#I just wanna kiss between his shoulderblades a little bit

[shaanks]

call me the plot of one piece the way I am briefly but totally derailed every time shanks shows up for a second

[olliedollie1204]

magic touch

Pairing: Romantic Moceit

Word Count: 1,322

so @emo-disaster asked for moceit, i was going to send this premise as an ask, but the more i thought about it the more i wanted to add to it, so... tada! my first bullet fic! hope y’all like it, love u mwah

so patton is obvi a v physically affectionate person

deceit is,,, less so

at least at first

here’s how that changed

so

it’s in the pining period, before the two of them got together

and deceit comes to a realization

the realization being... he kinda likes when patton... touches him?

no not like that remus

but like

patton throws an arm around his shoulder, casual and quick, and deceit lets him

patton grabs his hand, gives it a squeeze because something exciting and wonderful has just happened, and deceit lets him

patton ruffles his hair on the one single occasion patton sees him without his hat, and deceit lets him

deceit may or may not go without his hat again in the hopes that patton will repeat the gesture

and deceit doesn't realize how much he likes the touch

until it goes away

just for a few days!! maybe patton has to work overtime to help thomas w something, idk

but deceit's suddenly very aware of how. warm and soft and comforting and gentle patton is.

and he misses it?

even though he's not gone, just busy

but deceit would rather die before he asks patton to stop working to, what, come cuddle him?

that’s ridiculous

(he wants patton to cuddle him, tho. he wants to v v bad)

‘but NO’ deceit says to himself, ‘of COURSE i don't need that, i didn't need it before and i don't need it now’

liar liar pants on fire

so deceit hunkers down, does his own stuff for a few days

but he can’t stop wondering why he feels so pent up and tense and irritated

meanwhile

patton's a little worse for wear himself

he's worn out and tired from working so hard recently

and he wouldn't mind some physical affection?

but he knows that's not deceit's thing and he doesn't wanna pressure him

(he’d never, ever wanna pressure him)

so when he finally gets a break, a night to himself, some time alone to relax and recuperate from all his work

he tiptoes to deceit's room

telling himself he's content with just saying hi and good night

and ‘i love you’

but patton doesn’t want to pressure him

so he knocks on deceit’s door

nothing

knocks again

nothing

he pushes a little harder on the door with his knuckles, and-

and it swings open

like maybe deceit was leaving it open for someone

so patton steps in

deceit’s at his desk, his back to the door

no hat, no capelet

just simple pajamas and big noise cancelling headphones on his head

‘did he steal those from virgil?’ patton wonders idly

he did

patton takes a few steps toward him

“hi, dee”

deceit’s hands are flying over the keyboard, patton almost couldn’t even hear himself over the click-clack of the keys

patton gets a bit closer, tries again

“deceit?”

still nothing

patton is standing right behind him now

patton can smell his shampoo from here

patton can’t explain why he does what he does next

patton lifts his hand

and places it flat on deceit’s back, right between his shoulderblades

... deceit.exe has stopped working

what that looks like is this: deceit’s fingers suddenly spasm, like he started to clench his fists but froze halfway through, and his perfect typing suddenly stops, the last line of text now riddled with typos and incomprehensible keysmashes

it was less than a second, but it could’ve been years

patton feels the subtle shift of tense muscles underneath his palm

deceit feels a sudden warmth that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up

the next second, and the moment passes

patton pulls away, all “i’m sorry!” and “i didn’t mean to interrupt you” and “i just wanted to see you, to say hi, to say goodnight, to say-”

deceit isn’t listening

deceit is spinning around in his desk chair

deceit is leaping up to grab patton’s wrist

gently, gently, so gently

deceit is pulling patton into him

deceit

and 

patton 

are 

hugging

...

‘he’s hugging me?’ patton thinks, the one thought his brain can create in this moment of shock

‘i’m hugging him?’ deceit thinks, the one thought his brain can create in this moment of humiliation

honestly, ‘hugging’ is generous

it’s more like deceit has wrapped his arms around patton’s neck

his face has fallen onto his shoulder

just absolutely clinging to him, really

the snake jumped out

and deceit is... so embarrassed

but he can’t make himself let go

and then

deceit still can’t believe this

and then patton

hugs

him

back

???

DECEIT.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

patton doesn’t say anything

(patton is having trouble remembering how to breathe, let alone how to form words into coherent sentences)

instead patton finally manages to raise his arms

wraps them so tightly around deceit’s torso

leans forward to smell that shampoo up close

it’s eucalyptus, if you’re wondering

like second nature, patton rubs his hands up and down deceit’s back

he’s warm and soft and comforting and gentle

... oh my god, deceit has missed this so much

at some point, one of patton’s hands rises to card through deceit’s hair and he almost whines out loud at how good it feels

patton scratches his nails very softly against deceit’s scalp

deceit does whine out loud, actually

it’s illegally adorable

that little noise is enough to break the spell

deceit pulls his head back

he hopes beyond hope that his blush isn’t visible in the half light of his room

it is but patton doesn’t mention it

“um” deceit says

“sorry about. that”

eloquent as ever

patton blinks

“why sorry?”

“because” deceit starts

he doesn’t finish

because he realizes two things

the first realization: his arms are still wrapped around patton

(a distressing observation, to be sure)

the second realization?

patton’s arms are still wrapped around deceit as well

(less distress, more confusion)

“dee?”

patton’s face inches away from his

patton’s eyes sparkling even in the dark

patton’s... lips-

...

so

deceit is kissing him

deceit is... kissing. Him.

... huh

...

...

... oh! oh, he should be kissing back!

so patton kisses deceit back

and they kiss

and they kiss

and they kiss

and they... wow, still kissing, huh?

ok let’s jump forward a bit

patton has changed into some of deceit’s pajamas

(he could’ve conjured his own but they both sorta pretend to forget that fact)

(because deceit’s sleep shirt absolutely swallows patton)

(and it makes patton feel really good)

(and it makes deceit feel really good)

and patton has asked once more if deceit is sure he doesn’t mind if patton sleeps in their

“i mean, it’s your room, i don’t wanna impose, just say the word and i’ll leave-”

“patton we just made out for 20 minutes, don’t you think if i wanted you gone i’d have said so sooner?”

(deceit is being extra snarky to hide the fact that his blush has somehow not died down in the slightest)

(patton sees right through him so it’s ok)

so eventually they manage to get into bed together

no not like that remus

and there’s just like. a few beats of awkwardness

because even tho they’re *~going steady~* they’ve obviously never really done anything like this before

and deceit doesn’t wanna seem needy

and patton doesn’t wanna seem pushy

so they literally take it inch by inch

like

patton: *brushes his pinky against deceit’s*

deceit: *grazes the back of patton’s hand with his knuckles*

like i’m talking glacier pace

but they’re smiling and giggling (and yes, deceit, blushing) like little kids

so deceit finally works up the nerve to push his back against patton’s chest

and patton finally works up the courage to wrap his arms around deceit’s torso

and it’s like two pieces of a puzzle have just clicked in place

because

surprise surprise

turns out these motherfuckers love to cuddle

and the rest is history

edit: now with art to go with it!! thank you star!!

[viking-raider]

Prince and I - Chapter 5 *Mature*

Summary: Henry wakes up the next morning to you still there, and the two of you reconnect.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 4,025

Warnings: AU!Henry, Prince!Henry, Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst, Forgiveness

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

A/N: This is a repost, because my dumbass apparently deleted at some point.

When Henry woke up the next morning, he expected you to be gone.

But, instead he found himself the little spoon to your big spoon, in the middle of the bed. He smiled, feeling your little body wrapped around his larger one, your knees tucked into the back of his thighs, your arm hugging his toned stomach and side, and your cheek pressed to his shoulderblade. Henry could tell by soft and steady feel of your breath on his skin, that you were still sound asleep. He carefully scooted forward, then turned onto his other side to face you, finding that you weren't only his big spoon, but you were Kal's little spoon, as the Akita was pressed up against your back and softly snoring. Henry couldn't remember the amount of times he'd woken up in the mornings to something similar with you and Kal. You always, at some point in the night, ended up sandwiched between him and Kal, usually you were Henry's little spoon and Kal's big spoon, your arm hugged around Kal's body and pressed back against Henry's chest. He propped himself up on an elbow and brushed your hair very gently out of your face, making Kal snort and pick his head up.

“Ssshh.” Henry hushed him, pressing a finger to his lips.

Kal got the hint and gently laid his head back down, making Henry smile. He frowned hearing you whimper, then felt you shiver, realizing you were no longer trapped in the warm bubble of his and Kal's bodies, he laid back down and snuggled in close to you, pulling the blankets over you both some more and rested his hand lightly your neck, caressing your cheek with his thumb, just staring at your relaxed face, your slightly pouty lips. You moaned again, frowning in your sleep, tucking your arms against your chest and moving closer to Henry, seeking out his body warmth, and making him smile.

“I've got you.” He whispered, quietly, slipping his hand around your side and hip, draping his arm over you and holding you closer to him. “I've missed watching you sleep, y/n.” He kept whispering to you. “Always so peaceful.” He smirked, watching you smile in your sleep as he caressed the small of your back. “Like, watching an angel sleep.” Henry looked up as Kal picked up his head and looked at him. “What, too sappy?”

Kal huffed, softly and moved off the bed.

“What's he know?” Henry smiled at you, still asleep. “Closest angel he's ever seen, other than you, is his chew toy.” He chuckled, making himself blush, hearing just how sappy he sounded. “Still, you are gorgeous, whether you're awake or you're asleep. Christ, there's never a moment you aren't beautiful. Even when, you were yelling at me for not telling you I was a Prince, I thought you were the most gorgeous woman on the planet.”

He picked up his arm and gently brushed his finger through your hair and kissed your hairline, delicately. Henry watched you shift slightly onto your back and rested his hand on your stomach, propping himself back up on his elbow, leaning gingerly over you and moving to press his lips, light as a feather, to your forehead. “I love you.” He whispered, moving down to do the same to your right and left brow. “I love you.” He paused, waiting for you to relax as you started to stir, smirked, and pressed his lips between your brows and to the bridge of your nose. “I love you, y/n.” He laid lighter kisses to your closed eyelids. “I've always loved you.” He kissed your cheeks and along your jaw. “I love you, with all my life.” He said, before finally kissing you on the lips. “and so much more.”

You started to wake to the supple and warm feel of full lips against the pulse in your throat. Your fingers and toes flexed as the soft warmth moved away, the coolness of the room chilling the wet lip mark there and making your skin goosebump. Henry's lips moved to the center column of your throat with another wet kiss and making you moan as the cold air wafted over the left behind saliva. Henry laughed against the hollow of your throat and collarbone, hearing you.

“Henry.” You sighed, your hand coming out of the blankets and carding into his hair.

“Good morning.” He smirked, blowing gently at his last kiss and making you shiver. “Did you sleep well?”

“You mean, did I sleep well, sandwiched, between the bear of a man and the bear of a dog?” You elaborated, gently digging your nails into his hair and against his scalp, making him moan. “Then, yes. I slept very well.” You told him, using that hand in his hair to pull him down into a kiss.

“I figured,” Henry said softly, when the kiss broke. “that you'd be gone, when I woke up.” he confessed.

“I told you, I'd stay.” You frowned at him, caressing the side of his face. “That, I wasn't going anywhere.”

“You mean it?” He asked, wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you closer to him.

“I'm still here, aren't I?” You replied, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You are.” He smiled, and captured your lips.

Henry tucked you underneath him and deepened the kiss, making you moan as he rubbed his hard and trapped cock against your clothed pussy. You'd missed Henry more than you'd allowed yourself to feel, you'd realized that when Nathaniel came to your door the night before, he'd been right about everything, keeping the flowers, the chocolates, the giant stuffed animal Henry had delivered to your door, that slept on the right side of your bed, where Henry would sleep, when he stayed over at your place. You realized it even more so getting into bed with him last night, having his body pressed to yours, hearing Kal snoring in your ear again, and being enveloped in the pocket of warmth the two of them created around you, and lord did you miss the feel of him between your legs.

“All, I could think of, when I was in Jersey, was coming back home to you and making love to you again.” Henry confessed, throwing the blankets off you both, sitting back between your legs and peeling your panties down your legs.

“Is that so?” You smirked up at him, shivering from more than the cold in the room. “You naughty Princeling, not focusing on your duties.” You teased him.

“My duties are you.” He smirked, pushing his shirt up and kissing your belly, then got out of bed.

“If that's so, where are you going?” You whined, lower lip puffing out.

Henry winked at you, stopping at the thermostat by the bedroom door and cranking it up to 32°C, and then closed the bedroom door, so Kal couldn't come back in and interrupt. “Can't have my princess, getting cold.” He told you, smirking as he came back to bed.

“I'm not a princess.” You blushed, wrapping your legs around his waist as he sat between them again.

“You're my Princess.” He told you, slipping his hands up your shirt and grabbing a hold of your breasts.

“Am I?” You smiled up at him, moaning as he massaged and kneaded them.

“Yes, you are.” Henry nodded. “Especially, if you marry me.” He said it in such a matter of fact way, you blinked up at him.

“Let's not push it.” You gulped, licking your lips and resting your hands around his wrists. “Let's, just have make-up sex first and go from there.”

“Oh, love.” Henry grinned, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. “If I was going to propose to you, it wouldn't be like this, I promise you that.” He told you against your lips.

“I'm sure, you'd pull out all your sappy romance for me, Henry.” You giggled, tightening your legs around his waist and rubbing yourself against him, making his shorts damp with your arousal. “But, right now, I want all your sappy romance, between my legs.”

“Like this?” He smirked, rubbing back down against your gyrating hips.

“No, you tease.” You panted, your skin warming up between your intensifying arousal and the rising temperature of the room. “Take these,” you tugged at the waistband of his shorts. “off, now.”

Henry tisked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head. “So, impatient.”

You growled at him, letting your legs slip down to his thighs, pressed your palms to his shoulders and pushed him back until you were on top of him. “I am incredibly impatient, Henry Cavill.”

“You are stronger than you look.” Henry laughed, gripping your hips.

“You just realizing this, Prince?” You asked him, sitting on his hips and pressing your knees under his arms.

“I knew you were strong, just not, flip a 93kg man, strong.” He gulped, sweat starting to pour off his body as the room grew boiling hot.

“Ah, yes.” You smirked, pressing your hands to his damp and heaving chest. “You met me as the damsel in distress at the pub.” You teased him, kissing his stomach and nipping at his ribs. “Poor little y/n.”

“Nothing poor about you, sweetheart.” Henry moaned, pushing his head back against the sheets. “Little, yes.” He laughed, then yelped as you bit down hard on his bicep, leaving a nice bite mark. “Ow!”

“Oh, shh.” You laughed, kissing the mark. “It's not even bleeding, you big baby.”

“Still hurt!” Henry whined, puffing out his bottom lip at you.

“Aww.” You cooed at him, still giggling as you wiggled down his long body.

“My lips are up here.” He pouted at you, lifting his head to look at you.

“But, your cock is down here.” You smirked at him, curling your fingers around the band of his shorts. “Lift those hips.” You told him slowly, stripped them off him and licked your lips as his cock rested heavily against his abdomen. “Your size never ceases to amaze me, Henry.” You told him, walking your fingertips up his long shaft, then gliding the pads of your fingers back down it, making Henry tremble and moan.

“Th-thanks-s” He panted in bursts, hips bucking up against your hand as it closed around his root. “No, no, no, please, no.” He begged you as you started to work his cock. “Ah, fuck! Y/n, I wanna come in you.”

“Do you?” You chuckled, squeezing his tip. “I wanted you to be honest with me.” You countered, when he nodded his head.

“Oh, this is your pay back?” He laughed, swallowing down a moan.

“I think so.” You nodded, leaning forward to nip at the slit and swirl your tongue around it, collecting the ribbons of escaping come.

“What about you?” He whined, eyes rolling into the back of his head, curls damp with sweat.

“I'll get my pleasure.” You smirked at him, slowing your hand down. “Then, some.” You giggled, pushing his legs apart with your knees and laid down between them.

“Y/n...” He gasped, eyes growing wide as he felt your mouth close around one of his balls. “Fuck all!” He called out as you started to suck on it, your hand still stroking his cock slowly.

“You like that, Puppy?” You asked, letting it go.

“I really do.” Henry nodded, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Hmm.” You hummed, taking his other one.

“Good lord, your mouth feels so good around my balls.” He sighed, his accent rolling the word off his tongue as his heels pressed into the mattress, and he tore at the sheets with his hands.

“You are very well proportioned.” You teased him, kissing up the inside of his thigh to the top of it, increasing your grip on his cock and the speed of your hand as you sucked on the top of his thigh, feeling the flesh of his cock grow warmer and harder, the muscles of his thigh flexed under your mouth, hips steadily thrusting into your hand, his breathing labored and his body flushed hot with sweat. “You close?” You asked him, feeling the pulse in his shaft really pounding against the palm of your hand as his heart raced, gripping his cock firmer as the pre-come made him slick.

“Super...close.” He panted, his brain starting to lose focus and fog over with his in-coming orgasm.

“Good.” You smiled, sitting up between his legs, looking between his face and his cock. “Show me what you got, your highness.” you teased him, really working his cock now and pushing him into his orgasm.

“Oh fuck.” Henry moaned out, eyes rolled into the back of his head and fluttering as he started to come. “Y/n!” He called out as he came, squirting, and making your mouth drop open at how high it went, spilling all over your hand and his stomach.

“Wow.” You let out in a single breath as his body went slack and he started going soft in your hand.

Henry smiled, exhausted, hearing the impressed surprise in your voice. “You like that?” He chuckled.

“Oh yeah.” You chuckled, making eye contact with him and licking his come off your hand.

“Oh, god.” He moaned, deep in his throat.

“Hm, you taste good.” You smirked, winking at him and then plant your hands on either side of his hips. “You want some help with that?” You asked, lowering your head and licking his stomach clean.

“Whoa.” Henry blushed, resting a hand on your head.

“You definitely taste like Royalty.” You told him, nodding your head and licking your lips clean.

“I've never been told that before.” He chuckled, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“First time for everything.” You answered, slipping a hand between your legs and moaning.

“You still wet?” Henry asked, lifting his head to look at your hand as you touched yourself.

“Wetter.” You hummed, nodding.

“I wanna feel.” He whispered, licking his lips and looking at you.

“I suppose.” You teased him, moving to straddle his hips and let his hand replace yours.

“You are really wet, y/n.” Henry smiled, rubbing his fingers over the length of your pussy. “What kind of gentleman would I be, if I left a lady this wet?” He asked, slipping a finger inside of you.

“None at all.” You whimpered, dropping your head back.

“Get up here.” He told you, resting his hands on your thighs.

“What?” You blinked, looking down at him.

“I said,” Henry laughed, squeezing your ass. “Get up here.”

“You want me...” You grinned at him, blushing.

“Yes, I do.” He nodded at you, smug. “So, come here.” He chuckled, winking at you.

“As you wish.” You giggled, shaking your head, as you moved up his body and Henry positioned himself, you supported yourself on your knees at either side of his head, Henry wrapped his arms around your legs, his palms pressed flat to the tops of your thighs.

You let out a shuttered sigh, shivering as you felt his warm breath caress the wetness of your pussy. Henry chuckling against your folds almost had you coming from the vibrations, his broad tongue lapped at you, slipping through your folds and probing inside of your core and pressing wet kisses to your clit. Henry found a steady rhythm between caressing you with the soft flat and firm tip of his tongue, taking his time, pausing none and again to nip and suck at your inner thighs. Sucking and licking at your pussy, nibbling very carefully on your outer lips and listening to you moan and whimper, crying out when he'd slip his tongue inside of you. You rested your hand in his hair and gripping one of his hands with the there.

“That's so good, Henry.” You encouraged him. “Like that, uh, yeah!” You nodded, eyes falling shut.

“You said I taste good.” Henry murmured, kissing the inside of your thigh again.

“Uh, cause you do.” You whimpered, swaying and relaxed feeling Henry's arms hold you and your thighs steady. “Christ almighty!” You called out as he stimulated your clit more.

Your breath became rough, the muscles of your thighs twitching and shivering, moans and pants coming out of your half open mouth, you giggled for a moment feeling your orgasm start to wash over you, your hips working with his mouth and tongue as it hit you. “Henry!” You called out, breathy. “Oh god, Henry! It feels so...” Your breath caught in your throat. “good.” you gulped, moving to lay down beside him, totally relaxed and satisfied.

“You forgive me?” He asked, rolling onto his side.

“If I hadn't forgiven you by now, Henry, I wouldn't have come here with Nate last night.” You informed him, lulling your head to look at him and smiled as he did.

“Could I farther tempt you with breakfast?” Henry asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“How about a shower first?” You wiggled your brows back at him.

