to. He wants to let you walk into some of the rooms first so he can watch you experience the art for the first time. Wants to know if you’re drawn to the pieces that he expects. You are, mostly. Usually, you wouldn’t want this much attention on you, especially in a place that isn’t your normal comfort zone. But, Minghao makes you feel at ease. At least, until he starts talking about which pieces of art remind him of you and why. It makes you turn away a little to hide the way your cheeks flush. It just feels so intimate. Feels like he’s baring his soul. Feels like too much for someone who’s been a stranger to you for years. Although, can you really say he’s a stranger? Yes, things change. People grow. You and him have certainly both grown. Maybe you’ve grown into the people you both imagined you’d be back when you figured you had the rest of forever together.

It’s not until the last room of the museum that you realize Minghao picked the path deliberately. He motions for you to go ahead of him and you assume it’s just so he can see your reactions to the art, like he has in other rooms. And it is, in a way. Just not for the same reason as any other room. Your attention immediately falls on a piece you recognize immediately. Not because you’ve seen it before. It’s because it’s you. Or, you should say that you know it’s meant to be you. It’s that same style of abstract art that you know belongs to Minghao. The same style that feels as familiar as if it was a polaroid of you. That’s not why it takes your breath away. It’s the fact that he must have painted it after you broke up because you haven’t ever seen it before. And here it is, hanging as part of a long term installment in the museum less than 20 minutes from your apartment

“You knew this was here,” you say.

“I had to double check,” he says softly as he follows you. Your feet bring you right to the piece without any other thought.

Minghao uses art as an expression. Says it’s easier for him to convey the hard things that way, like so many artists seem to. Says he’s not good with words, could never be the kind of creative that writes poems or novels with long scenes expressing intense emotions. It’s so clear looking at his art that he doesn’t need to. So clear that his work is the reason people say a picture is worth a thousand words. You think you could have ten thousand words and still need more with this piece. And most of his pieces, honestly. You yearn to reach out and run your fingers along the canvas, to trace the lines that he uses. Instead, you take in each color and each stroke. It causes conversations from when you were both younger to come flooding back. You remember lying in bed and listening to him talk about his process. About when he brought something to the foreground versus leaving it in the back. About the choice to use a vibrant palette or something more muted and neutral. About how he could play with the different colors to express each emotion. In saying all of that, you remember hearing what he couldn’t say. It’s funny, in hindsight, to think about how Minghao always said he struggled with emotions. He just says what he needs to in a different way.

His feelings are crystal clear to you in this piece. The representation of you is front and center. The first thing your eye lands on when you look at it. Everything else is in the background. Like he’s saying that you’re the center of the universe in this piece. The colors tell you just as much. They’re rich with his affection. With tenderness and forgiveness. With yearning. Like a hand reaching out to pull you in. You even think he might have put a version of himself in the background, muted to throw you into sharper relief. It’s beautiful and passionate and incredibly raw. You may need to know him to see the last bit. It’s only then that you see the date on the piece. Just over a year ago, probably after you had seen him the last time before he popped up at the party in your building.

Finally, you turn to him and find his eyes on you. Studying you, looking for answers before you give them again. And you see the nerves there. He’s grown so much, but he knows you have too. Doesn’t presume to know everything about you anymore. Your mouth curves into the most genuine smile. “It’s amazing, Hao. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You like it?” he asks, a little less sure of himself than you’re used to.

“I love it,” you assure him and turn back to it. “It might be one of the most expressive pieces of yours I’ve ever seen.”

“I know I shouldn’t have been drawing inspiration from you, but I couldn’t stop myself after I saw you that time a year ago,” he says, confirming what you thought. “I was halfway through the painting before I realized it.”

“No matter what, I will always be honored to inspire you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“You know, you’re much better at expressing your feelings than you think,” you tell him, looking over to see his reaction. His face is soft.

“Only if you remember how to read it,” he says.

“It’s all coming back to me,” you say and delight in the way he smiles.

Minghao is a study in contrasts. He’s every bit of what you think about when thinking of an artist. Introverted, intelligent in a way not everyone can appreciate, thoughtful, sometimes a little intimidating to approach. If you don’t know him, he could seem cold or detached. When you do know him, though, he’s anything but cold. Certainly not intimidating. Although he can be guarded, he’s an open book to the people closest to him. He’s incredibly soft and caring. Willing to let all his defenses fall away for the right person.

He takes hold of your hand, even though he’s not always one to seek out physical touch in that way. Not in public. “I want to give this another try. We’ve both grown a lot over the past years. You don’t have to make a decision now. All I want to know now is if you’ll be my Valentine.”

The way he says it doesn’t really sound like a question. It’s also infinitely more direct than you’re used to. You can’t help the teasing look. “That’s so corny.”

The smile you get in response is worth it. Minghao only shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s worth it.”

“Yes, Hao, I would love to be your Valentine,” you say, fighting a bit of the urge to say that you’ll just be his again.

Even though you know that rushing back into something is the last thing you need to do, you’re still excited. Feel lighter than you have in ages. It’s kind of like autopilot for the rest of the time you spend at the museum. And if it’s the best date you’ve been on in years, well that’s your business. It’s also your business if you get back to your apartment that night and think about all the things that happened that day.

Sunday dawns and the first thought in your mind is Minghao. Not exactly surprising after spending a whole day with him instead of continuing to avoid him. Yet, it’s not quite what you’re expecting, either. After years of protecting your heart, it shouldn’t be this easy to open up to him again. That thought does make you pause, just for a second. Then, you think about all the things you managed to cover just in one day together. There’s still plenty to talk about, but you can’t deny the obvious. You’re both so willing to be open and vulnerable. Willing to accept your faults to make sure things are different if you give it another shot. There’s definitely something to be said that he’s the first thing on your mind when you wake up. (And the last thing you thought about before falling asleep.)

It’s time to do things differently. Time to not overthink everything. You’re older and wiser now. Feel like you can trust your gut and the vibes now with more life experience. Instead of giving yourself time to second guess, you send a text to Minghao to ask if he wants to come over. It’s one of those catch up days. You need to grocery shop and run some errands, do some laundry, and do a little cleaning. Minghao loves quality time, something still true now. It’s nothing exciting, though, and you give him plenty of space to say no without it being an issue. All he asks is what time he should come over and if he should eat breakfast first.

Which is exactly how he ends up at your apartment barely 20 minutes later.

Plenty changes and just as much stays the same. Minghao can cook, he never starves. It’s just not his favorite thing to do if left to his own devices. You offer to make him breakfast if he’s going to keep you company during a bunch of errands. While you cook, he keeps himself busy making tea for himself and coffee for you. Doesn’t have to ask how you like it since he covered your coffees for the past week at the shop by your work. Since Minghao likes acts of service just as much as quality time, he empties your dishwasher while you’re finishing up breakfast and tidies up around the kitchen behind you. There’s so much comfort in falling into patterns like that, even though it feels entirely different than before.

Breakfast passes quickly and Minghao helps motivate you out the door. Points out the sooner you get things out of the way, the sooner you can come back and relax. You’re not shy in telling him that he makes an excellent point. The praise falls easily from your lips and you delight in the way it causes him to smile shyly. Some things really never change and you’ll never tire of pulling that out of him.

Several hours later, you’re done with all your errands (in record time, no less, even though you took care of getting things for him as well). Back at your apartment, Minghao unloads your groceries for you along with the light lunch he insisted that you pick up. It should be scary to see him making himself at home in your life again. It’s not, though. It just fills you with an endless amount of warmth. You can’t help the way your heart flutters at him setting your food out on the table and calling for you to come join him before it’s back to checking things off your little list for the day. He just seems so comfortable helping you and sharing in your space. Content to let you set the pace and clearly pleased you texted to invite him over.

After lunch, Minghao shoos you off to get your laundry started while he tidies up in the kitchen and living area. He’s not a clean freak by any stretch. Although he does like for everything to be in its place. You know he’s only doing it now to help you because he doesn’t mind. The warmth is going to be too much at this rate. You let yourself have hearts in your eyes over him for a second before disappearing into your bedroom to gather your laundry.

Once you have your clothes in the washing machine, Minghao says he needs to get something from his apartment and returns with his sketch pad. He’s got a few ideas that he wants to plan out and hopes it’s fine to do with in your living room. You agree as long as he doesn’t mind you rotting away with your TV obsession of the moment. It’s in those quiet moments that you get the most answers. The comfort of being in a space with him, not saying much and yet knowing you could. Sometimes you feel like you have to fill a silence to avoid any awkward pauses. There’s this sense of anxiety about what the other person is thinking, even if you know it’s probably not about you. It’s not the case with him. Which tells you all you really need to know, doesn’t it? No matter how hard you’ve tried over the years to find someone else, to date and have it something more, it’s never been like this with anyone but him.

You’re scared of what comes next. Scared of being hurt. Yet, this feels like one of those chances you just have to take.

The next week goes something like the weekend. You spend a lot of your free time with Minghao. Sharing all the things that have happened over the years. It’s easy to talk about shared friends or new ones. Not quite as easy to talk about all the work updates, though it feels just as important. The two of you stay up late having hard conversations in the quiet hours of the night. Talking about everything that’s different. Neither of you even shy away from past relationships. It doesn’t even feel that difficult. You both had lives since you broke up and those lives shaped you into these people now. Twice, he even shows up for lunch to get you out of the building for a break. The looks from your coworkers are both knowing and happy. Everything feels like it’s going toward the obvious conclusion.

Somewhere in between all the time spent with Minghao, you also carve out time for dinner with your best friend. Need to carve out the time, you think, to get her opinion. She’s been with you since just before the relationship ended. Even though you know that you can make decisions for yourself, it feels important to get an outside perspective. The last thing you want is to rush back into something and end up in the same place as the first time. If nothing else, you know she’ll ask you the difficult questions to make you think. Make you answer if you’ve really thought out what a second chance for the two of you looks like. If you’re doing this because you want this now, in 2025, for if you’re just holding onto a past that felt comfortable. It can be easy to just stay in a bubble without considering what that looks like when the bubble breaks. When you have to go exist together in public or with friends, not just in your own little world.

She does all those things and is adamant: this isn’t like before. Tells you that you don’t need her to tell you what you already know. Instead of justifying everything that happened years ago, you acknowledge. You don’t make excuses because there aren’t any to make. Sometimes things don’t work. You and Minghao are different people now than you were years ago. Somehow, against all odds, you’ve grown into different people that have even better compatibility than you did when you were younger. As cliche as it is, he seems like your right person at the wrong time and the universe is telling you to hit the replay button now. It’s all the confirmation you need. You’re going to dive in and feel confident he’ll be there to catch you.

By the time Valentine’s Day comes around, you’re both completely at peace and nervous for the date itself. It’s been the theme of the last week. Another set of contrasts that somehow work. You trust Minghao, more than you expect. But, you haven’t had a date for Valentine’s since just after you and him broke up. And it was a disaster. So, you’re trying not to set your hopes to an unrealistic level.

But, he quickly proves that you don’t have anything to worry about. Before work, he shows up with flowers, coffee, and a pastry from a shop nearby. It’s really difficult not to just call out from work and spend the day with him. Admitting that makes him laugh and press a gentle kiss to your temple. It’s so sweet that you want to melt. Sadly, you have to go to work and he’s got two different meetings that he can’t miss, one with a museum curator and another with a prospective client. So, he’ll see you after work as planned.

Work seems to drag and more than once, you consider leaving early. Probably would too if Minghao hadn’t been adamant that you couldn’t come by his place until after work. It makes you pout a little, which, in turn, makes Mingyu laugh at you when he stops by your desk. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to avoid bringing up Minghao anymore since they’ve been in touch the whole time. You’re so happy looking forward to the date that you can’t even get mad at your friend. Besides, it can’t have been an easy spot to be in all this time.

Minghao takes your breath away when you actually show up after work.

After quickly changing out of work clothes, you’re on his doorstep, waiting for him to answer. The second you step inside, you see why he had you wait. He’s decorated the entire space in a way he knows you’ll love. All your favorite colors and little things that are cheesy, but also adorable. There are also several paintings, both old and newer, that you know you inspired displayed around the living area. It feels like the perfect space to celebrate with him. All you can do is wrap your arms around him. He’s quick to pull you tight against him. There’s so much emotion.

“The food is already on the way,” he says when you pull away from him. “Thank you for paying, even though you didn’t need to.”

“You’ve been paying for everything. It’s my turn,” you say and smile, looking around his apartment. “And thank you for this. I know it’s not usually your style.”

“You like it. That’s all that matters,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Can I say something that’s maybe too honest?” you ask.

Minghao’s gaze on you is soft. “To me? Always.”

“I do like it, but I think I would like anything because I just like you. A lot more than I realized,” you say and watch him. Every part of you wants to look away. You already feel naked with his gaze on you when you’re not confessing to your feelings.

Minghao reaches for your hand to pull you into him again. Lets the silence settle around you for a moment. He speaks without releasing you. “That’s good because I’m very much in love with you. So I’m glad you like me so much.”

That makes you pull away, eyes wide. “You’re in love with me? You’re sure?”

“Does that scare you?” he asks, studying your face the same way he studies his favorite artwork.

The answer is on the tip of your tongue before you even realize it. “No.”

“You don’t have to know yet. You don’t have to love me back at all if it’s not right for you. But, I’m sure. It’s always been you for me and it’s always going to be you for me. I’m not going to waste a second chance by not telling you how I feel.”

It’s overwhelming in so many ways. The Minghao you loved years ago couldn’t express himself this easily. It was you that had to be good at using your words and interpreting him through actions. At the time, you thought it was fine. Now, seeing him be strong for both of you, you realize that sometimes it’s nice to hear exactly what he’s thinking. It’s nice to just know without having to read his actions. It’s also his way of showing you that things are different. That he’s going to be the partner you need and he’s going to make sure both of you are the best versions of yourself. Somehow that simple statement, along with everything he’s done the past week, are the final piece. You know this is going to be a partnership and you know you’re in it. Whatever happens, happens.

Dinner passes quickly and the food is great, like you know it will be. It’s also nice not to have to cook or clean anything up. Even nicer to have the space to enjoy each other’s company without going out to dinner like every other couple for the holiday. And Minghao clearly enjoyed setting his table just right for the two of you. After dinner, you suggest watching something. Minghao lets you pick and the two of you settle onto his couch. Without overthinking it, you adjust to put your legs over his lap. He lets you get comfortable before putting his own hands back down and absently tracing patterns into the fabric of your pants. For a fleeting moment, you imagine him using your body as a canvas. Shaking your head to clear the thought, you focus back on the TV.

After a while, you start to feel a little uncomfortable. Not with your legs in Minghao’s laps. That’s providing a lot of comfort. You’re stretching out your neck and rolling your shoulders without realizing it. It’s been a long week at work with too much time hunched over a computer.

“Do you want a massage?” Minghao asks, interrupting the show. You look over at him with raised eyebrows. “You keep rubbing your neck and rolling your shoulders.”

“Of course you noticed,” you say with a chuckle.

“Maybe a massage would help,” he offers again.

You bite your lip in consideration. You haven’t so much as kissed Minghao since you started to spend time together again (since you’re ignoring any drunk kiss that happened at Soyoon’s party for New Year’s Eve). It’s only been a kiss to the cheek here or a temple kiss there. This is definitely more than that. You want to go slow, but you also miss the way he feels. You remember the massages after long nights of studying.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you say.

The warmth in his eyes when you agree is familiar. Older and wiser, sure, but still familiar. He gets up off the couch and reaches a hand to you. “Come on, let’s go into the bedroom so it’s more comfortable.”

You place your hand into his and follow him. It’s the first time you’ve seen his bedroom and it’s so simple. A few pieces of his art sit in the corner. For the most part, you can tell he only uses the space to sleep.

“I’m going to get some lotion. You can get settled,” he says and places a soft kiss on your temple.

Once he disappears, you make a decision. You remove your shirt and bra so that your back is bare when you lay down on his bed. You settle on the bed with your head up by the pillow so that you can collect part of his sheet around your chest. It’s a little awkward, being half-naked and wondering how to position yourself. It only takes Minghao a few moments before he’s coming back through the bedroom door. His breath catches when he sees you.

“I hope this is okay,” you say, carefully turning to look at him. “My shoulders and neck are so tense that I wanted you to be able to reach them easily.”

He gathers himself quickly and crosses over to his bed. Sits down next to your hip and runs a hand gently across your back. Like he’s testing if you’re actually there. “As long as you’re comfortable, then I’m happy.”

“I am, yeah,” you say softly.

“Okay, then let me take care of you,” he says, just as soft.

Without another word, he moves to straddle your body, using his knees on either side of you to hold the majority of his weight. Gently, he brushes your hair off your neck and over to the side. It’s enough to make you sigh and close your eyes. You hear him open the lotion to put some into his hands. Always so thoughtful, he warms it before putting his hands on your back. He starts just below your shoulders and works his way up, feeling for knots and increasing the pressure as needed. Barely a minute passes and you already feel like you could melt into his mattress. It’s definitely not just the release of tension that has you so comfortable that you could drift into sleep. No, it’s the person with his hands on you. It’s the care he shows with each movement.

Before long, you really are drifting in between the land of being fully awake and asleep. It’s not that you could fall asleep on him. You still feel each movement. You’re just incredibly relaxed. Each of your muscles melt under the gentle touch of his nimble fingers. Even when he digs into a knot, it still feels relaxing. Professionals should be thankful that he took up art instead because he could put them all to shame. Though, admittedly, you’re biased. And you haven’t ever found the thought of a stranger massaging you to be that relaxing. There’s always the initial awkwardness before settling in. None of that happens with the person you know you trust more than yourself.

He bends down to your ear and his breath alerts you before he says anything. “Going to fall asleep on me, sweetheart?”

His tone is light, almost teasing. It’s also confident, but not in the cocky way. He’s proud of the way he can relax you so easily. Your brain is a little foggy and maybe that’s also a good thing. You turn towards his voice and wind your arm up so that you can place a hand on the back of his head. His eyes aren’t just filled with warmth when they meet yours anymore. There’s desire there now, too, the same desire building within you. You pull him towards you and kiss him. Slow, almost lazy, at first. It quickly deepens into something more.

It’s an awkward position, though. Minghao moves off of your back and you take the chance to also reposition, turning over and sitting up. There’s no awkwardness anymore and you don’t bother pulling the sheet with you when you face him. He takes a second to drink you in. Swallows hard as his eyes travel over your chest. In the next moment, he pulls you toward him so that he can kiss you again. You position your legs on either side of his hips to allow you to press tight against him. His kiss is urgent, tongue tangling with your own as the two of you meld into one. You wind one of your hands into his hair, only playing with the ends of it at first, wrapping pieces around your fingers.

Minghao pulls back like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Both of your chests rise and fall quickly to catch your breath. “Are you sure?”

“That I want this?” you clarify.

“That you want this with me,” he says, still a little breathless.

“Yes,” you say.

“Are you really sure?” he asks again. He’s checking for consent and also giving you an out.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you confirm.

You think that he’s leaning back in so that he can kiss you again. Until he uses a hand to tilt your head to one side and kisses along your jaw. He carries his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Like he’s mapping every inch of your body. Committing it to memory or maybe making up for the lost years. When you were younger, you found it difficult to accept this kind of attention. Always worrying there was some kind of imbalance. Now, all you can do is moan out your appreciation for the way Minghao worships every inch of your skin. You’re not in a rush and he’s clearly not either. You run your hands through his hair, allowing your nails to scrape lightly against his scalp and shudder at the way he moans into your skin. Do it again just to feel the way his lips vibrate.

His hands find their way to your hips and he grips hard. Anchoring you in place and also checking to make sure it’s all real. That it’s all happening. That none of this is another one of his dreams. Every time you run your nails along his scalp, it’s a reminder that it is happening. That the two of you really have found your way back to something. In that moment, he knows that he’ll risk his heart to not spend the rest of his life wondering what could have happened. Be vulnerable now and hope it’ll work out.

