#Idk if wild or odd is the right word | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluemerakis · 28 days ago

Note

Recently finished Swayze’s ‘ghost’ and now I can’t stop thinking about post-Hell Dean, where the reader has his iconic brown leather jacket hanging in her room thinking she’s never gonna see him again but he shows up in her room (in a non creepy way as much as possible lol) and they fuuuuck like old times and she thinks she’s dreaming until she realises it’s actually him (or not lol) but the romanticism is screaming out to me, idk if it’s something you’d be interested in writing but omfg you’d write this so painfully well

ANON!! i LOVE LOVE LOVE this SO much! i’m so honoured that you’ve entrusted me with this idea—i had the time of my life writing this & went a lil wild with it LOL. thank you for your support and kind words, it means the world to me! i hope i did your request justice 🩵

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────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ───

❝ sunshine ❞

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pairing ୨୧ dean winchester x fem .ᐟ reader

warnings .ᐟ s4 .ᐟ spoilers, established relationship, dramatic descriptions of grief, cussing, angst, sam being an adorable little angel, nip sucking, unprotected sex p in v, tooth-rotting fluff. lmk if I forgot any.ᐟ if there are typos, no there isn’t

synopsis ─ after dean had sealed the deal that warranted him a one-way ticket to hell, you had no hopes of ever seeing him again. you were overcome with a grief that felt inescapable, but with sam’s help, you’d managed to pull through the storm and enter clearer skies. just when you thought you’d have to navigate a new life without dean, against all odds, he makes an unexpected appearance.

word count ~ roughly 15k

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Four months.

The duration of your ongoing turmoil. The grim tally of his absence.

For four months, you’d been trapped in the stagnant bog of your grief. It had formed the very first night you’d lost him, seizing your mind like a rabid plague. It didn’t matter which way you attempted to swim, or how hard you paddled to try and stay afloat, there was no sure escape from its bottomless depth. It immobilised your existence, broke down your hope—scattered it like falling leaves to be lapped up by the famished surface and swallowed to the point of no return. It was lonely and suffocating, but you’d since given up on waiting for a lifeline to be cast from some land beyond your gloomy horizon, so sure that you’d isolated yourself from any soul kind enough to try.

Except for Sam.

Sam had tried to rescue you many times, but the lines he casted were always too battered—chewed up by the demons of his own grief. And you knew that if you grabbed onto it—where he stood barely clinging to the other end—it would snap and pull him right in. You couldn’t do that to him, so you’d surrendered to the bog entirely, allowing your grief to engulf you into its endless, bone-chilling nothingness. And each day, you sank further and further, like the dead weight of a stone, drifting down into the pits of your despair. Your living, breathing death.

A slow, agonising journey of digestion—your body, mind and soul disseminating into nothing.

Reaching rock bottom hadn’t taken long, not when you’d been left feeling so shallow by the robbery of your life’s meaning. And you’d laid there ever since, slowly deteriorating, slowly drowning. Over and over and over again. You could have said that you were losing every part of yourself, but you hadn’t been whole to begin with, not for a long time—not since losing him.

If he were here, he could have saved you from yourself. But he wasn’t. And you hated him for it.

You hated him. For striking a deal with the devil. For placing his life on the line without a second breath. For lying to you about it. For even thinking that nobody would notice the dead space left behind. There were certain days that tended to plunge that hateful knife—already engrossed in your heart—a little deeper. A day like this morning.

The day that marked the anniversary of Dean Winchester’s death.

On the first day without him, you’d spent your time trying to fight it—forced smiles, laughs of denial, stares that didn’t linger on any of his belongings for too long. But it was hard not to come face to face with his memory when the ghost of his existence seemed to prowl after you at every turn and every corner of the apartment. His favourite coffee mug with an infamous chip on the rim. The frozen, pasty pies he’d crammed the freezer full of. Six packs of canned beers stocked along the pantry’s top shelf. His discarded shoes. His sparse watch collection. The shampoo bottle he’d diluted to last a month longer.

And that damn leather jacket, which currently draped from the frame of your desk chair.

It hung there like a museum exhibit—the memory of Dean Winchester, frozen in time. The jacket he’d left behind on the day he’d slipped your life for good. You hadn’t once touched it. You couldn’t bring yourself to lay your fingers across the leather when there’d be no warmth radiating through its fabric to soothe you—couldn’t face the fact that it’d reflect the cold, empty truth of it all. So there it laid, collecting dust and slowly drowning beneath the suffocating, grey sea without a merciful hand to liberate it. It was a cruel parallel of your own withering state.

Every morning, your eyes would peel through a hollow sleep, and the first thing they’d settle on was that damn jacket. Every. Single. Time. As if you needed the constant recap on top of everything else. You could have mustered up the courage to move it some place else that’d finally warrant the motto out of sight, out of mind. But the naive fool that had created that saying failed miserably at accounting for the woes of the brain. Once scorched into memory, nothing would ever truly be forgotten. You’d remember regardless of where that jacket lay—a curse bound to your life, never to be broken.

Unless you broke first.

You shifted at the heart of your king-sized bed, your head sinking back into your plumy pillow as you gazed up at the ceiling. At anything but that jacket. Your limbs sprawled out between the cotton sheets, taking maximum advantage to voyage the sea of space left at your disposal. While a mattress this large and luxurious should’ve offered you a sense of comfortable freedom, you couldn’t help but mourn all the space—space that at one point, had been occupied by him.

The gentle, golden glare of dawn had begun its steady journey into the room, letting itself in almost shyly through the slits of your curtains. The meek sunbeams sliced through the dim atmosphere you’d found solice within, and you watched as dust particles began to waltz around one another through the bronzed air—as if they’d been cast into the centre of the ballroom. Around and around they swirled in perfect, mirrored harmony. You thought it looked a lot like a courting display—more mental imagery to emphasise your loneliness.

For a second, some faded image—a memory—flashed across your mind. Yourself and Dean, taking to the neglected dance floor of a bar nearing its closing time. A half-emptied beer bottle clutched in his one hand as his other linked with yours, serving as the leash that dragged your protesting form to its debut on the dance floor.

You’d never been too confident in your dancing skills, a fact you’d tried many times to disclose, but Dean had been insistent. Somewhere behind you, Sam had whooped from the comfort of the booth you’d both discarded, and when you’d glanced back at the younger Winchester, he had his beer-adorned hand raised into the air as a cheer. You’d scoffed with a heavy thanks for nothing.

When you’d turned back to Dean, he’d drawn up in his tracks without any prior warning, causing you to crash not-so-elegantly into his torso. Instinctively, your free palm had lurched forward to cradle his chest in a steadying motion, your chin tilting up to grace him with a stunned giggle.

The drink he’d throttled in his other hand sloshed with the jolt, foam tumbling over the nozzle’s edge like a provoked volcano’s tantrum. It slathered his fingers and trickled to the floor, adding fresh patterns to the aged, sticky blotches already scattered amidst the young night.

“Woah, easy there, tiger,” he’d laughed, but the hand that’d dragged you here released your fingers only to form a seductive curve at the small of your back. There, he’d pulled you in even closer, his lips closing in on you with the promise of a love-sick kiss. But instead, his jaw had dipped past your temple, lips grazing your cheekbone before hovering at your ear. “There’s nuff o’ me to go ‘round without you jumpin’ ship for the first spot,” he husked. You’d practically felt the grin spreading his lips.

You’d ducked your head away from his with a hearty huff. “Down, boy,” you’d scoffed, hands trailing up his chest to crown either shoulder with a natural ease. The touch had been smooth, magnetic. And maybe you two were like magnets, utterly obsessed with being intangible, and eager to keep on exploring every inch of one another with a shifting touch rather than be torn apart.

Dean’s eyes had lowered to the naughty line you’d drawn to his shoulders, the grin he’d taken up deepening enough to suction his cheeks into the dimples you’d come to adore. When he’d acquainted your eyes again, it was through a heavy-lidded stare that promised all sorts of activities to reciprocate your tantalising touch. “Oh, I’ll get down, alright,” he’d chuckled hoarsely, leaving the line open to interpretation as he brought his beer to his lips. He’d downed a slow, deliberate sip, his eyes not once straying from yours as he watched you mentally decipher his words.

“You know what? Enough of your games,” you’d laughed, hands slipping from his chest to forsake the dance floor before you’d have a chance to make it regret hosting you. You’d attempted to turn tail and flee, but Dean’s hand had found your wrist in a firm, yet gentle tug, and then you were held prisoner under those hypnotising eyes once more. Your lips had split to offer some final protest, but his own lips puckered into a shushing pout that had you clamping down on your tongue.

“Don’t say anythin’, just dance with me,” he’d instructed, and then the hand tethering you to him lifted, your arm following the motion like a chain effect. Against your will, you were spun around in an awkward, off-timed circle that deviated abominably from the background music. When you came to face him once more, his chest had rattled with a laugh a little too passionate for your liking. “That was adorable—like a toddler learnin’ she’s got the gears but don’t quite know which she’s shiftin’.”

Your cheeks had seared hot at that comment, free hand diving forward to shove his chest lightly. “Stop—I warned you!” You’d simpered.