“Shower and breakfast, then.” he smiled, getting out of bed and pulling you over his shoulder, making you howl with laughter as he carried you into the bathroom.

Showered, back in Henry's shirt and a pair of his spare pajama bottoms, since the only clothes you had were the ones you came over in, Henry made you both breakfast and you both took Kal on his morning walk. After that, you got back into your clothes and Henry drove you back over to your flat.

“You still have all of them.” Henry smiled, touching the dried petals of some the earliest flowers he sent you and the petals of the last bunch he sent you.

“I do.” You blushed, standing in your kitchen entryway and watching him.

“And the elephant?”

“In the bedroom.” You answered, moving out of his way as he walked into your bedroom and found the elephant on his side of the bed.

“You slept with him.” Henry blushed, looking back at you.

“I needed something to cuddle with.” You blushed back, glancing down at the floor.

“Can I ask you something, toward?” Henry asked, standing in front of you and brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“You can.” You nodded, pressing your lips together and blinking up at him.

“Would you...” He suddenly blushed hard, biting his lip and looking away from you. “Would you move in with me?”

You blushed, resting your forehead against his chest, you hadn't expected that.

“I know, we just made up after being part for two months.” He told you, smoothing his fingers through your hair and kissing the top of your head. “But, if anything, of the things I've learned in the weeks, has taught me anything, other than just being completely honest with you, it's that I really, really, don't like being apart from you, even for a moment.” He confessed, resting his fingers under your chin and tipped your head back to look up at him. “I love you.” He said, quietly. “I want you in my life, I need you in my life. No one knows me the way you do, not even my family.” He explained, caressing your chin with his thumb. “Well, perhaps Nate.” He chuckled.

You chuckled. “Nate does know you pretty well.” You nodded, resting your hands on his chest. “Seems to know me pretty decently, as well.” You added, remembering last night. “But, to answer your question.” You took a deep breath, thinking it over. You felt the same as he did, about it being hard for the two of you being apart, and moving in together would remedy that. But, you were also worried what else would go with moving in with him, and Henry seemed to sense that in you.

“I would never let anything happen to you, y/n.” He told you, looking down at you, his face soft and sincere. “I know, it's asking a lot, given that I'm...royalty.” he cleared his throat. “But, my life here is incredibly quiet, you've seen it. We won't be bothered all that much, I mean, the story on us that ran in that magazine came out of Jersey.” He explained, trying to convince you. “I would never put you on spot like that, I won't ask you to come with me for any of the royal duties I'd have to attend back home, unless you want to go. You won't have to change anything, but your address.” He tried smiling at you, gently, his eyes hopefully, encouraging and full of love.

You looked at him, feeling your insides melt as you held his blue-brown eyes. Christ, you loved this man more than anything else in the world, you rested your hands on his upper arms and squeezed, gently. “Yes.” You nodded, and watched his eyes come really alive.

“Really?” He asked, disbelieving.

“Yeah, I'll move in with you, Henry.” You grinned up at him, nodding harder.

“Yes!” Henry whooped, picking you up and spinning you around. “You have no idea how happy you've made me.” He told you, kissing you dizzy.

“As happy as you've made me.” You replied, hugging yourself against him.

“Oh, yeah?” He smirked at you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Yeeah.” You chuckled, sharing the look with him.

“Prove it.” He said, picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, that's how it is, is it?” You giggled, resting your hands on his belt, pulling it open and through the loops.

“That's how it is.” He smirked at you, standing between your open legs and opening the button of your skinny jeans. “Isn't this the last surface we haven't had sex on?” He asked you, as you shoved his pants and boxers down.

“No, that would be my bathroom floor and your kitchen counter.” You told him, pushing up on your hands so he could pull your jeans down to your ankles. “and you said, we'd only have time for sex once, before you left.”

“Well, I didn't think we'd have sex for nearly three days straight.” He replied, pulling you to the edge of the counter and entering you.

“Teach you to think!” You scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss as he started thrusting into you.

Neither of you wasted time moving in together. You moved out of your flat and into the mews with Henry and Kal, and couldn't be anymore happy than waking up every day to him, getting to kiss him good-bye when you went off to work and kissing him good-night when you went to bed. If you thought Henry enjoyed spoiling you before, you realized how much more he enjoyed spoiling you after you moved in with him.

“I have something to give back to you.” Henry said one morning as you ate breakfast.

“Oh?” You frowned, soaking up some more syrup with your bite of pancake.

“Yeah.” He nodded, pulling the charm bracelet out of his pocket.

“You still have it.” You said, softly, looking at it.

“You think, I was just going to leave it there?” Henry asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I suppose not.” You smiled at him, blushing softly. “You added two new charms.” You said, as he carefully put it around your wrist, gentle touching the little house and the capital H.

“I did, seemed only right.” He nodded, smiling back at you.

“I agree.” You nodded, looking up at him.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Marked (Part 23)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~4670

Warnings: Dean being an absolute dickwad. Which! In my defense! He usually is, canonically, when he’s upset... also, angry sex. 

A/N: So a while ago my brain was like “Here! This needs to happen!” And I was like “oh thanks I hate it.” So. Yeah. Been dreading this chapter for a while. Here it is. Thanks to @covered-byroses @fangirlxwritesx67 and @fookinghelljensensthighs for showering Marked with compliments when I was about ready to smash my head into a wall. Y’all helped. 

He’s okay.

I exhaled, long and shaky.

Good. What about you?

There was no answer. I fell asleep holding my phone, waiting, with a cold heavy ache settling in my chest like a stab wound.

When they came through the door the next morning, Sam was limping and pale and leaning heavily on Dean, but he was there, alive, trying to smile for me, and for a moment I could breathe.

I had to fight the urge to run to Dean, wrap my arms around him, prove to myself that he was really there.

“Can I do anything?” I asked softly, as Dean started to steer Sam to his room.

“Painkillers might be good?” Sam winced.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” Dean said, smiling sharp like a dagger.

-----

I gave them some time. I tried not to worry. It was normal, for Dean to be stressed. He’d calm down.

When I finally went to his room, I didn’t bother to knock. He was sitting at his desk, staring dully at the glass of whiskey he was rolling between his palms. He didn’t seem to notice when I closed the door behind me. I leaned back against it, keeping my distance, trying not to push.

“How you doin’?” I asked quietly.

“Just peachy,” he said, without looking up.

“Dean. Come on.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” It sounded like he was running on autopilot.

I wondered how many times he’d told that lie in his life.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”

“Yeah, that was a stupid question,” I muttered, more to myself than him. I felt cold all over.

He downed the last sip and immediately poured himself a refill from the half-empty bottle on the table. Then he turned and gave me one of those canned smiles he was so good at; I wasn’t used to seeing it aimed at me, but I recognized it.

I crossed the room slowly, like I was approaching a skittish animal. He raised an eyebrow when I grabbed the glass out of his hand, but he didn’t try to stop me. I drained it and set it back down in front of him, and he immediately reached for the bottle and poured another.

“I think I need some space,” he mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “Can you just… not do this? Not with me.”

He didn’t answer. He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking at me mulishly. I crossed my arms right back at him and we stared each other down, one brick wall to another.

He shook his head after a moment, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. He picked up his glass again and frowned at it.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” he said gruffly. “Maybe you should just… go home. At least for a couple days.”

I knew him, I knew he didn’t actually want me to leave, but that still stung. I took a deep breath.

“Nah, I’m good here.”

He scowled. “I’m serious. I need… family time.”

“Sam just took so many painkillers he’ll be out cold for the next couple days. By ‘family,’ do you mean ‘whiskey?’”

“Stop,” he sighed.

“Stop being a fucking fuckwit and talk to me,” I snapped, exasperated.

I could see him studying me, tilting his head to the side, mouth twitching unhappily, but then he squared his shoulders like he’d made a decision.

“Don’t you have anywhere better to be?” he asked coolly. His eyes had gone oddly blank.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I don’t have time for this whole fuckin’ mess right now,” he said, gesturing between the two of us.

“That’s not-” 

“Can you just leave me the fuck alone?” he barked, but I could see the pain lurking behind his anger, twisting his features into a bitter mask. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Just want you to talk to me,” I said quietly.

“There’s nothing to fuckin’ say,” he growled.

“Asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.”

I made an incoherent noise, too frustrated to form real words. I grabbed the bottle off the table, raising an eyebrow and silently daring him to comment as I unscrewed the cap and took a sip. The burn made me feel a little less like I was choking. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and slammed the bottle back down roughly.

“Oh, that’s real mature,” he said sarcastically.

“Can you just-”

“You’re a real slow learner, aren’t you?” he snarled, and the sudden venom in his voice took my by surprise.

“What-”

“People who hang around me for a while? They tend to get hurt,” he said flatly. “You of all people should know that by now.”

I took a deep breath, grinding my teeth, hands squeezing into fists at my sides. He watched me, gauging my reactions. He looked implacable, wearing a plastered-on expression of disdain; if I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t care.

He knew exactly how to cut me apart. He knew all my soft vulnerable spots. If I let him, he would eviscerate me. He’d do it clean and clinical and neat, just cut himself out of my life, and then I’d be alone, nothing left to do but sanitize the wounds with cheap whiskey and hope the blood loss wouldn’t kill me.

Fuck that. Last time he drew a knife, I’d barely survived.

“Gonna take more than that to chase me off,” I said. I sounded more confident than I felt.

Dean licked his lips, eyes darting over my features like he was analyzing something, before he stood up abruptly, crowding into my space and making me take an instinctive step back.

“You should go,” he repeated, low and dangerous.

“I’m not scared of you.” I looked up at him, defiant.

He took another step forward, predatory and prowling. My back hit the wall. I realized what he was going to do a split-second before I felt his fingers on my wrists.

“You should be,” he said, voice ragged and bitter, pinning my hands over my head.

Bile burned the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and held eye contact.

I could see how much this was hurting him. His words were rough, but his eyes were huge and soft, fucking anguished; he looked like he was drowning.  I could feel the instinctual prickle of fear creeping up my spine, but there was no way I could ever mistake the raw, real, scared Dean in front of me for the monster who’d been wearing his skin that night.

My heart was racing, but it was from anger, more than anything else.

“Are you done yet?” I said hoarsely. “‘Cause even for you, this is a whole new level of bullshit.”

His eyes went wide for a moment, and then his face just sort of crumpled, tension going out of him all at once, mouth dropping open. He stepped back, releasing me with a choked gasp.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, as if he could hide from me. “Shit, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m sorry.”

I was shaking, adrenaline flooding my body, but the only thing I could feel was rage.

“Dean,” I snapped.

“Sorry. I just- I thought it would be easier. If you just… had to leave.”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

He flinched away from me. I threw myself at him, stumbling forward and colliding hard, wrapped my arms around him, and held on for dear life.

He took a deep, convulsive breath. I could feel the hitch of a repressed sob where I had my cheek pressed to his chest. His hands were gentle at first when they came to rest on my back.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. He ran his fingers delicately up my shoulderblades.

I squeezed him again, hard, clutching at the back of his flannel, and then he gave in with a barely-there sigh and clung to me desperately, breathing soft and shallow and panicky.

“Asshole,” I hissed, but it came out muffled with my mouth pressed into his shoulder. “Fucking… motherfucking piece of shit.”

I was so fucking furious I felt dizzy, and my vision was blurring through the tears. I nuzzled into the curve of his neck and slid a hand to the back of his head, pulling him closer, and then I cupped his jaw and surged up blindly on my tiptoes to kiss him, head spinning as my teeth sank into the softness of his lower lip.

Dean sighed, a quick sharp sigh that caught in the back of his throat, and I tasted copper. There was so much energy just rocketing around under my skin with nowhere to go, making my nerve endings sizzle and spark. When he bit back, nipping sharply, the sting felt like a distress flare roaring to life with a blinding magnesium-bright blaze. He gasped against my lips and then crushed his mouth to mine again, sucking and biting and setting me on fire.

I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him, and then I wanted to kiss it better, and I felt like I was going completely fucking crazy.

I whimpered as I tried to press myself closer. His hands found my shoulders and held me in place with an iron grip.

“Wait,” he said, forehead pressed to mine. “Wait, I just - I’m -”

“I know,” I snapped.

“- I’m so sorry, I -” 

“Fuck now, talk later,” I said breathlessly, and he huffed out a laugh, thumb stroking the hinge of my jaw, as we tried to pull ourselves together.

We were both trembling, still, and I could feel tears drying on my cheeks. I spared a millisecond to wonder whether this was healthy, whether this was really the best choice, whether we should stop and figure things out before we dove in deeper… then he was shoving me backward, pushing me against the wall again, his hands strong and sure as he hooked them under my thighs and hitched me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and sucked a bruise into the soft skin just under his ear, and he let out a long, rough whine, hands squeezing my ass.

He spun us around and carried me to the bed. Maybe he couldn’t see where he was going, maybe he didn’t care. Either way, I was still tangled up in him when we crashed onto the mattress, his weight coming down on top of me, punching the oxygen out of my chest. I could feel him, the solid grounding pressure of him, all down my body. I dug my heels into the bed, pushed my hips up, and he was grinding against me, pinning me down and rutting into me. I saw stars.

“Clothes,” I panted, and tugged at his shirt, trying to get it over his head. Before I could make much progress he was sliding down my body, yanking my jeans and underwear down as he went. I only managed to get them kicked off one foot; they were still bunched around the other ankle as Dean hooked his hands under my thighs so that he could grab me by the hips and hold me where he wanted me.

He just breathed, for a moment, close enough that I could feel the warm air ghosting over my pussy, and then he slid the very tip of his tongue down my center, parting my lips gently.

“Don’t fucking tease, I’m not in the mood,” I groaned, trying to tilt my hips up.

He didn’t say anything, just spread me open and ducked his head. His tongue dragged up and over my clit with just the right amount of pressure behind the soft swirl of it, and then he curled two fingers into me, licking between them. I grabbed at his hair, arching up so that I could rub myself on the flat of his tongue. He moaned, low and dirty, and buried his face between my legs, lips working my clit in a way that sent molten heat through my belly.

Dean scissored his fingers and pressed them up, and my vision went white for a second. I bucked up against his mouth and made an incomprehensible sound, hooking my leg up over his shoulder and digging my heel into his back to urge him closer.

He fell into a rhythm, sucking my clit with these long waves of pressure and catching my g-spot with the calloused pads of his fingertips every time he curled his hand up against me. He added a third finger, twisted, pressed, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the fireworks threatening to blind me.

“Don’t fucking stop,” I gritted out. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t- don’t-” 

It wasn’t the sort of slow-build orgasm that swells and peaks and eases you into the crest of it; this was instant obliteration. I let out a long, wordless cry and went under. It was intense and overwhelming and so fucking good, flashing out from my center and making me twitch up into the hot wet pressure of Dean’s sinful mouth.

He didn’t give me any time to recover, even when I started to squirm away. His tongue kept up the swirling pressure on my clit and his fingers rubbed that perfect spot inside me, and I couldn't stop shaking with the lingering shocks of my orgasm.

Pleasure started bleeding into shivery wrung-out not-quite-pain. The pulses of it were setting my teeth on edge, making me twist my hands in the sheets and whimper.

“Dean,” I said breathlessly. “Dean, fuck, c’mon.”

He pulled away just enough to look up at me and answer, “Hmm?”

Jesus, his mouth. His lips were swollen and red and used, puffy from my bruising kisses and now glistening wet. I could feel it, could feel how slick I was, slippery and soaked where his knuckles were stretching me open, but it was something else altogether to see the obscene shine all over his mouth and his chin. I made a strangled, high-pitched noise, clenching around him, and he did something with his fingers that sent a whole new wave of heat through me.

“Want you to...” I started, but trailed off into a moan; his tongue was flicking over my clit again and I couldn’t form words.

He gave me one last lick, slow and savoring, and then he was sitting up to pull his shirt off and reveal all that gorgeous skin. I had that feral urge to mark him up, sink my claws in… I could barely tear my eyes away from Dean long enough to sit up and get my own shirt off.

Luckily, he seemed to be on the same page. He was on me as soon as he’d managed to kick his jeans away, hands on my waist and teeth on my neck, biting his way up to my ear and then whispering, “What do you want?”

That seemed to be the impossible question of the entire goddamn week.

I hesitated for a moment before turning over, getting on my hands and knees, and Dean hummed in agreement, or maybe it was appreciation. I arched my back and looked over my shoulder at him as he shifted into place, and I could see him staring down with hungry, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Dean?” I said hoarsely. “Just… fuck me hard.”

He licked his parted lips, eyes going dark. The expression on his face sent this thud of need through me just as he sank in, filling me up so completely I couldn’t see straight. I dropped my head down and rocked against him, panting as I tried to adjust.

“Yeah?” he rasped. His hands gripped my waist. I just shifted forward and then pushed back, grinding on his cock, feeling the perfect ache where he split me open.

It was like the first orgasm had barely taken the edge off. All that aggression and pent-up anger and blistering lust were still there, simmering low in my belly, starting to boil over again.

“Fuck me already,” I hissed. 

He let out a growl and slammed into me hard enough that I almost lost my balance. I dropped down onto my elbows to brace myself.

“Hard enough for you?” Dean grunted, fingers digging into me and holding me in place.

“That’s all you’ve got?” I said, goading him on, but the high, breathy whine in my voice gave me away. “Want you to fucking destroy me, come on.”

He laughed, gripping tighter, fingernails stinging my skin, and then he was fucking me with long, grinding thrusts, hitting my g-spot every time. I was dripping wet, slicking every hot, hard inch of him, easing the slide as he moved sharper, faster, pounding into me with a rhythm that made my toes curl.

“Love the way you take my cock,” he panted. “God, look at you, you gonna come for me again?”

I was shaking already. I twisted my hands in the sheets, trying to get some sort of purchase, some leverage, so that I could push back, get more, somehow take him deeper.

“More,” I whimpered. “Please, Dean, more.”

Dean leaned forward, planting one palm in the middle of my back, between my shoulderblades, shoving my face down into the mattress, and then he wrapped the other hand around my throat. That was all it took; the feeling of being overpowered, held down by his big rough hands, sent me over the edge. My entire body went rigid, and I bit down on the sheets to try to keep myself from screaming.

Dean was cursing as I came back to myself, rocking into me, and I could feel the way he was holding back.

“Jesus, you feel good,” he groaned. “Don’t want this to end yet, I…”

He pulled out and I whimpered, but he just shifted us forward, guiding me until I was flat on my stomach. He pushed my legs closer together, straddling my thighs, and when he thrust into me again it felt so good, so tight and overwhelming, that a little shiver of an aftershock went zinging up my spine.

I felt him take a deep, ragged breath. He was running his hands down my back, just smoothing them over sweat-damp skin. Then he dragged his fingernails down, a trailing fiery sting. I cried out, arching my back almost painfully to try to thrust back against him.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, and then he rolled his hips, grinding against me and making me squirm and pant under him. He was crushing me down against the mattress, trapping me in place, but I wouldn’t have been able to muster the coordination to move, anyway, with the way each movement made me tremble. I felt so fucking full.

Dean was getting close; I could feel it in the desperate, jerky way he was starting to move, and I could hear the way his breath caught in his throat.

“Wanna feel you,” I said hoarsely.

Instead of speeding up, he slowed down even more. He seemed to sort of melt, draping himself over me, pressing his chest to my back, and I could feel his gasps and his racing heartbeat.

He nuzzled the side of my neck, pressing his lips clumsily to my skin. I turned my head, straining, so I could kiss him, sloppy and off-center, more a brush of slack panting mouths than a real kiss.

I could feel Dean’s entire body on mine, like this. I felt his muscles bunching and flexing, his chest heaving, his cock dragging over some secret spot that made my vision go white and sparkly at the edges.

I had that too-full, achy sensation in my chest, like choking, like love, making it hard to breathe.

He slid one hand up my arm, up to my wrist, and then blanketed my hand with his, lacing his fingers through mine where they were pressed flat to the bed. He held my hand and he worked his hips, buried impossibly deep inside me, making me shudder down to the tips of my toes.

I wasn’t sure when fast and filthy had dissolved into this syrupy-slow intensity. I could feel every rock-hard inch of him pressing against all those perfect spots inside me, so goddamn close to me, so goddamn full, so intimate and pulse-poundingly good it didn’t leave room for anything else, least of all anger.

“God, I wish you could feel, you have no idea,” he said desperately, quiet against my ear. “Feels so good. Just hot and wet and so tight, dripping on my dick. When you come I can feel it in your pussy, just… squeezing me, like you can’t get enough, best thing I’ve ever fucking felt, and… oh, fuck, I can’t, baby, I’m so close, I - touch yourself for me, want to feel you come with me, just…”

He still had my left hand in his, but I worked my right hand between myself and the mattress, fingers finding my swollen clit. I didn’t have to move, not really, with the way his hips were grinding in perfect little circles. I let his movements do all the work, shoving me into the blunt pressure of my fingertips.