Spurred on by the soft sounds falling from your lips, Minghao moves from your collarbones down to the hollow between your breasts. You arch into his mouth and dig into his scalp, just for a second. It’s the only thing he needs to feel. Quickly, he moves his mouth over to your nipple, taking it into his mouth. Swirling around it and nipping it lightly. He moves one of his hands from your hip to take the other nipple between his fingers. Can’t have either feeling left out. It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, like you’re some kind of horny teenager. His fingers are so nimble, so intentional in the way they tease you that you can’t help it. He swaps his mouth to your other nipple, replacing his fingers. You’re not sure what you want more.

This time, you pull back. Still kind of breathing shallowly even though you hadn’t been kissing him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and a little concerned. You’re quick to reassure him, hands moving to the hem of his shirt. “Can I? I don’t want to be the only half naked one anymore?”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

You pull the shirt up and over his head, thankful that he’s not overdressed to make it more complicated. For a second, the sight of him renders you speechless. Gently, you run your finger along his chest and down the muscles of his stomach that weren’t there when you dated him last time. The way he shudders under your touch only spurs you on. There’s a scar along his side that you don’t remember. It’s smooth to the touch, just slightly raised.

“Beautiful,” you whisper confidently.

He can’t stand it anymore. He takes your face in his hands and pulls you into him. Kisses you again, slowly but with so much intensity that it makes your heart skip several beats. You still fit in with him like you were made for each other. He uses the kiss to shift both of your bodies and disentangle your legs. Dips you backwards until your head hits the pillow without his lips leaving yours. Once you’re lying back, though, he breaks the kiss again. Resumes kissing down your body. Makes sure to kiss away any insecurities in the process. Whispers praise into your skin that feel like a salve. This is Minghao, your Minghao. You’re safe with him. Loved. Cherished. Supported. It’s overwhelming to feel all of that come rushing back after years spent apart looking for it in someone else. Of course it’s always been him.

Normally you’re somewhat ticklish, and you do have to fight a little nervous laugh as he kisses down your stomach, especially when his face is so close that you can feel his eyelashes against your skin. But, there really isn’t anything funny about this. Not when Minghao looks up at you while kissing your body. Seems to be mapping your reactions just as much as your skin. He pauses with his hands on your pants, silently asking for permission. Checking in to make sure that you’re still okay with this. You nod and he kisses your stomach again before unbuttoning your pants. Pulls your pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. He takes a moment to appreciate you, laid out before him. Any remaining nerves disappear. You’ve never seen someone look at you with that much love in your life. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Until Minghao resumes kissing down your body and it’s a different kind of overwhelming. His breath ghosts across your core as he places slow, open mouthed kisses along your thighs.

Nothing has really happened, but by the time he settles between your legs, you’re already worked up. Wound so tightly that you think he could have you coming with just a touch. You consider if that would be too fast for half a second before catching sight of Minghao. He looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, and you don’t care what happens. Don’t care how fast anything happens because it’s him. Can hardly believe that this beautiful person wants to put your needs before his own. His eyes narrow like a siren, full of focus and desire, and it takes your breath away.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” he says. “I’ve been waiting years to taste you again.”

“You wha - fuck,” you hiss out.

He effectively short circuits your brain with one move. He doesn’t bother teasing you, just goes straight to licking into your wet cunt. Uses two fingers to spread your lips open so that he has better access. There’s no concern for building up to something. He wants to taste you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. When his nose hits your clit, it makes you groan out and snap your thighs around his face. His groan in response vibrates through your pussy. Makes him use his thumb to rub circles on your clit without slowing his speed licking into you. It’s entirely too overwhelming in the best way. In just moments, Minghao has you writhing underneath him, gripping onto anything within your reach. His hair. The sheets. The pillow. Anything. The tension builds entirely too fast and you’re not really ready for it to be over. Not ready to have it end.

You’re not sure if he has the same thought or not, but Minghao pulls back to look at you. The moan at the sight of your wetness all over his lips and chin is immediate. Somehow it makes him even sexier and you can’t take your eyes off him. Can’t look away as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. With careful movements, he pulls himself up your body and lies next to you on his side to face you. Winds an arm under your neck. Places two of his fingers against your mouth and you suck them in without a thought. Swirl your tongue around his slender fingers with your eyes locked on his. Smile at the way it seems to be affecting him. With what looks like regret on his face, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and moves his hand down between your legs. Runs his middle finger up your still wet folds before inserting it.

“Minghao, fuck, you can’t just…” you start, only to have your words cut off.

You’re kissing again and it’s the most heated yet. The taste of you lingers on his lips. Seems to mark him as yours. You realize that maybe he’s not teasing you because he meant what he said. He’s been waiting too long for this to go slow with you. There’s plenty of time to slow down later. This is what both of you need now. He slides another finger into your pussy and pumps even faster. Doesn’t let you pull away from the kiss, catching every sound you make and adding his own sounds. The tension builds, even faster than before. In no time at all, you’re coming all over his fingers. Gasping for breath as you break the kiss and he gently pumps into you to guide you through the orgasm.

When you can catch your breath, you look over at Minghao. Appreciate the way he just watches you. He gently brushes a piece of hair out of your face and then leans in for a soft kiss. You’re not letting him get away with that, though. Not now. Not when he just had you coming harder than you can remember in a long time. You knock the kiss up in intensity and he lets you lead. Lets you set the pace and meets every kiss with the exact right amount of pressure. Your hands are everywhere on him while you kiss, exploring all the lines and the muscles that feel a little foreign. The only obvious sign of the passage of time.

He pulls back just long enough so that he can pull his pants and briefs off. Doesn’t even look where he tosses them in the room. All he can think of is connecting his lips with yours again. About making up for all the years in between, even if you both know that you needed that time apart to find your way back. You wind your hand down between your bodies and grip his dick in your hand. Slowly run your thumb over the tip and find there’s already precum there. It fills you with so much satisfaction to know that he’s as turned on as you are. It’s a little diary, but you spit quickly in your hand. You run your hand up and down his cock a few times, twisting your fist around him. Checking to see what kind of pressure and speed he likes.

“I just want…fuck, sweetheart,” he groans out as you run your thumb across his tip again.

“What do you want, Hao?” you ask, making your eyes as big and innocent as possible.

“I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me,” he says and your breath catches. “I don’t want to cum from a handjob like some teenager.”

“Fuck,” you say with a nod. “Yes, please, yes.”

He rolls away from you for a second to reach for his nightstand and returns with a condom and some lube. Rips the condom open with his teeth and then rolls it onto his cock. You’re about to ask him how he wants you when he pulls back and spreads your legs open. He looks at you as he lines himself up at your entrance. For a moment, he just looks at you. Then, he pours some of the lube onto the condom. Makes sure this is going to feel good for you.

“I want to watch you fall apart,” he says, voice thick with desire.

“Please,” you say softly. “I need to feel you, Hao.”

Minghao lines himself up and presses his tip against your entrance. You’re a little sensitive from his tongue and his fingers. Still wet from that and from the intensity of the kisses afterwards. You wrap your legs around his waist as he angles into you. He leans forward, arms on either side of you so that you’re caged in. He’s sliding in so slowly, so carefully. It’s the first time he’s even come close to teasing you. Or maybe it’s just so that he can draw it out. Either way, you want him buried inside you. Can’t stop from wrapping your legs tighter around him. It’s hard to have him looking at you with so much intensity. So much eye contact. You catch the chuckle at your impatience with your lips.

It works, though. He bottoms out with one final thrust and you would scream it if not for his lips on yours. You let him set the pace even though it’s just slower than you want. The sensitivity just makes everything feel more intense. Each time either of you breaks the kiss to catch a breath, your eyes are on each other. Uttering praise and promises into the space between the two of you. More Minghao than you, which is incredible. A steady stream of both coherent and incoherent thoughts. Somehow it all makes sense to both of you. All seems like it’s exactly right. And true to his word, when the tension builds in your body again, Minghao breaks the kiss entirely. Watches the way your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open. Appreciates every sound you make. Later he’ll tell you that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than you in that moment. For now, all he can do is watch and pick up his own pace. He wants to follow right behind you.

There’s less build up this time when you fall over the edge, toes curling and back arching. It’s even more intense too, something you didn’t think was possible. Hazily, you feel Minghao’s thrusts falter in their speed as he comes hard just after you. You try to take over the rhythm, but your body feels spent. After his final thrust, he offsets his weight so he’s not lying fully on top of you without pulling out either. Your breathing syncs up with his as you come back to the bedroom and the reality of what just happened.

You can’t help yourself. His hair is a little wet with sweat and you reach out to brush it away. Think about how this may be your favorite hairstyle he’s ever had. He catches your hand before you even realize his eyes are on you and he kisses your palm. It makes you smile at the care in his eyes. When he releases your hand he props himself up to slowly ease out of you. You figure that you should get up as well before he presses your shoulder gently down.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

And he does, doesn’t he? He’s shown you with his actions and even followed it up with his words. He does have you and you think he’ll probably always be there. You hear the water running from the attached bathroom and then watch him return with a wet washcloth. The bright light behind him highlights his silhouette like an angel. That’s not where it stops, though. Instead of letting you clean yourself up, he sits on the bed and runs the cloth carefully over your body. It makes your heart hurt to have him taking care of you like this, so tender and full of such pure affection. Once he finishes, he tosses the washcloth over to the nightstand. You pull him into you so that you can cuddle close.

Even though you could probably stay like that for the rest of the night, you know that you either need to change the sheets or figure something out. You run a hand over his arm thoughtfully. That’s when it hits you and you turn your face to his. “Do you wanna go sleep in my bed with me and we can deal with your bed tomorrow?”

His laugh is light, easy. “Inviting me to bed on the second date, what will the neighbors say?”

You swat at his arm without any real force. “That you’re incredibly lucky, I expect.”

“They’re right about that,” he says, any teasing gone in the completely honest statement. It’s a little too much for you, at least for a minute. Minghao, in his infinite wisdom, lets you have the moment. He moves from the bed and helps you up with him. Even helps you track down your clothing that’s gotten more scattered than you realize.

It’s so easy to fall back into a rhythm with him even though it feels entirely different. Familiar and new. Fitting for the enigma that is the man before you. Which is when it hits you, just as he’s reaching the door to the hallway. Minghao stops to turn around and see why you’re not right behind him.

“Are you coming? I don’t really want to have to break into your place,” he says with another light laugh.

“Been working on your cat burglar skills during the past few years, have you?” you joke back and he just shakes his head. Closes the space between you and collects you into his arms.

“I think that’s your wishful thinking about wanting a cat,” he says and you laugh.

“Could be,” you concede.

“Shall we?” he asks when he releases you.

“Just a second,” you say and he regards you with clear curiosity. “Earlier you told me that you loved me and…”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. You mistake it for him thinking you don’t feel the same.

“No, I need to say something,” you say and he swallows anything else. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” he says with a smile that has you rolling your eyes. Of course he knows. You’re entirely smitten and once again, the last one to know. “And how lucky am I to have someone who loves me like you do as a Valentine? To be loved by someone that I love as much as I love you?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hao.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s to a lifetime more of these.”

“I can’t wait.”

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stevesgother · 2 days ago

Note

emmmm!!!!!!!! in honour of valentines day, I humbly and urgently request reader and steve getting ready for a date together, but steve can't keep his hands off of them 🤭 all the kissy touchy undressy pls! <3333333333333

CHLOE UGH i love this

anything for u my darling

18+ under the cut

You never needed to beg or plead for the bare minimum from your boyfriend like you had with lovers in the past.

Steve loved Valentine's Day. It was the one day a year where he could well and truly spoil you without you bashfully insisting that he 'really didn't have to'. If it were up to him, he'd bring you home a new gold pendant and a bouquet of a dozen red roses every night when he got home from work-- but he spared you for the fear of being "too much". He'd never had a partner that appreciated him so much as you did.

Standing in front of your shared bathroom's mirror, you were attempting to apply your lipstick. Your dinner reservation was in a mere thirty minutes, and your boyfriend was absolutely insatiable.

"Steve, I can't put this one when you're moving me," you groaned.

"Can't help it, baby-- you just look so damn good," his words are muffled as he shoves his face further into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. You can feel his erection pressing incessantly into your backside as you bent slightly over the counter to get a closer look at your lips.

He'd been like this since the moment you put on that dress-- the dress that he bought for you to wear, no less. He'd presented it to you in a neatly wrapped gift box with a bow on top.

'We have a reservation at Enzo's for seven, picked you up something pretty to wear, too.'

He just hadn't anticipated you looking so fucking sexy in it. He thinks it might even be borderline obscene. Especially with that dainty little 'S' charm hanging in the valley between your breasts.

He was pressing hot, wet kisses to the vein that ran along the side of your neck; one he was well acquainted with.

"Baby, we're gonna be late,"

"I'll drive fast," he breathes.

"Steve--"

"I need you, honey, I'm not gonna be able to make it through dinner," he chuckles, his deft fingers move under the hem of your dress and he pulls at it before letting it snap back into place on your thighs, "jus' wanna take you right here over this counter."

You can't help the whimpery moan that his words elicit from you, and you know immediately that that's what breaks him.

His hand moves to cup your heat over the lace panties you had worn with the notion that he's be ripping them off of you later-- and despite how'd you been trying to play it cool, the wetness pooling there betrays you.

"So wet f'me, baby," his free hand grips you by the jaw and maneuvers you to face him. He kisses you with an urgency you don't have the privilege of experiencing very often. Steve's always been a fantastic kisser, but you love it when he kisses you like it's the last time he'll ever get to. It's passionate and deep; his tongue delving past your lips to dance with your own.

At some point in the last minute or two he had pulled your underwear to the side; seemingly too impatient to take them all the way off. The tips of his index and middle fingers circle your puffy clit, causing a whine to slip past your lips.

He's trying to get you ready for him, always the gentleman, but you can tell he's extra needy tonight. You push the plush of you ass back against his hardness and he all but growls into your ear.

You hear the clinking of him hurriedly unbuckling his belt, and before you know it, the blushing red head if his cock is sliding through your wet folds collecting the wetness there.

"Oh--Steve," you drawl.

"I need you, baby-- is this okay?"

"Yes Steve, please,"

There's no easing into it like there usually is. All at once you feel the entirety of his length sheathed into you and it takes every ounce of strength in your body not to cry out at the sensation. He's taking your face in the hand that doesn't have a death grip on the fat of your hip and forcing you to face the mirror again.

"Want you to look at yourself while I fuck you, such a little slut f'me, huh?"

The hand on your face makes it's way around to grab a fist full of your hair, keeping your head up despite the urge to let your head fall. Your tits bounce with the force of his hips plowing into you, and you know you'll be sore in the morning.

"Touch yourself, baby-- I'm close,"

You do as you're told, moving your hand south to play with your bundle of nerves where your underwear's been hastily pushed to the side. The pressure of the head of Steve's cock hitting that spongey spot deep inside you combined with the added sensation on your clit has the knot in your lower belly tightening.

"Steve!" You cry out. The thought of your upstairs neighbors briefly crosses your mind, but not enough for you to quiet your chants of his name.

"You gonna come? I can feel you, baby, let go. I've got you," he wraps a toned arm around your waist to pull you flush to him. This was his favorite way to finish-- every inch of your body in contact with every inch of his. Steve may be the more domineering partner in your relationship, but he'll forever be a sap at heart. Especially for you.

"Gonna come-- Steve! Inside me please, want you to finish inside,"

"H-oh fuck-- baby--"

You feel him tense inside you seconds before you're flooded with the warmth of him filling you to the brim. Logically, you both know you're on birth control, but even the idea of Steve knocking you up makes him finish almost instantly. Every single time. It's like his kryptonite.

He rides out his high with a few more harsh thrusts before he's pulling out and moving your underwear back in place.

"Wait-- I need to clean up," you start but he interrupts as he's buckling his belt.

"You're gonna go to dinner like that, and then when we get home later, I'm gonna fuck it back into you. That sound good?"

You're left speechless at how casually he says it. Leave it to Steve to work you up like this, and then act like he didn't just rock your world.

"Uh huh," you respond, a little dumbly.

"Good." He smiles so earnestly it makes you melt a little, "Jesus, baby, your lipsticks a mess. Better fix it while I start the car, yeah?"

You laugh, swatting his chest, but he just bends at the waist to give you a smacking kiss to your sweaty cheek as if he isn't the sole reason you look so disheveled.

"Steven!"

"Love you!" He calls over his shoulder as he runs from you.

Maybe Valentine's Day wasn't so bad when you had him.

197 notes · View notes

kumkaniudaku · 1 day ago

Text

Fall Break

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 4.9k

MASTERLIST

Chicago wasn't half bad. Asia had to concede that fact as Kelvin filmed the journey into the city from the airport on his cellphone.

Despite the disorienting mind-fuck that was O'Hare, the mishmash of old comforts and new charm glistening under a fresh downpour drew her in more than she cared to admit. She saw the appeal. It didn't make losing her man to the Midwest feel any better than the days before, though. They could visit anytime. She didn't want him to stay.

She put on a brave face and an appeasing smile during dinner at a so-so downtown Chinese and Thai spot, listening to Kelvin rant and rave about his new team while pieces of her heart withered and died inside.

Asia held on to him a little tighter as they walked through the streets like tourists in search of cheap drinks to celebrate nothing in particular. One shot turned into three and a cocktail. Then, two more shots a piece and a secret third shot Asia snuck with Kelvin dipped off to relieve himself in the restroom. Just something to take the edge off. She promised herself she wouldn't get too drunk and start crying. But, as reality set in and Chicago became less of a fun pre-Valentine's vacation and more of a concrete reality, she couldn't help the tears welling up in her eyes once they'd called it a night and snuggled into bed together.

Unable to cry, scream, or otherwise, Asia took the next best outlet: fucking. She knew it was wrong to hide her pain behind the ruse of wanting intimacy from a man more than willing to give it to her. She wanted to change her mind and almost had an out when she called Kelvin's name and startled him awake. He took Asia's apology in stride and pressed for answers until he was buried deep in her heat from behind, spooning like both their lives depended on it.

Good, but not enough. Not until Asia was numb and so drunk on physical intimacy that she couldn't think straight. Perched on his face, she bucked her hips erratically to get the last drops of frustration out of her body by way of Kelvin's tongue.

He held on tight with long fingers gripping soft flesh on both ass cheeks for dear life while he watched Asia fondle her own nipples, searching for her third orgasm. A woman possessed. He loved it. He'd drink her in until the sun came up just to see the face she made when the pressure in her belly was too much to contain.

Groaning, Asia slumped forward to look down at Kelvin, lapping at her with a face covered in his reward. "I love it when you eat me like that, baby," she demanded, her voice raspy and thick with sleep. "Look at you. So fuckin' nasty for me. You gone make me cum?"

"Mhmm." More a moan than a response. And, even as he grew more excited from the mere sniff of the gold mine between her legs, Kelvin wasn't sure if he could go too much longer without a break.

Reaching between her legs, he slid two fingers into her pussy, never slacking on his tongue's rhythm. A desperate mewl from deep within Asia's throat cut through the pitch-black room. Her thoughts became static as she felt the familiar tightening of release wind in her abdomen.

"Oh…fuck," Asia squealed when euphoria quivered her inner thighs. "Don't stop, baby! Don't stop!"

A plea for the moment and the future wrapped in one. Tears begging to see the world all say fell freely from Asia's eyes in pain and pleasure. Kelvin watched her in elation, feeling pride from a job well done swell in his chest.

She came hard, the force from a hard-earned eruption still directing her hips to turn Kelvin's face into a saddle until all thoughts of tomorrow floated into the void to bother Asia another day. Kelvin was there to greet her when strength returned to her body and sent her rolling off his face onto the mattress. Her chest heaved to bring in as much oxygen as possible while he peppered affection across her shoulder and onto her jaw.

"I've never seen you like this before," Kelvin mumbled between kisses to the corner of Asia's mouth. "Maybe we should do that more often?"

She smiled, turning on her side to face him. "I'm down for right now if you wanna go again."

Again? Kelvin tried to maintain his smile, hoping she'd crack the impenetrable neutrality preventing him from getting a read on her true emotions. Was she joking? She had to be joking. But jokes came with laughs and a punchline. So far, neither were in the room.

"Oh, you're serious," Kelvin noted, a mix of confusion and amazement in his voice. He shifted to flip the switch on Asia's headboard lamp for a better look at her face in the wee hours of the morning. "I mean, if you give me a minute, I can maybe get things going again. You know I –"

"Kel, it's fine. Don't stress yourself if you need to rest. I'll live!"