“Hey!” He’d laughed, beer-occupied hand lifting in a gesture of innocence. “I’m only playin’! You’ll get the hang o’ it—I’ll teach ya. Watch.” Your hand lifted under his guidance as he executed his own spin—even more sprawled and ridiculous than yours had been. Your free hand had flown to cradle your mouth as a disbelieved chortle blared through, and as Dean came to face you once more, his brows were lifted in question. “Eh? I’m a natural, yeah?”

You’d giggled into your palm again before dropping your hand back to your side, lips pursing with amusement. “Let’s just say that I don’t think either of us should be teaching the other,” you’d huffed through a pained smile.

Dean lowered your joined hands to the space between you. “Well,” he’d begun, pulling you into his frame once more, like he just couldn’t get enough of your presence—like he wanted it to hog him. “Guess we just gotta. . . y’know, feel this one out together,” he’d murmured suggestively, eyes narrowing with cheek while he released your hand to settle into its natural hold at the small of your back.

You’d leaned your smirk-heavy lips closer to his with a content hum, your hands coming to wrap around his neck. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll follow if you lead.” He’d grinned approvingly at that, tugging you along to a slow and steady sway of the bodies, which you’d succumbed to and harmonised with in no time—much to your surprise.

“Sammy!” Dean had called to his younger brother, his eyes not once straying from yours as he presented his beer in the direction of the booth. “All yours for the takin’.” He’d paused to steal a glance at your beaming lips. “I got my own special o’ the night.”

You’d laughed at that, and Dean’s charm had grown all the more potent as he stretched out the dance between the two of you for what felt like a good couple of hours. In the background, the music in bad taste had blared on, ever so eager to cheapen the moment between the two of you, but you’d become so enthralled with one another that all else around you was drowned out, anyway.

Both his hands had selfishly hoarded your lower back, pressing you so far into him that you’d stumbled around his feet more times than you’d have liked to admit. But you’d remained steadied by the hands furled around his neck, and comforted by the gentle, reciprocated press of your foreheads, gazing into the sanctuary of one another’s eyes.

If you’d known then, in that moment, that Dean Winchester was going to die, you’d have held onto him a little longer—and probably never have let go. Even if it killed you, too.

With a heavy, rattled rise of your chest, you came back to your grim present, drawing in a long and shaky breath. You shifted between the sheets to roll onto your side, arm coming up beneath the underside of your pillow to cradle it like an emotional support teddy. You tuned your attention to your curtain-clad windows, and like a corpse, you continued to rot away within your coffin of a mattress, watching idly as the sun continued to announce its ascent.

It wasn’t long before warm golds drained into a paler shades that fully lit your room now—the official statement of a new day. But still, you didn’t stir. The curtains remained cast, the windows crammed closed as tightly as they’d been left about a week ago, and your soul feeling anything but renewed to tackle this heavy day head on.

Somewhere beyond your wall, footsteps thrummed lightly down the hallway. Now and again, you’d let yourself believe that they belonged to Dean, on his way to brew you both a morning cuppa—just to offer some pathetic, fleeting slither of comfort. But nothing—nobody could ever fill those shoes left behind. It hadn’t stopped Sam from trying, though.

Before Dean’s. . . disappearance, the brothers had stayed together in the larger room of your two-bedroom apartment—nothing like reliving the good old times, right? It didn’t much bother either one of them, given that Dean had slept in your bed on most nights, leaving the space feeling basically like Sam’s own. The dynamic between you all worked well, and it was practical for a hunter’s lifestyle. Costs were cut, perimeters familiarised and mapped out, and the shared company between you all was reliable. Trustworthy.

You’d become a blended family of some sort. You didn’t think there was any external force that could’ve torn you all apart. But you hadn’t accounted for an inside job. Hadn’t accounted for the weak link that was you.

After Dean’s death, you’d gone into a self-destructive spiral, eager to push anybody and everybody away while you feigned bravery. But Sam had clocked you like an open book, and it made him the hottest target of your impulsive ire.

You couldn’t stand looking at the younger Winchester, how he served as a constant reflection of your own grief—the grief you’d tried so hard to drown out. You knew you should have bonded with him over your shared loss, and the younger Winchester had tried everything to utilise that angle to be there for you, but it’d only made you push back harder. You half expected him to walk out after the first week, but you’d forgotten how deep-rooted stubborness ran within the Winchester bloodline.

Sam had continued to stick around. Why was beyond you. You could have argued that it was because he’d come to love you like a sister, but you couldn’t help the feeling that Dean had made him promise to look out for you, should he ever bite the dust. And it made you hate him more. Because if it were the latter, it meant that Dean had always intended to stay en route on the sacrificial pathway you’d tried countless times to swerve him from. And it meant that loving you hadn’t been reason enough for him to become sidetracked.

If only he’d held out a little longer and put off making that damned deal, you could have continued searching for a solution that didn’t end with either of the Winchesters’ deaths. But deep down, you knew that fate hadn’t written that ending down in any of her books. That continuing to skim page after page would have done nothing but waste minutes paid in blood. Deep down, you knew that Dean had no other choice, but it didn’t make you hate him any less for choosing it.

The faint clanking of utensils transcended the walls, indicating that Sam had worked himself into the kitchen. It was like a routine now. Every morning, the same time. You thought he might’ve craved some taste of control over his life by instilling this morning pattern he now followed so religiously.

You envied how well he seemed to hold himself together, despite it being his blood that had passed on. It made you feel invalidated in all your mourning. After all, if he could move on from the loss of his brother, whom he’d known all his life, why couldn’t you move on from a man you’d known for a pitiful number that paled in comparison?

As they so often did, your thoughts rampaged for a while longer, so eager to hold you captive between the sheets. But eventually, you felt the pit of neglect burrowed into your stomach gape wider, something that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

Your head turned to glimpse the plates you’d stacked atop the bedside table over the last few days. Almost all of them held meals that you’d scarcely picked at, meals Sam had cooked you, and they were starting to smell. It wasn’t doing much to help encourage the full return of your appetite. But still, you had to eat—something fresher, of course.

Eventually, you mustered up the courage to stir and shed the sheets, your week-old pyjamas falling limp around your frame as you shovelled your weight onto wilted legs. You stood for a moment, taking in this new pull of gravity, before angling yourself toward the door.

At the corner of your eye, it beckoned to you. You shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have given it the attention it so desperately craved, but how could you stand steadfast when you were crippled with the need to reminisce him during every waking moment? So you buckled, like you always did, and turned to glance over the waiting leather jacket.

It beamed a little brighter this time around, illuminated by the sun’s pale touch. It looked almost angelic, and you could have sworn that new life had been bestowed upon it—like a reincarnation. But no matter how long you stared, no body seemed to materialise between its hold to glorify that hope. Still no Dean Winchester to show for it.

So much for having faith.

With a barely audible scoff, you finally tore your gaze away and trudged toward your bedroom door. You reached for the handle, fingers hovering over the cool metal as you took a moment to think about what’d you say to Sam. Starting with an apology would probably be ideal, followed up by a looping string of thank yous for everything he’s done. You swallowed thickly before tightening your hold, the mechanism clicking open with a brash sound that cut through your senses. And then, like a ghost, you neglected your grave and slunk into the hallway.

When you traipsed into the open-plan apartment on light, reluctant feet, your eyes wandered over to the kitchen at the corner, where Sam had already made himself comfortable at the hot lip of the stove. His back was turned on you, but you caught the whisk of his arms as he executed an impressive flip of something within the skillet. It landed with a muffled thump, a result that had Sam hissing out a noise of satisfaction.

A shy, smoky ghost levitated above the Winchester, and it wasn’t long before the cracked kitchen window wafted a clue in your direction—the sweet tang of pancakes tickling your nose. Usually, it was a smell that had you inhaling a little deeper, like you couldn’t miss savouring even a scrap of its existence. Now, the smell roused nothing other than a faint reminder of just how much you didn’t crave breakfast. Or anything, for that matter. But still, duty called. More like your stomach would begin eating itself if you insisted on starving it for a day longer.

With a practiced breath of bravery, you picked your way past the living room sofas, your sock-clad feet scuffling across the floor with a severe lack of motivation. As you approached the kitchen island, you spotted a can of sweetened whipped cream—your favourite—and a bowl of berries straddling the plated, ever-growing stack of pancakes. It was the complete picture your stomach needed to enlist the first of its rumbling, but you hadn’t had much of a mental appetite for quite some time. The simple joy you’d once held for eating had been boiled down to the dull necessity of sustenance—you ate only because your body needed fuel. Anything more than that just wasn’t worth feeling.

And, truthfully, it was a baffling, new reality because there was a time you'd have nagged the boys to drive you halfway across the country to try some new cuisine you'd seen advertised across billboards. You’d scribble down the names of the niche diners and renowned restaurants in your trusty notebook to be reviewed on the trips back to the motels, heated debates unfolding as the brothers either vouched for or condemned your idea of a good meal. Now, the memories were so distant that you'd started to wonder whether they'd even existed. Whether that version of you still existed.

You brought up the rear of one of the kitchen chairs, moving a hand to cradle your protesting stomach while the other outstretched to retract the chair at the rim. The sudden, intrusive screech of wood against wood was enough to startle Sam into a growing awareness of his surroundings. He pivoted on his heels to face you, the pan making a reflexive dive in your direction in what was meant to be some pitiful means of a defence. The white of his eyes blared through, his tall frame ducking slightly as he assumed a defensive position.