It was almost too much, the shock waves of pleasure that started jolting through me. I whined, overstimulated. Then Dean’s hips surged forward harder, making me shout.

“God, there,” I moaned, and then we were rushing toward the finish line together.

There was nothing graceful about it, nothing that would’ve fit in a romance movie sex scene; we were lost in each other. I was making these raw, shredded noises, sweating and cursing, too far gone to be self-conscious. Dean was clutching at my arms, my hair, hands grabbing at every part of me he could reach as he fucked me, hips swiveling, grinding down, crushing me into the mattress. It was rough and animalistic, and all I could think, in time with the throb of heat in my core, was love you, love you, love you.

“That’s my girl,” Dean gasped. “Just like this, c’mon, baby.”

I broke with a shout. Everything tensed and finally released, electricity splintering through me with this fierce, sharp, near-painful intensity. He let out a guttural moan, driving into me wildly one last time, and came, cock twitching with the first hard pulse of it, spilling hot and messy inside me as my cunt spasmed around him, over and over.

I couldn’t catch my breath. I took deep gulps of air like I was drowning, wrung-out and lightheaded. Dean shifted, taking some of his weight off my ribcage, but he didn’t pull away yet.

I could feel the flutter of him going soft inside me, the tickle of sweat cooling between us. My heartbeat began to slow.

For the first time since the phone call, I felt calm.

Dean nosed the damp hair at the nape of my neck and nibbled at the shell of my ear, and then he was pulling out. I made a disgruntled noise and he kissed the top of my head before getting up, padding over to grab a washcloth and a fresh glass of water.

We got cleaned up and settled properly into the bed, snuggled up against the pillows. I curled into his side and traced the lines of his tattoo. He stroked my hair gently for a while in silence.

“I almost forgot, y’know?” he said softly. “What my life is like, most of the time. I’m never gonna be that guy.”

“What guy?” I asked, sitting up a little so I could look at him.

“The guy who gets a happy ending,” he said, with a bitter twist of his mouth. “I don’t get the happy ending. I forgot, I guess. When you’re here, it’s so easy to forget about everything else, and then… people get hurt. Sammy got hurt.”

“Dean,” I said, swallowing hard. “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“I let him down,” he said grimly. “I let people down, I can never -“

“But -“

“And it’s not just that, it’s… I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, cause I just suck at this. Relationships. I’m fuckin’ crazy about you, Christ, but I don’t deserve you, not after that shit I just pulled. I’m crazy about you, but I’m kind of a dumbass when it comes to talking, and feelings, and shit like that.”

“Not gonna argue there,” I muttered. He half-laughed, but it turned into a sad little grimace. “But, like… I’m not the picture of sanity myself, here, y’know? And I love you so much I can’t think straight when you’re around.”

He ran a finger down my cheek, smoothed his thumb over my lower lip, tracing my face like he was trying to memorize it.

“Maybe that’s not a good thing,” he said. “You don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you, and it doesn’t really matter how you feel if you can’t trust me. Right?”

“I’m working on it,” I said, blinking back tears. “I’m trying to get better.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested, anguished.

“I know, Dean. I know.”

We looked at each other for a moment, quiet and sad. I curled up against his chest again, pressing my ear over his heart, listening to the steady comforting thump beating in his ribs.

“Maybe we could figure it out. Maybe it could work, if we did it right, y’know? So if you really wanted to, maybe we could try,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around me. “But…  do you? I mean, do you even want this? A couple days ago…”

“I don’t know, Dean. That’s the problem. I keep hurting you right back, stringing you along, just fucking being here when I don’t know what I want. I know I’m hurting you.”

“Okay,” he said soothingly, running his fingers through my hair. “Okay, baby.”

“I’m afraid we’ll just tear each other apart if we keep this up,”  I whispered, tears trickling from my closed lids and dripping down onto his skin.

“Maybe we both need to just take some time,” he said.

I didn’t want him to be right, but it made sense. We weren’t healthy, either of us. This wouldn’t be healthy. Part of me almost felt relieved, thinking about it. It’d be easier, if I just took some time away from him.

“Maybe it’ll be better, when I’ve had time to… heal, or whatever,” I said, miserable and unsteady. “Get myself under control. I don’t want to hurt you either, and maybe… maybe I’m just not ready.”

“Think we both need some time to figure our shit out,” he said shakily.

“What if we just gave it a couple days, for now?” I suggested. “Think about it. Make sure we’re doing the right thing. I’ll go home, and… I dunno, try to get my life together.”

“I think that’d be a good idea. Get some space. Get our heads on straight. I’m not so good at being rational when you’re around.”

“And in a couple days, we can just… I dunno. Talk again. See how we’re feeling.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can do that.”

We didn’t say any more. We held each other, for a few minutes. I felt hollow and fragile, and I didn’t want to walk away, knowing it might be the last time for a long time, but there was no point in waiting.

“Just one more minute,” Dean whispered.

——-

I didn’t let myself glance in the rearview mirror. I didn’t let myself look back.

This was the right choice. It had to be. We couldn’t keep hurting each other like this. If we kept slicing each other open, we’d do permanent damage. Better to take a step back. Better to find our footing, get ourselves under control, before one of us bled out.

This is right, I told myself, as I pulled up to my dark, empty little house. This is good.

I just felt hollow.

.

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NEXT PART HERE. 

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[champion-leon-imagines]

This ones a little more spicy. How about Leon on his birthday which I think is the 12th of this month and wants you to give him a gift. So s/o gives him a little somethin somethin

I think I have a feeling what you mean.

Again, the heavy nsfw stuff under a cut, though this time I am not overdoing it. Just some sexy times for Birthday Leon.

“Come on, Y/n, I can’t see a thing with this blindfold.” Leon chuckled and tried to touch you with his hands to be sure you were still around. For the moment he was sitting on his bed when you said you had a special birthday gift for him. He didn’t complained when you covered his eyes with a blindfold and leaving him sitting there.

“That’s a full purposed intention, Leon.” you answered and reached out for his hand to show him that you were still there. Leon relaxed under your touch and smiled. “You know, I don’t need any presents. Having your love is more I could wish for.” he spoke, made your heart skip a beat. He was always so sweet and cute, you almost melted on every thing he said to you.

“Don’t worry, love. You’ll love this present because.. it’s basically me.” you spoke seductively and started to kiss his neck.

Leon gulped a bit, as if he already could guess what you were implying. His thoughts were confirmed, when you slowly tucked at the hem of his shirt and pulled it off his head shortly after. You licked your lips at the sight of his toned chest. Your fingertips craved to dance on his smooth skin, but you were going to tease him a little bit.

Your lips were on his neck, slightly sucking at his adams apple until a low moan left Leons lips. He was so sensitive on his adams apple so you decided to get it some more attention. Your tongue licked over the fleshy ball, kissing it, nibbling and biting gently. Leons moans echoed through the room, making a familiar wetness between your legs noticeable. But not now, now all you wanna do is making him feel good. And hell, you were determined to make him scream your name in pleasure and leave him a mess.

When his hands blindly looked for you to touch you, you stopped him and traced your index finger along his chest, poking his nipple in the process what made Leon gasp in pleasure. “Leave your hands by yourself, Leon. Now, just lean back and relax.” you cooed softly, making him shudder under your touch when you caressed his earlobe with your finger. Slowly, you traced down to his neck and over his shoulder. You felt his muscles flex under your fingertips and went back to his chest. You leaned forward and kissed his shoulderblade, going down to his chest and slowly tracing your tongue around one already perked nipple.

Leon inhaled sharply, his gasps of approval were music in your ears when you sucked at his nipple, while one free hand toyed with the other. You loved how sensitive he was to your touch und when you bit down on his nipple, a large bulge poked through his tight pants. “Well, looks like our special guest is awake now. Now the real fun can start.” you chuckled, more to yourself, but how you put your words in such a low and sexy voice, made Leon blush a dark shade of red. You never went down on him before, infact all you had before was vanilla sex and he was not really prepared into such hot stuff.

His hips bucked on their own, when your hand ghosted over his crotch, making you moan softly at the feeling of his hard length. Leon was tempted to run his fingers through your hair, but he was still blinded by the fabric on his head, plus you forbid him to touch you, which added to the impatient desire he was feeling at moment.

You enjoyed the sight of Leon being at your mercy. He was so cute, it almost made you end of your teasing, but you had too much fun doing this. Your fingers graced over his belt, unbuckling it painfully slowly. Leon knew you were doing this in purpose, but he just went with it and his body relaxed, when you finally freed his throbbing erection. His tip was already covered in pre-cum and the thick veins looked so tasty, that you gasped at the sight of it.

“You’re looking so damn tasty, Leon.” you purred against his neck, kissing his skin softly before you licked down his body until your face was directly infront of his member. Leon growled almost inhumanly low when your fingertips brushed over the slit of his tip, making them sticky from his slick fluid. You smirked and kissed his tip, before you hold his shaft with both of your hands and bent down to take as much into your mouth as you could.

Leon threw his head back, the pleasure absolutely overwhelming him. “Y-Your mouth feels.. so hot..” he moaned softly, biting his lip when he rememberd how your pussy felt in comparison to your mouth. He thrusted his hips upwards to meet your rhythm, but he shoved himself a bit too far until his tip touched your throat (pharynx). You almost choked and tears formed in your eyes, until Leon noticed that something was wrong.

“I am so sorry.. I just.. got.. ah…!” Leon stopped his apology midway when your hand grabbed his testicles to massage them to the new bobbing movements of your head. Leons mind went completely blank and he screwed your rule of not touching you, when his calloused hands gripped into your soft hair and pulled you more into his dick.

You bit him gently, making him yelp in slight pain. “That was punishment for not obeying, love.” you chuckled when your mouth left his cock just to lick his lubcricated shaft with long and soft strokes. “Oh god.. Y/n..” Leon moaned your name desperately, bucking his hips relentlessly against your mouth. You felt your core throbbing with need while you sucked him, his moans almost drove you crazy.

Then it happened. Leon let out a loud moan of your name when you felt the sticky and salty cum in your mouth. You swallowed it, careful not to waste any drop of his manly juices while Leon rode his orgasm. He was panting heavily and now he could not restrain from removing the blind fold. After he was able to see you again, he saw you licking your hands joyfully and some cum still on your tongue when you licked yourself clean from his mess. He gulped again, his heart racing when he suddenly threw you onto the bed, hovering over you.

“Now then, am I allowed to ripp my present open and have some more fun?”

[piratewithvigor]

Love Break My Heart: Chapter 1

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 2109

A/N: This is a prize story written for @slashscowboyboots​ and I expect it to be about 4 chapters or so with maybe more if the chapters turn out to be much longer than this one.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in front of the mirror. My eyes have gone foggy from the bright lights bouncing off of every shiny surface in the bathroom and from trying to see a coherent reflection in the shattered glass. I keep meaning to go out and replace it, but every time it leaves my line of sight, I forget about it and the rage Axl was in when he punched it. All the pieces are there; just broken. It serves its purpose, just not well. It’s doing well enough that I’m able to spot the gray hairs. 

In the time I’ve stood there (God knows how long it was), I found twelve. Plucked them each out and dropped them into the sink. I’m not even thirty yet… Nowhere near old enough to be going gray from age. 

I turn the faucet just enough that a dribble of cool water begins to flow. The stream washes away the hairs and somewhere deep in my soul, I feel like I’m telling a lie. I know exactly why I’m going gray and it wouldn’t be all that much of a guess for anyone close to me either. Not a single one of us would say it out loud. I can almost taste bile at the thought of it. The wave of nausea urges me to cup my hands under the stream of water and toss it into my face. For a moment, I feel some brief sense of relief, but the moment is fleeting. 

I dab away the water with a nearby towel and the broken mirror confronts me with proof I can’t just wash away: what used to only be crinkles are now lines of age etched deep in my face.

I must have gasped when I saw them; something caused Axl to turn over in bed. He’d always been a light sleeper, for as long as I’d known him. Likely a survival instinct his mind had created for him. If he was already tossing and turning, getting back into bed would almost definitely wake him up. The last thing I wanted on a day I’d already slept as poorly as I did would be a crabby Axl. Or a bitchy one. Or an angry one. He could be moments away from waking up naturally, but if someone woke him up before he was good and ready, said poor fucker would need eyes on the back of their head for the rest of the day if they wanted to make it through alive. 

I shut off the light in the bathroom and paused in the doorway for a moment to consider my options. On the one hand, I could try to get another hour or two of sleep before I’d have to get ready to head out to the studio with Axl and risk waking him up as I got back into bed, or I could just stay up and try to get any kind of work done. Judging by Axl’s second groan and turn in the sheets, it’d be more prudent to take the second option. He may or may not be pissed at me already.

I don’t remember much about what triggered the fight between us last night. My brain had been foggy during most of it and I was riding a mild hangover when I woke up. It’s possible that might have been the beginning of the argument. Axl was no saint when it came to booze either, but he was the best about it and took it upon himself to chastise the rest of the band about their habits. 

My suspicions seem to be correct, judging by the apparent tornado that had swept through the living room at the bottom of the stairs. On second thought, ‘tornado’ didn’t do the wreck justice; it was carnage. Almost as bad as the shithole the whole band was sharing when we were first starting out. The only difference was that I know the room had been clean and proper the morning before. A real ‘Better Homes And Gardens’ situation. It looks more like a crime scene as I walk through it for damage assessment. 

Nothing seems to be damaged beyond repair at first glance, just moved or thrown. The only furniture still where I remember it was the couch, which had purposely been the heaviest one available for exactly fights like the one we must have had. Can’t throw something if you can’t lift it.

Bits and pieces of the fight started coming back to me as I step over the strewn chairs, magazines and various other shit that populated the room. I remember the remote for the TV being whipped at the back of my head and a side table being poised for an equal action, but I’d be damned if I could remember why. The only thing that makes me stop is the shattered bottle of Jack by the front door. Bottles had been thrown at each other before. Back in the day, they’d been thrown at almost anything. Perfect for subduing destructive tendencies. The difference between the wrecks I recognized and the one at the door was the lack of any splatter. There’d always be a splatter from the bit of liquid left in the bottle, but there was no sign on the door. Just a little mark in the white paint where the black ink of the label had hit. No splatter meant that Axl hadn’t taken it from me to throw. That impact was my doing. 

The pang of regret hits harder than I expect it to. I don’t remember feeling angry at Axl. Or the reason why I would want to hurt him. Axl’s rage burns fast and hot, but once he’s calm, it all goes away. I’m used to the tantrums. I’m not used to coming out of a blur and finding that I wanted to hit him with a heavy bottle that could have either knocked him out or given him need of stitches. And at the front door? He wouldn’t be there unless he was planning to leave. Make-up sex isn’t going to garner me the forgiveness I need for whatever transpired the night before. 

I start by cleaning up the glass and fixing up the room as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, it means leaving all the furniture I can’t pick up to move. How Axl can in his rages, I have no idea. Instead of looking like a crack den, I leave the room looking more like the middle of a redecoration project. The second step on my quest of forgiveness is breakfast. Neither of us are too big on it, or really food in general, but coffee and toast are still a staple of the day. 

Luckily, the kitchen seems to have been completely disconnected from the chaos. A little messy from a slipshod dinner cleanup, but nothing more heinous than any nuclear family would be facing after meatloaf night. The early morning hour keeps me from wanting to scrub and dry dishes, but I can at least leave them to soak while I prep the coffee. 

The old machine looks like it’s on its last legs, but I doubt we’d get rid of it even when it finally decides to stop. It was the one luxury we all chipped in on when we started renting the band house. We mostly stole anything more expensive than a Big Mac but security at the appliance store were on us like hawks if we dared to step into the store. We could have probably survived without food and most of our vices, but taking coffee away from a house full of drunks was just asking for murder. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was still kicking after the horrendous overuse we put it through. A memory of when the five of us weren’t too fucked up to work together.

I exhale softly when the thought passes through. Stevie may have been a pain in our collective asses, but he was our pain in the ass. Part of the guys. And he threw it all away over a vice. If one of the five of us could leave, then who was next? 

The little light on the coffee maker begins to blink. There used to be a shrill beep that went with it, but the speaker was promptly removed when five angry drunks with five angry hangovers unanimously decided that there was no place in the house for that kind of bullshit. 

I’m pouring the first cup when quiet shuffling from behind me results in two arms around my waist.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I murmur, setting the pot back down. I can feel Axl shake his head between my shoulderblades. 

“I was up anyway. Thanks for making the coffee and cleaning up.” His voice is still thick with sleep, making it deep enough that I can hardly hear him. 

“Want something to eat? I was feeling toast.” He considers for a few moments and I’m almost worried he fell asleep against me. He eventually nods, still holding onto me gently.

“Butter, unless you wanna open that jam from your mom.” I turn around in his grasp and place a kiss to the top of his head. He’s feeling the same way I am- remorseful for an event neither of us remember clearly, but knowing that reparations must be made. It’s why he’s being so physically affectionate. 

“Anything for you, Fireball.” He takes my cue to sit down at our little table in the middle of the kitchen. It’s big enough for the two of us and maybe one more if we squished elbows, not really more than a card table, but perfect for two introverts who like proximity.

When he sits down, I take my opportunity for looking him over for damages. His hair is mussed, but likely from post-sex instead of a bottle hitting it, so I’m not too worried. His collarbone is spotted with little bruises, but the placement and shape lead me to believe they’re nothing more than love bites. No scrapes or cuts along his arms. He doesn’t look like he’s facing anything worse than insomnia. I can’t blame him; the new album is set to be released within the next couple of months, and his vision for it is huge. Two full albums, released on the same day, and we’ve only got one album’s worth of songs written for them. It’s brilliant, but I’m as worried as he is about completion. 

The toast pops up and is smeared with my mom’s spiced peach jam. She sends us a few jars each summer as a care package that I used to protest about, but learned to accept. Childhood comfort foods are something that only last for so long. 

I set Axl’s plate in front of him with his coffee. We both like it strong, but he somehow takes it black without anything added. As far as he knows, mine is the same. He’s still looking a little tired and distracted, but not unhappy. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask, nibbling on a corner of toast.

“Just the albums. It’s the third album curse,” he explains, only now noticing his breakfast.

“Explain?”

“Any band’s third album is always the worst. They use up all the songs they’ve written on the first two and by the third, they have nothing to say. Zeppelin 3? Dressed To Kill? We’re having the same problem, but we’re doing two at once.” 

I can feel the floor shaking between us. He’s bouncing his knee like he always does when he has nervous energy. I lean across the table and take his free hand in mine. It’s softer; no calluses common to a guitarist. 

“You’re forgetting Toys In The Attic, London Calling, Electric Ladyland… The last two also being double albums. Dunno about you, but those guys turned out okay.” Axl manages a small smile. It’s hard to believe that the same face that can look so sweet and charming is the same one who tried to throw a table at me less than ten hours ago. “Ours are gonna kick so much ass.” As fast as the smile came, it descended into a scowl. 

“It would if I wasn’t the only one pulling his fucking weight.” I sighed quietly, only letting the air escape through my nose. An out-loud sigh would only bring on another fight. This wasn’t Axl’s fault, or even my fault. He simply stressed out about details more than the rest of us and was definitely more vocal about it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault...

[phobiadeficient]

what happened after taht sweet, sweet dirty talk session tho? -🦂

sniper is a man of his word is what, scorpianon

-

“What do you want?” Sniper asked quietly, tone a threat, voice a promise.

For a few seconds Scout just panted, unsteady, ragged, clearly not sure if he was actually allowed to talk yet. He decided after a few moments that he was. “Please,” he managed, voice rough and weak from yelling. “Fuck, please.”

“Please what?” he asked, reaching down to cup at Scout’s ass, very much enjoying the jolt he got in response, Scout startled by the rough hand against his spank-reddened skin.

“I dunno, I, I dunno, anything—“ Scout managed, not even the strength to lift his head, voice weak and desperate, starting to tug at his wrists.

Sniper hushed him quietly, rubbing hands up over Scout’s shoulders to soothe and gentle him until he was still and relaxed again, malleable and quiet. “You wanna come, sweet’eart?” he asked, voice soft and sympathetic.

“Please,” Scout managed through what was almost certainly a burning throat.

Sniper reached down, stroked a circle with one finger around the base of the plug he’d stuffed Scout full of. The battery in it had apparently died at some point, because now it was still and silent. He’d left Scout stuffed full of it earlier at a lower setting, letting it vibrate away, enjoying the way Scout’s hips rolled and jerked, trying to get more and in just the right place, futile as it was. Only once or twice had Scout ever gotten wound up enough to get off exclusively from being fucked, and he doubted that he could manage it stretched out over the hood of a camper from some simple plug. When he moved to gently pull it out, Scout made a considerable groan, muscles going taut, thighs shaking. It popped free, and cum oozed down his inner thighs, made bright against where his skin was darkened and flushed. Most of it from the first two rounds; after that, Sniper had dropped off a little bit. Scout released a quiet sob, forehead thunking against the hood as his head dropped, fully limp in his bonds again.