Goading was manipulation, no matter how well she faked a cheery inflection to hide her true intentions. And though she wasn't proud of using nefarious methods to get what she wanted, Asia wouldn't allow her entire weekend to be taken by devastating blow after devastating blow to her emotions without getting something in return.

Kelvin's attempt to kiss Asia's lips was thwarted as she rolled off the bed on the way to the bathroom, leaving him just enough cheek to grease the gears in his mind. "Woah, woah. I need five minutes and I'm back in. Can I have five minutes?"

"Only five. You sure? I'm serious. We can wait until the morning."

"Nah," Kelvin rushed out. Asia watched as he dipped his fingers beneath the plush duvet to take things into his own hands. "I got it. Five minutes."

She'd give him eight. Two to find a distant memory to get the blood flowing, three to get his lone soldier to stand at attention, and three more for her to stop bullshitting and come clean.

The dark, ugly cloud of hidden feelings was starting to drench Asia's mental in inescapable, blurring rain, preventing her from thinking straight as the deadline loomed closer. With Kelvin, she sported a sweet smile and acquiesced to every endless scroll through Crate & Barrel or CB2 run, hoping that picking vases and matching color schemes would help her overcome the truth.

Long distance wasn't an option. Asia had tried to outrun and tiptoe across the fact like it was fresh lava on the ground, only to fall face first before in-flight snacks rolled down the aisle. Coming to terms with reality meant telling Kelvin. Telling Kelvin meant interrupting his third Bad Boys rewatch and the medium-difficulty sudoku puzzle keeping most of his attention. It meant possibly starting an argument with hundreds of strangers in earshot. It meant possibly ending her first relationship thousands of feet in the air with no way home until Monday morning. Worst of all, it meant disappointing Kelvin.

Waiting wouldn't change anything. The longer she kicked the can down the road, the more exhausted she'd wind up once the jig was up. Do it. Rip the band-aid. Asia tried to imagine Sabrina egging her on, pushing her to dive head first into radical honesty but came up short under dim lights showcasing incoming tears shining in her eyes. A harsh wipe with the back of her hand smeared them out of existence before she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ripping band-aids off physical wounds always hurt, and the pain never went away as fast as people try to pretend. Emotional wounds couldn't be much different.

"Hey, Kel. Can we talk?" Asia's voice ricocheted in the silence as she exited the bathroom. No response prompted her to call for her lover again. "Babe?"

Eight minutes was too long for tired limbs and eyes to settle atop soft sheets, especially for a man known to value the sanctity of napping. Asia watched Kelvin's chest rise and fall, his mouth hanging open with his hand still beneath the covers. A small smile tugged at her lips as she climbed into bed beside him. Kelvin wasn't a wound, and her revelation wasn't a band-aid. It was a life-altering change that required a delicate approach Asia hadn't quite pieced together. Not here. Not now.

Two soft kisses on his cheek stirred Kelvin awake long enough for him to hug Asia's waist tighter and yawn. "I wasn't asleep. Just resting my eyes. You ready for me?"

"It's okay, babe. Go to bed. See you in the morning," Asia answered. She snuggled closer to his body to savor what could be the last bits of his warmth she'd ever feel. Kelvin half-kissed her forehead, bringing back tears she thought she'd neutralized.

"Mhmm. Morning."

Deep breaths in and out helped Asia match her heartbeat to Kelvin's until sleep welcomed her into a temporary retreat from inner turmoil. She promised herself another round of next times. Next times that came and went without so much as a peep until they slowly took a backseat to the utter chaos of apartment hunting the following morning.

Kelvin's carefully curated list of five perfect apartments had slowly dwindled to two and a shaky possible by noon. Too expensive, too small, too outdated, too stuffy, not enough natural light – the list of big and small flaws ran the gamut of available gripes. Asia resisted taking the opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in Kelvin's mind to play the role of dutiful girlfriend, smothering little frustration fires and offering support in the face of adversity. It was her idea to continue the search past lunch when all Kelvin wanted to do was stalk back to the hotel and bury his head beneath a pillow.

She tugged him down a sidewalk drenched in fresh rain toward their fifth and final option. "Come onnnn. We're already here! This could be the one!" A fifth dud couldn't hurt that bad. Or maybe it'd hurt just enough to help him change course.

All hope of helping Kelvin see the light atomized into a figment of Asia's twisted imagination when a few taps at an empty two-bedroom unit's digital keypad granted them access to the most beautiful piece of real estate either of them had ever seen.

A wall of windows overlooked a bustling cityscape complete with enough commuters and tourists hustling past each other on the sidewalk to people-watch for hours. Expansive, pristine granite countertops complimented warm-toned wooden cabinets, housing more space than both their kitchens combined. Light wood floors added an upscale feel as Kelvin and Asia walked hand in hand through the hallways and gawked at each room. Two bathrooms, a walk-in closet in the guest bedroom, a huge faux-marble standing shower, a soaking tub, enough space for a king bed and nightstands – a slice of heaven well within a reasonable price.

Asia wanted to hate it. She wanted to point out imperceptible flaws in the drywall and the specks of dust on the baseboards. One of the handles on the doorknob stuck a bit when she pressed down on it. Surely, that was enough to change his mind. Unfortunately, the hassle of finding a problem couldn't outshine the pocket of joy she found in watching Kelvin record videos to send to his sister for her approval. He saw a future in empty bedrooms and blank white walls waiting for his creative touch when she couldn't stomach walking into such a prison ever again.

"You were right." Kelvin did a full 360 in the primary bedroom, mentally planning where some of his prints could create a gallery wall. "This is the one. I think I found our spot, babe."

Asia fought to maintain the smile she'd plastered on her face despite happiness being miles away. "I…I think you did, too. This is beautiful. I love it for you." She'd inadvertently found Kelvin a hidden gem. Another perfectly fated wrench was thrown into her plan. "You need me to get the leasing agent?"

"Not right now. Come see the vision for a second." Kelvin's outstretched hand beckoned for Asia to join his side in the center of the room. She answered the call with slow steps before allowing him to pull her body into a soft hug. He pressed silly kisses onto her cheek, making a show of his affection until he'd had his feel. "I'm gonna put the bed right here," he informed, gesturing to a spot against the back wall. "Those two nightstands I've been lookin' at will fit perfectly. Eventually, I'm gonna throw the wallpaper you showed me up behind the bedframe, and that dope ass rug can warm up the room a little too, right?"

Asia placated him with a nod. "Yeah, probably. Either here or in the office."

"Oh, shit, the office. I can say that now. I have an office. We have an office," he laughed, giddy from the realization he could finally separate work, lounge, and sleep into three separate spaces. "Shit is crazy. You know, you basically have two places now. How does it feel to be rich?"

"It's feels good." It felt…something. Terrible? Painful like a thousand bikini waxes back to back? But, good? That wasn't it. "I'm proud of you, Kel. Really."

Kelvin beamed from Asia's approval before puckering his lips for a kiss. "Thank you, baby. You want the left sink or the right sink?"

"I actually want the entire guest bathroom. How much is that per month?"

"I'm actually running a special," Kelvin answered as he pretended to tabulate numbers in his head. "If you come up here to do what we did last night every other month, I'll let it go for breakfast in bed."

Asia considered his offer. "What if you made me dinner every other month and I just ate it with my top off?"

"Sold."

Laughter echoed throughout the empty space, drawing attention from the leasing agent trying not to eavesdrop in the living room. She tiptoed around the corner and stopped to smile at the young couple so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice her presence. She cleared her throat, making them jump from the intrusion.

She waved her hands in front of her body, eyes wide from embarrassment. "No, no! Don't stop on account of me. I was only checking in with you two. Like what you see?"

"It's beautiful," Asia answered, still in awe of their luck. "Right, babe? This is the one?"

"I think so. I'm only here for the weekend, so it'd be great to start the process today if we can."

The possibility of a commission before the end of the day had the agent jittering in excitement. If they were quick, she'd have her weekend kicked off with a little sweetener on top. She rushed to whip out her iPad and dance her fingers across the screen.

"Oh, of course," she answered, her eyes focused on the device in her hand. "Are we doing one or both of you on the lease?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not –"

Kelvin interjected on top of Asia. "Just me for now. Is there an opportunity to add a second person later, though? You know…in case something changes?"

Asia waited for the punchline or Ashton Kutcher to roll out of the closet with a camera crew in tow to announce she'd been punked. Maybe then she could laugh all this off and understand why Kelvin had gone out of his way to plant the seed that there was a remote possibility she might abandon the life she'd created to follow him hundreds of miles to the Midwest.

"We love a man who plans," the leasing agent complimented, impressed by Kelvin's desire to include his lady. He stood taller and pulled Asia closer despite her legs refusing to budge. "To answer your question, yes. But we can cross that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, take another look, get some more pictures, and then meet me in the lobby to talk about the paperwork. Sound good?"

"Sounds good!" Kelvin couldn't contain the cheery inflection in his voice as he talked through additional instructions with the leasing agent at the front door or the slight hop in his step when he snuck up behind Asia to gaze out of the bedroom's windows over her shoulder.

Pure, unadulterated happiness coursed through his veins with her body wrapped in his arms and tomorrow's possibilities flipping rapidly through his mind. Home. An abode meant for a singular inhabitant at present, but circumstances changed every day. There was a time when Asia was but a coworker and then a close friend. With sunshine peaking through thick grey clouds to bathe their tangled bodies in warm light, he had more than enough proof of how quickly dreams became reality.

Asia sighed as Kelvin nudged her head to the side, searching for space to attach his lips to her neck. "This really is the perfect view." She tried to imagine how each of the unrecognizable buildings across the way would glitter and gleam at night. From the sky, they looked like Christmas lights in a town permanently frozen in the most wonderful time of the year. If she could push past the nagging discomfort in her heart and stick out the increasingly tough times, they could welcome her in with open arms every other month, slowly disarming her guard until she craved more. Another deep breath passed through her nose. "This is gonna work."

Kelvin examined Asia in silence for a moment, wondering if she meant for her statement to sound so unsure. She chewed her bottom lip while staring blankly at the landscape in front of them as if she were searching for the answer in the distance. She seemed to open her mouth to speak but closed it when no words came forth.

"Hey." His soft voice cut through Asia's contemplative silence, snapping her out of her daze. He pecked her cheek before speaking again. "We're gonna be fine. Trust me. Trust yourself."

Turning in his arms, Asia let her gaze softly commit each of Kelvin's perfect imperfections to memory. He looked back at her with a disarming smile, hoping his reassurance would combat whatever uncertainty brewed inside her.

Asia leaned closer, stopping just short to keep their lips tantalizingly close. Kelvin licked his pair, drawing her attention before she made her request. "Kiss me. Please."

Next time, she'd talk things out – lay all her concerns on the table to get the necessary courage to keep moving along a path to true happiness. She'd voice her grievances, express her hesitation, and come out on the other side as a woman facing all her fears.

After their kiss in golden hour light was washed away and their trip was history, she'd put on her big girl panties and do the thing. Next time.

A weekend in Chicago came and went with scary thoughts successfully turned into background fodder to focus on being somebody's Valentine for the first time.

Standing in the dressing room's full-length mirror with an audience of one smacking on scavenged dill pickle chips, Asia examined the curvature of her behind in the fourth sultry red dress picked for an early afternoon try-on haul. The bow at the small of her back perfectly accentuated the toned muscles on display without fabric shielding them from the world. Her long legs benefited from a short hemline meant to turn heads as she strutted through the world on Kelvin's arm.

Sabrina paused her chip chomping to compliment her friend. "You look good! I like it. And if I like it, your man is gonna love it."

"Shit, he better. If I eat more than a piece of gum, I'll risk looking four months pregnant." Asia continued to stare at her reflection, trying to decide if being hot for a night was worth passing out from hunger at a concert. "Fuck it. Unzip me. I'm getting it. Food can wait. I'm only this young and hot once in my life."

"I know that's right! Speaking of Lover Boy, how was Chicago? Y'all see something worth going half on?"

Asia chewed her lip as Sabrina pulled the dress's zipper down the short track. "Uh…he found something he likes, yeah."

"Did you like it? I mean, I know it's not your place, but you'll be there half the year, damn near. You should at least wanna be there!"

"Well. That's the thing." Curious eyes awaited Asia when she turned around to face an expectant Sabrina. "I…may not be visiting…at all."

Curiosity quickly morphed into all-out confusion. "Are you breaking up with him?"

"No! No, I'm not breaking up with him. He might wanna break up with me when I tell him I can't do long distance, but that's a different story."

The final piece of Asia's confession came out as a mumble muffled behind the dress, shielding for the sure tongue lashing on the other side of her honesty, but nothing came. Silence hung between them for several seconds, letting the untz untz of department store electronic music pulse through their small dressing room.

Finally, Sabrina cleared her throat. "Okay," she spoke more to herself than to Asia. "Alright. Let's talk this out. You can't do long distance. Why?"

Asia thought about telling her best friend how much she craved nearby affection and thought being long-distance left too much room for mistakes. She could throw sugar over her true feelings and go on a diatribe to explain all the ways a relationship separated by almost 800 miles wasn't fair to her after years of being alone. She felt punished by some unseen force, beaten down for some sort of sick amusement.

Instead, she shared the plain and simple heart of the matter as she slid her jeans over her legs. "I had rules and boundaries when we started our thing, and I let him break every one of them. I didn't want to kiss, but he did. So, we kissed. I said no staying the night, and a month later, I'm leaving toiletries at his place, Sabrina. We haven't used protection in over a week, and I'm just…letting it happen! What am I doing?"

Losing herself. While Kelvin made strides to grow and improve, Asia allowed the first taste of genuine partnership to turn her into a woman more concerned with pleasing her partner than advocating for her own needs. She'd bent and contorted herself to fit Kelvin's vision on more than one occasion, and though he never asked her to, he never told her to stop. She never felt compelled to stop. That scared her the most. If she couldn't stop there, how far would she allow herself to go in pursuit of someone else's happiness?

"I love Kelvin. I love him so much it makes me sick and gives me life all at the same time. I don't want to hurt him." Of everything she'd said, Asia fessing up to the l-word shook Sabrina. "But I can't keep loving him without loving myself. It's not fair to him or me."

She hugged Asia, not caring about her state of undress. "Oh, friend. Welcome to the sick, sad, beautiful world of being in love. Ain't it fun!" Her joke helped Asia release the breath she didn't know she was holding through a strained laugh. Sabrina rocked them from side to side as she spoke. "Trust your gut, girl. I've never known you to make a decision you didn't think through. Do what you have to do. If this is what you think it is, he'll understand."

"You think so?" Asia sniffled into Sabrina's shoulder.

"He better!" Sabrina quipped. "And if he don't, so what? There are other men in the world and some of them are just as cute, just as successful, and just as willing to give you the world. You gon' be alright regardless, okay?"

I'll be okay regardless. Asia repeated the mantra to herself in an endless loop to calm her nerves from the couch because her next times had run out. By the end of the night, her chariot would turn into a pumpkin and end her perfect fairytale. Say goodbye to your glass slipper and fancy ball gown. Back to scrubbing the floors, you go.

Kelvin poured two glasses of champagne in the kitchen, whistling a made-up tune as he plopped fresh raspberries into crystal-clear flutes and covered them in fizzing liquid. He called for a cheers when she walked through the door dressed like a long-legged super moedel. A little pizzazz to kick off what he hoped would be their first holiday of many.

Dress sock covered feet helped him glide across polished concrete, expertly balancing glassware en route to Asia across the room. "Alright! One for my beautiful baby," he announced before stealing a kiss. "And one for me."

"What are we toasting to?" Asia asked, her glass raised and ready.

Kelvin smiled and put his hand on her thigh. "To us, girl! Fuck everybody else," he exclaimed. "Cheers to us for taking a chance on each other. Hopefully, we'll take some more this year. I know the transition may start off rough, but I hope we'll work through it. I really care about you, Asia. I want to see how far we can take this."

No response didn't stop Kelvin from clinking his glass against Asia's and taking a long sip of cold, pale liquid. She didn't join him. She couldn't join him. Taking a sip was too close to accepting her fate. Carefully, she put the glass on the coffee table then focused all her attention on her shoes.

"Kelvin, I can't do the distance. I can't do Chicago." Barely above a whisper, the truth shocked only one of them as Asia looked him in the eyes and continued. "The more I sit and think about our relationship, the more I realize that who I am ran head first into living for you somewhere in the middle. Your needs have become my needs. I don't want to resent you down the line. Neither of us deserve that."

Grief and sadness eluded Kelvin while he slid closer to Asia. He'd had his time to reckon with reality the night they returned to the hotel and caught her crying in the bathroom. Temporary arrangements had timelines, no matter how hard he tried to outrun them.

Hearing her voice crack produced tears in the corners of his eyes as he laced his fingers in hers and kissed her knuckles. "I already knew. You're not that hard to read. But thank you for finally telling me." His index knuckle beneath her chin forced Asia to look up at him through cloudy vision. He kissed her forehead and nose before collecting stray tears on her cheeks. "I understand. It fucking sucks, but I understand. I never want to get in the way of your self-exploration, even if it doesn't include me. That's why we started all this, right?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Right."

"Don't worry about me or hurting my feelings. We were friends before, and we can be friends again. That's okay," Kelvin assured. I still want to experience you while we have time, at least for tonight. This dinner reservation was hell to make, and I need you to validate that the tiramisu is fire. Like I can't be the only one of us to have it."

Neither of them allowed misty eyes and hurt feelings to put a lid on their laughter. They were friends before, and though it'd take a moment to shake off a romance with so much potential, they could be friends again.

Asia took a long, deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Tiramisu it is. Can I have a moment to touch up my makeup? I'm sure I look like Beetlejuice right now."

"I wasn't gonna say anything. You look cute in a Pepe Le Pew sort of way," Kelvin joked, earning an eye roll and a grin for his antics. Anything to make her smile. "Go on. I'll be out here waiting."

A parting kiss to her forehead gave Asia enough energy to click four-inch heels across the floor into the bathroom. Kelvin sat back against the couch to finally allow his heavy mind time to process all he'd heard. In four weeks, his greatest joy would see him off to Chicago without a date set for their reunion. He'd kiss her goodbye, hug her close, and see those beautiful eyes for the last time. The thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees.

Eventually, he'd come to terms with his loss. He had no choice. He'd pack up all his big feelings in the box with his prized possessions and board a flight to a land of new opportunity.

But tomorrow's problems belonged to tomorrow. He had a month to face those. Watching Asia strut out of the bathroom in a red dress that hit her in all the right places was far more important.

If this was all the time they had left, he had a few more lessons to teach.

Reply if you'd liked to be tagged. DM if you’d like to be removed.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers @wowitsafemale @kindofaintrovert @sexysativa605 @jvzmine19 @turn-thy-paige @lapateeserie @simplyzeeka @supremechae @palmstreesallday @blackmoonchilee @ovohanna24 @prettypynklemonade @gwenda-fav @itsash-okay @sparklytemi @blackchickinthedesert @miyuhpapayuh

#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #kelvin harrison jr. smut

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mashkatzi · 1 day ago

Text

Slow morning with Luigi (fluff)

Something small and fluffy to keep you guys entertained until the oneshot drops. I promise smut is on the way ;) Enjoy.

Let me know if you have any requests bc I'm having a bit too much fun writing lolll.

Waking up early and spending the morning cuddling and showering with Luigi.

You're awoken from a dream. You cannot remember exactly what you were dreaming about but you were happy in your dream. You shift in bed to get more comfortable, nuzzling your head further into the pillow letting out a small groan. You were sure your alarm would go off any minute now. The light from the early morning sun leaks through your curtains, painting your bedroom in a yellow glow. Feeling the bed dip beside you, you hear a soft voice calling your name, so quite it's almost a whisper.

"You awake?" the voice calls out.

"Mm, almost" you reply. Peeling your eyes open, you crane your neck to lay your eyes on Luigi.

He's laying on his side, body turned towards yours. He meets your eyes with a small smile. "Morning, amore".