Your composure didn’t falter as you slunk into the seat; his reaction wasn’t any surprise, not when you lead the adrenaline-laced life of a hunter forced to guard their six on a daily. And you doubted he’d expected any company after you’d basically stopped existing outside of your room these last couple of days—and at this early hour, no less.

What did surprise you, though, was that the pancake had managed to cling to the metal of the skillet in the midst of his jolt.

As Sam drank in your familiar form, his broad shoulders sagged visibly under his growing relaxation, the vice grip he’d unintentionally taken up around the pan’s handle now relenting an inch.

“Oh,” he stuttered out, a flustered half-chuckle diffusing his misplaced adrenaline. He slunk toward the island with his head slightly bowed, his gaze flickering between you and the pan. “Hey,” he murmured, his lips pursing shortly after the meek sound, as though he were afraid to let the wrong words slip. His caution wasn’t misplaced; you hadn’t exactly been kind to him these last few days.

It usually went that way around this time of the month. The days stepping up to the anniversary of Dean’s death tended to trip you right into the worst vision of yourself. You were more sullen than usual, losing patience over minuscule things, and sinking jaws of hostility into anybody who’d even attempted to offer hollow words of comfort.

Bobby had been the first to withdraw with some muttered crap of I’m too old for this shit. But Sam had always been too forgiving. He’d stuck around regardless of your temper, taking all the verbal beatings while he tended to your unspoken needs in ways that you couldn’t. You owed him so much more than you were capable of giving at this time.

You leaned onto the cool marble of the island, your hands coming forward in a timid fold as your lips flattened into a pathetic spectacle of a smile. “Hey, Sam,” you murmured, and for a second, the sound startled you. It was so dull, so lifeless—you’d even go so far as to say that it was so unlike you.

It was a stark contrast to the version of yourself the brothers had learnt to tolerate, maybe even appreciate—constant chatter and running commentary streaming live from the backseat of the impala. Dean had gone so far as to nickname you sunshine and rainbows, trailing after the twin storm clouds—the Winchesters—that seemed to thunder down on the unassuming world. But now, you felt like nothing more than the rolling, gloomy skies that paved way for everything wet, woeful and destructive. A weather so devastating that a show of a rainbow would be a mockery rather than a promise.

Sam returned your smile almost sheepishly, his head dipping to drink in the view of the counter. “You, uh. . . you sleep alright?” He asked, the pan coming forward to leer you over as he tipped the metal downwards and crowned the seasoned stack of pancakes with the fresh newcomer.

Your eyes lowered to the newest addition of the pancake pile, following the faint trails of heat that seemed to rise with a freedom and lightness you craved to feel. “Yeah,” you lied, your lower lip instantly pulled into a tense bite. “Yeah, I slept. . . fine.”

You knew that Sam wasn’t convinced, the moment of silence following after evidence of some tactic he might’ve been mentally reviewing to try and coax the truth from you. You began tracing a line along the patterns of the marble counter with your index finger, anticipating the awkward conversation to come.

“Come on, really?” He laughed softly, but the sound was gentle and sympathetic, not slathered with amusement or scorn. “‘Cause I didn’t,” he confessed.

You glanced up at him in surprise, your finger halting in its place. “Really?” You breathed out softly, instant relief crashing over you. Maybe Sam hadn’t recovered as much as you thought he had, and as unfortunate as that was, you couldn’t help but feel slightly comforted—less alone.

He tipped his head to the side in consensus, a wry scoff piercing his lips. “Honestly? Can’t remember the last time I did,” he said, eyes flickering up to glance you over briefly before he turned his back on you to discard the pan at the sink. He slid over to the stove, flicking buttons and shifting dishes before he was back at the island. “I mean, I sleep—but just. . . not very well.” He took up a spatula and began shovelling at the pancake stack. “One?” He asked intuitively.

“One’s perfect,” you said. You watched as he dragged the rim of the spatula down the building of pancakes, stopping somewhere around the middle floor before he slid the utensil inward. He shimmied out a hot and fluffy pick, placing it onto your plate rather gingerly before he nudged it in your direction. “Thanks, Sam,” you murmured, receiving it with a forced show of eagerness—you didn’t want your lack of an appetite to make things more personal than they already felt.

“Yeah, anytime,” he answered, sparing you a soft smile before he took to plating his own stack of three.

You held off on digging into your singular pancake, hands idling around the knife and fork bracketing your plate as you waited for the younger Winchester to cover up the remainder of the breakfast.

With a satisfied dusting of his palms, he finally pushed his own plate across the marble to slide in a distance beside yours before he made his way around the island. He pulled out the seat beside you and settled himself down with a heavy plop and an appreciative grunt—almost like an old man of some sorts.

He took up his cutlery and glanced over at you with a comforting smile. “Time to, uh. . . dig in, I guess,” he laughed lightly. “There’s whipped cream and berries if you’d like.” His chin jutted to the listed toppings, and then his knifed hand jolted into the air suddenly. “Oh, and there’s syrup, too. I’ll fetch it from the pantry.”

Without waiting for your response, he set down the cutlery and shifted back in his chair, but you turned your body a slither to face him before he could slip away as quickly as your nerve.

“Sam, wait,” you said, your hands straying from the table to bundle in your lap in an anxious toying of fingers.

He halted in place almost instantly, turning to face you with his brows quirked an inch—like your sudden unrest was news to him. But you knew he was only trying to be polite in playing his attentive part; he likely knew exactly what this was about. “Yeah?”

You drank in his softened eyes, and they held so much purity and innocence that it caused your heart to sag with a fresh, guilt-ridden heaviness. It tugged your head down to the view of your lap, your chest heaving with a shuddering inhale. “I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice rattled by so much regret that it began to quiver.

At the edge of your vision, you saw Sam settle back into his seat, arms drawing onto the counter. “Hey,” he cooed gently. “It’s oka—”

“No, it’s not okay,” you cut in hastily. “I need to say this. I’m sorry for everything—for the way I acted. . . for the things I said—you didn’t deserve any of it, Sam.” You began picking at the skin of your nails. “I just, I have all this. . . anger inside of me. I’m angry at myself, and I’m angry at Dean—I’m angry at everything cause everything’s just so fucking unfair. And I know that it’s not an excuse, but I just. . . I figured. . . I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know,” you scoffed, but you braved face and lifted your head to face him once more. “But I do know that I am truly, deeply sorry.”

Sam’s head lowered to take in the view of his plate, his eyes darting about the porcelain. “Listen,” he eventually murmured, his mouth stuttering around air as he searched for the right words. Eventually, he settled on grace. “I get it, okay?” His chin lifted to gift you with a break you didn’t think you deserved. “All that anger inside of you. . . I’ve felt it before—more than I’d like to admit, actually,” he laughed dryly before his expression warped into something more solemn. “It eats you up inside. . . makes you say and do things you wouldn’t usually say or do. There are so many times I’ve gone down that road, but Dean—he’s always been there to pull me back, even if it was by the tip of my ear.” He laughed again, this time more genuine, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile of your own.

Sam’s head lowered again, his smile simmering away. “Anyway, I guess what I’m tryna say is that, I get it. I get why you said the things you did, and I’m not mad about it. For once, I don’t feel that anger anymore.”

Slowly, your fingers began to still their fidgeting as you listened to him talk, your chest cooperating by letting up on its rapid pace.

The younger winchester upturned his eyes to yours with a new ferocity. “I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you—and not just because I owe Dean that much, but because you’ve been there for me, too. So many times. Even at my. . .” He trailed off as he averted his gaze to the side, some unspoken shame breaching his conscious. You saw his Adam’s Apple bop under a heavy swallow before he turned back to you. “Even at my worst,” he continued. “So. . . don’t worry about it, really. I get it.”

For the first time in a long time, you found your eyes watering an emotion other than grief and heartbreak—something far lighter and rejuvenating. Love. Appreciation. Relief. You envied Sam’s ability to barrel through this cruel life so determined to pin him down, and you admired how each time, he seemed to emerge with a heart even larger than before. Even after all the rounds you’d emptied into his chest, he stood tall, still offering that hand you so desperately needed to pull you from your self-dug trenches.

Maybe, it was about time you finally took it.

The first tear slipped the keep of your eye, jettisoned from the ledge of your cheekbone to where it splattered across the marble top. Your hand flew to wipe the moisture away, an ugly sniff racking your chest. There was a clank of shifting metal before Sam’s hand came forward to brush your shoulder.

“Hey,” he cooed softly, and then you were carefully tugged into the side of his towering frame. “Come here,” he urged, and he was so gentle that it had you fully succumbing to his hold without a single reflexive need to resist. His arm snaked around your shoulder blades to hook around your arm as he drew you into a tight hug, your hands bundling further into your lap. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get through this. Together,” he added pointedly, a clear warning that he didn’t intend to let you get your lonely way again. You were okay with that.

Your lower lip began quivering with fresh emotion—guilt bouncing on the rim the heaviest. “I’m so sorry, Sam,” you reiterated.

Your felt his chin settle into the crown of your head, the vibration bouncing off your hair. “For what? Being human?” He laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we tend to be dicks from time to time, and I’d say hunters have more right than most to be a bigger one now and again.”

You laughed—actually laughed at that, the sound snotty and slightly gross, but real. Sam harmonised with his own throaty chuckle, the hand furled around your arm in a tight, reassuring grip relenting to rub comforting lines up and down the expanse.