After as many rounds as Sniper had put him through over the course of a couple of hours, leaving him there stuffed full of a plug in-between to keep him desperate, spanking him when he got too snappish with his begging, he wasn’t entirely sure he had it in him to fuck Scout again. He could try and force himself, but mostly it would just be uncomfortable. And he had a feeling Scout would finish way before him regardless. Instead he leaned forward to kiss at his back.

“Want me to do what I said earlier at the bar? Clean you out with my mouth?” Sniper suggested.

He was only a little surprised when Scout shook his head. “Just… please,” he whispered, voice too far gone to speak much louder. Sniper nodded, kissed at his spine, and reached around to take gentle hold of Scout’s dick. Scout hissed at the sensation, going tense again.

“Tell me if it gets to be too much,” Sniper said, and reached down with his other hand to push two fingers into Scout. He found his prostate within only a moment or two, and Scout wheezed out a breath, completely surrendering himself over to Sniper, not even rocking along when Sniper started jerking him off in quick motions and setting punishing presses against him in a steady rhythm. All he could do was moan wordlessly, mindlessly, driven to simple animal need.

It took maybe two minutes for Scout to finish, and when he did, it was so intense that he barely made any noise, so intense that it escaped him in a dribble rather than a spurt. His cock jerked over and over in Sniper’s hand, he clenched down hard, his fists went white where they were tied up above his head. Sniper gentled him as best he could, giving Scout gentle reminders to breathe between gentle mouthing along his shoulderblades.

Scout was borderline catatonic when he finally finished, and Sniper was a little amazed at the amount of cum he’d left to puddle on the ground. Sniper untied him as gingerly as he could, clicking his tongue in sympathy when he saw the dark ring of bruising around Scout’s wrists. He hefted Scout and picked him up bridal-style, carrying him into the camper to lie down. He was shivering quite a bit, and his skin was largely clammy, which had Sniper worried.

“You alright then, love?” Sniper asked, gently nudging the bangs out of Scout’s face to get a better look at him.

Scout looked up at him with a dreamy expression. “So fuckin’ good,” he replied, voice hardly above a breath, voice as far gone as it could get without disappearing completely. “It’s kinda one of those things you jack off about, y’know? Getting all filled up like that like some kinda… I dunno what. Fuck.”

Sniper smiled, moving to go get his canteen and bring it back. “Don’t fall asleep on me now,” he warned when he came back and saw Scout’s eyes drooping.

Scout didn’t reply, taking a drink from the canteen, wincing at the feeling on his raw throat. Even then, his eyes were dropping further.

“Tired?” Sniper asked.

“Exhausted,” Scout replied.

“Stay awake just a minute, then,” Sniper said, standing. “We can clean up properly in the morning, but I’m putting a towel down. Maybe the sheets will be salvageable.”

Scout nodded, head dropping against the pillow, eyes opening just a little bit as he stared off into space. He had the strength to lift his hips up when Sniper came back, letting Sniper lay it out and getting comfortable when he squeezed in, similarly stripped down naked, and pulled a big, heavy blanket over the both of them.

“I love you, Snipes,” Scout mumbled, already half asleep.

“Love you too,” Sniper replied, kissing him right on the top of his head, and by the time he pulled back to look down at him again, he was already out like a light. Sniper kissed his head again anyways, following right behind.

[prettyboyporter]

Those American Thighs

Billy’s feet dangled from the edge of Steve’s bathroom counter.

The mirror was fogged over, droplets condensing and running down in rivulets as Steve toweled his hair dry. He’d had beat Billy by 20 minutes and hopped in the shower to wash away the sticky sweetness of ice cream that clung to his fingers, even his forearms. Sometimes he felt his whole body felt sticky after a day at Scoops -- no matter how many times he washed his hands on the job, he still felt gummy after walking out into the shimmering summer humidity. He ignored Billy for a moment applied a bit of lotion to his arms and chest -- wanted to trade in sticky for soft.

Billy was here fresh from his shift at Hawkins Pool, still in his white tank and red shorts. The scent of chlorine lingered in his hair. He glistened ith suntan oil, and his skin smelled like an overripe coconut. Unshowered. Summer personified.

Billy kicked his toes -- wiggled them as his red trunks rode up his thighs. He leaned back a little bit, chewing slowly on a piece of gum. Cocked his head to the side with a wolf-like grin. “See somethin you like?”

Steve regarded Billy’s sun-freckled nose. The scattered sunspots on his shoulders. And the bronzed span of his thighs, spread apart on the countertop.

“Mmm. Yeah.” Steve stepped between Billy’s legs and let the towel fall from his waist to the bathroom floor. “Yeah I think I do.”

Billy hooked his ankles around Steve’s back. “Come on then, chickenshit.”

Steve leaned forward and inhaled along the column of Billy’s neck -- skin smelling a little musky and radiating heat still from the summer sun. Steve pressed a kiss there, open-mouthed. Licked and tasted salt and the faint chemical tang of Tropical Blend.

Billy tugged Steve forward with his ankles locked behind Steve’s ass. Steve indulged Billy for a moment -- allowed Billy to pull him in by the back of his neck, smashing their mouths together, the kiss rough and needy with Billy making little noises into Steve’s mouth. Billy’s tongue ran along Steve’s lip, licked inside Steve’s mouth, touched Steve’s tongue and slid alongside of it while Billy dragged his fingers down Steve’s belly -- reached to touch his fingers to the head of Steve’s cock, which rested against the swim trunks of Billy’s inner left thigh.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t want to try to fuck Billy again. It’s just that the first time involved stopping and starting, discomfort, shifting for a better angle, trying again, yeah baby, but still it wasn’t quite right. After too many frowns and a few hisses, Steve pulled out. They’d spent the night trading little kisses and caresses instead -- a loud physical desire washed over by a quiet intimacy.

Steve wasn’t quite ready for all that again. Not yet, at least.

So he shoved Billy’s hand away. “Nope,” he said, and Billy got pouty. “Let me -- let me,” Steve stuttered with his hands wrapped around Billy’s thighs, and his mouth couldn’t find the words, so sank to his knees to the tile below -- cooled by the air conditioning. A shock on his skin still warm from the shower -- still heady from being surrounded by Billy’s legs.

He placed his hands on the tops of Billy’s golden thighs -- spread his fingers apart and rubbed from his knees up, up, until his fingertips dipped under the legs of Billy’s shorts. The hair rasped under his hands. His thighs were still a bit slick from that suntan oil that Billy loved to use and from the sweat of working outdoors on a summer day.

Steve pressed down a bit to feel hard muscle, then slid up to the inner thighs to feel the softness there. Billy’s inner thighs had a little more fat -- not a lot, but enough to Steve to watch his fingers sink just a little deeper against the softer flesh. To know that Billy had a soft, secret spot with no hard edges, that only Steve could touch. He pressed a long kiss to that patch of skin, hair a little scratchy against his lips.  

From his position on his knees he rubbed his cheek -- he’d never had this before, with the plethora of girls’ thighs he’d touched and kissed, all soft, all hairless. The contrast of Billy’s hard muscle and soft skin, and leg hair against his face and lips -- it lit Steve on fire to feel this sensation. He’d often put his head in Billy’s lap when they were watching TV alone, just to place a hand on Billy’s bare knee and the skin above it, run his hand back and forth just to feel it, to hear it, rough but not rough, a little scratch against his hand.

Steve pulled back from Billy’s thighs, and Billy’s head was thrown back a little, chest lifting, nipples peaked, fingers of his left hand clutching a hand towel. His red trunks tented obscenely, hard cock jutting the material up and out.

Fucking gorgeous.

“Cmere,” Steve said, and rose up from his knees. He pulled Billy down from the counter.

Billy’s mouth met Steve’s again as Steve worked down the trunks, still a little damp, sticking against Billy’s skin, stuttering down Billy’s body. Steve worked one side, then the other, got the waistband down to mid-thigh. “Baby,” Billy said softly against Steve’s lips when his cock slapped back against his belly.

Steve kissed the length of Billy’s neck, left hand massaging Billy’s ass. He bent down a little bit to kiss Billy’s collarbone and toyed with Billy’s nipple with his right thumb. His left hand worked down to the soft section right under Billy’s ass -- his fingers teasing the tight gap there between Billy’s thighs which were trapped together by the trunks.

His fingers worked slowly, sinking in and out of the space between Billy’s thighs. Steve’s cock jumped against Billy’s hip. “I-” he stopped moving his fingers. Licked his lips. “I wanna fuck you.”

“Okay,” Billy said. His throat worked a little.

“No, I don’t mean.” He struggled for the words to explain it, but when he thought about it, want curled lower and lower, and his cock jumped when he said, “I wanna fuck you right here.” He fingered the area between Billy’s thighs.

Billy smirked. “Yeah, King Steve? Are you, like, some kinky fucker now? Didn’t think you had it in you but I like it.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. “I’m all yours.”

Steve pulled his fingers out from between Billy’s legs and fumbled quickly at the second drawer, yanking out the bottle and missing Billy’s warmth already. He popped the cap and smeared lube over Billy’s cock, stroking and stroking until Billy was panting against the crook of Steve’s neck. “Turn around, sweetheart.”

Billy turned around, bent over, and braced himself against the bathroom countertop with his red swim trunks clapsing his thighs together, skin golden above the waistband and below mid-thigh, cock sticking up, hard as a rock. His ass was lighter, round, beautiful with its generous curve. Steve ran a hand over his Billy’s ass. “So beautiful. You know how gorgeous you look right now?”

Billy looked back over his shoulder, but didn’t make eye contact. His gaze was lowered, a shy little smile played across his lips.

Steve poured a generous amount of lube over his fingers and coated the inside of Billy’s thighs, reached down to stroke his own cock a few times, and placed a hand around Billy’s hip. He bent his knees a little, positioned himself between Billy’s thighs, and thrust in slowly at first.

The shorts kept Billy’s thighs trapped together, but Billy still pulled them tight around Steve, and the pressure. Jesus fucking christ, the pressure felt sinful around his dick. “This okay?” Steve asked, one hand reaching up to caress Billy’s lower back.

“Yeah -- jesus, yes, it’s so fucking hot,” Billy said, pulling a hand off of the counter to wrap around his dick.

Steve fucked harder now, picked up the pace, Billy’s thighs taking him on some otherwordly journey, some higher plane of existence, didn’t know it could feel so fucking good, the tightness, the occasional sensation of leg hair against him adding extra stimulation, the head of his dick popping out from between Billy’s thighs, and jesus christ, holy shit feels so good and Steve didn’t even realize he was saying the words out loud, but he kept saying them anyway as he yanked Billy back against his chest, tilted his chin to the side to share a sloppy kiss before Billy’s mouth went lax against Steve’s and Billy came all over the floor. Over the bathroom counter.

Steve felt Billy squeezing and loosening several times, then kept his thighs tight, and Steve’s forehead fell between Billy’s shoulderblades. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said as he gave in to the pressure of his impending climax, trust shallowly, and spread his come between Billy’s thighs.

Steve placed his hands on Billys shoulders, rubbed the sun-kissed skin, and placed lazy, sloppy kisses to the back of Billy’s neck. Billy turned and kissed along Steve’s jaw.

It was fucking filthy when he pulled back to see the mess he’d made of Billy.

“Ah. You wanna take a shower? Because-” Steve glanced down at the come dripping down Billy’s thighs.

“Nah. Thought I’d take a seat and like, introduce your spunk to the living room couch or something.”

Steve wrinkled his nose and laughed. “What is wrong with you?”

Billy smacked a kiss on Steve’s lips. “You made the mess. You clean it up.” He tugged Steve’s hand and pulled him back into the shower. Shower number one was sleepy, shower number two was perfunctory, but with shower number three, he soaped up Billy’s body and shampooed Billy’s hair. Easily the best of the day.

That evening, as they watched Weird Science on tape, Steve felt sated with pizza and sex and his hand resting on the soft flesh of Billy’s inner thigh.

[greennightspider]

FairyTale #2: CinderEric Part 2

Summary: A hotheaded Dauntless initiate has some steam to blow off. What better way than to blow it on one of the biggest nights of the Dauntless year, with one of the fiercest bigshots around? 

Part 1

**SMUT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER**

Eric x Elle

You nervously tapped your foot on the floor as you sat in the dark initiate changing room, only to be thwacked by Danny's towel.

"Chill Elle, you got out."

And he was right. You had made it back in time for curfew with none the wiser. No one seemed to think that the "phantomed challenger" might be an initiate, and your comrades didn’t give you more flack than normal. 

Although you had already heard more than enough rumors that morning to fill a book, it seemed that you had managed to pull off the most daring fight of your life AND still save your ass.

But you couldn't shake the look Eric gave you after he'd won. The Dauntless leader looked 10 times more incensed right there than at any other point in the match.

Which meant he probably knew.

Eric heard you and Danny during the fight. There was no way he didnt, with the way he soured when he should’ve have been basking in his victory. Someone with his amount of pride couldn’t stand it. The fact that an initiate had had him on the ropes.

So why hadn’t you been found out yet??? The question had run in your mind over and over as you undid the bindings on your forearms, listening to the mindless chatter and the sound of slamming metal around you.

You leaned your head back against the lockers, thinking about how just above your head in your own little nook was your bandanna and one. Odd. Shoe.

Initiates were usually given two pairs when they first joined Dauntless, but you had lost your spare in an unfortunate weapons training accident involving a shredder. Luckily Danny had given you a pair of his shoes to wear, but they were two sizes two big and were hard to move in.

Sighing as you slipped them off and rubbing your sore feet you watched as the last of your cohort trickled out towards dinner. Sick of getting blisters you decided to walk barefoot to the mess hall.

The cold concrete was soothing on your blistered soles as the slaps of your heels echoed in the nearly empty halls. You trudged along in your dark grey cargo pants and an even darker racerback singlet which complemented your cocoa-colored skin, grateful for the small gust of cool wind that hit your aching shoulders.

This was Elle’s first mistake.

Tucking stray wisps of hair back into your high bun you rubbed your exposed neck, grateful that you had tied it up after a particularly grueling training bout with Danny.

This was Elle’s second mistake.

The exhaustion made you careless as you managed to brazenly and loudly stalk right past an open door to a Dauntless Leader breakroom. A room that had been occupied by a certain champion who's head had turned at the odd slapping of feet, and who's eyes now followed you down the corridor.

This was Elle’s third mistake.

Time almost slowed as Eric saw you pass by. The small breakroom's kitchen was fitted right next to the door, which meant Eric had about 4 good seconds to get a good look at you.

Any normal person would think it was just a initiate walking by with training bruises. But not a fighter. Not Eric.

As the Dauntless leader turned his head sideways he saw what could be a burnmark from the mat that night on your shoulderblade. He saw the redness on your tanned forearms from where he had grappled with you. 

And then he saw the blisters on your bare feet. Probably. From wearing. The wrong. Shoes.

Bingo.

"Shoes not comfortable, initiate?"

Elle jumped when she heard the voice behind her, but was too late to run.

You felt a rough tug that pulled you stumbling into the room with only one other person and only one way out. The lion's den. You gulped audibly as you came face to face once again with your challenger.

"Just a normal Dauntless training day sir Eric leader sir." You answered, trying not to instinctively grip your arms, in an effort to hide the redness from your grappling the night before.

Just stay calm Elle, you got this.

"That’s a pity." Eric shrugged moving closer and leaning his shoulder against the wall while crossing his arms. Although he sounded casual enough his gaze was nothing but predatory as he looked down at your feet then back to your eyes.

"Thought you might be MISSING ONE."

Awfuckfuckfuck.

You instantly tried to make a break for it but he towered over you as he blocked your only hope of escape and locked it behind him. 

You regretted getting so close as he stalked towards you, while you matched his steps in reverse like some twisted dance.

"You lost on purpose."

"You won the match sir." You squeaked.

"That wasn’t a win. You threw the fight." You stumbled as you backed into a chair and Eric slammed his hand on the table in front of it. "I don’t like fucking pity."

"It wasn’t a pity win I swear I just didn’t wanna get thrown out sir Eric sir." You blabbered.

"Cut the sir crap."

"Okay Mr Eric!” Your pitch getting higher and higher with each syllable.

The King of the Brawl said nothing as his eyes slowly traveled down your neck, your torso, your legs and then back up to your eyes, unflinching as he walked around to your side of the table.

"Well then, why don’t we settle the score right here right now?"

You blinked thrice, wondering why his first act wasn’t to throw you off the chasm or out of Dauntless altogether. But you realized that if his pride was even half as big as the rest of him, what mattered to him was the redemption. The win.

"You win, you get to keep your place as an initiate. You lose... well..." Eric shrugged, knowing he didn’t have to continue since you knew damn well.

"Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.” You bravely snarked.

“You don’t.” Eric said darkly.

“So what kinda match we talking. I can do wrestling, uh... uh knife throwing um- I can do judo- um- sir?"

Eric had managed to get between your legs and press you up against the small table. You had tried to keep your breath even as his muscled frame trapped you, rambling as you did whenever you were nervous. Or frazzled. Or both.

"Can’t you tell?" The Dauntless leader all but growled in your ear.

"The match has already started snookums.”

You then felt something hard rub against your trouser thigh and your eyes rolled back. Hoooooh fuck.

You’d always been one act first think later, and as you felt his package grow between your legs you instinctively threw your hands around his neck and started to grind against him, earning you a greedy smirk before capturing his lips with your own.

The kiss was hungry. Urgent. Filled with need on either side as you both battled for dominance. For sating. For submission as you were just as bad as each other, melding into each other.

Your back slammed against the wall and you didn’t even flinch as you quickly undid your cargo pants as Eric held you up. As soon as they were undone Eric quickly shoved them down, still keeping an iron grip on your plush thighs. 

You felt him bite down your neck as you fought to undo his own, finally freeing his dick from its confines and you felt him bite harder as you stroked him, feeling his girth hot and heavy in your hands. 

“So this is what a Dauntless Leader’s dick is like?” You tried to sound sassy but your mouth was already watering at the thought of having Eric’s cock inside you.

“Nah, this is all me.” Eric remarked as he lined you up and started to push inside you.

“Much better than that wimpy initiate dick don’t you think?” The King growled as he watched your mouth agape in pleasure as you tried to hold the back of his head in support.

“Initiate dick aint shit.” You yelped.

Eric laughed darkly as he started to fuck you against the wall. His loud grunts and your moans were the only thing that filled the silence. He held you up with ease as he held your thighs in his hands, your own switching aimlessly from his neck to his forearms as you bounced on his cock. He watched as he pulled in and out of your warmth, mesmerized by how well you could take him.

“Initiate pussy however...”

He growled as you pulled his short hair so he had too look up to meet your eyes. “I think you mean ‘Champion’ Pussy.” 

Eric briefly remembered why he was doing this, but all motivation was lost when your pussy walls started tightening then releasing around his dick. “Shit” he seethed as he hunched over your shoulder.

“That’s it Eric, feel that?” You panted, grinning as you felt your Dauntless leader grow inside you, rolling your hips. “That’s all me.”

He cursed and threw his head back as he started thrusting into you at a mad pace, seeking his own release. You deftly held on as you managed to still match his thrusts, locking your legs around his hips. You then brought his head to your own and bit his hear, causing him to jerk as he hissed at the pain mixed with pleasure. 

You felt your own walls tightening around his thick member as your eyes rolled back, and unable to hold himself back any longer Eric roared as he came into you, the creaming of your walls enough to bring you to your own high. You screamed as you rode him through his final thrusts, making sure your pussy was filled to the brim with his cum. 

In a dazed silence you panted as Eric did the same, resting his head on your shoulder as he slowly pulled out of you, still managing to hold you up against the wall with ease.

“...So did I win?”

But before you could get an answer you yelped as Eric roughly yanked your pants back up. And before you had a chance to think he had already thrown you over his shoulder and started carrying you down the hall.

You were still very much dazed from your high, but not dazed enough to ignore where this might be going. You started kicking and thrashing, looking for any way to wrench yourself free and away from impending doom.

“Idiot I’m not throwing you from the fucking chasm so stop wriggling.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me then??”

“My place.”

You tentatively complied and stopped squirming. You noticed that the way to Eric’s apartment wasn’t the normal way towards Dauntless leadership, and actually led you through corridors you had never seen before.

Shuffling so you could watch Eric as he unlocked his door you remembered he was King of the Brawl.

"So um, what did ya use your wish for?"

Eric let a smirk grace the corner of his lips as he carried you inside and threw you so that your back hit a mattress, and when you spread your arms you realized it was a very large mattress. You looked up at Eric with wide eyes as he removed his vest and shirt so he stood at the foot of the bed with a bare chest and hungry eyes.