He reaches his arms out, to hug you from behind, pulling you into himself. Your body slots into the curvatures of his so perfectly. Your ass resting on his pelvis, head pressed against his hard chest. His head rests atop yours. You hold onto his arms and use your fingers to draw small circles onto the flesh of his forearm. he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Morning, mio re" (my king) you respond with a cheeky smile. You have been taking Italian lessons from Luigi for a few weeks and this week you had been practicing pet names. "Did I get that right?" you ask cockily. You know you were right but wanted to hear him say it

"Perfetto" he responds rewarding you with another kiss, this time to the back of your neck. You feel him smiling against your skin. "ragazza perfetta" the vibrations of his voice, as well as the prickly feeling of his stubble against your skin send a shiver down your spine.

You turn your head towards Luigi, brushing your nose against his. "perfect girl?" you translate his words back to him.

"yeah, that's right" he says smiling. "My perfect girl".

He loves that you put in effort to learn his mother tongue, loves that you take the time to learn and remember small phrases. Speaking to you in Italian feels so much more intimate to him especially as he is the one teaching you.

He places a small kiss to the tip of your nose and you scrunch your nose is response. Turning your body to face him now you ask "did you sleep well, babe? Why are you up so early?". You wrap your arms around his neck now pulling him closer to you.

"I slept well baby. I feel refreshed" he responds. You know he's been having trouble sleeping the past few months but he doesn't want you to worry about him. But you notice the small changes in him and how he struggles to leave the bed in the mornings, yawning, struggling to keep his eyes open.

It's as if he notices the cogs turning in your brain, trying to figure out if you should be worried about him or not. He leans in to kiss your lips. "I promise you. I slept well" he presses another kiss to your lips as if to indicate that he is indeed, telling the truth.

You smile in response, "what time is it? We have to be up soon, no?" you reach behind to pick up your phone. The bright screen illuminating your face. the numbers "06:27" displayed on the screen.

"Thank god. We have 30 minutes", you sigh in relief. You decide to rest your eyes now, closing them and nuzzling your head into Luigi's neck. You sigh into him, breathing in his scent.

You stay this way for a while before Luigi begins to move under you. "Need to shower. You want to join me?" he looks down at you.

"I'm not really-" you begin before he cuts you off

"No baby, we don't have to do anything. Just want to have you close to me". He assured you. It's not uncommon for you and Luigi to shower together, but it usually ends with you bent over and him behind you, bullying his fat cock into you. But you must admit, you enjoy the soft intimacy of aftercare, standing under the warm water together, him caressing your face whispering praises into your ears.

"I'll wash your hair for you", Luigi attempts to convince you to join him. He slides out of bed, holding a hand out to you.

"Ok deal". you reach for his hand and he pulls you towards him and carries you bridal-style towards the bathroom. You smile into his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arms supporting you.

He places you carefully on top of the bathroom counter, and begins to undress himself. First removing his shorts and then his plain black vest. he reaches over to turn the water on before turning back to you. He helps you to remove your (well his) Stanford top and then instructs you to lift your hips to remove your panties.

Once the both of you are naked, you step into the shower. He lets you go first. You stand under the warm spray of water running your hands through your tangled locks. He steps in behind you, grabbing your shampoo bottle. He squirts a small amount of it onto his palm and begins to lather it into your hair. He instructs you to face away from him and close your eyes. The feeling of his hands running through your scalp brings you bliss and he takes a step forward so that he is now also under the water. You let out a small whine in content.

Luigi works away at your hair, once he's done he pulls you under the water to rinse out the shampoo. "Which one is conditioner" he asks looking over the countless hair products you have gathered on the shelf in the shower. "How could someone need this many shower products, man?" he says teasingly.

You playfully roll your eyes and pick out the matching green bottle to the shampoo. The words 'conditioner' are plastered across the bottle. You point out the printing and laugh at Luigi and he laughs back, rolling his eyes.

"ok furbo" (slang for 'smart/quick witted') he playfully hits back. "tell me, baby, what does that mean?"

You turn to face him, a cocky grin tugging on his lips. He manoeuvres your shoulders to face away from him again as he begins to apply the conditioner to the ends of your hair, just as you had taught him.

"Well, maybe if my teacher actually knew what he was talking about I could tell you", You respond, attempting not to laugh, as you spin to face him once more

He winces and playfully grabs at his chest as if he's truly offended at what you have just said. You laugh at his display of fake offense.

"Ok my turn, we have to let the conditioner sit for a minute" You tug Luigi closer to you and push down on his shoulders. He sinks down to his knees under the water and you run your fingers through his curls, making sure they're properly drenched. He reaches up, gripping onto your waist to steady himself. He places a small kiss to your hip bone and looks up at you.

"Use my shampoo. I don't really want my hair smelling like apples", He instructs you.

"aye aye, captain" You playfully mock his bossy tone. You look over at the shelf and buried behind your countless body washes, scrubs and hair products sits a chunky blue bottle. An image of a man holding a huge dumbbell is printed onto the bottle. The words "3-in-1" printed in bold white lettering. You scoff, contemplating burning the bottle, before listening to your better judgement and reaching for it.

"Surely this doesn't actually work. Look use some of this" you say, reaching for a grey bottle with a palm tree printed on it. "It's meant to help with curl definition."

Luigi stares up at you, then the bottle. "Ok, fine". He can't say no to you, no matter how hard he tries. You toss the blue bottle, making a mental note to burn it at the next possible opportunity. You turn the water off before squeezing out some of the new shampoo and begin lathering it into his hair. He tilts his head down to allow you to reach the back of his head too.

"All done, Lu. Let's rinse off" You turn the water back on and Luigi stands up, the two of you begin to rinse your hair under the warm water. Foamy bubbles run down your bodies, onto the floor of the shower and down the drain. You run your hands through you hair, squeezing out all the conditioner, meanwhile Luigi stands behind you, body pressed to yours, rinsing his hair.

You enjoy the quiet intimacy of your naked bodies being so close, touching but not in a sexual way. Luigi enjoys it just as much. Knowing that you will always be there for him to seek comfort from makes him feel so lucky.

You both finish rinsing your hair and then clean your own bodies. Once clean, you stand under the water, facing each other, eyes locked, big cheesy grins spread across both your faces. You step even closer, bodies pressed up against each other.

"I love you" you whisper into his ear. "Ti amo, amore" you whisper again, this time in Italian. Luigi pulls you into him, lifting you off the floor. You wrap your arms and legs around his body and he switches the water off, stepping out of the shower, carrying you with him.

"Ti amo di più". (I love you more) Luigi responds placing you back onto the counter. He reaches for a fluffy towel wrapping your body and rubbing up and down your arms, attempting to keep you warm.

He reaches for another towel, wrapping it around his hips. You stare at him as he does so. Smiling. thinking to yourself how lucky you truly are. Luigi tilts his head down stealing a kiss before carrying you back into the bedroom to continue getting ready for the day ahead.

#luigi mangione x reader #oneshot #luigi x reader #fluff #luigi mangione fluff

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jeanjauthor · 21 hours ago

Note

Sticky notes can also help.

A typical A4 paper (8.5x11) can hold about 9 typical sticky notes (3x3 inch). What you do is get a stack of sticky notes, write down each individual plot point, plot thread, specific phrase that a character needs to say, or something they need to mention.

As you write out each one, arrange those on the sheets of paper to try to come up with a coherent order of revelation and/or resolution.

Don't be afraid to add more sticky notes.

Don't be afraid to remove some of those sticky notes.

Also: Remember to number the pages the sticky notes are on so you can keep them in a semblance of chronological order. (Let's just say I learned that lesson the hard (confused) way.)

Yes yes there are programs that supposedly do the same thing--technically you can even just cut-and-paste in a word document--but the act of moving those sticky notes gives your psyche something tangible to grasp, both literally and metaphorically.

More importantly, because each regular letter-sized page can only hold 9 sticky notes, it allows your brain to focus on what needs to be written immediately / next...without losing all of your other notes. They're just farther down in the stacks of pages.

It should be noted that just by staring at a sticky note and going, "Who needs to say / do / experience this?" is just as important as "How do I get this cool idea into my story, as well as when, & where?" Sometimes, I'll color-coordinate the sticky note paper to indicate something has to be said / done / experienced by a specific person, which can also be helpful.

For my Sons of Destiny series (eight novels), I had well over a dozen pages full of sticky notes, 9 to a sheet and sometimes up to 12 to a sheet, per book. It was 21 pages by the time I got to the 8th book, because I had 8 novels of plot threads that needed to either be woven fully into the story or tied off in an attractive fringe that technically weren't fully integrated, but also technically weren't any loose ends, either.

For my Theirs Not To Reason Why series (five novels), by the time I got to the 5th book, I was putting in 2 sticky notes for every 1 that I wrote out and got to remove from the sheets. I managed to pull it all together, too.

Of course, I don't always need the sticky notes for every single story or series, but it has been a godsend of keeping track of plot threads.

It's important to write them down and space them out when you first conceive of the story, but it's also important to write them down and tuck them in when you get an idea, or you remember something, and especially when you do a re-read of the manuscript to refresh your memories on how plot points A, C, D, and G are important for moments later on in scenes or plot points M, S, T, and V.

...In your case, do a re-read of the whole series and your plot notes, and mark down the important bits on your read-through. Start arranging them by where they should go chronologically, or in which book they should be addressed, or by whichever character needs to be (or simply could be) entangled in that plot point / whatever.

Hi DD! I'm about mid-way through the most complex writing project I've ever done (several stories with some red thread storylines progressing in the background, so a sort of interwoven structure). I have an outline of the major plot beats, but the problem is, I've gotten about 2/3 of the way through, and this is where I've started to have trouble bringing my many threads together. The further I go, the the harder keeping it all clear and elegant becomes. Any advice for working at this stage?

It may seem counterintuitive, but once I'd found myself in a situation like this, I would immediately start working backwards.

It's difficult to describe what I mean here except semi-graphically—sort of in terms of one of those strings-pinned-to-the-wall diagrams so familiar to a lot of us from the various evidence-wall memes.

If we're imagining your present as-yet-unconnected threads as more or less progressing left to right, I would "stick pins in them" at their current furthest range and then move straight out to the far right side of the diagram.

For each thread I would then get busy establishing a detailed "end state" for the work: meaning a sense of what you want each of those through-line of plot to look like when you're done in terms of characters, situations, etc. I'd make very sure that all the major through-lines were covered, and (in passing) take a long look at how they'll stand in relationship to one another when all the action's finished.

Then I would start working back along each line toward the center of the matrix—looking to see what the next-to-last thing was that needed to happen to produce the final result on a given through-line. And then the third-to-last. ...And so forth.

I would try to work through the whole set of through-lines for each given step or stage before progressing any further backwards—unless, of course, some leap of logic occurs that makes an obvious connection between two different through-lines, or an earlier stage in the same TL that hadn't been obvious before.

(Is this making sense? God, I hope so.)

My experience with this kind of situation in the past is that it doesn't take too long before, on one or two of the lines you're constructing backwards, you'll hit something fairly major that somehow hadn't come up for consideration previously, or had simply slipped or fallen off the structural "radar" because so much other stuff had been going on around it. That event or piece of data, once perceived, will very often either immediately connect itself back to one or more of the "pinned" through-lines, or promote one of the other incomplete ones into growing connections to other adjacent lines of plot material. It's a little like watching neural tissue developing alternate pathways for itself after an injury.

...Anyway, give this approach a shot and see how it works for you. There are times when simply the act of reversing direction on the plot build will shake something loose in the business surrounding the building-it-forward part. It's worth a try to see what happens.

Hope this helps!

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smallestapplin · 2 days ago

Note

Hi im new to your blog!! I love your transformers stuff. I saw your requests was open and I was wondering if I could request something for a shockwave x female human reader?? i really enjoyed the petplay stuff you've written with him before and i was wondering if you could write something nsfw with a shy, quirky reader coming out of their shell for a scene and shockwave mixing both praise and punishment for them before the reward...... essentially training his pet 🤭💞 thank you so much if you do this request 🥺🙏

I can certainly attempt!

Warnings :fem!reader, pet play, Shockwave gets called master, spike warming, reader gets calls good girl twice.

🔞Mdni! Adults only, please!🔞

A human pet is perfect for such a con as Shockwave, he loves breaking you apart and seeing what makes you tick, what can he do to you that makes you drop your arms from hiding your face? What can he do to you to make you squeal for him? His optic never leaves you, studying how you twitch and what expressions you make.

The tag on your collar jingles with each bounce of your body, drawing his optic to it just to see his name on it, claiming you as his just as you always should be.

You lean your head back with a whine as you try to hard to fit more of his thick spike into your much smaller pussy.

“Easy, pet, I’d hate to have to put you back together.”

How cute you are jumping at the sound of his voice. Your look up at the large mech with a pleading expression, big doe eyes begging him for more, yet he does not yield to you.

With a servo on your hip he stops your movements, stopping you from using his spike like your own toy. You look ready to cry, all for more pleasure.

“Master, Master please fuck me, use me, I-I’ve been good I promise!”

Your desperate pled is music to his audio receptors, with tears stinging your eyes look so delectable. Shockwave hums, not at all convinced of your need even though he can feel your organic valve clenching around his spike, trying so hard to milk him of his transfluid.

“You are to sit still while I work, not trying to frag your needy valve on my spike. Good pets do as told, correct?”

His gleaming red optic stares down at you, taking in every detail as you try not to squirm anymore. You whimper, weakly nodding at his words, but that’s not enough for him.

“You are to answer me when I ask you a question, pet.”

Shockwave grinds his spike deeper into your pussy causing you to sob, your hands clinging to his servo trying to keep yourself grounded as you can feel your mind becoming cloudy with lust.

“Yes, yes, m’sorry, Master!” Drool slides down your chin as you lose yourself to your role.

You are Shockwave’s human pet, you serve your owner well, bad dogs who misbehave get punished and must work harder to earn a reward. So you sit still, leaning back against his torso, trying to keep still as he writes down something you can’t quite read.

His spike stretches you out so much, even just half way down his shaft your stomach bulges from just how much of him you’re taking. You want more, need more, need to cum, need to make him feel good—!!

A squeal rips from your throat as Shockwave presses his index digit to your neglected clit, slowly rubbing it in firm circles.

“You are doing well, I’m almost half way done with my data analysis and you haven’t moved. What a good girl I have.”

Praise is important if he wishes for his human to repeat behaviors he approves of, and it works like a charm with how you melt into his embrace, looking up at him like he is your moon and stars.

You’re so close yet it’s not enough, you struggle to bite back a whine when he moves his servo away and gets back to typing out his notes. You crave your beloved, need him deeper inside you. But you must remain good, to be a good pet for him, one he could proudly show off to his coworkers like the praise driven slut you are.

Just for him.

Anything for him.

“Are you close to overloading? Hm, seems I’ve underestimated your whorish behavior.”

You merely hum, though more akin to a purr with how you’re acting, nuzzling your cheek against his plating.

“You are right where you belong, aren’t you.” His question phrased more like an observation.

“Mhm.”

“Good girl, you learn quickly.”

You’ll be as behaved as he wants you to be, you’re nothing but a mindless pet for him.

#smut #spicy #🔞🔞🔞#valveplug #transformers smut #transformers shockwave #transformers x reader smut #transformers shockwave x reader smut #transformers x human #mdni #transformers x reader

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reccyls · 3 days ago

Text

The Robin Who Grazed the Reaper’s Secret Eagerly Awaits His Words (Part 1)

My translation of Victor's 2025 birthday story!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue (Victor's POV)

---

The middle of February was approaching.

(He asked me to come to a different room instead of the lounge, I wonder what this is about.)

William had called for me, so I made my way towards one of the castle’s rooms.

(It didn’t sound like anything serious, though.)

Arriving at the designated room, I knocked on the door.

Kate: William, it’s Kate.

William: Come in.

William was elegantly sipping some tea while seated as I entered.

Kate: Sorry to keep you waiting.

William: I haven’t been waiting for that long. Don’t worry about it.

I nervously sat on the chair opposite of William.

William: I’ve called you today to discuss none other than Victor.

Kate: Wait, do you mean–

Catching onto what he was implying, I sat up straighter.

William: That’s right, it’s about his birthday.

This coming 20th of February was Victor’s birthday.

(I couldn’t celebrate properly last year, because I only found out it was his birthday the day after.)

–flashback– Victor: Yesterday was my birthday. Kate: …Huh? Kate: HUH!?? –end flashback–

I’d resolved to celebrate his birthday on the actual day itself next year, and that day was quickly approaching.

William: I know you’ve been thinking hard about how to celebrate this year, so I thought we could work together.

Kate: William…

I was happy to have such a strong ally in my quest.

William: As we both know, our hardworking queen’s aide doesn’t take any time off. William: Not even for his own birthday.

With an amused smile, William put forth a proposal.

William: So why not force him to take a break?

Kate: What?

He passed me a stack of papers. Confused, I glanced over them, seeing that it was a mission report.

Kate: This is… the report from your investigation the other day, isn’t it? Kate: It says the mission was completed without any problems.

William: The mission is over, true. I just haven’t submitted the report yet.

Kate: But why–

William: I was thinking of adding a recommendation to this report. I think that the queen’s aide should go inspect this site personally.

Kate: So that means…

William: What a keen little robin.

With a satisfied, mischievous grin, William picked up a pen and scribbled in a line at the end of the report.

William: On Victor’s birthday, we’ll send him on a fake mission to force him to take some time off. William: However, if we left it at just that, he’d probably suspect something was going on. That’s where you come in.

Kate: Right.

William: Join him on this fake assignment and discreetly make sure he gets some rest. William: This is a mission only you can complete. Will you accept?

Seeing William’s sly smirk, I felt my own mouth quirking into a smile.

Kate: Leave it to me!

And so began the plan to get Victor to rest and relax for his birthday.

...

Victor: Kate, what’s the matter?

Kate: N-Nothing!

It was now the day of Victor’s birthday. I couldn’t help but fret about keeping the plan secret.

(I have to be really careful not to let anything show on my face.) (But how much can I really fool Victor… he’s really observant…)

We were in a small suburban town close to London. Walking side by side with Victor, I ran over William’s plan in my head.

(It’s good that we were able to plan together until the last minute.)

William wasn’t with us today, but he’d placed the order for the cake and food, along with helping out with a lot of other small details.

(He said, “I leave the rest to you,” so that means I need to do my best!)

I was filled with a renewed determination to carry out my part to get Victor to rest.

Victor: You look like you’re raring to go today.

Kate: Well, it’s been so long since we were on a mission together.

My heart began to pick up, and my next words left me in a rush.

(But, none of it is a lie.)

Kate: Even if it’s just for a mission, I’m really happy we can spend time together like this.

Victor was always so busy. So even being able to do something simple like this was enough to lift my mood.

Victor: I hardly ever get the chance to leave London. So even if it is just a mission, I’m glad for the opportunity. Victor: The fact that it’s with you just makes it all the better.

Stopping in the street, Victor extended a hand towards me while bowing his head slightly in my direction.

Victor: Shall we make the most of this chance?

Victor smiled happily.

Victor: For the whole day, as much as possible, I’d like it if you didn’t let go of my hand.

Equally surprised and pleased by Victor’s words, I felt my mouth curving into a smile. My own hand reached out.

Kate: Gladly.

Our hands overlapped, palm to palm.

Victor: Let’s set off, my dearest robin.

#ikemen villains #victor (ikevil)#my translation

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angelackless · 3 days ago

Text

LOVE LETTERS & HEART-SHAPED COOKIES

Jensen Ackles X controversially young!reader

WITH JENSEN EVERYDAY FELT LIKE VALENTINE'S DAY TO YOU. There were always a flower,jewelry, your favorite chocolate's waiting for you somewhere in the house. Jensen loved spoiling you, and he took every chance to do it, but on Valentine's day he wanted to do something more meaningful, since it was your first time celebrating it together.

He even asked for help from his mother, your mother,your friends, even Gen to make sure that what he does is good and you'll love it.

He got everything ready by the time you arrived home, he cooked your favorite food, poured out that red wine he knows you like, lighted some scented candles and had your presents in a bow printed wrapping paper, and one in his jeans, and no, this time it wasn't the one that he makes you feel good with every day.

When you entered the house you were met with the dimly lit house, you took your shoes and coat down, putting it into it's place.