“Now, enough of the pity party. Let’s finish these pancakes before they get cold, and then what do you say we pull out a couple of board games?” He gave you one last comforting squeeze before slowly releasing you from the hug.

You leaned away from him, centring your weight back over your own chair as you turned your head down to your plate with a thoughtful pout. “Okay,” you agreed, your chin ducking in tiny, accepting nods. You sniffed away the lingering tears, hand coming up to pat your eyes one last time for good measure. Then, your head swivelled to face him as you put on a weak smile. “Hey—think you’re smart enough to challenge me to a game of scrabble?”

Sam laughed as though your challenge was satire, but you frowned with slight offence, which sobered his smile into a look of confusion. “Wha—you’re serious?” He huffed, jaw gaped around disbelief.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” You exclaimed, your voice cracking around a light giggle—the first you’d uttered in a while. “I’m as smart as you are—we read the same books!”

His averted his gaze, head cocking to the side with a scoff before he glanced back at you in amusement. “Yeah, and after you gave your reports, I had to go back and reread every single one of those books to fill in information you left out,” he said pointedly.

You shook your head with light disbelief, a thin chuckle following after. “You know what? Let’s have that round, and if you win, you can bullshit my literacy skills all you like. Deal?” You outstretched your hand across the counter.

Sam’s gaze ducked to the gesture, his brows cocking on a look that you thought was a little too smug, before his hand reached to link with yours in an informal pact. “Deal,” he said through a scheming smirk.

You squeezed his hand lightly as a warning. “Wipe that douche-display off your lips, nothing’s set in stone.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” he replied nonchalantly, but when your hands unlinked, you saw the corner of his mouth hitch with some mental remark.

“All right, that’s it.” You took up your utensils while Sam glanced you over with slight surprise. You began digging into your pancake with a renewed sense, plopping the first piece into your mouth and taking on a ferocious chew. There was a brief wave of nausea at the food’s sudden intrusion before it quickly dissipated at the sweet taste, beckoning you back for another bite.

“You might wanna slow down there,” he laughed, hands tending to his own plate before they finally presented his first bite to his lips with far more poise.

“Uh uh,” you hummed through a mouthful, swallowing thickly before continuing. “I got a lot riding on this. You made it personal when you brought my ego into this. Sooner we’re done here, sooner I can beat you.”

Sam let out a disbelieved laugh, but didn’t argue any further as he began dissembling his own pancakes at a faster rate. Once you’d both lapped down the dough and licked the plates clean, you’d taken to washing up the dishes and wiping down the counters while Sam procured the board games that had long since collected dust. You’d taken the liberty of microwaving you both a bowl of popcorn and pouring glasses of soda while he set out the game within the living room. Then, you both settled down for the first round, snacks at the ready.

Sam had won, as he’d so smugly anticipated. But you weren’t so eager to be humiliated without a challenge, so for the rest of the day, you’d played out the game to a tally of the most wins. Hours seemed to pass like the impression of a second, the apartment growing dimmer and dimmer with each trailing retreat of the sun.

Eventually, you were both cast in a saturated bronze that poured in through the living room windows, illuminating the score page you’d scribbled up and further glorifying Sam’s final win. He took the game by far, and you were forced to acknowledge that maybe he was the smarter one of you both. Or at least the more apt thinker.

After that, you’d both powered through a movie of his choice, chowing down on some Chinese takeout he’d had delivered. And you emptied the carton down to the last noodle, appeasing the appetite you’d developed somewhere throughout the day. Already, you felt so much lighter—physically and mentally—and you knew that you owed it all to Sam and his perseverence. You couldn’t help but beam with some newfound appreciation for the younger Winchester.

Through the darkness, the tv screen emitted just enough light to illuminate Sam’s side profile. His eyes were glued to the screen, jaw circulating hasty chews as he practically inhaled his second bowl of popcorn. The sight made you shake your head with light amusement, and you watched him a little longer just for the sake of it.

“Hey, Sam?” You eventually called, which made him face you with a look of sudden concern.

His hand halted within his bowl. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For today—for everything.” You offered him a warm, appreciative smile. He’d given you something you desperately needed today—a distraction. From everything and most definitely from yourself. Debts like those didn’t feel possible to repay, but you’d try, regardless. As long as it took.

Sam took a moment to drink in your words, his features motionless before his brows furrowed like he’d made nothing of your gesture. “Yeah, no problem,” he answered, a smile to match yours following shortly after. You both turned your attention back to the screen, and for the rest of the movie, you sat in comfortable, popcorn-tinged silence.

Once the movie came to an end, you’d both chatted about anything and everything until the first person let a yawn slip—that person being you. After that, you’d both tidied up the space, folded the blankets and packed the games back into their keep. Then, you’d dipped into your room to gather your old dishes, discarding the food and washing up the plates. Sam had helped pack it all away.

Once the day’s chores were wrapped up, you’d both exchanged your nightly greetings before going your separate ways. Sam retreated back to his room, though not without snagging a thick book from the shared reading shelf. You’d briefly slipped into your own room to pull out a fresh set of pyjamas and a towel before dipping your toes into a much needed shower.

Once you felt you’d scrubbed off enough of your week-long rot, you’d slunk from the shower and back to your room to call it a day. When you clicked the door closed behind you, you hovered on the spot with a hearty sigh into the dim atmosphere. You took a moment to reflect on the day, and for once, it provoked a smile—not sadness, not anger, not grief—but a genuine smile. The relief after the storm.

You flicked on the light and dressed yourself into your fresh set of clothes, teeth brushed and hair secured back before you flicked the lights off and sank into your bed with a new type of exhaustion. A fulfilling one. It wasn’t long before sleep arrived to hurl you into vivid dreams, and not unlike other times, you dreamt of Dean.

Within your bed, he had you bare and sprawled out beneath his own nude figure, his lips wandering gentle, curious trails along the side of your jaw before dipping down the ledge to trawl the arch of your neck. His elbows propped him up on either side of your head as he took his time to lovingly brand you with his wet caress, your own hands combing blissful strokes through his hair.

You sank back into your pillow, lips parting with breathy mewls as he shifted his attention down to your breasts. He moved to cup one tenderly, tongue swirling a loop around the hardened bud, his strained moan sprawling into the mix of stimulation as you tightened your hold within his hair.

“Dean,” you exhaled weakly, for no reason other than to verbalise the unorthodox way he made you feel. Your teeth found your lower lip in a restrained nibble as he acknowledged your absent-minded praise with a gentle kneading of your breast—as if he sought to gorge on it to the point of total devouring.

You felt the blood flow vigorously to your chest, spurred onward by the suctioning of his lips, and it pooled at your nipple, causing it to throb within his hold. You let slip a soft noise of discomfort, your hand collapsing from his hair to gently push him back at the collarbone.

Dean’s head lifted to yours, a slight pant wafting from his glistening lips. “All good there, sunshine?” He murmured, hand slipping from your breast to run a light, reassuring finger across your cheek. He smudged away the moisture beading along your skin before settling his thumb in the divot of your chin.

“Too much,” you breathed through a dazed grin, hand coming up to gently wrap around his wrist. “You’re like a leech,” you added with a soft giggle.

His lips thinned in a proud smirk, encouraged by your tease rather than offended. “Damn right I am—have you tasted you? Freakin’ delicious,” he praised, smacking his lips in a dramatic show and tell. It made you giggle and release his wrist to pin his lips between your thumb and index finger, and you held them captive while he mumbled noises of protest. He looked so ridiculous, it warmed your heart.

“Stop that!” You laughed, your cheeks flushing hot at the silly sight of him.

Dean wiggled his lips between your grasp until he was able to wrap his lips around a finger, nibbling your skin tenderly so that you released a light squeal and pulled away from his famished lips. “Stop what?” He mocked lightheartedly, head lowering down to you as he followed after your retreating hand with a determined grin playing his lips.

Your hands flew to your chest in a pretence of helplessness, your giggles elevating to a heartier laugh as he pretended to chase after them. His teeth acquainted the air all around them with animated chomps, but made no good on the promise. Eventually, he gave up the hunt and pressed his lips to the side of your jaw, gradually tracing his way up to the soft curve of your cheek before he drew back an inch to gaze into your eyes.

“My sunshine,” he said softly, adoringly, leaning down to nuzzle the button of your nose with his own before he placed a soft kiss there.

Your heart trilled love-struck melodies around Dean’s proud declaration, the magnitude of your smile hoisting up the apples of your cheeks until your eyes were compressed into half-moons. “Say it again,” you murmured, palms drifting up to frame his face and thumbs twiddling to soothe the humps of his cheeks.

Your touch set Dean’s composure alight, his sultry stare softening into something more pure and needy. His eyes narrowed as he gazed down at you, as though you had captured his complete and undivided attention. You found yourself getting so wrapped up in their green depths that for a second, it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“You’re my sunshine,” he repeated in a voice so low and soft that it bordered a husky whisper, but the love imbued into those words carried through as clear as a shout. “I don’t care if that sounds like the title of a Jane Austen novel. You’ve got this. . . fire to you, the kind that nobody—nothin’ can gank. And you draw people into your orbit like they’d never stood a damn chance. Trust me, I sure as hell didn’t,” he laughed, both his hands coming up as a unit to brush back the hair framing your face. “And you’re warm. . .” He trailed off to place a kiss on your cheek, “—and radiant—” and then the other. “And my whole goddamn universe.”