"I asked for a room with a double bed."

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Taglist: @therealcalicali @themusingofagothicsoul @tomarisela @mbaku-babygirl @laketaj24 @myboyfriendgiriboy @every-jai @draconicuchiha @selina122 @chocolatemetalprincess @tamed--chaos (lemme know if you wanna be added)

[quirkladen-remade]

💋 umm kissu kissu pls

The first 5 Asks to send 💋 get a kiss (1/5) // accepting.

     She’s never wanted to get off a podium faster than right now.

     …Okay, that’s not entirely true. After gruelling back-to-back matches all day she’s finally up here on slightly-jittery legs to accept first place (by the skin of her teeth–her final opponent was a tough grapple with that extra set of arms on her torso) in the prefecture’s MMA championship for women under 18–if she didn’t wanna soak this up a little bit she straight-up wouldn’t be human.

     Still, when she’s finally able to descend again it’s all Hinata can do to remember her manners and go see the manager of her gym who’d so graciously taken on personal coaching duties for three years running now first before making a beeline for her boyfriend in the stands. She chugs half the water bottle she’s handed in one go and shucks her gloves to rub the towel her coach throws around her neck over her face and through her hair. The older woman must see her attention is split though, because she just delivers a series of quick congratulations and a gruff, hard clap to Hinata’s back that puts a lasting ache between her shoulderblades and leaves her stumbling forward before jerking her thumb towards the seats with an exasperated grin.

     That’s all the go-ahead she needs. Hinata catches a flash of silver and takes off running in that direction. She sees Tetsutetsu racing forward so they can meet somewhere in the middle along the way and oh my god he’s grinning so bright Hinata feels like she might just keel over right here and be fine with it. Post-win adrenaline rush and dizzying affection combine into a potent cocktail that hits her like a freight train and she rushes forward with a laugh, too-loud and overwhelmingly warm, nearly crashing into him in her haste to throw her arms around his shoulders.

     Whatever Tetsu’s about to say is lost as she brings her hands (warm and calloused) up to cup his face, surging forward to press her lips to his almost feverishly in her giddiness. She lingers there for a few moments, but eventually has to pull back to breathe again (exhausted as she is), and reluctantly drops a hand from his cheek to push back her bangs, face lit up in a million-watt smile.

     “Hey,” she breathes, and the amount of affection in that single syllable is staggering. Warm amber eyes crinkle at the corners as she snickers through grinning teeth, then drops the hand in her hair to swipe a thumb across her lower lip a little sheepishly. “Sorry I’m still super sweaty. Pretty sure you got a bit of blood in that one, too. Free iron, though, right? …Is that a weird joke? Yeah, I knew it as soon as I said it. Full disclosure I’m still kinda loopy from the last match, so…!”

[virgilantejustice]

Torn apart

Summery: Roman really should have been more careful last night.

Trigger warnings: One mention of a swear word, relationship problems, arguing

Im only just starting to write, so I would be super grateful for any feedback so I can make my content the best it can be!!

masterpost link

——————————————————

“Hey, I’m back!” Virgil heard the door slam with the usual amount of vigour that Roman usually slammed it with when he got home from work. But he couldn’t find it in him to make a sarcastic comment, for once.

He was stuffing cloths into a bag, and didn’t even look up when he heard the greeting. “Hey,” he said quietly, not stopping his packing.

Roman came into the bedroom with Virgil. He looked up at him. He had been keeping his tears at bay for this long, but seeing Roman smiling like that was filling him with- he didnt even know what these feelings were. “What’s the matter?” Roman asked, his bright, usual smile becoming a little more subdued.

Virgil looked up at him, his face blank. “Patton called earlier today, he had a lot to say.”

Roman’s smile brightened again. “Oh, your friend from school, how is he.” He looked so damn happy, it was infuriating.

“He was great, he was so excited.” Virgil snarled, glaring up at him with daggers coming from his eyes. He spat out the words like venom. Roman’s smile wavered, and concern entered his eyes.

“What about?” A slight tremor. Virgil’s lip began to tremble in anger, he was faking this, he had to be, he was lying.

Virgil looked away and continued to viciously shove clothes into his bag, pushing them down as if they had done this. “He called me to tell me that he was at the bar last night, and this guy came over to him and was flirting and everything, and the end of the night they kissed, and exchanged numbers. Then he told me this guys name.”

“Someone you know? Whats wrong?” Roman’s smile finally died completely, leaving a look of pure concern in its place.

Virgil was trembling with rage. He wouldn’t have minded quite so much if Roman had just told him the truth! He glared up at Roman, who’s face was a mix of fear and confusion. “He told me his name. He told me what he was wearing, what he looks like. Why did you do that to me?”

“What do you mean?!” Roman held his hands in front of him in what he must have perceived as a calming gesture, but it only intensified the red in Virgil’s eyes.

“They were wearing your clothes, and had your face, and had your name, I don’t think that there’s coincidence there, is there?” Virgil stood up. He may have been shorter than Roman, but when he was angry he had the presence of a bear.

“Hang on, Patton?” Roman was desperatley trying to peice it together in his head. “I was at a work do last night.”

“Where were you with work?” Virgil spat.

“At the bar…” The words died on Roman’s tongue.

Virgil sighed a strangled breath and stared at the carpet. “I don’t ask for much, Roman. I don’t ask for much!” He stared up at him, his eyes screwed up, but tears leaked through all the same. “All I ask for is a little bit of commitment! If that’s too much for you, you should just go. It’s been so long and still you’d do this to me?” He was almost shouting by he end, his voice wavering and cracking, his clenched fist banging against his chest.

“Listen, Virgil,” Roman said, holding up his hands. “I was so drunk last night I genuinely don’t remember what happened. I’m so sorry, please forgive me, please.” He took Virgil’s hands in his own and squeezed them gently. “Believe me I genuinely do not remember, I must have drunk too much, I’m sorry.” Virgil stared up at him, his lips slightly parted.

Roman came forward and wrapped his arms around him. This usually calmed him, but now it filled him with undeniable rage. “Get off me!” He snapped, shoving hard against Roman’s chest. Roman looked stunned, standing with his back against the opposite wall. “I have to go,” Virgil muttered, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder and turning his back.

“Where are you going?” Roman cried, reaching for his shoulder, but Virgil twisted away from his hand.

“My brother’s, I need some time to think about this.”

“Will you be back?”

“I need to think!” He slammed the door behind him.

——————————————————

As soon as Virgil had ring the doorbell, the door was opened. Virgil knew about his brother’s habit of running to the door and his lip quirked as his eyes met those of the man waiting on the other side.

“Hey, Lo.” He muttered to the floor. ‘Could I stay here for a couple of nights?“ He must have looked a sorry sight. It was raining, hard, and he was soaked through. He had had to walk half way over town. They only had one car.

"Of course,” Logan said, stepping aside to let him pass. “What’s going on?”

Virgil loped to the bathroom and grabbed a towel before flopping onto the sofa, face down. Logan strode over and placed a hand on his back, rubbing circles between his shoulderblades. Virgil was grateful for Logan, he never asked too many questions. Virgil turned his face to the side. “He fucked up, real bad, you have no idea.”

“How so?”

Virgil groaned and sat up, but didnt look at Logan, he just stared at his hands that were sitting in his lap. “You know Patton? My old friend school that I sometimes keep in touch with.”

“Yes?” Logan tilted his head to the side, as he always did when he was curious.

“He called me this morning.” Virgil swallowed, tears beginning to pool in his eyes before being vigerously wiped away. “Told me about how a guy flirted with him at the bar last night. They kissed.” He gulped, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “It was Roman. Roman flirted with him.”

“Good lord.”

“He was at a work do at the same bar,” Virgil whispered, rubbing his eyes forcefully.

“Good lord,” Logan repeated, evidently unsure of what to say. “And you were in such a good place. Are you going to end it with him?” His words were hesitant. Understandable, Logan wasn’t always the best at comforting. That was usually Patton….

“I don’t know, I genuinely don’t know. What should I do?” Virgil gazed up at his brother, the desperation clear in his eyes, begging for- something. Some advice, some instruction, for someone to just tell him what to do. That would make it so much simpler!

“I don’t know either,” Logan sighed. “God knows I don’t know much about relationships.” He stared down at his hands, and a flicker of saddness crossed his face. They were silent for a moment, just listening to each others breathing, until Logan broke the quiet. “Why did you come here rather than Mom and Dad’s?”

“Well, for one you’re closer to my work, and two, I don’t wanna explain this to Mom.” Virgil let out a short, breathy laugh.

Logan’s lip quirked up into a smile. “I understand, she can be a little much sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Virgil paused for a moment, staring down at his sleeves. He managed to slow down his racing thoughts enough to pick one out, which he muttered quietly. “What if this is my fault?”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, finally looking up from his hands.

“When you’re drunk youre supposed to act on what you want to do. What if I was pushing him away?” Virgil felt his own twisted logic tearing him apart and he began to tremble.

“Stop it, you’re being ridiculous.” Logan placed a hand softly on Virgil’s shoulder, his brow furrowed in concern.

“But what if I did, through?” His breathing began to quicken. “What if I didn’t show him enough affection? What if i was too harsh on him? What is this is nothing, and i overreacted?” Virgil could feel himself crumbling. He didn’t want to lose Roman, didn’t he? He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what he wanted!

“You’re being ridiculous.” Logan said sharply but kindly. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you. If he was at a work do he was probably incredibly intoxicated. I know he’d never mean to hurt you, but its okay if you want to stay here for a few nights.”

“Thanks,” Virgil breathed into his sleeves.

“Any time you need me, I’ll go make up the spare room for you.” Logan left, but when he got back, Virgil was already asleep on the couch. Logan quietly put a blanket over his shivering shoulders, and went to bed himself.

——————————————————

“Virgil? You’re back!” Roman spun around from where he had been arranging red roses in a vase on the table, his eyes as red as the petals that his trembling fingers had so delicately ghosted over.

“Yeah, I talked to my brother. He helped me see things more clearly.” He spoke hesitantly, piecing the words carefully together, like it was a puzzle that he hadn’t quite finished yet. “I’ve told you how much I need loyalty and commitment, and I think that no matter what happened last night, you still remember that.”

“Of course I do!” Roman ran towards him, stopping a few feet away. “Of course! I value you over anything!”

“I know.” Virgil muttered, his voice slightly hoarse. “So, it may take me awhile, but I think that we’re ok.” He looked up at roman, his eyes were glistening slightly, and bright smile filled his face.

“I love you so much!” Roman exclaimed, enveloping Virgil in a tight embrace. Virgil gently lifted his arms off his shoulder, then looked up from the ground to meet his eyes.

“I know” he whispered.

[fairyscribbles]

Gone Wolf - Mending (Kai, pt. 5) [Chronicles of the Wolf series]

We haven’t had Jonginnie in quite a while, am I right?! :3 So let’s see what’s going to happen to the cute couple next! If you want to refresh your memory, the last Jonginnie chapter is here! 

/

Even as you went about your evening schedule- washing your face, cleaning your teeth and a quick shower- your heart still beat a little faster because of many thoughts. Will he be there when you come back? Where will he take you? All these questions swirled in your mind, making you almost squeal.

This was exciting. He's taking you out somewhere. Where will it be? In the city? The countryside? His home?

You thoughtlessly rushed into your room, the small towel still wrapped around you to cover up the necessary things. That's why you almost screamed when you slammed your door shut and saw the wolf on your bed, eyes wide and golden.

"Jongin!" you hissed in surprise. You slapped a hand over your mouth in shock, hoping no one happened to be roaming the halls to hear you. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Wh-what are you doing?!" he shot right back.

You blinked, gripping the unstable knot of your towel.

Jongin's eyes. He was backing away, and as if he noticed you were looking, he turned around with a scoff.

They were blazing red.

You sighed. "Jongin..."

He said something under his breath, and from his tone, it didn't sound very positive.

"Well, sorry I walked into my room with just a towel on. I thought I would have some privacy." You grumbled as Jongin visibly gave you time to get dressed by the way he was standing in the corner and facing it with slumped shoulders.

Shit, when Jongin heard the towel fall to the floor and your scent flooded the room, he almost whimpered. It could be easy, so easy, to wrap his arms around you and teleport you away, somewhere where he could indulge himself in you...

He wasn't able to to control himself, he had to take a peek. And when he did, he remembered why he came here earlier in the first place.

"Oh!" You jumped up in surprise, turning to look at him suspiciously. You only had your bra and panties on...he wasn't thinking of doing something suspicious, right? Jongin pulled out a small ointment, holding it up proudly.

"On the bed and on your stomach, ___."

"Wh-what?!" you squeaked, unsure how to even react to that.

Instantly, your mind shot to the gutter, but you shouldn't have let it because of course, he had the ointment in his hand.

Jongin raised an eyebrow. "I... wanted to put this on for you... S-sorry, did that come out wrong?"

He gave an awkward chuckle, and you touched your burning cheeks. "N-no. I, umm-..."

To appease the awkward situation, you did as he asked you, stretching over the lenght of your bed and burying your face in the pillows. Why did you immediately think of that? And why did it made you feel the way it did? You shook your head, sighing internally as Jongin took a seat beside you.

"We have a healer in my pack and I told her about you...she says this will help the wounds so it wouldn't hurt anymore." Jongin explained, uncapping the small container. You shivered in anticipation.

Jongin's beast growled. So much exposed skin, just for him to see. Beautiful. He had such a beautiful mate and all he wanted to do was to kiss down your back before propping you up on your knees and...

Jongin shook his head vigorously, warding the thoughts away. He couldn't afford to think this. There were too many ears in the vicinity and what Jongin had in mind - especially with all your skin laid out for him like this, in just your underwear - was definitely not to be quiet. God, he wasn't sure whether to be flattered or insulted that you thought he had such control.

He swallowed. "Okay... M-might be cold."

Your skin erupted in goosebumps like you already knew what was coming, and Jongin had a very vivid vision of licking it off.

Warming you up with his tongue and his hands and covering you with his body.

"Uhh..."

"Jongin? It's cold, come on."

Again, he swallowed. "Y-yeah, sorry."

With one last glance at your barely covered ass, he growled under his breath before covering you from the waist down with the towel from your shower. Immediately you yelped, attempting to prop up on your elbows.

"J-jongin it's-!"

"Stay down." He ordered, his hand pushing between your shoulderblades and planting your face in the pillows again. You were glad, because you didn't know what you would do if Jongin would hear the small whimper that passed your lips.

Jesus, did he not realize how he sounded?

You were taken by surprise, gasping when you felt the cold gel on your back and your fists tightened their hold on the pillows, your face burying deeper to hide the whine passing your lips.

Not that it was to effective against Jongin's supernatural ears.

"Does it hurt?"

You shook your head, muttering into the pillow. "S' cold..."

Jongin chuckled. "I know. But I'm glad it doesn't hurt."

You said nothing as he applied more, just shuddering from the coolness on your skin.

You turned to look at him suspiciously when you felt him fumble at your bra strap, sliding it down your shoulders just a little.

"I can't get to them if you have that on." He told you with a shrug, applying it to the last bits of your scars that were untended before sitting down cross-legged in front of your face, smiling at you.

"All done. Let's just wait for it to dry up before we start moving, okay?" You nodded, returning his smile.

"Thank you, Jongin..."

"Thank you. You just let me see you half-naked. I think you're confused as to who got it better here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks heated fiercely. "Shut up…”

Jongin growled, saying nothing else.

"So... where are we going?"

"You'll see." He grinned. "I hope you like it."

You patted what you could reach of him, which just happened to be his leg. "I'm sure I will. Can I get up and get dressed now?"

Jongin shook his head as he dabbed at the ointment on your skin.

"Not yet. It's still too wet." You huffed, head falling back down on the pillow.

"Is it really or do you just want to see me half-naked longer?" Jongin glared at you as he swatted your back.

"Although yes, that is another good reason to have you stay like this a little longer."

You huffed, but Jongin just leaned back, stretching his legs as he settled on his back beside you.

"So... did they say anything after I left?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do they approve of me?"

"Of course they do. You're a potential sponsor."

Jongin frowned. "I meant... as your husband. Is that really all they care about?"

You sighed, closing your eyes and smothering your face into your sheets. "Jongin... They want me to get married. As long as I'm taken away, and they can have access to some help..."

He cursed under his breath. "I can't wait to get you out of here. Besides, my family wants to meet you."

"Th-they know about me?"

"Of course they do." He shrugged.

He chuckled at your surprised voice.

"Why do you sound so shocked? Of course I would tell them about my future wife." You turned your head to stare at the grinning wolf. A smile rose over your face, and a big one at that. Someone's family is interested in you. If that would've happened a few years back, you wouldn't have stayed in this horrible place for this long.

"Is that where you're going to take me today?" You asked gently and Jongin smiled, unable to control himself as he guided a stray strand behind your ear.

"No. I'm taking you somewhere else."

"Where?" You poked his leg, urging him for more information.

All he did was shake his head. "Nope. You'll see."

"What if I don't like surprises?"

"Well, you better learn to," Jongin chuckled, his hand catching yours and intertwining your fingers gently. "Because it's kind of in my blood."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Pretty please~?" You voice was an octave higher, attempting to imitate Mina's voice earlier today as you tried to give Jongin the best pair of puppy eyes you could muster. Jongin chuckled, shaking his head.

"I told you it doesn't work on-"

"Pleaaaa~se?" You grabbed onto his shoulders pulling yourself closer to him, your faces closer. The golden pair of eyes stared at you and you could just look back, mersmerized at the beautiful color, not even realizing you pulled him so close, you were inches apart.

Which also meant you were slightly crouched, leaning closer to him until your bra straps slipped from their place on your shoulders. And seeing as Jongin hasn't redone the clasp yet in waiting for the ointment to dry, you felt the sides split... and the thing just completely fell from your body.

Jongin's eyes deepened to a rich amber before his hands were landing heavily on your hips, bringing you closer until he could kiss your parted lips.

Your sigh and the way your hands fisted in his shirt was the sign for Jongin that it was okay and so with his chest rumbling he pulled you off your bed and into his lap, his lips slanted over yours tightly, stealing your breath from your mouth.

You wriggled slightly, and Jongin couldn't hold in his growl.

"You don't wanna do that."

Your breath hitched at the warning in his tone, but it made you smile. "Then will you tell me where you're taking me?"

Jongin snorted with amusement. "Nice try, baby, but I don't think so."

An idea hit you. It wasn't exactly something you would... typically do, but this was supposed to be your future husband. And you've read books about how open people were supposed to be with each other... So you slipped your hands from their spot and completely rid yourself of the bra still hanging on your arms.

Your face burned at the instant flash of Jongin's eyes downwards. "Still... no?"

Jongin's chest shook, but this time it was with a purr. "Are you tempting me?"

He traced the sides of your breasts with ghosting fingers, making your skin tingle.

You swallowed your embarrassment. "A-are you tempted?"

"I am always tempted when it comes to you." Jongin confessed with a murmur, his arms wrapping arond you to pull you even closer.

"And right now, you are tempting me in a way that the two of us won't go anywhere..." his breath came out in hot whispers, making you shiver all over.

"And that I spread you over this bed and I'll fulfill my husband's duties a little bit early." You gasped when you felt his mouth close around a patch of skin on your neck and his hand slide down to palm your ass with purpose.

You bit your lip, trying not to moan with approval. Because you weren't sure where that would lead.

"Husband duties?"

Jongin hummed, lips moving to another patch with a gentle kiss and a slightly rougher suck. "And I would love to..."

You closed your eyes, hands finding the soft hair on the back of his head, smoothing strands between your fingers.

"But baby... I really want to take you..."

It came out in almost a whine, and you laughed softly. "Okay..."

With one last kiss to his lips, you moved away, putting on your bra and reaching for your shirt. Jongin ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath.

So close...so close to marking his mate, but he couldn't do it. Not yet, anyways. And definitely not in a full convent, when he wants his mate to scream his name on the top of her lungs when she comes. With a growl, Jongin shook his head to dispell all those thoughts, watching you pull on a pair of pants and a sweater. You turned to him with a bright smile.

"And so where are we going?"

"I told you it was a surprise."

"So what do you want me to do..?" you asked suspiciously.

"Trust me."

"Ooh~ Tough task you've given me," you joked.

But from the deep lines that etched Jongin's features, you realized it was in poor taste. He slid off the bed, standing beside the edge, looking absolutely despondent, and you moved to follow instantly. You scooted to him on your knees, reaching for his shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Of course I trust you, Jongin..."

He sighed, but you leaned in to kiss him gently, and he couldn't quite fight that. "Are you sure..?"

You nodded. "Yes. I trust you."

And you did. You were just afraid of what he might have planned, especially given you've never left the orphanage before.