"Jensen?" you walked deeper inside the house "are you home?" instead of an answer you felt two strong arms wrapped around you and for a second you were ready to hit him with your purse in case someone broke in, but then he finally spoke up

"happy Valentine's day, princess" he kissed your cheek

"you scared the shit out of me!' you said and turned around, giving a snack to his chest "don't do that again!"

"Just wanted to suprise you,baby" his hand found their way back to your waist and pulled you closer to him "you had a hard day?I made you your favorite, and after we ate, we can put on some music, dance, you can open your presents" he rubbed your sides "hm?sounds good?"

And you did just that, you two ate the food he made, which was delicious by the way, and then moved to the living room. You went upstairs to get the present you made for him.

''so who starts?'' you asked as you sat down on the couch next to him

"you" he answered smiling

"alright,so it's nothing expensive,but I hope you'll still like it" you said and handed him the wrapped gift. He took it from you and carefully opened the gift, which was a photo album that you've made, you left lyrcs,photos, sweet messages for him in it, you wanted to give him something meaningful and figured he would like this, since it's not fully finished you two can fill it up with all the memories you make in the future. "You like it?'' your words held some excitement, and worry in them as you watched him flip through the pages,sometimes stopping to read what you've written down in there

"Like it?I love it,this is like the best gift i've ever gotten" he looked up to meet your gaze "I love it, princess" he pulled you into a tight hug, kissing your forehead "can't wait to put more pictures in it, we should just have one whole page for you in lingerie" he added with a cheeky smile which made you rolled your eyes

"okay,safe something for your birthday too" you said shaking your head

"oh, that's what i'll get for my birthday?"

"it's a suprise" you answered giggling

"Well,speaking of suprises, open yours now" he handed it to you "hope you like them" he added and watched you open it. You opened it excitedly.

He had gotten you the necklace from Pandora that you've mentioned you wanted, a bottle of your favorite perfume, he knows you need one because you've been complaining that you almost finished the bottle you've been using, there were some heart-shaped cookies he made for you.

"You made this?" you asked staring at the cookies

"Yeah, although Gen helped me with the decorating,but I made everything else"

"I love all of this so much" you wrapped your arms around him tightly "thank you so so much''

"there's one more thing" he pulled away from you and cleared his throat "so...i've been thinking about us, how I now sure that you're the woman that I want to marry, have kids with, move to some small town and live on a farm" he searched for something in his pocket and then he stood up and kneeled down before you ''(y/n), will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?" he asked, holding the shiny, gold ring in his fingers.

For moments you sat there shocked, you didn't know if you wanted to scream or cry from happiness, after seconds of staring at him you managed to nod your head and speak "yes,yes,yes,and yes"

"you got me worried for a second, sweetheart" he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed your hand.

"so that means I can call you my husband now?" You asked smiling

"yes,you can call me your husband, wife" he chuckled and pulled you into a kiss.

You were sure this was your best Valentine's day so far in your whole life.

#𝝑𝑒 love letters from sophie #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x you

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vandme12 · 2 days ago

Note

This has been rotting in my head for so long, how would the KC cast react to a powerful figure Mc? Ronin added mc because he just thought they were a writer needing inspiration, but what if they were actually a big influential figure in politics, media etc? Maybe they’ve hired Misaki before to get rid of someone? Maybe V knows them from charity meetings? How would it all unfold?

I really loved writing this! Whoever asked, Please ask me more head canons! The concept, would be they're a powerful "person" who usually gets people to kill off "bad" people! This is my longest head canon!

Ronin Beaufort!

At first, you were just a fun little distraction. Some writer looking for inspiration in the darkest parts of the world? Yeah, yeah, he’s heard that one before. But you were flirty, sharp, and a little too comfortable around him, which made you interesting.

So, he let you stick around. Took you to some bloody, brutal places, spun his words like knives, toyed with you just to see if you’d flinch.

But you didn’t.

You kept up. You even pushed back.

And damn it, he loved that.

You made things fun.

So fun, in fact, that he didn’t question it. Didn’t stop to wonder how you were able to navigate his world so easily, how you had this natural charisma that could turn heads, how your words carried weight in a way that felt… important.

He didn’t put the pieces together—until he saw your face on the news.

He’s at some dive bar, half-watching the TV, when he sees it. Some big political scandal. Some business shake-up. And right there, center screen, is you.

Your name. Your title. Your power.

His brain short-circuits.

He just stares for a good five seconds, drink frozen halfway to his lips.

“What.”

Immediate, sharp, loud laughter.

“Oh, what the FUCK?! You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

He’s laughing so hard he slaps the bar. The bartender jumps. Other people in the bar look at him like he’s crazy.

Because of course. Of course, the one person he’s been dragging into the worst places, letting into his world, kissing, touching, —

Is actually one of the most powerful people in the world.

The moment he gets his laughter under control, he’s grinning. Big. Sharp. Wild.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t this a fuckin’ surprise.”

The next time he sees you? Oh, he is not letting you live this down.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like the devil himself.

“Sooo, babe. Anythin’ you wanna tell me? Y’know, like—what the fuck?”

If you try to act casual about it? He grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and just grins.

“Nah, nah, don’t gimme that. You mean to tell me I’ve been callin’ you ‘sweetheart’ and sneakin’ you into crime scenes, when I should’ve been callin’ you Boss?”

If you flirt back? Oh, he eats that shit up.

“Ohoho, you’re playin’ dangerous now, darlin’. You know what happens to people who turn me on and surprise me? Bad, bad things.”

He’s so into this.

Like, obnoxiously into it.

He starts calling you titles sarcastically.

“Ahh, my beloved CEO, let me open the door for ya.”

“Oh no, did my precious politician have a rough day? C’mere, lemme make it all better.”

“D’you think world leaders would shit themselves if they knew you were makin’ out with a serial killer? ‘Cause that’s funny as hell.”

But beneath the teasing? Oh, he’s obsessed.

He already thought you were a perfect match for him, but now?

Now, you’re not just smart. Not just dangerous in your own way.

You’re untouchable.

Bottom line? He is so in love with you it’s disgusting.

You’re powerful, you’re dangerous, and you’re his.

And that? That’s all he ever needed to know..

“So, what’s the play here, sweetheart? You gonna bring me down? Put me in the headlines? C’mon, gimme a scandal—make it a good one.”

If you tell him you have no intention of exposing him, that you’re here for your own reasons, he’s intrigued.

“Ahhh, so you’re just a little freak, huh? Love that for you.”

“So, tell me, baby—how’s it feel, bein’ the most dangerous person in the room for once?”

And when you smirk and say, “I’m always the most dangerous person in the room,”—Oh.

Oh, he loves you. Because it’s true, isn’t it? Ronin might be a killer, but you—you have real power. The kind of power that doesn’t need a knife to cut people down. AND that? That’s hot as hell.

Misaki

At first, Misaki thought you were just some random writer that Ronin picked up for fun. Maybe you were looking for inspiration in the darkest corners of the world, and hey, Misaki could respect that.

Until, one day, they’re watching TV in their bunker, shoveling cup noodles into their mouth, and—

Your face is on the news.

Immediate choking.

They nearly drop the noodles.

They stare.

Blink once. Twice.

Wait. What the fuck.

They scramble for the remote, turn the volume up, and suddenly, their world is spinning.

"HOLD ON—"

Because there you are, center screen, name plastered in bold letters. Some scandal, some massive political shift, some media shake-up—and at the heart of it all? You.

The person they’ve been flirting with. The person they’ve been spending nights with in calls.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, BACK THE HELL UP—!"

They’re gripping their head, pacing their bunker, absolutely spiraling.

“You mean—you mean to tell me I’ve been flirting with someone who can LITERALLY change the world?! Oh my god—oh my god, I’m so broke, I can’t handle this—"

The next time they see you? They’re standing there, arms crossed, clearly trying to look intimidating but failing miserably because their face is still stuck in pure existential crisis mode.

“Sooo. You got anythin’ you wanna tell me, boss?”

If you just smirk and go, “Oh? You didn’t know?”

They groan loudly.

"OF COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW, YOU JERK! Oh my god, I was out here thinking you were some struggling writer, and now you’re telling me you could probably buy my entire life with a single check?!"

Cue another breakdown.

And if you’ve hired them before? Oh. Oh, that’s interesting.

“Hold on—wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me I’ve been talking to one of my clients this whole time?!”

They go through a full existential crisis.

But once the initial shock wears off? They’re intrigued.

“Okay, okay, but real talk—why the hell are you hanging out with us? You could be anywhere, doing anything, running the world, and yet, you’re here. Why?”

If you flirt with them? They malfunction.

“H-Hey, don’t distract me! This is serious! You—wait, what do you mean I look cute when I’m panicking?! That’s—STOP.”

But deep down? They FEEL KYAH!

If you say something like “Because I like you”

—They malfunction.“LIES. YOU’RE A LIAR. DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT—”

But deep down? They’re kicking their feet.Because holy shit.

Someone that important thinks they’re important.

It’s the worst and best thing to ever happen to them.

Angel

At first, Angel just thought you were another charismatic, ambitious person—someone drawn into her orbit the way most people were. She didn’t question it too much. You were charming, clever, and played along with her public persona so well it was almost addictive.

Then, one day, she sees you on the news. Not in the background. Not as a guest. You are the news.

Maybe you’re a political powerhouse, a media mogul, an elite CEO—whatever it is, you’re big.

Cue an instant mental shutdown. She’s staring at the screen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and for once in her life, completely speechless.

“… Wait, wait, wait. What?!”

First, she replays every conversation the two of you have ever had, wondering how she missed the signs.

Second, she assumes you just didn’t tell her because… well, why would you? She wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

Third? Immediate concern.

Because she knows powerful people. She’s been around them.

And most of them are monsters.

But you? You’ve always been kind to her. Sweet. Playful. The same way she is with you.

…So why does this still feel like a dream?

When you finally come home, Angel is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, a frown on her lips—but her eyes are soft.

"Sooo…" she tilts her head. "Is this the part where you tell me I’ve been secretly dating royalty, or—?"

You try to explain, but she just leans closer.

"And when, exactly, were you gonna tell me that you're kind of a big deal?"

Pout. Full pout.

But she’s not actually mad. Just incredibly intrigued.

The more she learns about your influence, the more protective she gets.

She knows the price of power. She knows the pressure. The weight. The expectations.

And she knows what it’s like to need approval.

She’s quiet for a moment before reaching for your hand.

“Are you happy?” Her voice is gentle.

You nod, but she studies your face carefully, trying to find the cracks.

“You promise?”

If you squeeze her hand, reassure her? She melts.

She wants to believe you. So badly.

Angel is soft with you in ways she isn’t with the world.

She may be a perfectionist. She may be needy for attention. But with you?

She doesn’t have to perform.

She can just… be.

And that’s a rare, precious thing.

And she will make fun of you for the way you talk in "serious mode."

"Ooooh, look at you~ all professional and intimidating~"

But deep down? She’s proud.

She just expresses it through teasing.

She knows power changes people.

And she worries about that. About what it might do to you.

But she also loves you too much to let it push her away.

“No matter how big or important you are…” she murmurs, curling up against you. “You’re still mine.”

And honestly? There’s no one else in the world she’d rather love.

The moment, you open your video feed to see him for the first time he knows who you are.

V already knows who you are.

He’s rich. Powerful. Connected. No one reaches his radar without him knowing everything about them.

So when your face appears on his screen, he isn’t surprised.

What surprises him is the fact that you recognize him, too.

You tilt your head, lips curling into an amused smirk.

“Mr Valentin Viljoen, right? We’ve met before.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Yes. And you are—”

“I'm your kind!” you interrupt smoothly, leaning back in your chair. “Without ever spilling a drop of blood.”

That makes him pause.

His posture tenses. Just for a second.

Because… that’s not wrong.

He’s seen your name in places that matter—a ghost behind the curtains of power.

You don’t get blood on your hands.

You hire people to do it for you.

At first, he’s wary.

You are the kind of person he hunts. The kind who orchestrates death while keeping their hands clean.

The kind that believes their cause justifies the means.

And yet…

You don’t silence everyone. You don’t kill for profit or ego.

You kill corrupt politician. The ones who slip through the cracks of the system. Like him.

He watches you closely after that.

“You play God,” he says one night, his voice measured. “Deciding who lives and who dies.”

You meet his gaze, unshaken.

“So do you.”

The two of you challenge each other constantly.

You push him to see the necessity of what you do.

He pushes you to consider the weight of it.

“Your assassins are no different than the people I kill,” he says coldly. “They’re just a tool you use to maintain control.”

You hum thoughtfully. “And you’re just a weapon that wields itself.”

Silence.

A game of chess with no clear winner.

But there’s one thing he can’t ignore.

You don’t kill the innocent.

Your network, your power—it’s built on a foundation of purpose.

And whether he likes it or not…

You’re not the villain he expected.

He watches you more than he should.

He listens to how smoothly you speak, how effortlessly you manipulate a conversation without a single lie.

He hates how drawn he is to it.

“You play dangerous games,” he mutters one night.

You smirk. “So do you.”

And he hates that you’re right.

He’s used to keeping his distance.

But you make that impossible.

The sharp way you tease him, the way you dance on the edge of his moral code.

It gets under his skin.

“What the hell are you?” you ask one night, head tilted. “A hero? A killer?”

His lips press into a thin line.

“What are you?” he counters.

It happens slowly.

At first, he tells himself he’s just keeping an eye on you.

But then it becomes habit.

Seeking your voice, waiting for your messages, analyzing your movements.

He finds himself protecting you before he even realizes why.

Because the moment someone tries to take you down?

He’s already one step ahead.

“You should leave,” he mutters after taking care of a hitman sent after you. “Disappear.”

You laugh softly. “And let them win?”

His jaw clenches.

He should walk away from you.

But he won’t.

Because for all his righteousness…

He can’t let you go.

59 notes · View notes

bimbosicko · 2 days ago

Text

GET HIM BACK ! (DEAN'S VERSION)

you're sam's girlfriend and when you find out he cheated on you, you have to get him back ۶ৎ

pairings ! dean winchester x fem! reader

warnings ! english isn't my first language, soulless sam, S6E9, aka fairy episode lol, sam cheats on you so you fuck his brother ><, but there are feelings involved, i promise. fluff! angst! sex! what more could you ask for?, creampie (wrap it before you tap it guys), 69?, cheating but at the same time no??, oral (female and male receiving) and that's it i think! :3

author's note ! dean is literally the loml (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) idk how this got so long like i literally am a sam girlie idk what happened!!! remember!! my asks are open and everything you need to know ab myself is in the pinned post in my blog, ily<33

words count ! 10k omfg, i need therapy.

sam's version (there's no connection between these two fics)

The cabin was silent when you woke up. Outside, the wind battered the windows fiercely, making the wood creak with every gust, but inside, everything was still. Too still.

You reached out almost instinctively, searching for the familiar warmth beside you, but all you found were cold sheets. And like almost every night lately, Sam wasn’t there.

You sat up slowly, blinking to adjust to the night’s darkness, and then you saw him.

Standing by the window, back to you, his silhouette rigid, his head barely tilted toward the darkness outside. The same posture you had seen every night for weeks. As if something out there made more sense than everything in here. As if he was trapped in this place with you, and not out there chasing the freedom he seemed to seek with every flicker of his gaze through the glass.

“Can’t sleep?” you murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

Sam took his time to respond. He didn’t turn to look at you—if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he hadn’t even heard you. He just stood there, unmoving, like a statue.

“I’m not tired,” he whispered after a few seconds.

The same answer as always. The same empty, lifeless phrase, with not even the slightest attempt at reassurance.

Before, Sam used to wrap you in his arms, press a kiss to your hair, and fall asleep with his breath in sync with yours against your skin. Before, his mere presence was enough to make you feel safe. Now, you barely even shared the same space.

You moved carefully, ignoring the chill of the cold floor against your feet as you approached him. Every step felt like a test, like you were trespassing into forbidden territory. Finally, you lifted a hand and placed it on his back, waiting… for something. Any sign of recognition, a glimpse of the man you once knew.

All you got was the immediate tension of his muscles under your touch.

He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t react either.

You pressed your lips together and tried to pretend that didn’t hurt more than it should.

“Sam…” you whispered, feeling the words catch in your throat. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Another silence followed. A heavy, unbearable silence that stretched for too long. Finally, Sam turned his face slightly toward you.

And his expression knocked the breath out of you.

There was no trace of the person you remembered. His eyes, once full of life and every emotion you never needed to put into words, were now an empty void. Black in the dim light, expressionless, as if he were looking at you without really seeing you. If he hadn’t proven himself to you weeks ago, you’d be convinced you were dealing with a demon, not your boyfriend.

“Nothing.” His voice was calm. Too calm. So devoid of emotion that it chilled your blood. “Things just… changed down there.”

A shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t the first time you’d talked about Hell, but never like this. Never with this cold indifference.

You swallowed hard.

“But you’re still you, right?” you asked, hating how weak your own voice sounded. Like you were afraid of the answer.

Sam tilted his head in an almost mechanical motion. As if the question confused him. As if it was ridiculous to even suggest otherwise.

Then, he smiled.

But it was an empty smile, devoid of warmth, almost soulless.

“Of course.”

Your chest tightened. You wanted to believe him, you really did. But everything in his demeanor told you otherwise.

Still, you forced yourself to smile too, even though it hurt. Slowly, you lifted a hand, trying to touch his cheek. Just a simple touch. A simple connection. Something that could bring you back to him.

But before your fingers could even reach him, Sam turned his face away. Not abruptly, not in anger. Just with that same cruel indifference, as if the idea of your touch was completely foreign to him. As if you were nothing more than a shadow in his world now.

Since he had come back, he hadn’t touched you. He hadn’t held you. He had barely even spoken when you tried to reach him.

You lowered your hand, feeling your throat burn. You didn’t say anything else. There was no point.

You just turned around and went back to bed, wrapping your arms around yourself to fill the icy emptiness in your stomach.

But no matter how much you curled under the blankets, the cold never left.

If you were being honest with yourself, pretending to be surprised when Dean called to say something was wrong with Sam was harder than expected. You had already noticed. You had felt it in every empty stare, in every touch that never came, in every silence that stretched too long.

But you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t admit that, deep down, you already knew.

“He… doesn’t have a soul.” Dean’s voice was tense, tired, carrying that unmistakable weight of someone who has seen too much and still keeps going. “We don’t know who took it. We don’t know anything.”

You bit your lip, processing the information as you overanalyzed everything you knew about the supernatural world your boyfriend and his brother were trapped in. A world where souls could be taken like objects. A world where the impossible happened far too often.

“Maybe…” you started, but Dean cut you off before you could finish.

He said your name. Not like he usually did. Not with the teasing tone he used when you argued over stupid things. Not with that slow, arrogant drawl that sometimes drove you crazy. No. This time, it was different.

Lower. Deeper. More… personal.

“No, stop doing that.” His voice was firm, frustrated. “You always defend him. And lately, more than ever.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

“I wasn’t going to defend him, I was trying to think of solutions.”

Dean scoffed, and you could almost picture him running a hand down his face, exhausted.

“There’s no solution for this.” His tone softened just a little, but when he spoke again, he said your name once more. And that was worse.

There was something in the way he said it that made you tense up. Like every letter weighed too much on his tongue. Like he was fighting himself just by saying it.

You didn’t like it. Or rather… you liked it too much.

Quickly, you tried to change the subject.

“How are Ben and Lisa?” you asked, forcing yourself to sound casual.

Dean was silent for a second. Just a second. But it was enough for you to feel a knot in your stomach.

“Don’t do that,” he finally said.

“Do what?”

You didn’t need to see him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“You know exactly what.”

You swallowed down a nervous laugh. But of course, Dean caught it.

“Are you laughing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I can hear you laughing.” His voice took on that tone he always used when he wanted to sound annoyed but really wasn’t. “I’d recognize that sound anywhere. It’s the same as Smurfette’s.”

You smiled, even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Sorry for emitting emotions, Terminator. Won’t happen again,” you said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

On the other end of the line, you heard Dean inhale sharply, like his lungs had forgotten how to function for a second.

There was a pause. Not the comfortable kind. Not the ones that felt natural. This one was heavy, loaded with something you didn’t want to name.

“Speaking of Terminator,” he finally said, and you rolled your eyes at his nickname for his brother.

He’s not just his brother. He’s your boyfriend, you reminded yourself harshly.