You gazed at him as he pulled away from your proximity, his eyes brimming with love as he waited for your response. What you wanted to say was, “I knew you read Jane Austin in your free time!”, a harmless poke that would keep this tender moment elevated at meaningful heights. Then you’d both share a laugh, and melt into the night cocooned within each other’s warmth.

But deep down, something more solemn tugged at the strings of your heart—an unanswered question that slowly began to resurface despite your attempt to bury it time and time again. So instead, you said, “then how could you leave me?”

Dean’s face warped into a light frown, your question catching him off guard. For a few seconds, he did nothing but stare, his lips parting to search for an answer that you’d waited months to hear. But when he looked as though he might finally answer, no sound carried through to lay your suspense to rest. His mouth gaped and his lips moved, but they formed nonsensical words, and no matter how hard you tried to focus and decipher your most craved confession, it never came to you.

Then, the scene around you began to distort, the lights cutting out and the shapes of the room’s decor warping erratically. And when you blinked, Dean had disappeared entirely—his atoms scattered into the cosmos of your mind. You tried to call out to him, to summon him back to his rightful place beside you, but it seemed as though he were destined to be robbed from the palm of your hands—both in the waking world, and in the confines of your own mind.

And then you, in your entirety, were dissolved into a black abyss, the surroundings melting away like you’d imagined it all in a vivid episode of mania. For a moment, you floated around in a void, your mind slowly dissociating from the fantasies of its own creation. You heard nothing, saw nothing, but somehow, you felt a touch lingering upon your arm. It was warm, familiar, and even though no face materialised to claim it, you knew that it was Dean.

You prepared yourself to mourn the loss of it once you emerged into the waking world, but as your eyes fluttered open, your lids blinking frantically to clear your vision, the touch didn’t fade. If anything, it became more palpable, solid—real. And when you’d adjusted enough to the dawn haze shrouding your room, it wasn’t the image of the leather jacket that arrived first to taunt you.

It was Dean.

You blinked harder, more desperately, your heart rate skyrocketing as you attempted to rationalise whatever fucked up delusion your exhausted mind was currently displaying you. But his body didn’t vaporise into nothingness, and blinking didn’t seem to possess the same parlour trick of making the rabbit disappear, like it did in your dreams.

It was real.

There he sat, as stoic as a statue, at the edge of your mattress, and the hand you’d felt cupping your arm stroked up the curve of your shoulder to gently frame your neck. The contact sent a shiver up your spine, your lips falling open to expel a shaky breath.

It can’t be, you thought, your brows contracting in a puzzled frown. He’s dead—he’s in hell, he can’t be here.

Through the dawn gloom, you could make out the faintest stretch of his lips—an almost simper. “Good mornin’, Sunshine.” But you didn’t recognise the voice. It was low, gruff and abraded, like his vocal cords had been extracted and sent through the grinder before being forcibly shoved back into its compartment. And he sounded dull, the type of dull you’d come to embody in his absence. It was. . . anything but Dean Winchester.

Your lower lip began to quiver, your shoulder drawing into yourself as you shied away from his touch. “This isn’t real,” you choked out, hastily collecting yourself onto your elbows as you sought to put some distance between you two. “You’re not real!” You exclaimed in rising volume, which had the impersonator stretching out both his hands in a steadying motion.

“You’ll wake Sammy,” he whispered urgently—a harsh sound that came across as more of a scold.

You frowned as you inched yourself a fraction across the mattress, eager to reach the end opposite to where he sat. “Who are you?” You demanded in a tone more regulated, your hand subtly reaching behind you to grab ahold of the salt container you kept on the bedside table like a framed picture.

Dean’s eyes seemed to follow your not-so-subtle play with dry amusement. “It’s me,” he insisted gruffly, his hands coming to settle on his knees—and one of them bounced with unspoken thoughts. It was a habit you’d come to recognise since knowing him, and it did a fraction of a favour in vouching for his authenticity. “It’s Dean,” he continued, eyes straying from your hands to settle onto your face.

“No,” you refused, and behind you, your fingers grabbed ahold of the salt. “Dean Winchester died—four months ago,” you explained in a low, but no less stern voice. “So I’m going to ask you again—who are you?”

His nostrils seemed to flare with dwindling patience, his eyes flickering off to the side. “Man, paranoia’s one son o’a bitch,” he scoffed under his breath before turning to face you again. “Listen, I know you’re not gonna believe me. And I also know that you’re about to baptise me with a shit ton o’ salt to barbecue the livin’ crap outta whatever demon you think’s got his hand stuck up my ass.” He began reaching into his shirt pocket. “Now, as much as I’d love to swallow a mouthful of killer blood pressu—” his words were cut short as you tossed a handful of salt in his direction, the mound not shying away from taking a bold dip in his mouth.

The assault dealt no physical damage to his body, but it did earn a passionate look of annoyance from Dean, whose jaw slowly circumducted as his tongue began shovelling the salty hell from his mouth. You scrutinised him for a few seconds longer, not so eager to let down your guard because of one passed test.

“You’re not a demon?” You asked more than stated.

His jaw fell limp at your question, a slow blink accentuating his displeasure. “Clearly not,” he said lowly, the words slurred by his unwillingness to taste the salt with proper pronunciation.

He leaned forward, hand reaching for the box of tissues sitting atop the beside table, and yanked a few free. He brought it up to his lips, where he spat furiously to cleanse his mouth. After a rough clearing of his throat, he bundled up the tissues, tossed it onto the table and glanced over at you once more. “Listen, I’ve already been through all the tests back at Bobby’s. I was goin’ to pull out the phone and get him on the line to clear me before you decided I needed some seasonin’,” he said flatly.

You watched him suspiciously, your brow quirking in disbelief. “Fine,” you said tensely, but offered nothing further.

Dean frowned lightly, his eyes doing a brief and clueless sweep of the room as though he expected you to offer more clarity. He settled his attention back onto you, his chin lifting slightly as he uttered a cautious, “okay.” He began reaching into his pocket once more, the movement deliberately slowed. “Just gonna reach for the phone, alright? So hands off the fuckin’ salt,” he said, eyes flickering between you and the container. “Please,” he added gruffly, and then his had retracted with the phone.

You prowled after his every move like a predator, but despite your weariness, you still lowered the salt an inch. You watched as he flicked open the phone, thumb gliding across the keypad as he pulled up Bobby’s number. Then, he lifted the phone to his ear, eyes trained on you with equal caution as he waited for the line to connect him to the opposite end.

You heard the static click, and a voice blared through shortly after—Bobby’s voice. The sound soothed your heart by a slither.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean greeted, passing his tongue along his lower lip. “Listen, I, uh. . . I need ya to do that thing I told you I’d need—you know, vouchin’ for me and all.” On the other end of the line, Bobby uttered a few, incomprehensible words. “Yeah,” Dean laughed weakly. “Yeah. . . she threw me with the salt. Just like you said.” His eyes flickered to you with subtle amusement before Bobby said something else. Then, he was handing you the phone.

You narrowed your eyes in skepticism before your free hand reached for the phone, so careful not to graze his skin as you retrieved it from his fingers. Dean seemed to notice the rejection, and his mouth gaped slightly with the hurt it evoked. You pushed aside the image, but didn’t stray from his face as you brought the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You called into the line.

“Hey, kid, it’s me,” Bobby’s static voice answered. “Listen, I know you’re goin’ through one helluva mind-fuck right ‘bout now. . . but it’s ‘im, kid. It’s Dean.” He trailed into silence after those words, providing an interval he expected you’d fill with some sort of taken aback reaction. But all you could do was choke on your stunned silence, your heart beginning to ram at your chest harder than it’d ever managed before. “Kid? Y’still there?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed all-knowingly as he watched you in patient silence. His hand shifted from his lap an inch, like he yearned to reach out to you and offer some reassurance, but you both knew it’d do little to soothe you in this current predicament—the mental debate of whether or not the man you loved was really back.

Eventually, your body hosted a response, but it wasn’t one you’d preferred to have at this instant. A tear clotted along your one eye, bundling up until it was heavy enough to slip over the edge. Dean’s expression visibly softened, his jaw clenching with the knowledge that he couldn’t exactly pull you into a tight embrace—not just yet, anyway.

Your lips loosened, a rattled breath breaking through. “I saw his body, Bobby,” you pushed out in a quiver. Another tear lined the opposite cheek. “I watched you and Sam dig that fucking hole. . . and I watched you roll his lifeless, rotting corpse over the edge before cementing him under six fucking feet of dirt.”

The phone line hissed and crackled with the silent air on Bobby’s side. You almost thought he’d given up the ruse that you were so determined to believe you’d gotten caught up in, but then his voice blared through—the most tender and sympathetic you’ve ever heard it.

“I know you’re confused,” he began. “Hell, this shit had me believin’ that my family’s history of Alzheimer’s had finally kicked the bucket out from under me. But I did all the tests, and I interrogated him over and over again. I gave him hell, kid, but in the end, it’s really him. Y’know I wouldn’t have even thought ‘bout lettin’ him get close to ya if I weren’t certain o’ it. So if ya can’t trust ‘im just yet, then trust me. I give ya my word.”