"I'm just... nervous."

"Well, we will have to teleport out of here..."

You gulped, and he saw the fear flash over your face. "I-is that... painful?"

He chuckled. "No, ___. And I promise it'll be worth it."

All you could do was nod. "Okay... L-let's go then..."

Jongin's arms wound around your torso, and he tugged you as close as he could, plastering you to his front.

"Just hold on tight..."

[evansrogerskitten]

What If

Dean x Reader

Dean's been in love with you for months. What will it take for him to admit how he feels?

Warnings: Perfect storm of angst, fluff, smut, and a happy ending. Includes a canon type hunting injury and Dean being adorable. WC: 6050 On AO3 Thanks to my awesome beta @andromytta

This is my first commission for @mrs-meghan-winchester  based on the song What Ifs by Kane Brown. Thanks for trusting me with this, I hope you love it :)

From Dean’s POV

I don’t know when it started.

It wasn’t right away. I mean, when we first met I thought you were really freakin’ hot- all soft skin, and pink lips, and curves in every place I wanted to hold onto. Sam had to smack me so I’d stop staring and that’s when I heard you laugh for the first time. You hadn’t even said a word to me yet and that laugh- fuck, yeah maybe that was it.

Our first hunt together six months ago, the one where you killed the wendigo just moments before it turned Sam and me into Sunday dinner, yeah then I was impressed. You were so pretty but the strength you had to kill the monster all the while getting back up to rescue our dumb asses was just so awesome.

That may have been it. Beauty plus strength plus the laugh. Yeah, that’d do it.

But here we were on another hunt in another small town- northern Colorado this time- and laughing with you made everything worthwhile. Even if I was terrified of losing you.

The diner was noisy for a Wednesday at four-thirty but there was fresh coffee and promise for a good dinner. Sam buried his face in his plastic menu as you burst out laughing again. Sometimes he got kinda sick of us when we were goofing around and laughing. Tough shit.

“You’re ridiculous, Dean,” you giggled, swatting my hand away from the little plastic bin of sugar packets. “And no sugar for you.”

“Alright, you wanna give me some sugar then?” I nudged you, grinning as you laughed even harder. It wasn’t that funny. But sometimes we got in these moods and I could make you laugh for hours. I loved the way your nose would crinkle up at the bridge and tears would spark right at the edge of your lashes as you gasped for air.

Sam smiled sympathetically at the waitress as she came over. “You ready to order?”

“Yeah, I’ll have the greek salad with chicken,” Sam responded, handing her his menu.

I bit my lip as you stifled your laugh. The older woman raised her eyebrows and waited for you.

“Oh ummm, a cheeseburger. With sweet potato fries please.”

I smiled at the waitress. “Same for me please, darlin’. Normal fries though.”

You waited until she walked away before elbowing me. “Flirt.”

“Whatever, she was like sixty.” I scoffed. “Why? You jealous?”

Another exasperated sigh from my brother before I paid him attention. “Sam, your eyes are gonna get stuck in the back of your head if you keep rollin’ them like that.”

Sam ignored me. “Can we please talk about the plan?”

With mention of the hunt, all joking was over for you. There was nothing in the world more serious to you than killing monsters.”Okay, we know which house they’re squatting in. I was able to get a glimpse from the neighbor’s backyard today.”

You pulled a hand drawn sketch out of your jacket pocket and traced a path across the paper with your pointer finger. “We can go through the fence right here, and then they’ll be boxed in. Dean and I can take the back, and Sam you flush them out from the front door.”

Sam nodded, looking over your outline. “Looks like a good plan to me.”

You looked over at me with a small smile expecting my approval. I slung my arm over your shoulders.

“What’d we do without ya, sweetheart?”

You grinned as you folded up the map, sliding it in your pocket before looking up at me. “Dean, at this point you could never live without me.”

Shit. For a second I looked down at your lips, like I had a hundred times, memorizing your mouth all over again. A hundred times I almost leaned all the way in, almost pressed my lips against yours, almost kissed you like you deserved.

But we were in a twenty-four hour diner, with my grouchy brother across the table and the lady waitress refilling our coffee. I cleared my throat and looked away, ignoring the slump in your shoulders as I brought my arm back to my side.

“So, we got a plan. Good.”

There had been six months of that. Six months of lingering hugs and missed kisses and lying to myself, lying to you. I was a fucking coward. I was just so afraid of losing you. What if it all went to shit, and it always did- apocalypse or hell or knife to the chest- what if we found ourselves missing each other when it would’ve been easier if it’d just never been? That’s why I never told you.

We finished up dinner over small talk, and at nightfall we drove out to the house where the monsters were holed up.

“Dumbass werewolves.” I shook my head. Assholes were snatching people walking home from night services at the church down the block. Typical.

I shut off the ignition as I parked the Impala down the block. Turning in my seat, I expected your grin, amped up and ready to kick some ass. But you were looking out the window, your brow scrunched up like you were worrying about something.

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?” I reached over the seat and put my hand on your knee.

Sam’s eyes widened and like an idiot he cleared his throat awkwardly and flung open the door of the car. “I’m gonna get our stuff ready.” Note to self to beat whatever that was out of him later.

Your eyes were soft when you turned to me, something serious churning in your beautiful head. I gulped as your fingers tightened over mine. “Dean, I…”

For a moment, I thought you were going to say what I was absolutely terrified of but was dying inside for. Instead you lied.

“Everything is fine. I’m just not feeling like myself.” You smiled, shaking your head with a little dismissive laugh at yourself, and dropped my hand before reaching for the door handle. “Come on, let’s go kill these sons of bitches.”

It was an awesome fight and you were as amazing as always. First hopping the fence so quick while my old ass lumbered over it like some old age cripple, then barreling into the den and taking out two on your own. You were such a badass. Sometime I wished I could just watch you. Your arms were so graceful as you put all of your momentum into each hit and stab. Strong and beautiful. The monster didn’t even know what hit him as your knife got him perfectly between the shoulderblades.

“That was awesome!” You cheered as we got back to the car. I was glad to see the worry from earlier was gone.

“Hell yeah.” I chuckled. “You were awesome.”

We were both smiling as we cleaned the blood from our knives. Besides some bruises and a small cut on Sam’s cheek, we’d come out of the fight pretty good.

“Look out!” You hollered as you threw a bloody towel at my head. Good, you were laughing again.

I evaded it by inches, laughing as I chased you around the car. “C’mere sweetheart!”

I captured you, my fingers grabbing your waist and corralling you against the side of the car. Your giggles were coupled with these cute little gasps as you fake tried to squirm away from me until you settled against me with wide eyes. Whoa, your face was so close, just inches from mine. You took in this shaky breath and I realized I wasn’t breathing. Moments passed as my eyes memorized every inch of your mouth again, my tongue licking across my own lips unconsciously in preparation. I leaned in and when your eyes met mine I felt like I was going to pass out. Shit, this is it.

“Guys?” Sam yelled from the other side of the house. “Dean?”

“Damnit.” I groaned, rolling away from you.

“Hey, there you are.” Sam walked around the corner from the dark yard. He took in the sight of us, our backs braced against the side of the car and raised his eyebrows. “You guys good?”

“Good!” You announced and shuffled past me. “It’s all good.”

Once you couldn't hear me I glared at Sam.

“Dude!” I growled at Sam. “You dumbass! I was gonna finally kiss her!”

Sam laughed. “About damn time.”

I pulled three beers out of the cooler, tossing cans to you and Sam in celebration. You smiled and leaned against Baby and took a sip, and I nodded at my two girls safe and sound. Hunching down, I started repacking the trunk. Maybe I could talk to you about how I was feeling, maybe it was time. Maybe we had a chance despite all this hell.

Fuck you, Winchester.

I didn’t see any of it until it was too late. Just heard the sounds- the growl, your scream, the thump of your body smacking against the side of the car, and Sam’s yell as he pulled the rogue werewolf off of you and stabbed it in the chest.

Like those damn dramatic movie sequences, my reality slowed down. Seriously not as cool in real life.

I lurched around the car and fell to my knees, pulling you into my arms. Your cries sputtered into these sad whimpers, and then you were half conscious, not responding to me as I shouted your name. As I tried to hold you closer my hand met blood and I started to panic.

“Sam! Door!”

“Oh god.” Sam gasped as he looked down at your bloody torso. He wrenched the backdoor open and helped me slide in, your body bleeding out in my arms.

“No, no. You’re gonna be okay. Stay awake, sweetheart.” I instructed as you fought unconsciousness, your eyes bleary as they met mine before rolling back in your head agan. I held you tight as Sam started the Impala, tires squealing as we left the dead wolves behind. You made this half gurgle, half whimper noise and I felt the tears spring into my eyes. No. NO.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re okay.” I repeated over and over, holding you as tight as I could. “We’re almost there.”

My shirt was warm and wet as I held you against my chest, and I knew you were losing too much blood. “Faster, Sam! I’m gonna lose her.” Your pulse was slowing and my arms starting shaking from panic and adrenaline. This is bad.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re okay.” I repeated over and over. You had to be.

Sam probably set a world record for driving through that damn town so fast, but it was all too long for me. As soon as the Emergency Room attendant saw all the blood they pried you from my arms and lifted you onto a gurney. A security guard pushed us back as we tried to follow. The glass doors closed and we saw a nurse climbed up the side of the rolling gurney. I choked back a sob as I saw them start to perform chest compressions as they moved you down the hall.

I don’t know how long we were there. Seven hours? I convinced them that I was your husband and Sam was your brother, using all of our Smith aliases as proof. That at least kept us in the loop. They’d resuscitated you, miraculously finding you had no major organ damage. At some point Sam went and got me a clean pair of jeans and shirt as your blood had started to crust on my clothes.

“Here’s coffee.”

I took the styrofoam cup from Sam. He settled down next to me on the vinyl couch, clearing his throat as he sat back.

“Sam, question.”

“Shoot.”

“When we got to the house, do you know why she was worrying?” I kept my eyes on the sliding glass doors, willing the doctor to return with good news. “I thought she was gonna cry and then you jumped out of the car.”

“Uhhh…” Sam paused. “She ummmm...she was going to talk to you about you two. How you guys feel.”

I looked over at him in surprise. “What?”

“Yeah, she asked me for advice yesterday. She said that she wanted to talk to you but didn’t know if she should.”

I scoffed as I shook my head. “Well of course she should.”

Sam didn’t reply and I didn’t know what to say next. If you, when you woke up, then I wanted to hear from you, not from my brother.

“Mister Smith?” I jumped to my feet as the doctor came out, Sam right behind me.

“Your wife is stable. We were able to stop the bleeding. It’s a miracle she didn’t have any internal damage but we did have to do some minor surgery, so she has quite a few stitches. Honestly I don’t understand how she didn’t have organ damage, I’ve never seen anyone survive a cougar attack like that.”

“Yeah, it was bad. But she’s okay though?” Well the cougar thing was a lie but as long as you were okay.

“She’s alive. She’s very strong, a real fighter,” The doctor smiled. “She’s sedated but you’re welcome to come see her if you’d like. It’ll probably be a couple hours before she wakes up.”

Sam and I followed close behind as he led us to your room.

“Oh god.” I muttered as the doc slid open the glass door to your little cubicle, revealing you unconscious and pale on the pale blue hospital sheets. The doc left us alone with strict instructions not to wake you.

“Jesus christ, baby.” I stepped up to the bed and took your hand, lifting it carefully. It was cold and I covered it with both of mine, bringing it up to my lips. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Sam went to the other side and took your other hand, squeezing it softly as he avoided the wires on that arm. “Hey. Dean and I are here. We’re not leaving you, so just get better...Oh, and I killed the last werewolf.”

I looked up and glared at him. “Really?”

“What?” He shrugged. “You know that’s the first thing she’d be asking us right now.”

I shook my head to dismiss him. For a few minutes we stood there, staring down at you like you’d wake up and say, Nevermind asshats, I’m fine!

“You okay here for awhile?” Sam asked after a few minutes as he set your wrist on the bed next to your hip. “I’ll give you guys some time.”

I nodded. As he reached the door I stopped him. “What if I screwed up, Sam? What if...I lost all that time with her…”

Sam set his hand on my shoulder and smiled as he looked down at you lying in the hospital bed. He was far too calm. “It’s not too late, Dean. She’s alive. You can still tell her.”

I nodded, swallowing as my throat threatening to close up. I pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down, taking a deep breath as tears slowly fell down my face now that we were alone.

“Fuck.” I cried, my forehead resting on our joined hands as all the stress and worry came pouring out. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

I should’ve told you before but I didn’t have words. Here I’d been in love with you- fucking head over heels absolutely terrified completely in love with you- and I missed my shot. I let you think you weren’t anything when you were everything.

“Sweetheart,” I started. “I’m gonna keep saying I’m sorry cuz I am. I know you wouldn’t want to hear it a bunch of times but get used to it.” I smiled, watching your face for a smirk and a roll of your eyes.

“Sam...I...Sam told me months ago that I should tell you how I feel. And I didn’t cuz, well you know our lives. What if I messed this up? What if we fell for each other, and then we lost each other? What if it all went bad like it always does?”

I paused, wishing you would wake up. I had to whisper around the lump in my throat. “What if you are the best thing to ever happen to me and I never told you that I love you?”

You didn’t respond so I took a few deep breaths. “Fuck, I’m such a mess.”

My thumb moved over the smooth skin on the top of your hand and I listened to the beeps of your heart monitor. It must’ve been fifteen minutes before I spoke again.

“The first time I heard you laugh, it felt like my world opened up. My life is always these black nights and fucking monsters and blood and gore. But you, you being with us, even as just my friend, you’ve made my life liveable. Your laugh…” I smiled and looked up. You eyelids were fluttering and your breathing was steadier.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” I stood up, holding your hand between mine as I looked at your face. After no response I continued. “I...I should've told you so long ago how I felt. Remember that time in Oregon? How we played pool for hours and then all the whiskey shots and you were dancing all around...God, I wanted you so bad that night. Or after the vamp fight in Missouri? When you caught me changing clothes half naked and well, it should’ve been awkward but it wasn’t and I really really wanted you to stay.”

You didn’t respond but I kept talking, telling you every time I regretted missing my chance. “Oklahoma City, when we were sitting on Baby’s hood and drinkin’ beers out in that wheat field. I thought you scooted closer to me on purpose. I should’ve kissed you cuz that sunset was perfect.”

I took another deep breath, running my fingertip along the small pale scar on your jaw that you got from a pissed off spirit. “All those nights in the bunker, with your long sweaters and your short shorts…twice I actually went to your room at night. Twice I almost knocked. You walking around all naked legs just drives me crazy, sweetheart.”

Your lashes were still wiggling, so I continue my confessions. “When you fell asleep in the library, Sam was gonna wake you to tell you to go to bed but I told him no. I wanted to have an excuse to carry you. To hold you against me like that. I remember your arms tightened around my neck and you said Dean all soft and sweet. It took all my self control not to climb into bed and just hold you all night.”

“Oh, the roller skate rink in Wisconsin! When you were undercover, skating around and showin’ off and you bit it and scratched up your knee,” I started laughing. “You were embarrassed and played it off tough, but you pouted a little when I was helping you clean up your knee. And well, it was adorable.”

“Hunting, of course you’re a fucking ninja. You just amaze me. I’m not lying when I say that besides Sam and I, you’re the best there is. I mean, who else could do some kind of crazy yoga twist bullshit and take two vamps heads at once? Only my girl.” I smiled and looked down at the bed.

“When you’d talk about your parents dying, or when you’d comfort the families of people we couldn’t save…” I nodded. “You use your grief for good. Which is a weird way to compliment someone I guess. Except I know how hard it is to deal with all of that, so it’s good that you don’t keep it inside like I do. I admire that.”

I slumped back down into the chair, my own exhaustion creeping up on me. “The little things, like you always remember the pie, and you’re careful not to scuff up the car. You help Sam with stuff, like you always remember the right kind of coffee he wants and his damn rabbit food. You keep us sane. When we’re home and I hear you laugh all the way down the hallways...it’s like...it’s like I miss you when we’re in different rooms.”

“Baby, I just...all this time...what if I was made for you and you were made for me? Fuck that might sound cheesy, but what if this is it? Like we should’ve been together all along?”

Fluttering eyelids continued to be my only response so I scooted the chair forward and rested my arm on the bed, setting my head down but still gripping your hand tight. I found the heartbeat in your wrist, and just focused on you still being alive as my eyes closed.

I woke to fingers softly running through my hair. It took me a few seconds to remember where I was as I opened my eyes. You’d sat up partially, one hand resting on the back on my scalp while your other hand was still tight in mine.

“You’re awake?” I sat up straight, grimacing as the quick motion tweaked a crick in my neck. “Ow. How long have you been awake?”

“A few minutes.” You said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine! How are you?” I leapt to my feet. “Lemme get the nurse.”

“Dean, it’s okay,” You gripped my hand. “I’m alright.”

“Really?” I took a chance and brushed your hair away from you face. “Werewolf got ya.”

My breath caught in my throat when your cheek moved into my hand. “But you saved me though.”

“Guess it was my turn.” I grinned.

You smiled and nodded, before looking down at your lap.

“What?” Please talk to me.

“Dean, I...yesterday I wanted to tell you how I felt and then I thought we could talk after and then the damn werewolf and now this…” You looked around the hospital room before looking up at me. “I thought that I’d have time and then I didn’t and I just kept thinking what if…”

You were too cute when you were babbling. Words weren’t enough now.

You made this cute little sigh as my lips pressed against yours, a hand reaching out for my collar to pull me closer. I put everything into that kiss. Every word I’d never said, every touch I’d kept to myself, every other kiss I’d dreamt about. Your lips moved against mine, soft and warm, letting me lead you slow until I pulled away for a moment. Your eyes looked into mine, and I smiled.

“What if that’s our last first kiss?”

You smiled and little tears of happiness flooded your eyes as you nodded. I wrapped my arms around you and pulled you tight against me so I could kiss you like I’d always wanted to. Apparently I liked chick flick moments after all.

You were smiling as we parted.

“What?” I asked.

“Thank you.”

I smiled and kissed you again before standing up straight. “I’ll see if we can get the doc in here so I can take you home.”

I was halfway out the door when you called out to me.

“Dean, tell Sam I say thanks. Oh, and one other thing…”

I rested my hand on the doorway and waited with a smile.

“I wasn’t pouting at the roller rink in Wisconsin, it was just really strong disinfectant.”

I nodded, chuckling as I turned away.

“Wait.” I took a few steps backward to see you giggling. “Were you awake that whole time?”

“No, in and out.” You smiled, resting your head back on the pillow. “But it was the best dream I’ve ever had.”

I stepped back into the room to kiss you again, this time your hands resting on my face. “You’re gonna turn me into a sap.”

“Ha! Too late!”

I left the room with the biggest smile on my face, ready to find the doc and get you home.

Four days later we rolled into the bunker’s garage. I wanted to take it easy getting back even though you said you were fine curled up in the backset, wrapped in the blankets we took from the motel. You needed time to heal. And I’d waited this long for you, I’d wait as long as it took before you were finally mine.

Sam and I went on only one hunt in the next three weeks. I wanted to be home if you needed me. I knew you were going stir crazy being in the bunker but there was no way in hell you were going hunting until six weeks had passed, doc’s orders.

The letters on the webpage in front of me had started to swarm and I sat back from the table. Sam was on a case with Jody, and I’d agreed to do some research for them since I insisted on staying home with you. Yeah, you were almost better. But I also didn’t want to be away from you.

“Hey.” You smiled as you walked into the library. I groaned inwardly at the sight of your gorgeous legs in those short shorts. My mind immediately went to my fantasy of those strong thighs around my ears until I realized I was staring.

“Hey sweetheart.” I shut my laptop and smiled. “What’s up?”

You sat on the edge of the table next to me and took my outstretched hand with a smile.

“Ummm...okay. So Dean, I…” You finally met my eyes and I realized it wasn’t all nerves. “We’ve been home for weeks and I know you’ve been letting me heal. But all you’ve done is kiss me the whole time and I…”

My shoulders slumped as I realized I’d disappointed you. Here I confess my love and then you think I don’t want you? Nuh uh, baby, never farther from the truth.

“I just wanted you to heal before I made a move.” I confirmed, pulling you closer to me. “Trust me, I very much still want you. So much.”

You bit your lip and I groaned audibly this time as you looked down at me with those beautiful eyes, dark with decision and desire. You paused before those soft naked legs straddled my thighs. I set my hands on your waist and kissed your neck a few times, reveling in your short little tugs on the hair at the back of my head.

“Are you sure?” I asked. Suddenly I realized that yes, I was worried about hurting you but I was also a little bit scared. This was it. And fuck, it was gonna be amazing.

“More than anything.” You nodded, your eyes bright and clear as they looked into mine. “I want you, Dean.”