“He… confessed some things.”

Your stomach tightened.

“Confessed?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Dean took a second to respond. Not long enough to be suspicious, but long enough for you to notice.

“I roughed him up a little,” he admitted, and even without seeing him, you knew he was uncomfortable. “Sorry about that.”

A part of you wanted to be angry. But that part was small, almost insignificant. Instead, you sighed and shrugged, as if that could somehow translate through the phone.

“I’ll assume he deserved it.”

There was silence, and then Dean let out a short laugh.

“He really did.”

But the lightness didn’t last long. A second later, he sighed, and you recognized the sound of someone bracing themselves for something difficult.

Then, he said it.

“Sam confessed to cheating on you.”

The world seemed to stop.

The air in your lungs grew thick, impossible to inhale without pain. Your eyes welled up instantly, but you didn’t let the tears fall. You blinked rapidly, pressing your lips together tightly, as if that could hold back everything that was about to break inside you.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask why. You didn’t deny it.

You just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Are you okay?”

Dean said your name in a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. Damn it, he seemed obsessed with your stupid name. He always said it differently than anyone else. With a different weight. As if it meant more than it should.

“I’m fine, Dean.” You bit out each word, swallowing the anger, the pain, everything you couldn’t afford to let out in that moment. “Do you need me to come?”

Dean hesitated, and for a moment, you thought he’d tell you no. That it would be best if you stayed where you were, far from all of this. But instead, his voice dropped to a whisper.

“We’re fine.”

It was soft. Too soft. Like he was trying to wrap you in something he couldn’t allow himself to give you.

You scoffed, “I’m coming anyway.”

Dean didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t argue. Somehow, that made you feel worse.

Your grip on the steering wheel was so tight you could feel your nails digging into the rubber. The trembling in your hands was subtle, but enough to make your knuckles turn white under the pressure.

You kept trying to convince yourself that you were fine, that this wasn’t the end of the world, that you and Sam were going to get through this like the totally functional couple you were.

You took a breath. Then another.

Everything could be fixed. Everything.

It didn’t matter what Dean said—what the hell did he even know about this anyway?

But doubt crept into your chest like a slow poison.

He knew. Dean always knew more than he let on, and when he had called, his voice had that tone that made you want to throw the phone out the window. That tone of I know you’re lying to yourself, but I’m gonna let you figure it out on your own.

Your breathing started to turn erratic, your grip on the wheel tightening even more.

You knew Sam didn’t have a soul. You knew it. Something inside you had known all along.

But goddamn it, you couldn’t stop it from hurting.

Things were changing, and you hated it. You knew what you were signing up for when you started dating him, but… how the hell were you supposed to fight something you couldn’t even see?

The pain was diffuse, hard to pinpoint, but it was there, under your skin, in the way his eyes didn’t shine anymore, in the way his hands no longer reached for you.

You blinked, and by the time your vision focused, you had already driven past Bobby’s place.

Shit.

You slammed on the brakes so hard that the force sent your forehead crashing against the wheel. Any harder, and you would’ve left a mark.

You huffed, running a hand over your face before reversing and parking properly.

By the time you stepped out of the car, Dean was already waiting at the entrance, arms crossed, leaning against the frame like he had been standing there forever.

His expression was tense, but his eyes scanned your face quickly, analyzing every flicker of emotion you weren’t sure you could hide.

“Oh, fuck, what happened now?” It was the first thing that came out of your mouth, because if there was one thing you could still do, it was pretend you weren’t about to break.

Dean let out a sharp exhale, tilting his head like he was debating whether to tease you or let it slide.

“Well, hello to you too, princess.”

You rolled your eyes with fake impatience, like hearing him call you that didn’t make you feel things you really shouldn’t be feeling.

“Your boyfriend’s inside.”

That sentence—so simple, so casual—hit you like a punch to the gut.

Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend, who didn’t have a soul. Your boyfriend, who didn’t touch you, who didn’t look at you the way he used to, who had cheated on you and didn’t even seem to understand why that was wrong.

Your boyfriend, who felt more like a stranger with every passing day.

You swallowed hard, forcing your expression to stay neutral.

“Great.”

You took a step toward the entrance, but Dean moved before you could pass him—not exactly blocking your way, but not stepping aside either.

His eyes flickered downward.

It was only then that you realized your hands were still shaking.

The shift in his expression was almost imperceptible, but you caught it. The tension in his jaw, the way his gaze hardened for a second before he masked it with his usual attitude.

“Tell me you’re at least gonna kick his ass when you see him.”

It wasn’t a question.

You looked at him, and for a second, it was hard to remember that he was with Lisa and you were with Sam.

Dean wasn’t soft when he spoke—he never had been. But somehow, when he looked at you like that, when he said things like that in that irritated yet protective tone, the stupid tension in the air became impossible to ignore.

You shook your head, as if that could clear your thoughts. “Just tell me how bad the mess is this time.”

Dean tilted his head, his eyes still locked on you.

For a moment, you thought he was going to say something else. Something you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

But then he just huffed and shrugged.

“Nothing we can’t fix.”

You knew he had changed his mind at the last second just to make you feel better.

You appreciated the effort.

Seeing Sam sitting at the kitchen table, casually drinking a beer like nothing had happened, sent a wave of fury so intense through you that, for a moment, you had to clench your fists just to keep yourself in check.

You wanted to yell at him.

You wanted to shake him.

You wanted to make him understand what this meant to you, what he was making you feel.

But it was useless.

Because he didn’t care.

Not because he wanted to hurt you, not because he was doing this out of malice, but because… he simply couldn’t care.

And that indifference, that complete lack of emotion, was worse than any lie he could have told, worse than any excuse he could have given.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, to not let the desperation seep into your voice.

“Dean.”

Just like that, he caught the hint instantly. With one last glance between you and his brother, he turned on his heels and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place felt like a sentence being passed.

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the table, wearing that same vacant expression that was driving you insane.

His eyes skimmed over you, as if assessing how much you knew, how much you had to say to him.

He whispered your name, his voice hesitant.

“I’m guessing Dean told you.”

You let out a humorless laugh. Of course he did. Of course he fucking did.

“Yeah, he told me all about your little ‘I’m unstoppable and have no feelings’ monologue.”

Your tone was pure venom. A sharp-edged mockery, laced with more anger than you wanted to admit.

Sam blinked slowly, unfazed.

“You two are really close, huh?”

You knew it wasn’t meant as an accusation.

But it still felt like one.

Your chest tightened instantly.

You coughed, trying to shake off the embarrassment. “I… I’m disappointed.”

He nodded, as if mulling over your words, then, with the same lack of emotion as always, murmured:

“Yeah. I’d be disappointed too, honestly.”

That simply was the final blow.

No anger, no guilt, not even the bare minimum of an attempt to reassure you.

You wanted to wipe that blank expression off his face with a punch.

You let out a bitter laugh, because if you didn’t, you were going to break right there.

Both hands landed on the table as you leaned forward slightly, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“I understand your… situation. I really do,” you whispered, though the lump in your throat made it hard to speak.

And the moment the words left your mouth, you felt like an idiot for calling it that.

A situation.

Not having a soul wasn’t a situation.

It wasn’t a temporary crisis, something that could be solved with an honest conversation.

It was a void. A bottomless pit.

“That’s why I thought of coming to an agreement.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.

“You did?”

You nodded.

“An open relationship.”

The very idea of it made your stomach turn.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to say these words.

But you didn’t have another choice.

For the first time in this entire conversation, Sam actually looked confused.

“What?”

He didn’t ask the question as if he was in shock. He didn’t say it because he was hurt, or because this was affecting him.

He just… didn’t get it.

Like the idea seemed unnecessary to him.

Like he had already accepted what he was doing anyway.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to smile.

“I don’t want you to keep cheating on me,” you said firmly. “And I know you’re going to do whatever the hell you want anyway, so I’m giving you full permission to fuck around.”

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Sam tilted his head slightly, watching you. Analyzing.

“And you… are you in this open relationship too?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, tell me, Sam, who the hell am I supposed to be sleeping with?”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Just asking.”

He stood up with that same unbothered calm, as if this conversation hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

Your whole body tensed when he walked past you to grab another beer from the fridge.

The fact that he didn’t notice…

The fact that he didn’t even realize…

It made you want to break something.

The clink of glass against wood as he set the bottle down pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Dean and I have a case coming up. Some missing people in Indiana.”

You knew the only reason he was telling you was because Dean would mention it if he didn’t.

The anger inside you burned hotter.

“I’m going with you.”

Sam turned his head, his expression showing just how much he hated that idea.

“If you come, you’re just gonna slow everything dow—”

You cut him off instantly.

“Sam, you are in no position to tell me shit.”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

That seemed to shut him up.

You stepped outside, desperate for air.

Not that the air in Bobby’s scrapyard was particularly fresh. It always carried the scent of rusted metal, motor oil, and damp earth—a suffocating mix that clung to your throat. But even that was better than staying inside.

Better than being in the same room as him.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your throat burned, your chest tightened, and there was this unbearable pressure, this sensation that you were about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

You leaned against the wall of the garage, bending forward slightly, hands gripping your knees as you tried to breathe.

Don’t cry. Don’t scream.

Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Get a grip,” you whispered under your breath. “You have to get a fucking grip.”

The door behind you slammed shut.

You flinched at the sound, your body tensing instinctively.

Dean.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was him.

His presence was unmistakable—the way he moved, the weight he carried like the world rested on his shoulders, and yet he still walked with that unshakable confidence, like he’d fight the whole damn universe and somehow win.

He followed you outside, stopping a few steps away, watching.

Then, without warning, his hand settled on your shoulder.

You jolted as if you’d been electrocuted.

“Jesus Christ!” you yelped, clutching your chest. “Are you insane?”

Dean raised both hands in defense, giving you that classic ‘what the hell is your problem?’ look.

“Relax. I was just checking if you were alive.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Oh, I’m perfect, Dean. Just freaking fantastic.”

Your tone dripped with venom, but Dean didn’t take the bait. He just stood there, watching you with that damn patience of his, the kind that somehow managed to be both frustrating and grounding at the same time.

His eyes flicked over you, scanning, assessing—seeing more than you wanted him to.

Then he exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“I broke up with Lisa.” His voice was calm, almost casual. “Haven’t seen her in months.”

Your breath hitched.

“…What?”

The word came out louder than you intended, and as soon as it did, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for reacting so strongly.

“I—Sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine.”

And there it was.

Subtle, nearly hidden beneath the shadow of his usual exasperation.

A smirk.

Dean Winchester was enjoying your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What happened?”

Your voice softened without you realizing it—less biting, more curious. And that was when it clicked.

The bastard had done it on purpose.

He was distracting you. With his problems.

And the worst part? It was working.

Dean didn’t answer right away. He just held your gaze, his expression shifting, growing heavier.

“…It just didn’t feel right.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking into your chest.

Because you understood exactly what he meant.

Because you knew what that felt like.

Because you were standing here, feeling the same way about his brother.

Your teeth sank into the inside of your cheek as you nodded slowly.

Dean smiled at that—just a small, fleeting thing. And then, for the briefest moment, his eyes flickered down to your lips.

Your stomach clenched.

The moment was so quick, so subtle, you could’ve imagined it.

But the air between you thickened, charged with something neither of you had the right to feel.

Then, as if snapping out of it, Dean cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare, almost awkward gesture coming from him.

He coughed, looking away immediately, like he’d just realized what he’d done.

“Yeah, well… whatever,” he muttered, standing up and dusting off his jeans. “Tell your boyfriend to get his ass in gear. We’re leaving.”

The word hit harder than it should have.

Boyfriend.

It almost felt like a cruel joke.

But you didn’t let it show.

“No need,” you said evenly, standing up as well, though something inside you twisted violently. “I’m coming with you.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, one eyebrow arching.

“You’ve been real eager to tag along lately.”

You shrugged, your expression unreadable.

“What, afraid I’ll slit your throat in your sleep?”

He let out a dry chuckle, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. But his eyes—his eyes—they never left yours.

Studying.

And for the first time in this entire conversation, you realized…

He was crossing a line, too.

“If you wanted to kill me, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dropping just slightly, “you’d have tried already.”

The drive was uncomfortable.

Like, parents-on-the-verge-of-divorce-while-their-kid-sits-in-the-backseat-clueless level of uncomfortable.

Except in this case, Dean was the kid, he had full control of the car, and he was very aware of absolutely everything that was going on.

Sam had spoken exactly two words the entire trip. And as if the tension wasn’t thick enough, the second you arrived at the motel, he left you in the room without a second glance and grabbed his brother by the arm, dragging him along to do interviews.

He didn’t even give you the chance to fix Dean’s crooked tie.

Twenty minutes later, you had two missed calls from Dean.

You sighed, already knowing that if you didn’t call him back, the idiot would just keep ringing until he drove you insane.

As soon as he picked up, he didn’t even let you breathe before snapping.

“You didn’t answer.”

His tone was irritated, impatient.

You rolled your eyes on instinct.

“I was doing this thing called showering. You should try it sometime. Even cats do it.”

You heard him exhale sharply, like he was debating whether it was worth it to argue with you.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can’t stand Sam anymore.”

That made you raise an eyebrow. Fast topic change.

“He’s really wearing you down, huh?” you murmured, a trace of amusement in your voice.

“He doesn’t care. Not even enough to pretend he does,” Dean practically growled.

The frustration in his voice was so thick you could almost see him gripping the wheel too hard, his jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“Dean—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he snapped.

“I wasn’t going to.” Your voice softened just a little. “I was gonna offer you a massage when you get back.”

Silence.

One second. Two.

Your heart pounded so hard you felt it in your ears.

“…Oh.”

Dean’s voice dropped lower, quieter.

“That… uh. That actually sounds nice.”

Nice? That was all he had to say? Because suddenly, you were regretting offering at all.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

“I figured it would,” you said, keeping your tone light, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “So… should I wait for you?”

“I’m checking out the crop circles. Sam’s with the missing guy’s father.”

“Alrighty,” you said, standing up. “I’ll get dressed and head out to find a grocery store or something.”

Silence.

“…Get dressed?”

Dean’s voice dropped lower, rougher.

“…Are you naked?”

You blinked.

And then you smirked.

“I told you I had just showered.”

“You never said—!”

You rolled your eyes, amused.

“Sorry, Dean, bad signal, you’re breaking up, bye-bye.”

And you hung up before he could say anything else.

As soon as you put the phone down, you exhaled sharply, realizing how fast your heart was beating.

This wasn’t right.

None of this was right.

And yet…

For some reason, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

It had been hours since you first walked into the grocery store.

But somehow, you were still standing in the candle aisle, completely hypnotized.

You absentmindedly picked up a pack of red candles, turning them over in your hands. Would that be too much? Would it make the massage feel… whore-ish?

You chewed the inside of your cheek, debating.

Then, with a sigh, you tossed them into the cart anyway.

After all, you had plenty of time to set things up. Dean hadn’t called yet, which meant he was still out there, handling whatever the hell had happened with the case.

And if he hadn’t called, it also meant that he hadn’t even thought about you.

That shouldn’t sting.

But it did.

Shaking the thought away, you finally pushed your cart toward the registers, scanning the near-empty store. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and industrial floor cleaner, the kind of artificial sterility that only existed in convenience stores.

The cashier barely looked up as she started ringing up your items, her hands moving automatically over the scanner.

You glanced at her wrist, catching sight of her watch.

And then you frowned.

“Hey… what time is it?”

She glanced at you, then down at her watch. “Four in the morning, miss.”

You froze.

That—

That wasn’t possible.

You had only been here for a few hours.

Dean would’ve called by now.

Hell, if you disappeared for too long without telling him, he usually lost his mind.

“…Are you sure?” You let out a nervous chuckle, suddenly uneasy. “Isn’t the store supposed to be closed by now?”

“It’s a 24-hour store.” She smiled politely.

“Oh.”

You blinked.

Oh.

Your stomach twisted.

He forgot, didn’t he?

Of course, he did.

You felt stupid for even entertaining the idea that he wouldn’t.

There were more important things to do—things that had nothing to do with you.

Sam had already made it clear, hadn’t he? You were a burden.

So, really, what kind of idiot offers to give a massage to a man whose brother lost his soul?

No wonder Dean hadn’t called. You had probably embarrassed him so much that he just decided to ignore you completely.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral.

But before the weight of that thought could settle—

“Miss, your phone is ringing.”

The cashier’s voice pulled you out of your spiral, and you barely had time to register that she was scanning a pie—one you’d grabbed for Dean—before you glanced down at your phone.

Dean.

You picked up instantly.

“Need you back at the motel. Now.”

His voice was low. Steady.

And yet…

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“Where are you?”

“In the field.”

Your brows furrowed. “Still?”

“It hasn’t been that long. Just—” He exhaled sharply. “Meet me at the motel.”

You frowned.

“What do you mean it hasn’t been that long? Dean, it’s literally—”

“Can’t hear you,” he cut in quickly, voice suddenly light, teasing. “You’re breaking up… See you at the motel.”

And just like that, he hung up.

You stared at your phone in disbelief.

Then, before you could stop yourself—

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.

Asshole.

The walk back to the motel was quick, the cold air biting at your skin as you hurried down the street. You spotted Dean just as he was about to cross, his broad frame illuminated under the flickering streetlights.

A familiar warmth spread through your chest at the sight of him.

You barely registered the exhaustion on his face before you picked up your pace, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Hey,” you called, shifting the grocery bags in your hands. “What was so urgent that I had to rush back?”

Dean turned, his own grin surfacing when he saw you.

“Oh, you’re not gonna believe it—” He cut himself off mid-sentence, reaching out automatically. “Here, let me get those.”

Your breath hitched.

It was a small thing. Simple.

But the way he said it—so natural, like it was second nature for him to take care of you—sent a quiet ache through your chest.

You handed him a few of the heavier bags, shaking off whatever that feeling was.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “Okay, so… the field?”

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah, the field. So, I was out there, minding my own damn business, when suddenly—”

He pushed open the motel room door, stepping aside to let you in first.

Only—

The second he did, his smile faltered.

And yours vanished completely.

Your hands slackened, the grocery bags slipping from your grip as your brain registered what—who—you were looking at.

“Dean!”

Sam’s voice was sharp, filled with something dangerously close to surprise.

Your stomach dropped.

“What the hell?”

You slapped a hand over your eyes instinctively.

Because, standing right there, half-undressed on your boyfriend’s bed, was some random hippie chick.

“Oh! That’s Dean?” The girl’s voice was way too chipper for the situation. “Sam, they brought your brother back!”

You let out a slow exhale, keeping your eyes covered, because if you didn’t, there was a very real chance you would absolutely murder someone.

Preferably the soulless bastard in the room.

Dean, meanwhile, looked seconds away from strangling Sam himself.

“Okay. It’s all right, Sam,” the girl continued, completely unfazed. “I so totally understand that you need time as a family. But it’s just—what were they like?”

Dean let out a sharp huff, eyes flickering toward yours.

“They were grabby, incandescent douchebags,” he said flatly. “Goodnight.”

You almost smiled at that.

Almost.

“Too soon?” The girl hesitated before shrugging, completely unbothered. “Okay.”

Then, finally, her attention shifted to you.

“Hey! We haven’t met yet.” She reached for her shirt, slipping it back over her head. “Who are you?”

Dean turned his head slightly at that. You felt his gaze on you, heavy, expectant.

You forced a smile. The kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Sam’s girlfriend.”

Silence.

“Oh,” she said slowly, blinking. “I… didn’t know—”

“It’s an open relationship!” you blurted out before she could finish whatever sentence would’ve absolutely ruined your night.

Dean coughed.

The girl perked up instantly. “Oh! Cool! Since when?”

You swallowed.

“…This morning.”

Dean let out a strangled noise beside you.

The girl laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. You guys really adjust fast.”

And with that, she grabbed the rest of her things and strolled right past you, completely unaware of the tension crackling in the room.

The second the door clicked shut behind her, you dropped your hand from your face and turned on your heel, fully prepared to rip Sam a new one—

But before you could even look at him, Dean was already moving.

Fast.

One second, he was by the door. The next, he was grabbing your wrist, his fingers curling just enough to make you stop.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Dean didn’t say anything right away.