Your fingers gripped the phone a little tighter, if only to still the trembling of your hand, and you gave a large sniff as you processed his words. Your eyes still bore into Dean, as though it would keep him pinned to the spot should he think about making a run for it.

You shifted the phone against your ear an inch, taking your lower lip into a tense bite before you spoke again. “Okay,” you breathed softly. “I trust you, Bobby.”

From Bobby’s end, shuffling noises chafed your ear like sand-paper. “Alright, kid, I’ll leave the two o’ ya to it. Good luck,” he said, and then the line terminated with a beep. The call’s ending tune reached Dean’s ear, where he shifted on the mattress almost anxiously while he waited for your decision.

“So, uh,” he began, his lips stuttering on the right words as his head buckled to face the hands he’d crossed in his lap. His palms rubbed tense lines—like the scheming motion of a fly—before he glanced back up at you. “We good?” He settled on. You saw the subtle desperation in the clench of his jaw. He craved the pardon only you could give him.

Slowly, you lowered the phone from your ear, flipping it closed as your chest rattled with another, shaky breath. Your eyes began to water once more, and this time, it didn’t hold back. In a second, you were hurling yourself across the mattress, arms flailing through the air to wrap around his neck with a desperation that could have body-slammed him to the floor.

“Woah,” he steadied in a laugh that sounded all too relieved.

Your chest crashed into Dean’s, and his hands were hasty to return your hug as he wrapped himself around your waist. There, he completed the embrace, pulling you against him so tightly that it started to pinch the meat of your skin through your shirt. But you didn’t care if his grip left behind a bruise—you’d consider it a physical reminder of just how real this all was.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, all the pent up emotions you’d come to harbour over these last few months finally liberated from your clutch. The tears began to roll without practiced regulation, and you found yourself yielding all control. Because being around Dean always had you feeling safe enough to do so, and your body had utilised its muscle-memory to re-establish that foundation. To rebuild the home that his death had wrecked.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” you whispered against the stubbled skin of his neck, the sound heavy and cracked.

His palm stroked slow, comforting circles across your lower back, his own face buried against the slope of your shoulder. You felt his warm breath waft over your skin as he spoke. “Me too,” he pushed out tensely. Shakily. There were very few moments that you’d ever heard that tone on him. “I didn’t think I was ever comin’ back,” he admitted. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you, or Sammy—hell, even Bobby, again. But I’m not complainin’,” he added hastily. “Shit, I’ll never complain ‘bout anythin’ e’er again. I got everythin’ I need right here.”

He shifted against you, torso pulling back as though he couldn’t wait a second longer to peer into your eyes. You leaned yourself back in rhythm, your cheeks blown red with your overwhelmed state and your eyes still glistening with fresh tears. You kept your hands looped around his neck, fingers still clutching his phone, and your heart was seized by a new fist of pain as you saw Dean’s bloodshot eyes pave way for his own, sparse—but undeniably real—tears.

His hands settled at your hips, fingers subconsciously squeezing at the meat as he did a mental walkthrough of his own emotions. “I missed you so goddamn much,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling now. “God, all I could think ‘bout down there, every second of every miserable day, was you—how much I needed you. How much I missed you.” His chest jolted with a forced, but much needed exhale to steady his next words. “And how much I love you.”

You choked on your breath at that final confession, words that—up until now—had never directly admitted. You couldn’t help but huff a slight breath of disbelief, a weak grin beaming through as your eyes softened with a warmth that made you feel whole again. Dean, himself, looked slightly stunned at his declaration, his eyes widening mildly as he drank in your reaction. But as you gazed at him, there was no undertone of regret or shame mingling with his features. There was only what looked like relief, if the slight quirking of his lips and the soft sigh that followed after was any indication.

Maybe, it was relief attributed to the fact that he’d finally started to unpack—and put words to—some of his more complex emotions. It made you feel so much closer to him.

Without sparing it another thought, you blurted your own reciprocation. “I love you too, Dean.”

He smiled tenderly at that, and neither one of you moved as you shared an intense stare that circulated all sorts of emotion—love, adoration, and desire. Then, as though some unspoken agreement had been exchanged, you dove down to meet his lips in a fierce kiss, the phone you’d been clutching dropping to some surface beyond your current care.

Dean’s hands trailed up the expanse of your back as he returned your kiss hungrily, his lips feuding with yours for an advantage of the play. He wasted no time sliding his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, his warm palms massaging a determined, upward trajectory until he gained enough leverage to tug it over your head.

The kiss broke off momentarily as your arms flew up in an eager gesture to shed your layers, your chest heaving with the exertion. He managed to successfully tug the shirt over your head, the neckline the last to go and leaving behind an impression as it briefly snagged onto your hair. When he gave it one last freeing tug, your hair tie came loose amidst the commotion, your hair cascading across your bare torso in fresh, yet slightly damp strands.

Dean came forward to press two distinct kisses against your lips—hasty, but a bold statement in itself—before he leaned back to roll his shoulders and discard his own clothing. Your hands flew to his chest in aid, fingers sliding beneath the isles of his unbuttoned shirt to push it over the slopes of his shoulders. His hands twisted behind himself to pluck each sleeve from his arms with practiced speed, discarding it some place behind him before he was tugging his snugly-fitting tee over his head.

Instantly, your attention lowered down his toned torso, the glorified sight of him causing your core to pulse with desire. You didn’t get to exploit his image for long before he hogged your view with another, fierce tumble of the lips, his hands grabbing at your waist like he’d needed to remember what you felt like. Your tongues found one another with an ease that felt like its fates were tied, swirling about in a seductive dance to the death. Your hands settled at his neck, gently rubbing and kneading the skin as you allowed yourself to melt into his devouring.

When your palms wandered further down the contoured muscle of his broad shoulders, you felt the skin of his left bicep raise in a questionable pattern. The contact over that area made Dean wince into your mouth, and then he withdrew from the kiss with a feral pant, eyes shifting from an insatiable hunger to a more vulnerable uncertainty. It was enough of a reaction to tear your gaze away from him and steal a glance at the mood-killing discovery. But you almost wished you hadn’t stumbled upon it because the sight of a raised, red handprint seared into the flesh of his forearm made your eyes widen in horror.

“Dean—” you breathed, overcome with the instinctive need to trace your hand over the anomaly, but his shoulder withdrew from your curious touch, which called your attention back to him. “What happened?” You asked softly.

He shook his head lightly, taking a moment to acknowledge the marking with a newfound solemness. His chin dipped down for a second, a broken, incomplete noise dangling from his lips. You knew then, that whatever grim reminder had been imbued into this branding was something too fresh to confront at this time, so you made the silent decision not to probe him about it any further.

You moved to cradle his face, tilting it up to you. His expression looked defeated, his eyes sagging with a heavy fatigue. You didn’t doubt that hell had had its tolls—if anything, you were surprised that he’d come out of it in one piece. Physically, at least. Whatever mental deconstruction he’d undergone during his time there was knowledge beyond your grasp, and a conversation for another time. Hell had already taken enough from the both of you; you wouldn’t let it have this moment, too.

“If you want to stop, just say the word,” you told him gently, offering a hearty smile. “We can just lay here and cud—“

“No,” he answered, the hands at your waist tightening with new resolve. “We’re gonna cuddle, alright, but after we’ve had our overdue fun,” he said, a newfound smirk creeping through his evident exhaustion. “I’ve waited too damn long for this day—hell if I pass it up in a blink.”

You loved it when he took charge this way. Your teeth peered through your lips in an exhilarated grin, and then, you let out a yelp of excitement as he pushed you back onto the mattress, his frame following closely in a controlled hover as he positioned himself on top of you. His lips came crashing down onto yours, the heated dynamic between the two of you returning full-forced, as though it’d never been interrupted in the first place.

Your hands wandered messy lines up and down his neck, occasionally dipping down to glide over the curve of his pecks. The heat in your core began to build with every second you spent tumbled within the skilled warmth of his lips, his hands adding fuel to the fire with the way they staggered along your exposed torso to grace any and every inch of your skin.

He pulled away to drag his moist lower lip up your cheek, pressing a kiss to your temple before he whispered into your ear. “I need to feel you. I need to have all o’ you,” he breathed, and then he pulled away as quickly as he’d arrived, leaning back onto his knees as his fingers found firm grip at your shorts.

He tugged the material down mercilessly, pulling your underwear along with it, and you lifted your legs with a giddy laugh to allow him all the access he needed to yank it free. He tossed it to the other end of the room, his hands flying to undo his belt and jeans while his fixated you with focused eyes—like he was silently entertaining all the things he’d like to do to you.

He shed his boots at the foot of the bed to terminate his undressing, and your eyes immediately lowered to the bowing length of his manhood. It felt cheap—ogling him this way, but something about the sight felt so validating that you couldn’t help but stare. Maybe it was knowing that the mere sight of you was enough to spur him on in this manner, and god, you needed him just as much as he evidently needed you.

Your core throbbed more impatiently now, your built-up arousal taking the first of its leave through the slit of your folds. You were tempted to call out to him, to utter the first, desperate words of beckoning, but Dean seemed to clock your needs almost instantly. He leaned back down to you with a charming smirk, one hand propping himself up at the side of your waist while his other took ahold of his manhood.