Oh god yes. I pulled you tight against my chest as I kissed you, aggressive and thorough like I’d been dying for. Yeah we’d been making out since the hospital but I’d held back. Nope, no more of that.

I groaned as you rocked your hips forward, my dick growing harder with each gasp you made against my lips. I nuzzled my head into your hair, smelling your shampoo, and sweat, and the intoxication that was quite possibly going to kill me. Your lips moving down my neck made little kissing and sucking noises and I grew impatient with the sweater in my way.

“Too many clothes,” I grumbled, prompting you to giggle as you leaned back and pulled the sweater over your head.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” I said in awe as I moved my hands up your ribcage and over your bare breasts. You moaned as my palms covered your nipples and I looked up in amazement. I needed to hear that sound again. And then again and again, as much as possible.

“You’re wearing too many clothes too.” You frowned in the most adorable way. My hands left your body to pull my black t-shirt over my head. I chuckled and lifted you up onto the table, pulling the little short shorts down so you were bare.

My lips met yours again as your naked hips pushed up against mine. I had you naked. Finally. Fuck, if we were gonna do this, I was gonna do it right.

You gasped as I settled you on your back, my lips and fingers discovering your skin as I moved down. I quickly learned which combination of suck and bite on your nipples got you to make that beautiful moan again.

“Dean.” You moaned, and damn that made my cock so hard. Thank god for the acoustics in the Letters library cuz I loved that noise in surround sound.

“You’re so soft, baby.” I earned a few more moans before I kissed down your stomach, smiling when light kisses to your ribs made you giggle. I kissed the tender pink scars across your skin, squeezing your hip when you tensed up. “Just relax.”

You hummed in agreement and closed your eyes, your legs parting so I could lean down between them. I kissed your knees, getting another little giggle. Sighs of satisfaction as I kissed your inner thighs, taking my time to get to the good part. Your eyes were open when I looked up.

“You’re so beautiful.” I said before tentatively licking your folds. Slowly I moved my tongue, learning what twist of my tongue or suck of my lips got reactions. Each of your moans got louder as my tongue got more aggressive, and I pulled your hips forward. This was finally happening and I was going to rock your world.

“Oh fuck!” You cursed, your hands grabbing the edge of the table. “Dean, yesssss!”

I found just the right rhythm as my fingers joined my tongue, and I groaned as I appreciated your body, your back arching over the wood as my lips went back to sucking your clit. I smiled as your gasps turned to long drawn out moans. Seeing you like this, right on the cusp on orgasm, right where I had always wanted you for me- well, you looked a million times better than I ever imagined.

“Come on, sweetheart.” I encouraged, my tongue circling your clit as you reached that edge. I could feel you clenching around my fingers and I groaned. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You gasped and grabbed the hair at the top of my head, and I moaned my approval as you steered me back in place. A minute later you were shaking on that table, an orgasm rushing through you, your pussy seemingly in love with me now as well.

“Holy shit!” You shouted as your hand came up to brush your hair out of you face.

I snickered and stood up, taking your hands to pull you up against me. You moaned as you tasted yourself on me, and we got momentarily distracted by deep kisses and lingering hands. You smiled and pulled away when I rutted up against your thigh. God, I needed to feel you.

“Your turn?” You smiled, moving your hands down my chest.

I grinned. “Baby, as much as I want that right now, I need something else more. Like now.”

You shrieked as I scooped you up, careful with your tender injury as I carried you down the hall to my bedroom. Your lips never left my neck as you spoiled me with kisses.

When we got to my room I set you carefully on the mattress. You watched with wide eyes as I pushed down my sweats.

“You’re looking at me like I’m fresh meat.” I laughed, setting my knees on the bed and crawling over you.

You laughed and nodded before this breathless sex goddess voice replied, “Well, I am hungry.”

Neither of us could keep our composure after a few seconds and we both burst out laughing, the joyful sounds ending as our deep kisses returned. Damn. Just damn.

“How did I get so lucky that you’re mine?’ I whispered as I kissed down your neck.

Your fingers curled around the back of my neck and you took a deep breath. “Maybe I was made for you and you were made for me.”

I looked up at your face then, seeing all the love, the words, the moments, and the need we’d been holding onto for all that time.

“I love you. Like more than even makes sense to me, sweetheart.”

You nodded and smiled. “I love you too, Dean. Much more than I can say.”

I always thought it was super cheesy when in the movies or TV people would say that ‘oh, they made love.’ That was always kinda dumb to me. Until that night.

I thought I was going to cry as I slid deep inside of you, both of us groaning for a moment as we just felt each other. Fuck it was too beautiful. That want that had building up for so long was overwhelming. I held you tight against me as I pulled almost all the way out, both of us groaning louder as I pushed back into your warm, strong heat again. I could feel you clenching around me on the third thrust and I gasped, my mind an endless stream of ohfuckthisisgoodohfuckgodbabyyes as your hips raised up to meet mine.

I met your eyes as I felt you start to lose it, your nails digging in my shoulders. Kisses faltered to just lips on skin, and whispers of I love you. My hip twitched randomly and I felt my body giving way for you, like it’d follow you anywhere you wanted.

“Dean!” You cried out and I watched your face in awe as the orgasm erupted inside you. You’d never been more beautiful to me. Your moans reached something deep in me and I groaned, thrusting into you harder and harder until I came, white stars in front of my eyes as my body trembled over yours. I heard you gasp, groan my name and I muttered, “Oh god, yes yes baby, yes,” as I finished.

I have no idea how long I was laying on top of you, all hormone drunk and jello limbs. My lips found yours and I thanked you, a long kiss saying everything I should've before. Now you knew. And you loved me too.

I rolled you with me as I settled my back on the mattress, not wanting you farther away from me if I couldn’t be inside you for the time being. I listened to your breathing calm as I played with a strand of your hair. Closing my eyes, I smiled as your fingers meandered across my chest, resting over my heart.

“Dean?’

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“What now?”

I smiled and kissed your nose, looking into those eyes now bright with hope for our future.

“Now we do our thing. Be together. Hunt. Have amazing sex.”

You responded with a giggle and an affirmative “Hell yeah.”

I took a deep breath and paused for a moment, before tightening my grip on your arm.

“And maybe, well maybe one of these days I'll go and change your name.”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking down at me with a grin before bursting out laughing. “Oh my god, you are such a sap.”

“What? Don’t you wanna be a Winchester?” I teased. There was that perfect laugh in response.

“I want to be yours.” You smiled, leaning down and pressing your lips to mine.

“Well good thing that you already are.” I replied softly.

I gazed at the bunker ceiling as you settled against my chest with a happy sigh. There wasn’t any question. You were everything. My laughter, my ninja, my strength. And now we both knew this was it and that we were meant to be.

I chuckled as I thought about what an idiot I’d been.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking, what if it all worked out after all.”

The room was quiet for a minute before you spoke.

“You’re so mushy, Winchester.”

“Oh that’s it!” My fingers went for your good side, your giggles music to my ears. We spent the rest of the evening in bed laughing, kissing, and making up for lost time.

Thanks for all the lovely feedback Click here if you need more Dean

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[phobiadeficient]

tender and soft sniperscout :3?

bro it’s goopy hours out here now

-

“Shouldn’t we put more, uh, wood on that or something?” Scout asked, plopping down next to Sniper and staring into the fire, having changed into his pajamas.

“Nah. Ought to put it out soon anyways, take care not to start a fire. Why, are you cold?” he asked, looking over at Scout with worry furrowing his eyebrows.

“A little,” Scout admitted, hugging around his knees. “I‘ll be fine when we get to bed, though.”

“Forgot to break the news about that, s’well,” Sniper said solemnly, leveling a look at Scout. “I’m afraid we’ve made a mistake, love.”

“Huh?” Scout asked, frowning now.

Sniper tsk’d. “Only gone and packed one sleeping bag,” he said seriously, slid an arm in around Scout’s waist, mouth ticking up at one corner a bit as he failed to keep it together through the punchline. “Suppose we’ll have no choice but to share.”

“You’re such a freakin’ dork, Snipes,” Scout laughed, nudging him teasingly before settling in against his side. “I dunno. Kinda nice just sittin’ out here, though. Kinda feels like I could just keep pokin’ the fire all night. You ever have a campfire and just kinda go, man, maybe Mumbles has a point, this kicks ass.”

“Mm,” Sniper agreed. “Maybe you can come out on walkabout with me more often from now on?”

“Yeah, sure. Just as long as we don’t, like… I dunno. Have a snake show up in our sleeping bag.” Scout pressed his chilly nose in against Sniper’s neck. “Hey, if I got bit by a big poisonous snake or somethin’, would you do the thing in the movie where you sucked the venom out?”

“Firsts off, venomous, not poisonous, although it’d probably be both,” Sniper said, shaking his head a little at Scout’s antics. “Second, no, because that’s just a movie thing, love. That doesn’t work in real life. I do have some anti-venoms on hand when I go camping out down this way, though, if you manage to see what sort of snake it is. Will you believe anything you see on the telly?”

“Nah, I just… shuttup,” he mumbled, and Sniper chuckled again.

“Bed?” he suggested.

“Bed,” Scout agreed.

Sniper put out the fire, and by the time he got into the tent with Scout, he was already setting up where they’d be sleeping.

“You fuckin’ liar, we do too have two sleeping bags,” he said, the first already unzipped and laid out on the ground, fighting with the zipper on the second to use it as a blanket.

“Three, technically, in case one of the first gets damaged or it… gets extra cold, or the ground’s hard, anythin’,” Sniper replied, zipping the door closed securely behind them. “I think she’ll be right, though.”

“I’m serious though, if there’s a snake or whatever we’re just—“ Scout finally got the bag unzipped and laid down, pulling it over himself as a blanket. “—we’re just gonna drive straight back to civilization and stay in one’a those fancy future hotels back in wherever the fuck.”

“It’s not a future hotel, it’s a regular hotel,” Sniper said, quickly and efficiently shucking down to his boxers and lying down with him. “You lot are living in the past, far as Australia’s concerned. And we’ll be in a hotel towards the end of our trip regardless.”

“Cool. I wanna see future hotels,” Scout said firmly. “And to sleep in a real big bed, and you guys have those massive TVs over here, right? With the billion channels that suck as much as all the channels we’ve already got? I wanna sleep in a room like that.”

“Honeymoon sweet?” Sniper teased.

“Why, are you marryin’ me, Mickey Mundy?” Scout teased right back, rolling in towards him and moving to straddle his hips, propped up over him, barely visible in the dimness of the tent except where his tags and his eyes and his teeth shone.

“Might think about it,” he teased right back, tracing circles into his hips, thumbs dipping below his waistband. “You wanna be Jeremy Mundy?”

Scout shifted into the touch, clearly pleased, even as he rolled his eyes. “Like I’d take your last name and you wouldn’t take mine,” he scoffed.

Sniper laughed right back. “Oh, is that how it is?”

“Or, hey, technically we could just both get a new cool last name,” he suggested. “How about, uh… Mickey and Jeremy, uh… Coolmen.”

Another laugh. “Coolmen?”

“Mickey and Jeremy Greatguys. Mickey and Jeremy Not-A-Killer. Mickey and Jeremy Law-Abiding-Citizens.”

“Can you hyphenate a name like that?”

“I dunno,” Scout admitted, laughing a little himself. “Uh… Mickey and Jeremy Jones, then we lie and say we’re related to Tom Jones and write a book and make a billion dollars.” He grinned as Sniper laughed hard enough to shift how he was sat, and spoke again when he settled down a little. “Hey, what if we just switch? Just trade?”

“Love, this is a lot of talk about getting married considering nobody’s gone and proposed, and you’ve never met my parents, and I’ve only even met your mum once over dinner when we stopped over in Boston on a connecting flight,” he pointed out.

Scout ducked his head a little, fiddling with Sniper’s chest hair idly. “So it’s not off the table?” he asked quietly.

Sniper fought down a dopey grin. “If my dad only despises you the regular amount that he despises everyone, we’ll think about it. Since we’ve only got one dad between us and someone needs to be walked down the aisle,” he pointed out.

Scout nodded at that, seemed distracted. Then he was leaning down, nuzzling in against Sniper’s shoulder. “I love you,” he mumbled, still as embarrassed to say it so seriously the thousandth time as he’d been the first.

“Love you too,” Sniper replied softly, turned his head to place a kiss against Scout’s hair.

Quiet for a few moments, stillness except for their breathing, silence but for the sound of Scout gently kissing at Sniper’s bare shoulder and nature, out beyond the walls of the tent.

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” Scout seemed to decide, hands drawing down along his bare arms to emphasize.

Sniper smiled a little at his fretting, and moved to push Scout’s shoulders up, following him into a sitting position so he could better reach Scout’s ear. He leaned in to murmur into it. “Then keep me warm,” he said simply, arms curling in around Scout’s waist to gather him close, and Scout’s breath hitched so very slightly, and then Scout kissed him.

The first time the two of them had sex, it was practically a frantic thing. Sniper hadn’t taken a partner in years, and Scout hadn’t slept with anyone in months, so they were both a bit pent up in that department. And besides that, confessions had been rushed and fearful, and the adrenaline and relief made a dangerous cocktail that had both of them pushing and pulling and kissing and biting and giving and trying to wring sounds of pleasure out of each other as much as they could, each convinced that the other would wake up and realize the mistake they were making at any moment.

The franticness was gone, so long later, months and years later, and was replaced by steadiness, familiarity. More than anything else, love.

Sniper kissed his way along the familiar path of Scout’s freckles across his shoulders and chest, unable to see them in the darkness but remembering where they were anyways. He kneaded his thumbs over that little place just towards the inside and a little above Scout’s knee the way that he liked, and was rewarded with Scout gasping against him, arching and moving in a way that had a Sniper’s body growing hotter.

He knew Scout was ready when he moved to wipe his fingers off on Sniper’s boxers over his thigh, and he laughed a little at it. Their communication was wordless and flawless, Sniper giving him a simple push on one hip as a signal to turn around, and he did, Sniper shimmying out of his boxers in the interim.

He was careful in sliding on a condom and lubing himself up in the darkness, careful not to drip onto the sleeping bag, and then he was pulling Scout against himself, Scout’s back against his chest, and then Scout was sinking down with the help of powerful legs, and then they were moving.

It was a push and pull, a give and take, and their movements were slow and meandering, allowing themselves to just enjoy the pleasure, the gentleness of it. Sniper hummed against Scout’s shoulderblade, pleased with the heat, the pressure, and very much enjoying taking the scenic route.

Scout had one hand anchored against his own thigh and the other in his hair, knowing better than to touch himself and to rush this along. They’d both been pleased to find that they had a very nice time taking things slow like this, drawing out their need and desire until it left them both loose and sleepy with relaxation rather than exhaustion, warm and satisfied instead of just sweaty and messy. Although they certainly enjoyed the other way too, high-energy and fast and bone-deep satisfying, pushing to the limit just to hold there, letting their emotions get away from them following the adrenaline rush associated with their occupations.

They didn’t always have time for slow. Sniper loved when they did.

He loved Scout, every inch of him, inside and out, sometimes in multiple senses of the word.

He let his fingertips trace patterns across Scout’s abdomen, raising goosebumps on his skin in lovely contrast to the heat between their bodies. He traced along the line of his sternum, his pectorals, his ribcage (too defined, he’d say to Scout, brows furrowed as the smaller man stepped out of the shower, was he getting enough to eat, followed by Sniper laughing a little at himself and realizing he sounded like his mother). He found himself wanting to hear Scout making more noise, now that they were out in the middle of nowhere with nobody to hear them, and he momentarily drifted to tweak and play with one of Scout’s nipples, chuckling at the way his back arched away even as his body arched in closer.

The rhythm of them wasn’t much of anything steady at all, more their lingering together for as long as they could handle before getting lost in it. Long rolls and gentle rocks, mostly, Scout preferring to keep Sniper sheathed in deep, for the closeness or for the pleasure, Sniper didn’t know, didn’t know if it mattered.

There were no clocks around them, none visible at the very least, and to Sniper it felt like hours, hours of his hands tracing along familiar paths, hours of Scout gently rocking and himself trying to roll into his motions as best as he could manage when so distracted. He would’ve only been slightly surprised had the tent begun lightening with approaching sunrise, to find out that they’d spent all night together, enjoying each other’s company on such a primal level.

He found himself reaching the edge first, as he often did when they lingered this way. Scout reached back to tangle a hand in his hair encouragingly, starting into a more steady movement, and he spilled with a gasping sort of groan, some sort of nonsense spilling between his lips as he rocked a final few times, and then he was spent.

He drifted a hand down Scout’s stomach. “You ready to be done here, love?” he asked, voice weak and gravelly.

“Yeah,” Scout breathed, and choked a little as Sniper took hold of him.

He slipped out before Scout was finished, and was pleased at the sounds he made when he finally did, spilling into his hand with loving gibberish that had Sniper chuckling, sucking a mark into his shoulderblade to be found in the morning. Then he was mopping his hand off on what he was fairly sure was Scout’s shirt from the prior day, and tying off the condom to properly get rid of later, and then he was cuddled in against Scout, kissing across his sleepy face for as long as Scout would let him before grumbling that yes he loved Sniper too but also he wanted to go to sleep.

He allowed it for much longer than usual before turning away to bury his face in Sniper’s neck. And he expected to be teased and called a sap, to be told he could kiss Scout’s face as much as he wanted in the morning—after brushing his teeth—but Scout didn’t.

“I think I’d like being Jeremy Mundy,” he said instead, mumbly in his drowsiness.

And Sniper smiled. “I’d like it too,” he said, and Scout started snoring a moment later. He was worried a bit, not sure if he’d been heard, but hey. He’d have plenty of time to say it again later.

[thetuningofviolins]

By the Time || Promptis Fanweek Day 3 || “Late Night Talk”

rating: g

word count: 795

note: This is a sort of companion piece to @trenya‘s day 3; same idea, but in reverse. :D

Prompto wakes up to Noctis tossing his head, breathing sharply like something’s caught in his throat.

Disoriented, he pushes himself up onto one hand, taking a moment to register the room and let reality seep back in on itself— right. The Leville. The still-clinging heat in the air should have given it away immediately. And in the other bed (frankly, they’d usually be in the same one, but they’d agreed it was too damn hot)— he looks over in time to see Noct roll away from him and curl in on himself, before snapping back in the other direction. His face looks pained, terrified, and Prompto’s heart breaks for it. What sort of nightmare is he having that’s making him make such an awful face…?

(He… has a couple of guesses, though.)

Prompto shuffles his blankets aside, rolling off his bed, onto his feet, and back down to sit on the other bed in one smooth motion. “Noct,” he says gently, leaning over to brush a hand over his forehead, pushing back through his hair, “Hey. Wake up, Noct—“ (Suddenly, he feels a little guilty for not just being here with him in the first place.)

Noctis startles awake with a gasp, shooting up onto his hands, unintentionally knocking Prompto’s hand away— he looks around for a moment, a little wildly. Prompto swallows hard, before trying again— this time placing one hand on Noctis’ arm, the other resting on his back, just a simple, steady touch.

“…Noct. It’s me. I’m right here— we’re in Lestallum. Remember?”

He feels Noctis take a few heavy breaths, before something inside him shudders up his spine, and he curls down a little bit. “…Prompto?”

“Right here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

They move in pure instinct; Prompto shuffles himself down into the bed so that he’s lying down, propped up on the pillows, and Noctis turns over, more or less lying completely on top of him, burying his face in the crook of the other boy’s neck. His arms loop under Prompto’s, his hands slide up his back; Prompto wraps his arms around Noctis’ shoulders, one hand moving to the base of his neck.

Noctis shudders again, breath catching, hot tears rolling off his cheeks onto Prompto’s skin; Prompto holds him closer, heart aching terribly in his chest. This is all he can do… and it doesn’t feel like enough.

“…How bad was it?” he asks softly, hand moving up to stroke his hair.

“…Bad. It was… dark.” Noctis sniffles, and shakes his head, burrowing in closer yet. “No, it was too bright. I don’t know.”

Prompto gently hushes him, completely unable to stop himself from pressing a soft kiss into his hair. It’s too intimate, he knows it is, but he just… needs to. Something comforting, anything comforting. Thankfully… it seems to do its job; Noctis lets out a little breath, sinks down a little, muscles loosening slightly. “Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, cautiously— he can tell Noct is close to clamming up entirely (and if he’s doing so with Prompto, it had to have been bad), so he treads carefully, offering, not demanding.

A heavy, shaky sigh is the only response he gets at first— it’s quiet for long enough that Prompto starts to think that Noctis had fallen asleep again, until he starts quietly talking. “Can’t remember it all now… there was someone… then everybody… then no one. I think I hurt someone. And then nothing.” He huffs sharply, nudging up against Prompto’s neck (and Prompto hates that even now, like this, that sensation sends a thrill down his spine). “I don’t know. Can’t remember. Sorry.”