He just stood there, eyes flickering between yours, his grip firm but careful, like he wasn’t sure if he should let go or pull you closer.

The tension was thick.

Too thick.

Because for a second—a stupid, fleeting second—you forgot all about Sam.

Forgot about the girl.

Forgot everything.

And all you could think about was the way Dean’s hand felt against your skin.

“Hey.” His voice was low, steady. The kind of tone that made your stomach clench. “You good?”

You forced yourself to breathe.

Then, with a practiced ease you weren’t even sure was real anymore, you pulled your wrist free.

Flashed him a smile.

“Never better.”

And then you walked away.

Because if you didn’t—

You weren’t sure what would happen.

You heard Dean yelling, but the words barely registered. His voice was raw, edged with frustration. You didn’t even try to process half of what he was saying. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Not really.

Eventually, his voice lowered, the edges of his words smoothing out. That meant he and Sam were actually talking now—probably about whatever the hell he was trying to tell you before you walked in on that hippie disaster.

You sat on the curb, pulling your lighter from the pocket of your jacket. It was simple, worn at the edges, your initials etched into the metal. A birthday gift from Dean back when you were just Sam’s girlfriend. Back when he only knew you as the girl who lasted longer than the others.

You flipped it open, flicking it alight. Then off. Then on again.

A small flame danced at your fingertips, hypnotizing in its simplicity. A quiet distraction.

The motel door creaked open behind you. You didn’t turn.

“Come on,” he said, voice softer now, exhaustion slipping into his tone. “I’ll get you another room. Away from that idiot.”

You smiled, barely, eyes still fixed on the flame.

“It’s almost morning,” you murmured. “Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Dean sighed, then sat beside you, close enough that his thigh brushed against yours. He held out his hand, palm up. Without thinking, you handed him the lighter.

He turned it over in his palm, rubbing a thumb over the engraved initials, studying it the same way you had.

“I miss when things were easier,” he admitted, voice quiet, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say it out loud.

“You and everyone,” you muttered.

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose. “I’m sorry. For all this.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You used to have a normal life. Friends, a job, y'know.” His voice was rough, like he hated acknowledging it.

You shrugged, letting your shoulders drop as the exhaustion hit you all at once. “Doesn’t even sound like me anymore.”

Dean said your name.

For the first time since he’d sat down, you looked at him.

His eyes were glassy, his jaw tight.

Your stomach twisted.

Dean Winchester did not cry.

And yet—

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he broke eye contact.

“I really am sorry,” he murmured. “Told Sam you were a bad idea.”

If you didn’t know him so well, you might have been insulted. But instead, you just leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You should’ve tried harder,” you whispered.

Dean huffed a soft, almost humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

The two of you sat there, the silence heavy but not unbearable. The kind of silence that held years of things left unsaid.

Then, slowly, you moved your hand toward his.

Your fingers brushed his knuckles.

Dean didn’t pull away.

So you intertwined them, heart hammering in your chest like a teenager with a school crush. You took his hand properly, feeling the rough calluses against your skin.

“At least we have each other,” you said quietly.

Dean let out a breath, shifting slightly like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His grip in your hand tightening.

“At this point,” he admitted, “I think you’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped you.

Dean released your hand, only to push himself up. “I’ll go get you a room.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you admitted, voice quieter than before. “Will you stay?”

Dean’s expression softened. He didn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He just looked at you for a long moment, then nodded.

A few minutes later, he returned with a new key. He held out his other hand, silently offering to help you up.

You took it.

Once on your feet, you dusted off your jeans, hyper-aware of the way Dean watched you.

Every movement. Every shift.

His eyes traced your hands, the way your fingers brushed against your thighs, the way you adjusted your shirt.

When you finally looked up, he didn’t look away. Didn’t even try to hide it.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You could feel it. The weight of everything between you.

You swallowed, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Dean inhaled sharply, as if trying to convince himself not to do something.

Then, before you could second-guess anything—

“If I’m wrong about this,” he said, voice low, deep, “you can slap me.”

You frowned. “Wrong about wha—”

Dean kissed you.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of tension. Of almosts. Of stolen glances and lingering touches and things neither of you ever dared to say.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him, like he’d been holding back for too long and finally—finally—let himself have you.

Dean’s hands were firm, rough fingers cradling your jaw, tilting your head just right as he devoured you.

You gasped against his mouth, barely managing to process the sheer intensity of it before he was pulling you closer. He kissed you deeper, tilting his head, his lips parting against yours as he swallowed the quiet gasp you let out.

Your fingers tangled in his jacket, fisting the fabric desperately as heat coiled in your stomach.

He needed this.

You could feel it.

The way he kissed you like he was making up for lost time, like he’d been starving for this and didn’t know how to slow down.

You were dizzy. Burning.

You met him with equal force, matching every movement, every press of his lips, every quiet sound he made against you.

Dean groaned, and the sound alone sent a shiver down your spine.

Then—his hands.

One sliding to your waist, gripping you like he was scared you’d disappear. The other curling into your hair, tilting your head back just enough to deepen the kiss.

The heat of his body, the scent of leather and gunpowder and Dean surrounding you—

It was overwhelming.

And you didn’t care.

Didn’t think.

Didn’t breathe.

Just him.

Just this.

Finally.

After years of pretending.

After everything.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing hard, foreheads touching.

Dean swallowed thickly, green eyes flickering between yours.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, lips tingling from the kiss.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you needed to.

Because whatever this was—

There was no coming back from it.

Your breathing was erratic, your chest rising and falling as you tried to process everything. Your eyes slowly dropped to the keys in his hand.

“Room?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean nodded, his gaze locked on yours—dark, intense, filled with something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Room.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

The kiss was desperate, raw, almost clumsy in its urgency. Dean pressed you against the door, his body firm against yours, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips claimed yours like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

Your fingers fumbled with the lock, somehow managing to turn the key. With one hand gripping the doorknob and the other still tangled in Dean’s hair, you pushed the door open without breaking the kiss.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked between ragged breaths, his lips brushing against your skin.

“Uh… college?” you said, breathless and unsure.

Dean chuckled against your neck, the sound vibrating through you.

“You’re gonna have to teach me that.”

“Relax, tiger, we’ve got time.”

The words had barely left your lips before you felt the sharp graze of his teeth—a soft bite, enough to send a jolt of heat straight to your core.

The door shut behind you with a dull thud, and before you could process anything else, Dean was pushing you toward the bed.

He hovered over you, his weight barely there, the heat of his body making your skin burn. His hands traced the curve of your waist, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, trailing lower with each breath.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice thick with something almost reverent.

You tried to focus enough to respond.

“Let me guess… the first Thanksgiving we spent together?” you teased, remembering the turkey you had made just for the three of you.

Dean shook his head, his lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“Nope… my second birthday with you.”

You frowned slightly, tilting your head.

“What? What was so special about that birthday?”

Dean smirked against your skin before lifting his head, eyes locking onto yours.

“I remember watching you spend the whole afternoon making a pie just for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was just food, Dean. I don’t see the connection.”

Dean chuckled. “It wasn’t about the food. It was the fact that, after all that, you stayed up just to sing me happy birthday at exactly midnight. Because you said it made it more special.”

Your face flushed.

“Well… it does make it more special.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You woke me up.”

“Are we gonna argue, or are you gonna kiss me?”

You didn’t wait for a response.

You pulled him down, crashing your lips into his with a hunger that rivaled his own. His hands moved quickly to the buttons of your shirt, fumbling slightly in his impatience before finally undoing them.

When his eyes raked over the newly exposed skin, his jaw tensed, pupils blown wide.

“Jesus Christ, you look fucking perfect.”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it, raw and unfiltered.

Dean didn’t give you time to react. His mouth was back on yours, slower this time, more deliberate. Like he was savoring every second. His hands moved along your sides, fingers skimming your bare skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

His lips traveled lower, down your throat, over your collarbone, and lower still, each kiss softer than the last, teasing, torturous.

You were dizzy, overwhelmed, every nerve in your body attuned to his touch.

His hand reached for the button of your jeans, unbuttoning it quickly.

His fingers opened you with ease. You saw him lick his lips in a movement so fast that if you had blinked you wouldn't have noticed.

He slowly, carefully inserted a finger into you. All his movements were filled with affection and love that made you melt under his touch.

Your head tilted back against the pillow, a sharp gasp escaping before you could stop it.

Dean groaned, his movements fastening slightly.

“Yeah,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with want. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Dean,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a breath, needy and desperate. “Please—I want it now.”

Dean smirked, the kind of cocky, infuriating smirk that made your stomach tighten. He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, teasing.

“A little desperate, are we?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’d like to call it eager,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dean chuckled, his fingers grazing over your hip, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. “Smart ass.”

“You love my a—”

The words died in your throat the second you felt Dean slide another finger inside you. Your breath hitched, your back arching slightly, heat pooling in your core.

Dean’s eyes darkened, his gaze fixed on your face as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“You feel so damn good, baby,” he murmured, his voice husky, thick with something possessive. “You’re sucking my fingers in like it’s my cock.”

A sharp gasp escaped you, your fingers tightening around the sheets.

“It could be your—”

Dean shot you a look, a warning, the kind that made your stomach flip. Automatically, you clamped your mouth shut.

His lips curled into a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

Without warning, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you could even protest, he was on you again, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth, desperate and unrestrained.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his hands mapping out every inch of you like he was memorizing the way you felt.

His hands moved, grabbing the hem of his shirt and discarding it across the motel floor. Your hands roamed over his back, nails digging in slightly as you pulled him closer, needing more, needing everything.

"Dean," you whispered, and that was all it took.

His breath caught, his pupils blown wide with something dark and hungry. His hands moved to his belt, fingers working the buckle open with urgency.

But before he could go any further, your hands covered his, stopping him.

His eyes snapped up to yours, concern flickering across his face. "What?" His voice was rough, husky. "You okay?"

You swallowed, your heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs. You weren't hesitating—you knew exactly what you wanted. Your gaze softened, lips curling into a small, teasing smile.

"Can I suck your dick?" you asked, bluntly.

Dean blinked.

"You what?"

"Can I... suck your dick?" This time, your voice was quieter, almost uncertain, but the intent in your eyes was clear.

Dean’s mouth parted slightly, like his brain had short-circuited.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before covering his mouth for a second, as if trying to get a grip. “Of course you can, pretty girl. Only if you let me do the same.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression.

"Like... at the same time?"

Dean smirked. "I suppose you're familiar with the number sixty-nine."

You burst out laughing, your forehead falling against his shoulder as your whole body shook with amusement. Dean laughed with you, the moment light yet still buzzing with heat.

When you finally lifted your head, he was looking at you with that damn smirk, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Come here,” he murmured, cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips.

Then he kissed you, and this time there was no hesitation, no teasing.

It was deep, consuming, the kind of kiss that stole the breath from your lungs and left you dizzy. His hands explored, memorizing the curves of your body, tracing fire along your skin. He pulled you onto his lap, pressing you down against the hardness of him, making you gasp into his mouth.

"You feel that, sweetheart?" he whispered against your lips. "That's what you do to me."

You whimpered, grinding down slightly, and Dean let out a strangled groan, his fingers gripping your hips like he was barely holding on.

"Fuck, you're gonna kill me," he muttered, before flipping you onto your back, his lips trailing down your neck, your collarbone, lower—

And then he was gone, shifting down the bed, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your stomach.

His hands moved to your thighs, parting them with ease.

"You still sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough, edged with restraint.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer.

"Dean," you breathed. "Shut up and get to work."

Dean chuckled darkly, his grip tightening.

"Yes, ma’am."

And then he did exactly that.

Dean shifted his body, leaving his crotch above your face.

“Damn”

“Thank you” he said, you laughed again.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you slowly lowered the fabric of his boxers, freeing him completely. His cock was long, thick, and already aching for you. The sight alone sent a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly.

Before you could react, you felt the first hesitant stroke of Dean’s tongue against your cunt—tentative at first, almost testing the waters. The sensation sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your spine, making you groan softly.

"Just like that," you murmured, voice dripping with approval before you finally wrapped your lips around his cock.

A deep, guttural moan escaped Dean's throat, a sound that vibrated straight into your core. His whole body tensed beneath you, his fingers digging into your thighs as if he was trying to ground himself.

Your spit coated his length, dripping down as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His cock throbbed against your tongue, and a part of you—some sinful, smug part—loved knowing you had this effect on him.

Dean’s response was immediate. His hands gripped your thighs tighter as his tongue pushed deeper, licking into you with new urgency. It was messy, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough. He buried his face between your legs, his nose pressing against your clit, groaning as if he was drunk on you.

Everywhere, he was surrounded by you. He could taste you on his tongue, smell you, feel the way your legs trembled under his touch. It was intoxicating, overwhelming—like being worshipped just for existing.

The more you moved, the more he lost himself in you. His tongue flicked over your clit in tandem with the bob of your head over his cock, and he let out a muffled curse against your cunt, his hips jerking up slightly.

"Shit—" he groaned, voice wrecked. "You're gonna kill me, sweetheart."

You hummed around him, sending vibrations through his cock, and Dean choked out a curse, his grip tightening even more.

Your rhythm quickened, lips gliding over him with purpose, and Dean matched your pace, his mouth working you open with relentless hunger. His hands spread your thighs wider, keeping you right where he wanted you, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you pulling away.

The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure—his groans, your whimpers, the wet, filthy noises of tongues and lips working in tandem. The tension that had been brewing between you for years was finally unraveling, raw and unfiltered.

Dean’s breath turned ragged, his movements becoming erratic. You could tell he was close—his thighs tensing beneath your hands, his moans turning desperate.

"Fuck, baby, if you keep going like that—" His warning was cut off by a deep, shuddering groan as you took him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat.

His body trembled beneath you, and you knew he was about to fall apart. It was okay, because so were you.

"I'm about to—" Dean's voice came out strained, ragged with pleasure.

You nodded, your lips still wrapped around him, determined to take everything he had to give. A deep, guttural groan tore from his chest as thick, hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. At the exact same moment, his mouth latched onto you even harder, and the sheer sensation sent you over the edge. Your body trembled as your release coated his tongue, making him groan into you.

The pleasure was dizzying, all-consuming. Your moans mixed with his, lost in the heavy, humid air of the motel room. Every nerve in your body was buzzing, oversensitive, barely able to handle the aftermath of everything you'd just felt.

Dean pulled away first, his breath uneven, his hands still gripping your thighs like he needed something solid to hold onto. Slowly, he shifted, moving up to hover over you, his emerald eyes dark and heavy-lidded. His lips were swollen, wet, glistening with the taste of you.

He reached for your face, his thumb swiping at the saliva on your lower lip with a tenderness that felt almost out of place after everything you'd just done.

"You okay?" His voice was low, husky, but there was something softer beneath it—something vulnerable.

You nodded, unable to speak, still lost in the haze of pleasure. Instead, you pulled him down, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. He tasted like whiskey, like heat, like you, and for a moment, the world outside the four walls of that room ceased to exist.

Dean groaned into the kiss, deepening it, his tongue sliding against yours with unrestrained hunger. His hands roamed your body, rediscovering every curve, every dip of your skin like he was memorizing you. There was nothing hesitant anymore—no more second-guessing, no more resisting.

This was years of tension, of longing, of stolen glances and unspoken words, all unraveling in the way he pressed you down against the mattress, in the way your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

"You drive me fuckin' insane," he murmured against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. "You know that, right?"

You smirked, brushing your nails down his back, reveling in the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "I had a suspicion."

Dean chuckled, but the sound was cut off when you rolled your hips up against him, making him suck in a sharp breath.

"Jesus, sweetheart—"

"Dean," you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. "Don't stop."

And he didn’t.

He captured your mouth again, hungrier this time, as if he was afraid this would all slip away if he let go. His hands slid between your bodies, fingers teasing at the last pieces of clothing that still separated you. Finally taking what was always meant to be his.

Dean's cockhead dips between your folds, teasing your entrance with agonizing slowness. A desperate, keening moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him. You're dripping, your slick coating him, making it easier for him to push in—just the tip at first, stretching you open inch by inch.

"Fuck, sweetheart…" Dean's voice is hoarse, strained with restraint, like he's holding himself back from completely losing control.

Even with just half of him inside you, your breath is already coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in, silently begging for more. And Dean, never one to deny you, pulls back just enough before slamming forward with a deep, firm thrust.

A sharp cry rips from your throat, your fingers clawing at his shoulders. He groans at the way you take him, the way you clench around him like you're made for him.

"Goddamn, baby," he mutters, his forehead pressing against yours as he buries himself deeper, stretching you until the burn melts into pleasure. "You feel so fuckin’ good."

His thrusts are precise, each one landing with an intensity that has you seeing stars. Every movement sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

You're already shaking, the pleasure mounting too fast, too strong. Your hips roll against his, chasing more, needing more.

"Dean," you whimper, your voice wrecked, hands grasping at the sheets beneath you.

He tightens his grip on your hips, shifting the angle just enough to push even deeper, dragging another cry from you.

"That’s it," he breathes, his voice thick with lust. "Take it, sweetheart. Let me hear you."

You can barely speak, reduced to moans and gasps, your body wound tight like a string about to snap. Your legs tense, your muscles locking up as the coil in your stomach tightens, tighter, until—

"Dean!" you sob, your back arching as pleasure consumes you, your release hitting so hard it steals the air from your lungs.

Dean groans at the feeling of you pulsing around him, and that’s all it takes for him to follow. His thrusts turn erratic, desperate, before he buries himself to the hilt, spilling into you with a deep, shuddering moan.

He collapses onto his forearms, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. His breath fans against your skin as he presses his forehead against yours, grounding himself in you.

"That's it," he murmurs, kissing your temple. "You did so good. God, you should see yourself right now… you're so goddamn beautiful."

You can’t help but smile, the exhaustion settling into your limbs as the warmth of his words wraps around you like a blanket.

"Thank you, Dean," you whisper, curling into him. You know better than to overthink this—to question what it means. Because the man lying beside you? He doesn’t do confessions, doesn’t do mornings-after. And if this is all you get, you’ll take it.

Dean presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, so tender it makes your chest tighten. Your eyes sting, emotion creeping in where you least expect it.

He looks like he wants to say something, his mouth parting, his brows drawing together in that way he does when he's struggling with something real, something serious. But before he can get the words out—

"What the hell—" He suddenly stiffens, eyes snapping toward the corner of the room.

You blink, barely able to keep yourself from slipping into sleep. "What?"

Dean's jaw drops slightly, his expression shifting from post-orgasmic bliss to sheer disbelief.

"Is that a goddamn fairy?"

"You look oddly happy," Sam commented as he walked past.

"Okay, asshole move," you shot back, rolling your eyes. "Am I not allowed to be happy that we found a way to get your soul back?"

"Oh, I get it—you just want your boyfriend back," he said, smirking.

The word boyfriend made your stomach twist uncomfortably. If Sam actually got his soul back and everything went back to how it was before… things were going to be awkward. Really awkward. Considering you had just fucked his brother.

Sam walked into the motel room, searching for something you didn’t really care about. Your mind had been thoroughly occupied with someone else since the hippie incident.

Speaking of Rome…

Dean walked in, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, carrying himself with that same cocky ease that could knock down even the strongest walls. His presence alone felt like a gravitational pull, one you had no business indulging in—but damn, was it tempting.

He gave you a small nod in greeting, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

"How'd you sleep in jail?" you asked, biting back a grin.

Dean smirked. "Had better nights."

The words hit deeper than they should have, sending heat creeping up your neck. The memory of two nights ago burned behind your eyes—his hands on your hips, his breath against your skin, the way you whispered his name like a prayer. You forced yourself to swallow it down.

Sam walked back out, his own duffel bag in hand, completely oblivious to the tension crackling between you and Dean.

You slid into the backseat of the Impala, letting out a small yawn.

"Still don’t get why you woke up so early," Dean muttered as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

"To gloat," you teased, stretching your arms behind your head.

"Uh-huh. And you’re just gonna pass out again in a couple of hours."

You opened your mouth to argue—but damn it, he was right.

Dean caught your expression in the rearview mirror and smirked, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. His fingers tapped lazily against the steering wheel before he spoke, his voice casual—too casual.

"Guess I’ll have to find another way to keep you awake, huh?"