“Ready, sunshine?” He murmured—low and rough and slightly dazed with his own suffocating arousal.

Your core seemed to answer before you did, the area beaming hot at the mere sound of his voice. You pushed out a needy hum, and Dean wasted no time in sliding his tip between your folds. He breached through your slicked entrance with ease, his head tilting back an inch and his eyes fluttering closed as he pushed out a gruff moan. He sank himself further into you, his length conforming to your walls in perfect unity. Instinctively, your legs propped to give him better access, and the action drew him in even further.

“Fuck,” he murmured lowly, his head then tilting forward as he gathered himself and fully leaned himself down to you. He placed a kiss onto your lips for good measure, both arms scooping beneath yours in a sure grip. His fists balled at either side of your head, and you wrapped your own arms around his neck.

“I need you, Dean,” you cooed into his ear, and he left slip a breathy sound of acknowledgment before he drilled the first thrust into you.

You both harmonised with noises of pleasure, your nails digging into the nape of his neck as his hips began swaying at a faster pace. He leaned his forehead down against yours, lips parted as he fought to steady the feral breaths of pleasure heaving his chest.

Your eyes stuttered closed as his thrusts deepened and deepened, curving against your walls and gliding to meet your sweet spot at just the right angle. Your head burrowed back into your pillow, your lips gaping with a loud moan. It made Dean lower himself onto your lips, taking them between his in a soft, chiding nibble. You breathed into him erratically, releasing noises that gradually became more and more slurred until you became a hot, panting mess.

His own control seemed to slip from his grasp as he began to grunt and whimper against your cheek, his head eventually falling past yours to graze your ear with just the right verbal performance to add to the contractions of that growing ache within.

His thrusts became firmer—but not brutal. They were passionate and needy all at once, but still laced with a sort of caution that only deep admiration could warrant. He gave a few more firm thirsts, both of you heaving against one another with the approach of your climax. Then, with a final jerk of his hips, the knot that had tethered you to one another came undone in a cascading warmth.

You felt it seep from your entrance, and for a second, Dean didn’t stir from atop you. He remained hovered over you, the point of his nose brushing your cheek methodically as he attempted to replenish his lungs and recover from his own bliss.

“Jesus,” he remarked, an impressed chuckle tickling your ear. “All this time apart, and still it doesn’t feel like I ever slipped your spell.”

You released your own breathless chuckle. “I’m usually opposed to captivity of any sort, but in this case, thank god for that.”

Finally, Dean withdrew from inside of you, collapsing to side of the mattress nearest to the door—his space. Rightfully occupied at last. He reached over to pluck some tissues from the nightstand before turning back to you, fumbling the tissue between his fingers before he began dabbing at the moisture along your forehead.

He gazed at you through loving eyes, so soft and vast that it made your heart throb—like you were falling in love all over again. Dean seemed to notice the lovesick look on your face because he smiled with an expression to match. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, and you puckered your own to receive it eagerly. And then he shifted momentarily to clean you down below.

When he came back up to you, he flicked the used tissues off to the side, and then instantly, you were pulled against his chest in a tight embrace. The skin-on-skin contact soothed you, your body relaxing almost instantly within his firm hold—a type of pressure therapy that only worked because it was him. It felt so safe and natural, so you melted further into him, and the hand he’d cupped around the back of your hair began to massage a soothing pattern into your scalp.

Everything about this moment was enough to lull you into a much needed state of relaxation, your body finally unwinding after months of being held together at the threads. Your eyes drifted close, your breathing deepening with the newfound peace.

“You know,” Dean said suddenly, beckoning to your senses. Your eyes remained closed, but you hummed softly to acknowledge him. “Down there, time works differently.” That piqued your interest enough to part you eyes in narrow slits. “You said I’ve been gone for four months? Well, for me, it’s been forty years.”

Your eyes widened fully now, your lips split with some bewildered gasp. “Dean,” you sympathised softly, hand moving from its place at his chest to stroke along his cheek. “I’m so sorry—that sounds awful.”

He shifted to place a kiss on the first part of your palm he could reach. “It ain’t your fault,” he assured you thinly, his eyes bowing under his own exhaustion—as if the mere recollection drained him. “If anythin’, you got me through it. I don’t have to tell you just how shitty things are down in Satan’s basement,” he laughed, but you knew there was no real humour behind it, only pain. “But you. . . just thinkin’ o’ you. . . rememberin’ what I’ve gotta fight for, it kept me sane. Strong.”

You smiled weakly, his words evoking a mixture of warmth and guilt all at once. You appreciated that you’d been able offer him some sort of comfort in your mere memory, but at the same time, you wished he hadn’t needed it to begin with.

Hell was no place for a good man like him.

“Well, you’re back now,” you offered softly, your hands shifting to wrap around his torso in a hug. His own arms wrapped around your upper back, pulling you so tightly against him that you thought your beings might finally form a physical union to mirror the spiritual tying of your souls.

“And I’m here to stay,” he finished in a faint murmur, the words—the promise—hot against the crown of your head.

Those words lingered in your mind as you eventually drifted into a sleep, the steady sound of his breathing the last thing you needed to loosen your grip on reality. Darkness came to claim you, and this time, you welcomed it eagerly.

When you roused into the waking world, your room was fully lit with the tell of noon. The finding was indication enough that you’d stolen the sleep of a lifetime, and there was no lingering heaviness perched on your lids this time around. It filled you with a sense of satisfaction, and you blinked a few times to ground your bleary senses.

When you stirred against the sheets, you heaved a deep breath, your lungs expanding around a newfound sense of inner peace. Instinctively, your arm reached across the mattress to claim the touch of man you loved, but where you expected to feel the warmth of his skin, you felt nothing but the cool, empty space of the comforters.

With a jolt, you sat yourself up, head swivelling about the room with a sense of panic. Dean was nowhere to be found. Your mind instantly began reeling with endless possibilities, your breathing elevating with a growing sense of panic—had you imagined it all? Had he ever been here to begin with? Had you finally snapped and gone insane?

But when you took a moment to lower your head and drink in your frame, you found yourself to be as bare as when you’d fallen asleep. You shifted to the edge of the mattress, feeling some slither of relief that your clothes were where you’d left them—discarded about the room in ruthless bundles. And then, out of instinct, your eyes wandered over to your desk chair, where you expected to greet the leather jacket that had become a pivotal part of your morning routine.

Only, your heart lurched when the chair glared back at you with a bare rim—the jacket nowhere in sight.

Beyond the walls, mingled laughter brightened the atmosphere. The sound made you slip from the mattress almost instantly, where you darted about the room to gather your scattered pyjamas in a hurry before slipping it over your frame. You dashed toward the bedroom door, twisting the handle with anticipation before you practically hurled yourself into the hallway.

When you entered into the open-plan living room, you found that Dean and Sam were weaving rather chaotic ant trails around the kitchen’s floor, each brother tending to steaming dishes that you were too far away to appreciate in detail. But you weren’t paying much attention to it, anyway. You were far too focused on watching Dean, as though you’d had to solidify the mental image of his presence—to believe that he was really here, and here to stay. And the best part of it all is that he was wearing the leather jacket you’d thought would never come to crown another set of shoulders again. It was the last image you needed to place the final puzzle piece in your heart—no, you felt truly fulfilled.

Some part of you had thought—just for a second—that your reunion had been a figment of your imagination. But now, you could breathe a little easier knowing that Dean had truly returned, rooted in flesh as he drifted about the kitchen with an extra skip in his step.

Just then, he spun on his heels to nick something off the counter, his head lifting in your direction as he finally noticed your loitering figure. “Second g’mornin’ to you, sunshine,” he called to you, birthing a cheeky smirk. He flashed a quick glance at Sam before turning back to you. “In case you were wonderin’, Sammy here’s all caught up,” he said. “So let’s skip the big, mushy family reunion and get movin’ on those damn tacos. I’m starvin’”.

“Tacos?” You echoed with a light laugh.

Sam appeared at his big brother’s side, beaming so brightly, it was almost blinding. “We’re having tacos for lunch. Everything’s basically finished,” he piped in, casting a pleading glance in your direction. “Would you mind helping me plate it?”

Your heart settled as you drank the both of them in. This was the life you’d come to miss so dearly, and you couldn’t help but smile appreciatively. You jerked your chin in Dean’s direction. “Why don’t you make him do it?” You teased, padding your way over to the kitchen island.

“Call it a family discount,” Dean chuckled smugly, rounding the counter to draw up at your side. “Or, y’know, the breakin’ free from hell card.”

You shook your head lightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Isn’t it a little too soon?” You scoffed.

“You let me worry ‘bout my own shit,” he replied, gracing you with a charming wink.

You didn’t offer anything further as you turned your attention down to the prepped toppings spread out across the counter—mince, lettuce, guacamole, chilli sauce, salsa, cheese and the taco shells themselves. You reached for the empty plates and began topping each one with the hollow taco shells, moving to fill the first one with the toppings.

Dean snuck up behind you, his hands finding grip at your waist while his chin came to rest atop your shoulder. His lips grazed your ear. “Thank you for lookin’ after my jacket,” he murmured. “I didn’t think I’d be seein’ this old thing again.”

You smile at his words, hands shifting to stuff the taco with the next pick of toppings. “My reason for keeping it was more selfish than that,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t bear to move it. It would’ve felt too final.”