Letting out a soft, disbelieving little breath of laughter, Prompto shakes his head, rubbing between his shoulderblades as he says, “Noct— geez. Don’t apologize. That’s just what nightmares are like.” (He almost adds, “I’d know, too,” but deems it unnecessary.)

Noctis nods his understanding, taking a slow breath, and sinking into the other boy fully as he releases it. Another slow moment passes, and Prompto can sense that he’s starting to drowse again. “…Stay here?” he murmurs, voice made low and soft by his exhaustion— and maybe just a note of gratefulness.

Prompto smiles, tenderly, giving Noctis’ hair another light stroke. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A few quiet minutes go by, the prince’s breath slowly evening out and deepening again, warm against Prompto’s skin even in the still-balmy night air of Lestallum. He feels like he’s about to doze off again himself, the two of them comfortably cocooned together in the blankets— which is why it feels safe to lean down just a little, lips to Noctis’ ear, whispering, “You know I’m never gonna leave you, right?”

To his surprise, Noctis nods a little again. “…Me either.”

[ksjknj]

25 namkook htx you i ow e u me lif

pls still love me even tho this is super late and probably shit

namkook +25. My nightmares are usually about losing you

tw: nightmares, drunk kiss(es)

Jeongguk was just a kid when the nightmares first started.

Just a small kid with big eyes and wild imagination, dreaming about colourful monsters living in his closet, real big and scary in the silence of his dark room, seemingly the scariest thing in his tiny head.

They got bad maybe once every few months, mild enough to forget about them once he woke up, rare enough for his parents not to notice.

He still remembers the monsters that used to haunt him, but they seem like nothing in comparison to the demons he has to fight now.

Not that often, not anymore, but whenever it happens it’s bad enough to wake him up, haunt him for hours afterwards, even in broad daylight.

It doesn’t happen often anymore, but whenever it does it’s about Namjoon.

Byulyi’s flat is pitch black when he opens his eyes, erratic breath fanning over his chapped lips. Sweat soaked bangs are sticking to his forehead in that nasty way, oversized shirt damp around his armpits and on his low back, glued to his skin. His mouth tastes like shit, remains of vodka still clinging to his teeth, tongue dry like sandpaper.

The body on the couch above him stirs, the blanket slowly falling from its shoulders.

Jeongguk stills, mouth falling shut as he presses a hand over his sweaty face, trying his hardest to keep quiet.

His breath is loud in his ears, chest tight with how fast his heart is beating. He can feel it in his throat, swallows dryly as he blinks in attempt to get rid of the white spots in his vision.

It’s silent for a while, weak moonlight coming through the windows shining onto the unmoving form, bright enough for Jeongguk to make out the line of wide shoulders.

Just as he sits up, Namjoon groans. Groans too loud to be asleep. Rolls over and slowly cranes his neck to look at Jeongguk, eyes glistening in the white light.

They stare at each other, unblinking. Jeongguk can’t look away, not when Namjoon’s eyes are so wide and bright, so alive in the comparison to the nightmare he’s just had.

Namjoon groans again as he rubs at his face, almost falls off the couch when sitting up. He mumbles something under his breath, low and quick and too soft for Jeongguk to hear, then reaches forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

Jeongguk’s mind is still spinning, eyes uselessly focused on Namjoon’s lips, fingers tugging at the loose fabric of his torn shirt.

Namjoon’s cold body lying on the beach still vivid in his head, his face so pale in contrast to the gold sand. Waves washing onto the shore hitting his face, his eyes, running into his mouth and nose.

All so real and vivid it almost brings tears to his eyes. His chest only tightens more with Namjoon’s face right in front of his, oddly blue in the middle of the night with no real light source around them.

Makes him want to reach out, touch his face, find his pulse. Make sure he’s still breathing, still alive, still there.

The horrible fear from the dream still lasting, won’t leave him alone. Keeps him in that odd cloud high above everything, almost as if he’s looking at himself from the outside.

That heavy feeling so strong in his stomach it makes him nauseous.

“Hey,” comes then, barely a whisper. Namjoon’s hand on his shoulder moves, rubs soothing circles if a little clumsy. Heavy with reassurement and care, helps to ground him. “Hey,” Namjoon repeats, this time a little louder, his voice all raspy and deep.

Jeongguk thinks it’s a nice voice. “Guk, you okay?”

He takes a deep breath and jerks a nod, looks at his lap while doing so.

Aside from the soft snoring coming from Byulyi’s room, the apartment is quiet, wrapped into that night calm. Jeongguk can’t help but focus on his quick breathing, Namjoon’s calm one.

“Fine,” he mumbles eventually, nodding again. The reassuring rubbing doesn’t stop, only travels to his back, smoothing the line in between his shoulderblades, moving to the back of his neck.

He shivers when Namjoon’s rough fingertips brush against the short hairs there, hums when fingers bury into his hair and scratch at his scalp in that familiar way.

Always has been like this, ever since they met. Comfortable, simple. Despite him being the youngest of the group, despite three whole years separating the two of them.

Jeongguk has always felt safe in Namjoon’s embrace, always welcomed and loved.

But now he’s making Namjoon worry, and that’s never been his intention. “Just a nightmare,” he says into the silence, automatically tilting his head to the side. “S’fine, hyung. Go back to sleep.”

It gets him a hum, but Namjoon doesn’t attempt to pull back. Keeps running his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, gentle and careful, as he always is. Eventually, he leans closer, close enough for Jeongguk to smell the alcohol on his breath, along with something obnoxiously sweet. Traces of cologne still cling to his skin, irritating on the nose but reassuringly familiar at the same time.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, words slightly slurred and soft at the edges, but it makes sense because it’s the middle of the night.

It’s the middle of the night and Jeongguk is keeping Namjoon from getting his much needed sleep.

He shakes his head, sleep heavy in his bones yet again, muscles exhausted and ready to pass out.

“Nah, it’s good,” he says, but keeps staring at Namjoon’s eyes, bright in the odd light. Mesmerising almost, but Jeongguk is too tired to think about it.

Fingers in his hair still, eventually being pulled back.

“Want water?”

“Hyung, you don’t have to.”

“Do you?”

And he finds himself saying yes, yes I do, because his mouth is dry and his throat even more so. Finds his chest growing warm with the fondness and care in Namjoon’s voice, lips quirking upwards at the small gesture.

He lays back down and closes his eyes when Namjoon turns on the flashlight on his phone, too bright and blue in the darkness of the room. He pulls the covers over his shoulders, now shivering in the damp shirt clinging to his skin, beads of sweat cold on his temples.

“Here,” Namjoon says once he gets back, Jeongguk blinking open to look at him. His face is glowing in the fabricated light, dimple deep and visible even this early in the morning. He sits up with some help from Namjoon, chugs down the entire glass, then drops face first into the pillow.

Namjoon stifles a laugh behind his hand, eyes glistening with amusement.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk mutters as he rearranges the pillow under his head, trying to make out Namjoon’s face in the blackness.

It doesn’t work.

His breathing is still erratic, heart beating like crazy. That ill feeling still heavy and persistent in his bones, impossible to shake off.

There’s rustling coming from the couch above him, but Jeongguk focuses on Namjoon’s breathing instead - deep and even and slow, tries to breathe in sync with him.

It helps, even intervals calming him down, lulling him to sleep. Exhaustion slowly tugs him under, deeper and deeper until all he can make out is faint noise in the background, soft fingers in his hair.

The line between dreams and reality is smudging, and he can feel himself drooling on the pillow, all cold and sticky.

“What was it about?” comes from somewhere far away, but so close at the same time.

He can’t open his eyes, just shrugs and rubs his cheek against the soft fabric, exhaling deep and loud.

“They’re usually about losing you,” he mutters, slowly embraced by nothingness.

Yet another Friday at a joint in Itaewon, some random place that Yongsun chose because she liked the vibe.

“What vibe,” Jeongguk mutters now, nose scrunched in annoyance as he looks around. Their tiny table is wobbly under the weight of too many beers, way too many people shoved into the ugly booth dressed in worn leather. There’s shouting all around them, their food still stuck in the kitchen, although it’s been more than an hour since they ordered.

He’s caught between a very drunk Wheein and an even drunker Taehyung, currently attempting to flirt right through him.

Reminds him of when they nearly fucked on Jimin’s bed once, months ago, just because they got a little too drunk and a little too horny.

Probably would have, if Hyejin weren’t there to drag Wheein home, leaving Taehyung a whining mess on the bed.

Hyejin, who’s currently sitting on the other side of the table completely unbothered, manicured nails tapping against the tabletop as she explains something to a rose cheeked Yoongi.

All of them so drunk, but Jeongguk just wants his food.

“Yah, that’s some - some good shit,” Taehyung says to his cheek, Wheein giggling from the other side. He squeezes his eyes closed, ignores their warm breaths on his skin. “Should show me sometime.”

He’s pretty sure they’re talking about an art project she did, but Taehyung’s tone suggests much nastier shit.

Nastier shit that Jeongguk doesn’t want to have anything to do with, so he excuses himself and climbs over Wheein’s lap to go on a search for the toilet.

The small restroom is dark, lit only by a rather green bulb right above one of the sinks. It colours Namjoon’s cheeks an odd purple, eyes glistening when he looks at Jeonggguk from where his hands are completely covered in soap.

“Hyung,” he mutters, surprised to find him there. “Thought you were outside.”

“Was,” Namjoon mutters, dimples dark and deep even in the weak light, his lips curved into a slight smile. “Left Hoseok-ah to his business.”

He’s not sure he wants to know, but, “What business?” still escapes his lips when he walks to the other sink and turns the tap.

Water is cold against his fingers, a bit too icy, but he barely notices when Namjoon’s cheeks are so pink in the reflection in the mirror.

“Daewon came,” Namjoon says and sighs. When he glances up, their eyes meet in the wide mirror. Jeongguk looks away, ears heating up for no particular reason. “She seemed better.”

“That’s good,” Jeongguk mutters, staring at his hands under the water. Paper towels rustle when Namjoon dries his hands, humming a melody under his breath.

When Jeongguk looks up he’s still there, leaning against the sink, staring at him. They both look away when their eyes meet, but Namjoon lets out a short giggle, incredibly loud in the quiet of the restroom.

Music is blasting from the outside, bass barely muted by the old wooden door. Jeongguk wishes to just stay there instead, in the calm and quiet of the four walls, just him and Namjoon and that comfort that always seems to be present.

Always so comfortable and nice, even when he finds Namjoon’s gaze a bit too intense sometimes, when his fingers get all jittery for no reason other than Namjoon saying something incredibly deep and embarrassing.

Real inspirational too, most of the time.

Uses big words to share his experiences with the rest of them, and Jeongguk finds himself mesmerised by how interesting it all is, how smart and thought through.

Wishes to be more like him, aspires to be a better person.

When he wipes his hands clean and bins the wet paper towels, Namjoon clears his throat. Their eyes meet over the dimly lit space, Namjoon’s glistening with something unusual.

“Have they stopped?” he asks. Jeongguk’s eyes widen, lips curving downwards in confusion.

“What?”

“The nightmares.”

The word echoes around the room, needs a while to sink in.

It hits him like a train once it does.

He blinks once. Twice. Stares at Namjoon who’s looking right back at him, smiles shyly after a couple of seconds too long, then looks to the ground.

He’s still staring when Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, slowly realising the silence is getting a little uncomfortable.

“What?” he repeats, feeling real dumb. Has no idea how Namjoon knows about his nightmares when he hasn’t told a living soul, when he keeps it all inside, bottled up until it occasionally explodes.

Explodes and causes him to get really drunk, dance until morning hours, get fucked until nothing matters anymore.

Explodes and breaks shit, because it’s easier to deal with the frustration and helplessness that way.

Explodes and cries into his pillow in the middle of the night, Jimin sleeping on the other side of the wall.

He hasn’t told anyone, because he can handle them. It’s not a big deal.

Not a big deal, but Namjoon still frowns and says, “About me,” which causes Jeongguk to freeze on the spot, still staring at the smooth line of Namjoon’s neck.

He forces himself to look away.

Heartbeat is loud in his ears when he swallows, throat incredibly dry.

“I don’t have nightmares about you,” he says, fingers tangling into the hem of his shirt. He runs his fingertips over the seams, biting his lip until it starts bleeding, metallic taste spilling over his tongue.

Neither of them move, enveloped into an odd silence. Distant buzz of people chatting fills the space between them, but Jeongguk can only focus on Namjoon’s breathing.

“You - you told me that night,” Namjoon says eventually, and when Jeongguk looks up he’s playing with his fingers, staring down at them.

“What?” he says, feeling even dumber than before. He tries his hardest to come up with a better answer, but his brain is pulling a blank.

Can’t think of a single thing to say.

“You don’t remember?”

“I dunno.”

“At Byulyi-noona’s,” which hits something. Causes him to squint, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. Barely remembers it all, weeks ago by now.

“Back in April?” he asks as he rubs the back of his neck.

Namjoon jerks a nod, says, “You woke up in the middle of the night with a scream.” Pauses, shakes his head, and takes a deep breath. “Told me.. Said your nightmares were about me.”

Jeongguk’s throat feels tight, but he forces a laugh. Sounds all strained and fake, caught between four walls, between the two of them. Tastes real bitter, because this is Namjoon, someone he trusts the most and never lies to, but he laughs again and shakes his head.

“No, hyung. I was.. Probably still drunk, you know how it is,” he says. Namjoon’s eyes are on his for just a second before he looks away, pulls a funny face, then breaks into the tiniest of smiles.

Forced.

Jeongguk feels sick with the knowledge of it being fake. Not honest like they always are with each other, not genuine, because Namjoon knows he’s lying.

But Namjoon still nods at him, rubbing at his cheek.

“Yeah,” said softly, barely loud enough with the background noise. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Letting him get away with it, letting it go, because Jeongguk doesn’t want to talk about it.

It leaves something heavy in the pit of his stomach, tension hanging loud in the air between them. Jeongguk doesn’t dare to move, stares when Namjoon pockets his hands, looks at himself in the mirror, fixes a loose strand of hair.

He stares when Namjoon nods again, his reflection offering another forced smile. “I better go.”

“Yeah,” says Jeongguk this time, whispered into the empty space Namjoon leaves behind.

After the third drink Seokjin shoves into his hand, Jeongguk feels a bit wobbly.

The living room in Hoseok and Seokjin’s apartment is small and currently packed to the brim. Their small circle of friends expanded as soon as Taehyung dragged along some of the drama kids, which no one seems to mind.

Doesn’t mean the living room has gotten any bigger, resulting in too little space for the large crowd of people.

Jeongguk doesn’t like the bodies rubbing against him, the feeling of being trapped, so he finds himself wandering outside to get some fresh air, leaving the heat and the noise behind the glass door of the balcony.

Outside, Namjoon is leaning against the wall, slope of his nose shining in the moonlight. He looks at Jeongguk when the door slams shut, offering a small smile that causes his dimples to pop out.

Jeongguk smiles back, plops himself down between some potted plants, and glances at the city below.

“Getting a little crazy, isn’t it?” Namjoon asks, voice low and even. Soothing in comparison to the loud music inside, rather pleasant after the few drinks Jeongguk has had.

“Just. Too crowded?” He plays with his piercings, leans back until his head hits the wall. “I like the others, though.”

“Yeah, they’re nice.”

Leaf of one of the bigger plants brushes against Jeongguk’s cheek when he tilts his head to the side, making him giggle. He runs his fingers over the shiny green surface, a little magical in the darkness of the night.

“Cute,” he says, dropping his hand back into his lap, and closes his eyes.

“Yeah, you are.”

Namjoon is staring at him when their eyes meet, both quickly looking away. Jeongguk’s insides twist, cheeks heating up.

The giggle that escapes Namjoon’s lips colours his cheeks an even darker colour.

They sit in silence, their breaths along with the occasional breeze weak in contrast to the bass blasting through the wall. Tiles are cold against Jeongguk’s ass, colours on the street bright and colourful. They flicker from orange to pink to blue, then back again.

All so beautiful on Namjoon’s face, dancing on his shiny lips. He doesn’t realise he’s staring until Namjoon suddenly clears his throat, stands up, and disappears back into the apartment.

He comes back with a bottle of wine, cork already gone, and drinks straight from the bottle as Jeongguk watches.

He reaches for the bottle eventually, Namjoon easily giving in, unwrapping his long fingers from the neck so Jeongguk can take a swig.

Namjoon’s profile is shining blue now, the slope of his nose smooth and mesmerising.

“Hyung?” he mutters and gets a hum in reply. “Got a smoke?”

A pause, then, “It’s bad for you.”

Jeongguk shifts, pulls his legs closer until he can hug them, and rests his cheek against his knees. Says, “Yes or no?”

Something changes on Namjoon’s face when he turns his head to look at him again. Eyes getting softer at the corners, lips curving up, albeit just a little. The bottle gets pushed away, a pack thrown his way just a moment later.

Jeongguk struggles with opening it, fingers clumsy with alcohol in his veins. He eventually manages to get one in between his teeth, but fiddling with the lighter isn’t any easier.

It gets Namjoon to huff a laugh, shaking his head as he takes the lighter from his fingers to light the cigarette for him.

“Here,” he mutters, still staring when Jeongguk takes the first drag. Still staring when he blows it into the dark night, white smoke getting lost in the wind.

Namjoon’s adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, colours clinging to the sweat on his skin.

The air between them shifts, but Jeongguk can’t tell why. He feels the odd tension, forcing him to turn away with Namjoon’s intense stare still burning hot on his skin, setting his insides on fire. He looks to the sky, the round moon so bright, and takes another drag.

Smoke twirls around his nose, slowly disappearing into the night.

The burn at the back of his throat is familiar, pleasant. It reminds him of years ago, back when it used to be just him and Jimin and Namjoon, just the three of them and a broken bench behind the school building. Hidden away in the corner, covered in graffiti and used gum, but still their favourite.

Would always meet there after classes, share a half empty pack of smokes Jimin had stolen from his father, and waste their time.

An ugly habit that was, but one that tied them all together.

More of a ritual than an addiction, Namjoon had always said.

More of an excuse to meet daily, chill for hours when they were supposed to be doing their homework. Sitting there until it got dark outside, street lights slowly flickering on.

Talked of nothing in particular, all dumb talk. Even dumber boys, but Jeongguk still remembers how safe and loved it made him feel.

Oddly connected to it all now, smoking again. Still the same brand, even after all these years. It sticks to the roof of his mouth in that nasty way that he’s always loved, the taste strong on his tongue.

“Why these?” he asks, waving the pack around. Namjoon follows the movement, smiles a little. His eyes are half lidded and dark, all mysterious.

“The memory,” and Jeongguk gets it. Knows how it is, would probably still smoke if he weren’t a broke student.

Before he can properly think about it he raises his hand, offers the lit cigarette to Namjoon. It hangs in the space between them, their eyes locked, but none of them moving.

Then Namjoon is leaning closer, but he doesn’t take the cigarette from his fingers as Jeongguk expected him to, just wraps his lips around the butt and breathes in.

His lips are warm when they brush against Jeongguk’s fingers, sending a shiver down his spine. They start a fire in the pit of his stomach, burning bright and hot.

He swallows thickly, neither of them breaking eye contact.

Namjoon doesn’t move back, just releases the cigarette and blows the smoke through his nose. Then he licks his lips, eyes momentarily dropping from Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Guk,” he says, rough and raspy. Jeongguk just hums. “Tell me - tell me if I’m getting this wrong.”

Then he’s moving close and closer, into Jeongguk’s space. Craning his neck up, tilting his head, a hand coming to rest on Jeongguk’s thigh, heavy and burning to the touch.

When their lips brush, Jeongguk’s fingers lose the grip on the cigarette. His eyes fall shut, Namjoon’s lips warm and thick and gentle against his own.

It’s careful at first, but as soon as he takes a fist of Namjoon’s shirt there are fingers on his neck, climbing higher and higher until they’re buried in his hair. Tugging him closer, causing his lips to fall open, their tongues sliding together.

Neither of them notices the cigarette burning Namjoon’s jeans.

The sky is painted different colours. From blue to pink to yellow and orange, all mixing together on the skyline, sun a big ball of fire dancing on the horizon.

Jeongguk has a hard time looking at the setting sun when there’s Namjoon sitting next to him, their thighs pressed together.

“Guk-ah?”

“Yeah?”

“How about those nightmares?”

A lazy smile stretches over his lips when he turns to look at Namjoon, tracing the colours dancing on his face, deep pink high in his cheeks.

Their eyes meet, Namjoon’s wide smile matching his.

And the colours in his eyes so beautiful Jeongguk thinks he could look at them for the rest of his life.

He smiles, looks down to grab Namjoon’s hand, and says, “I have you now.”