The words were innocent enough. Sam didn’t react, didn’t even seem to register them. But the way Dean said it, the way his eyes flicked up to meet yours in the mirror—

Yeah. You weren’t done with him.

And worse? He knew it.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester angst

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evamame · 12 hours ago

Text

12:08 am | osamu miya

osamu always takes care of you after you come home drunk from a long night of partying

cw: sfw, fluff, alcohol/mentions of being drunk, fem!reader x osamu miya, established relationship, pet names

wc: 853

masterlist

coming home drunk after a long and eventful night out with your girlfriends to osamu miya, who already has your bed ready with a glass of water on your nightstand. as he hears you fiddling with your keys outside the front door, he hops up from the sofa where he was watching tv and waiting for you to finally arrive home. you stumble through the door in your drowsy state and he quickly leans down to assist you in taking off your heels so you don’t trip over your own feet.

“welcome back hon’,” he greets you softly. he places his hand on the small of your back and guides you to the bathroom, where he already has a fresh pair of your favorite pajamas ready and laid out on the counter. he lifts you up and sits you down on the edge of the smooth granite top, getting micellar water and a cotton pad to take your makeup off. what was once a beautifully put together look now dawns your face with runny mascara and caking foundation, but he still finds you stunning nonetheless.

“did ya have fun?” he questions as he begins gently removing all of the gunk off your face.

you close your eyes and let him work his magic. by now, he’s remembered your skincare routine, and always makes sure to lay out your bottles before you return home so he can get you ready for bed as quickly as possible. maybe it’s just extra relaxing in your drunken state, but it feels like he does it better than you. “yeah, i had lots of fun! we danced a ton, and i got tons of compliments on my outfit from my friends!” you respond happily, but your voice lacks articulation and has an underlying hint of grogginess from your exhaustion, making it a bit hard for him to understand your words.

he smiles amusedly, a barely audible chuckle escaping his lips. “that’s good, ya do look gorgeous.”

he finishes wiping off your makeup with the micellar water, placing the bottle on the counter and discarding the cotton pad in the trash. he moves on to washing your face thoroughly with face wash before moisturizing your skin.

“i can take care of myself. you must be tired having to stay up for me,” you comment.

he shakes his head, voice soft but firm, “i wanted to make sure ya got home safely. plus, yer clearly too worn out to properly take off yer makeup. i doubt ya would’ve done it yourself. and ya should never go to bed with it on, ya know?”

“i know, i know.”

he gives you a nod, satisfied with your answer. he lifts you up and back onto the ground, “turn around for me hon’.”

you comply, and he slowly unzips your dress, letting it fall to the floor. you step out of it, and he helps you put on your pajamas.

“feelin’ better now? a lil’ more refreshed at least, i hope.”

“yeah, i feel much better.” his lips tug into a small smile at your words. he grabs the brush on the counter, holding it up, “come sit. i’ll brush yer hair.”

osamu guides you to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the space in between his legs. you sit on his lap, staring tiredly at the wall ahead as he begins to soothingly run the brush through your hair. the way he ever so gently runs the bristles through your locks is calming. even simples acts of domesticity like these show how much affection and love he has for you, and the way he takes care of you on any and every day conveys more than any words can.

“all done,” he murmurs quietly as he finishes, placing the brush down on the sheets beside him. he runs his fingers gently through your brushed hair for a minute, a comfortable silence falling through the room.

you let out a tired yawn, and then he’s reminded of the task at hand, “let’s get ya to bed now. ya need all the rest you can get.” and with that, he pats your back to tell you to stand up, guiding you to your side of the bed. he helps you to crawl under the covers, tucking you in and making sure you’re comfortable. he tenderly hands you the glass of water he had prepared, making sure you’re holding it steadily before letting go. “take these. and drink all the water. it’ll help ya with yer hangover in the morning,” he instructs, picking up two painkillers and handing them to you.

you pop them in your mouth, downing the glass of water with them. he takes the empty glass from you and sets it back down on the table. then, he smooths out the blanket and presses a quick kiss to your forehead, his voice a low whisper, “goodnight sweetheart. sleep well, m’kay?”

you nod incoherently, clearly drained. he walks around to the other side of the bed and joins you under the sheets as you drift off to sleep.

a/n: i just know he makes you a full course meal for breakfast when you wake up with a pounding headache.

taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765

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heretical-cogitations · 2 days ago

Text

Help! My serf smells like the armoury and it's making me have heretical thoughts. Part 3

Word count: ~3460

Titus x gn!afab!reader

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N - This got out of hand very quickly. I went quiet for a couple of days and here's why. This is basically just all smut… To the point you don’t even have to read the previous parts.

Titus is a thigh man, sorry I don't make the rules.

Hope you enjoy this meal.

Remember - even your most heretical thoughts can become a reality if you try hard enough.

My switch / sub Titus agenda shall be known.

I can hear the inquisition at my door.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, kinda dubcon, face sitting, piv sex (you bounce on it crazy style), lots of groping, being mean to stupid sexy Demetrian Titus.

Please let me know if I have missed any!!

You finish fixing up the helm and gently place it on the desk. You didn’t realise how long you had been hunched over, joints cracking as you stretched out.

You rest your head back on the desk staring at his helm.

Where is lord Titus? He has been gone for a while…

The chamber door opening and closing loudly jolts you awake. “My lord?” you say turning around. He stands near the small chest of drawers, in his own little world, its’s almost unsettling to see the usually alert captain like this.

You squint at him, he seems to be carrying a number of bottles. He is busy placing his new collection down scrutinising each one. They look similar to the oils and fragrances used in the baths.

“My lord, is all well?” He turns his head eyes boring into you as he says your name.

His gaze makes you fidget nervously in the chair “Um I- I have restored your helm, it was damaged in your last deployment and I thought to fix it as an apology for upsetting you before.”

He crosses the distance between you far too quickly, his body blocking you against the desk as he reaches over to lift up his helm examining it.

Placing the helm back down he drops to his knees to be at eye level with you. “You have done a wonderful job.” His smile so warm and genuine you feel your heart skip a beat and then another when you feel his calloused hands rest their weight on your thighs.

Titus stares down at your thighs before giving an experimental squeeze, exhaling out a pensive hum before proceeding to knead the flesh under his huge palms.

“L- lord Titus?” your voice seems to snap him out of his trance.

“I’m sorry little one, forgive me but I cannot contain my happiness.” Your lords’ hands moving higher up your thighs before pulling away.

“To now know that you feel the same as I do for you, I knew I made the right decision making you my serf. The smell of your arousal has stirred reactions in me I had no knowledge I possessed.” He continued babbling on about how happy he was and the smell -wait THE SMELL OF WHAT, why is he talking about this like it is at all normal.

You are mortified.

Your lord angel is talking so excitedly about the fact he could smell how horny you were for him earlier. You’re surprised you didn’t perish on the spot.

His hand cups your face thumb rubbing your cheek lovingly, you lean into his caress melting away the shame you felt. He leans in pressing a feather light kiss to your lips, it was over as quickly as it began.

He leans back averting his gaze from you, but you don’t give him a chance to put anymore distance between you. Placing your hand on his cheek turning his head back towards you, pulling him in again for another soft kiss.

His mouth is so much larger than yours, but your lips seem to slot together perfectly. He is following your lead, clumsy at first but picking up on what makes you sigh and moan quickly.

You break the kiss feeling a lightheaded buzz and heat pooling in your abdomen.

You need more, the hand on his cheek moving to tangle in his hair, trying to tug him forward.

He chuckles. “Eager to serve little serf? Or are you just as selfish as me?”

You are suddenly lifted into the air before being dropped onto his vast bed, air knocked out of you as you land.

Titus leans over you. “Remove this.” He says picking up the hem of your robe. You decide to tease him, dragging the fabric agonisingly slowly up your body before stopping at the apex of your thighs.

You look at him, his gaze is transfixed to your legs, blush dusting his cheeks. “Continue.” he demands, you falter inching the fabric higher to reveal your underwear, stopping again.

He decides he has had enough of your game and rips the garment off in one fluid motion.

He pushes you further into the expanse of bedding before shedding his robe and crawling to rest between your legs.

He growls. “Oh, I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

Hands spreading over your torso kneading and squeezing the soft flesh. He knows he is moving quickly, he remembers the chapter master’s advice to take his time and explore slowly.

Eternally grateful to have chased after the figure retreating from the armoury when he did, but in this moment, he considers the advice useless.

“My lord, please.” You don't even know what you are asking for, as you squirm, covering your face in embarrassment.

There is so much he wants to do to you, the choice is almost paralysing so he goes with his gut.

Pulling your knees to rest on the broad expanse of his shoulders. He places soft kisses on your knee. His tongue tracing patterns on your thigh slowly working his way up towards your apex, right where you need him.

So, so close just a little further.

He turns his head back to your thigh overwhelming urge to worry the plush flesh between his teeth taking over as he peppers your thighs with bites. His tongue runs over them soothing the violently attacked skin.

You whine out his name bucking your hips hoping he would get the message.

He stares up at you pupils blown as his face presses against your most intimate area. He takes a deep breath in, eyes rolling back, as he let out a groan that vibrated through you.

Your own moan ripping from your throat in response.

He moved his hands to hook over your legs keeping you in place. He took another breath, the smell is too overwhelming.

“Forgive me for my haste, but I can’t I need to taste you.” He rasps out as he rips your underwear down your legs.

You feel hands clamping onto your hips like a vice. Your arms move to uncover your face to see what's happening when a your are pulled up right with him underneath you.

Oh, by the emperor.

Your legs instinctively tense, hands shooting down to stop him, you don't want to crush him.

“W- what are you doing?” You squeal.

“I am unsure of what to do. Like this you can show me your preferences, no? You don’t have to worry about causing me any harm either, little one relax.” He smirks.

He looks so breathtaking between your legs, but you don’t like this nasty little teasing streak he’s began to develop.

Despite your valiant effort to spare his neck, with an embarrassingly small amount of effort he sits you down on his face. His tongue lay flat against your cunt. Your hips canted forward your clit grinding on the wet muscle, the whine you let out was disgraceful, but you didn't care he felt too good, his groans becoming more and more frequent.

All logical thoughts were quickly leaving your brain.

“Please mmm move your mouth, my lord.” He hums in response, vibrations shooting right through your core. Hands tugging at his hair he begins moving his tongue, exploring again, finding what makes you tick. Delighted when he discovers the nub that makes you grind down hard and pull his hair tighter.

He moans at the sting, the noise making you shudder above him.

He can only think of how divine this experience is.

Especially in this position, the low light of the room pours over you features framing you in a gilded light.

Your taste is indescribable to him, he can't grasp how perfect this feels, how right, how it must have been destined.

His lips close around your clit sucking, he is in awe of you. You beg him for more, you want him to put his tongue inside.

He growls, shifting your hips to position himself correctly, nose now pressed firmly against your clit as his tongue danced around your entrance. Giving you the odd nip of his teeth before a deep moan vibrated through you as he slowly sunk his tongue into you.

Slowly wiggling the appendage in further, to lap at your essence right from the source.

It stings pleasantly as you are pushed open by your Lord’s tongue. You feel the heat coiling tighter and tighter in you.

“T- Titus, Titus p-lease I'm - I can't.”

Your pitiful words only egg him on to eat you out with more vigour sending you throttling over the edge with a sharp cry, clenching down on his tongue.

Thighs clamping down around his head, nails digging into his scalp as you yank his hair.

Your hips bucking uncontrollably as your climax tapers to its end, muscles twitching, you can't remember the last time it was this intense.

Had it ever been?

You pull your hips away, his hands falling to his side, giving you a reprieve to kneel up.

“T- thank you my lord.” You’re breathless as you move down to sit yourself on his abs. You lean down and kiss him tasting your release on his lips, he groans against you. “You taste divine.” He rasps out hands back to kneading your thighs.

“You seem to like these a lot.” Placing your hands over his.

He hums in response. “They are the perfect fit for my hands.”

You giggle at how happy he sounded, fingers dancing over the taut corded muscle and ports along his arms, hand stopping at his neck.

You plant feather light kisses along his jaw. His eyes fluttering shut as he stifles a groan, fingers digging into your thighs.

Titus turns his head as you kiss the corner of his mouth trying to catch your lips. He lets out a low grumble of your name as you continue to avoid him, finally placing a sweet kiss on his lips when he seemingly gives up.

He melts into the kiss, following your lead as his lips move messily against yours. You sigh into the kiss as you feel his large calloused hands run up and down the sides of your legs.

One of your hands move to tangle themselves in his hair again.

Growing bolder he nips your bottom lip taking advantage of the gasp you let out to shove his tongue in your mouth.

Before he has a chance to do much more you tug his hair pulling him back as you pull away.

A devious plan forming in your head.

He lets out a noise similar to a whimper as you sit back up. Hand still firm in his hair as your free hand travels down his body to where you are sat. His chest arching up to feel more, before you pluck his hands off of you.

His glassy, half lidded eyes find yours. “Why did you stop little one?”

You take a moment. “Did I say you could touch me, Titus?”

He lets out a frustrated whine, head knocking back against the plush bed.

He’s full of surprises, isn't he? You chuckle to yourself.

You lean in close again, lips brushing his ear. “You brought this on yourself. Have you no shame?”

You can't deny the thrill in being so mean to your lord angel and based on his squirming you weren't the only one enjoying the role reversal.

Titus' hands were still hovering near you twitching, his nervous system going haywire.

You let go of his hair, your now free hand rubbing circles on his neck.

Leaning your head down he closes his eyes in anticipation waiting expectantly for your kiss.

Instead, you duck your head down further, placing a kiss under his chin before you work your way down the column of his throat.

The soft gasps that leave him turning into groans as you bite down and suck at his flesh.

You look at the marks already beginning to heal as you run your tongue over the assaulted skin.

Your hands run lower squeezing at his chest, your hands look tiny squeezing at his pecs.

You swipe an experimental thumb over his nipples, his breath hitching, you are in awe at how sensitive he is. You smirk and pinch them eliciting a shocked moan from the huge man below you.

Your hands travel wherever they please, tracing one of his ports you can almost feel his resolve snap like a band, his hips buck up with force, threatening to tip you forward.

You slide yourself back as you kiss down his body, sitting back up when you reach the band of his loin cloth.

You look down and can’t stop the shiver that racks through you at the sight, large bulge straining and twitching against its confinement.

You lick your lips when you see the small wet patch near the tip.

You loosen and untie the cloth removing it from him.

Fuck.

His cock slaps against his lower abdomen, a pearl of precum decorating the tip.

It’s massive.

You must’ve been staring for a while, as Titus leans up on his elbows “I -is everything okay?” He looks like he is struggling to form words, poor thing.

You run the tip of your index finger from the base to tip before you wrap your hand around the head using your thumb to collect the precum spreading it over the tip.

You’re startled by the broken whine forced out of him.

“Nothing at all my L-.” “Titus, please keep calling me Titus.” He interrupts with another whine.

Oh, he likes you ruining him.

You grin moving your hand away. “Titus, do you have any lube?” He blushes deeper, biting his lip and points over to the large collection of bottles brought in earlier.

You can’t stifle the laugh that leaves you. “I don’t think we need that much.”

“They were gifts from the chapter master, I couldn't decide which to take so he let me take one of each.”

By the throne, you don’t have time to think about the implications of the chapter master bestowing a collection of oils and lube to his captains so they can fuck their serfs, you’re not the inquisition.

You slide off him and the bed, legs still a little shaky as you walk to the collection, you pick up one of the larger bottles, having to rest it against your body to carry it.

He is staring at you, cock twitching in anticipation. You toss the bottle onto the bed and climb back onto him.

Pouring a hefty amount of lube directly onto his length, he hisses as the cool viscous liquid runs down him, pooling at the base.

“Hand.” You gesture at him.

He stretches out a hand in front of you. “Do you know what I want you to do?”

His stare bores into you before nodding weakly “You require me to stretch your tiny hole, so you can take me.”

His vulgar words shock you again. You pour the lube onto his out stretched hand.

Your hand returns to his cock, gathering the liquid before grabbing him at the base, noticing how thick he is when you hand is too small to wrap fully around him.

His hips buck up.

You let go, other hand lightly swats his thigh. “No, keep your hips still.”

A short whine bubbles out of him in protest.

Ignoring him, you pull his hand to your mound. “Start with one.”

Obeying you his finger plunges into you palm pressing flat against your clit, his finger curls and digs into a spot that makes you see stars.

“F-Fuck, good boy.” You moan out before you realise what you said, he moans in response. Repeating the motion with each eager thrust of his finger, before pushing in a second.

Your moaning as your hand starts working the lube over his length twisting your wrist, finger tips running over the veins.

You can’t wait much longer you need him.

He scissors his fingers, loud moans tumbling out of you as you try to keep stroking him with any semblance of a rhythm.

You can see his thigh muscles tensing, is he close?

You take your hand away and are rewarded with a pathetic broken whine from your Titus.

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I need you.” You've broken him.

You almost feel guilty at the rush his begging gives you.

“Titus, take your fingers out.” You try to sound in control, but you are just as needy as him.

He does as he’s told, his fingers instantly in his mouth sucking and cleaning every last drop of you off them.

“What do you need?” You ask, staring into his eyes as you sit yourself on his lap cunt grinding against his length.

“Mmm, need to feel inside. AH- throne, need to fill you please." He’s teary eyed as he whines for you.

You sit up on your knees and grab the base of his cock again lining it up to your entrance, before slowly lowering yourself onto him.

He tenses at the feeling of wet heat against his length and let’s out a broken sob.

He uses every last bit of his sanity to stop himself from thrusting up into you.

Even with his thorough prep sinking down on his cock burns, but the building pressure in your stomach from feeling so full was too good to stop.

By some miracle you take him down to the hilt, clit pressed firm against his happy trail.

Moaning in unison you place your hands on his lower abdomen. His eyes are transfixed to where you are joined.

You wiggle your hips making him groan, hands shooting up to grab your waist.

You slowly grind circles against him, his moans and whimpers getting more erratic.

He is pleading for more.

You lift up slowly testing how it feels, leaving only the tip inside before dropping back down as he bucks his hips up, your cunt spasms around him, shit, it’s so deep, it feels like he’s in your throat.

Your eyes roll back into your skull, as you begin bouncing on him as best you can.

His hips trying his best to match the rhythm you set. “Feels so good, Titus.”

Both of your loud moans complement the obscene wet sounds your bodies make. It’s a mess, the bottom of your thighs slick with sweat, lube and arousal just like his lower abdomen.

“I - I think I’m ngh close little one, ple- pleasee wan-t to finish toge- ther!” He whines out words broken by his crescendoing moans.

You move your hands to his, pulling them off your hips to intertwine your fingers.

“Me t-too.” You squeeze his hands, hazy eyes meeting your tearful ones.

He shifts on the bed planting his feet against the mattress and thrusts up meeting you half way on every bounce.

“Ti- Titus, it’s too muuuch. I-.” You squeal, stilling as you feel his cock press against your cervix over and over. You are thrown into an earth shattering climax, so much more intense than the first.

You think you black out for a second.

Your cunt squeezing down on him like a vice sends him hurtling over the edge, the deep moans he lets out making your abused hole flutter around him as he fucks ribbons of cum up into you.

He holds you above him, groaning as he slips his length out of you.

He lays with you on top of him for a little while, feeling him cum leaking out of you and drip down onto the bedding.

He is embarrassed in retrospect at how quickly he finished and how he acted.

You on the other hand are still deep in a post orgasmic daze, barely even on this plane of existence, content to just lie face pressed into his tits for an eternity after that workout.

He sits you up with him, you weakly wrap your arms around his neck. “You are truly amazing, little one.” He sighs out pecking you on the lips.

You give him a blissfully stupid grin in return before nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck “I love you, my lord.” The weight of your confession not registering with you in this state.

He sits in stunned silence until he hears your small puffs of breath slowing as you fall into a peaceful sleep. “I love you too little one.” Pressing another soft kiss against your temple.

He will think about cleaning and his duty later, right now he just wants to be here in this moment for as long as he can.

#damn #genuinely didn't know I had this in me #happy valentines day #demetrian titus #space marine x reader #warhammer40k x reader #warhammer 40k #demetrian titus x reader #stupid sexy space marines

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