He hummed a noise of understanding, a soft kiss gracing the side of your neck. “The only thing that’s final is that I’m back,” he said. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that anymore, alright?”

“I know,” you murmured, and Dean squeezed you in a light hug, but continued to keep you tucked within his hold as you finished stuffing the taco. You lifted it over your shoulder, carefully guiding it toward his lips.

He released an approving noise before leaning forward to accept your offering in a gluttonous chomp, his lips practically smothering your fingers as though it were deemed part of the meal. You giggled at the feeling, taco fragments scattering across your shoulder as he chewed the food intently.

“How does it taste?” You asked him, turning your head to get a better view of his expression.

His eyes did a roll of appreciation, his cheeks swelled with the large bite. He hummed a string of approval, coupled with a content, repeating nod. Once he gave a hearty swallow, he cleared his throat in satisfaction.

“Tastes like sunshine.”

──────────────────────

a/n ─ can you tell i had the time of my life writing this?? can you tell?? anon i love your mind so so much please never stop your special creativity. i will be tending to my other requests soon, and i encourage you all to keep on sending them through. i appreciate you ALL and your lovely ideas, as well as the support and trust you have in me to flesh out your fantasies 🫶 now, it’s literally almost 4 am as i publish this so nighty night beautiful people!

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @fallbhind @bohemianblasphemy @figthoughts @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @titsout4jackles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @floralscented

want to be apart of the taglist for any future jensen ackles works?

other works ─ supernatural masterlist

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themultifanshipper · 25 days ago

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My personal NSFW headcannons about the drivers

(Consider this my 2k special)

Max VERStappen. Enough said. He likes being on top, on the bottom, against the wall, pressed into the mattress, holding you up while he fucks you. He doesn't care. He'll do anything to please and he enjoys every second of it. Also very good with his mouth. Also likes being manhandled despite his size. Big dick. Also he yaps, in any language he sees fit, he knows many languages, and knows how to dirty talk in every. Single. One.

Lando likes to get fucked by older men. It's written in the stars. I'm still not over that video where he's at some random dad's house on a booty call. And when he's not getting bent over by dilfs, he's got the strength and flexibilty to rail you in any and every position imaginable. He knows how to move his hips. He's a bit clumsy in bed, but he's a quick learner, and makes up for it in enthusiasm.

Oscar is rarely gonna be a dom. He can if he wants, but most of the time he's giggly and soft and passionate and submissive. Also I can imagine him being very into fingering. Like being one of the rare ones (let's be real) that can actually find your clit and your g-spot. He will overstimulate you for hours without his arm getting tired. He has the lesbian manicure. Also I think he's a yapper. He will talk you through it, and the words that come out of his mouth can be shocking.

Charles is down to have sex absolutely anywhere. Car, shower, club bathrooms, stuck elevators, drivers room, swimming pools, yachts, and he might even have an exhibitionist streak. Also idk why but I can see him being very into doggy style and maybe even anal. (It is a cliché about the french and he's as close as it gets). And he makes you cockwarm him when he plays the piano on days where he's frustrated and just wants some intimacy

Carlos is very good with his hands. Foreplay is essential to him. Have you seen that tongue? He'll eat you out for hours. And he's generally slow and sensual and passionate, but on the odd occasion he'll let loose and go deeper and harder, for once putting his own pleasure first.

Pierre is french, therefore likes doggystyle, I don't make the rules. But for real he does I swear. He likes it rough: hair pulling, spanking, etc... and doggy is perfect for him to control the pace. He likes anal too. That man eats ass. Also tripod. I bet it's true. Also I have much to say about catholic guilt but that's for another day. Also very into cum. Coming on your face is a must after every blowjob.

Esteban is also french, so he likes it from behind, but he's more of an "against the wall" type of guy. Or he'll bend you over a surface that's at the right level, bc it can be hard to fuck vertically due to his height. Oh and he also likes men. I can't explain it, but he does. He is friends with Lance. Two bisexual besties ya get me?

Fernando is wild. That old man has fucked the entire paddock and when his biography comes out it will be banned in several countries. But for real that is a bisexual old man if I've ever seen one. He's got that spanish sensuality going for him, and he is passionate. His endurance is off the charts. His neckkk??? He's another one that will fuck you literally anywhere. If you are horny, he is horny, and will pull you into a broom closet for a quickie if he needs to.

Lance fucks man, he fucks. And he rails. Like you can call him babygirl all you want, but I think he's fully capable of putting you in your goddamn place when he wants to. He's chill, but I feel like he has some kind of alter ego in bed, like he's into role play? Idk I feel like he'd be into that. And like mentioned before, he likes men. And he subs.

Alex is a sweetheart and is probably very chill in bed most of the time. But I reckon he's got a wild streak. Maybe a lil bit of throatfucking every now and then? Bit of overstimulation? Edging? He's good with his hands. He can be such a little shit if you get him in the right mood. He has fire in his eyes. Huge tease. Huge.

George is another one that is good with his hands. He may be generally lanky and stiff, but his fingering skills make up for it. Have you seen them? Yeah, he knows how to use them, we've all seen that video right? With the f1 seat model? Need I say more? Also he either has a massive dick or a tiny one, I can't decide.

Liam is a fuckboy. A nice one, but a fuckboy none the less. His entire personality is Flash goddamn McQueen. Another one that will rail you from behind at any given opportunity. And that mf does.not.give.up. He will make you come, but it might take a while, he's still young, he's got time to learn. He's got a big dick tho <3

Lewis has been around the block. He will fuck anyone, anywhere, anyhow. He's a switch at heart, but when he was younger? That boy was getting pounded for being the biggest brat ever. Now, he still has that rebellious streak that pushes him to be a little shit from time to time, but now he ends up being the tease AND the dom. Also not to perpetuate stereotypes but... his bulge? Yeah, he packin' alright

Nico is ken. He lives to please. He's there to give. I think he's a massive sweetheart in bed, passionate and ready to give you the night of your goddamn life. He will make sure you are having a good time at every given opportunity. And if you aren't moaning like a bitch in heat? He's not happy. He'll get rough if he needs to. Don't try to fake it with him, he will make you come as many times as it takes until you apologise.

Yuki is a switch. Sometimes he'll be in the mood to pound you through the mattress, if he's had a bad day or just wants to switch things up. The smaller the body the more concentrated the rage, or however the saying goes. Other times he'll let you ride him until he's crying in overstimulation. He whimpers. All.The.Time. Also I know saying food sex is cliche, but I know a couple of chefs, they've all dabbled in in whipped cream and chocolate a few times. Even I've fucked while eating pizza once

Ollie looks like the definition of a good boy, but I think he's pretty much up for anything in bed. I swear he could tease you for hours, and have his signature grin plastered on his face the entire time. He'll fuck you till the sun rises if you've been bad, but he's also up for giggly fun sex. Depends on the mood.

Kimi is a child. (Just kidding) But if he weren't Italian (and fucking JACKED) I would think he's a virgin. But I see you Andrea Kimi Antonelli. I see those sultry eyes you give all the older men around you. He knows how to get what he wants, and anyone who's seen him shirtless gets whiplash from the contrast between his face and his body.

Jack is rideable. By that I mean he will sit on the couch, and take great pleasure in watching you ride him. If you get tired he won't flip you over, he'll just use his strength to bounce you on his cock. Also his nose. Also I bet he has the filthiest fucking mouth. Australians tend to be good at dirty talk don't ask me how I know that

Isack is french (algerian) so you know what that means... yup, fuckin doggy. And he's cocky too. He seems shy, but if he's with someone he feels comfortable around, or if he's been flirting with you for a while, he's a whole different beast. I can see him coming up behind you and whispering filth in your ear just to see you squirm in public. But he's still careful, he will not fuck where somebody could catch him.

Bortoleto I don't know much about, but from what I've observed he looks like he can be an absolute sadist when he wants to be. He loves shoving his dick down people's throats just to shut them up, I'm convinced of it.

Franco is a bottom. And if he tops he's not in control. He has a face that you want to ruin, and he wants you to ruin him. Those lips? Made to be wrapped around a cock/strap/fingers. He's so fucking good with his mouth (that's canon) and he's shameless with it. Also shoutout to his exhibitionist streak because have you seen him? He's shirtless 24 fucking 7.

Bonus:

Sebastian Vettel: Back in his RB days he would go around riling people up just to get them to fuck him. That twink was a menace, and he took great joy in teasing his older gridmates. Today, he's much more chilled. He's a huge flirt, signature grin still prominent, but he's now got the experience and mentality to be dominant. He's a tease. He likes using toys. He's done it all by now, but sex is still a huge part of his life, because a sex drive like his is difficult to satiate. I volunteer

Daniel Ricciardo: he has a farm in the middle of nowhere, and knows where the good spots are. (That is a euphemism) He knows what he's doing. He knows what he looks like, and he knows that his nose is one of his most popular features. He will always end sex covered in something. Whether it's your cum after having made you squirt, or his own cum if the situation called for it. (Like being tied up and teased hmmmM?) Very into bodily fluids.

Logan Sargeant: By default he'll top just out habit, and he loves being a tease. But if you catch him in the right mood, you can have him whimpering and whining, begging to come while tears run down his cheeks. He's not ashamed of his submissive side, he kind of likes being able to let loose like that with someone he trusts.

#my thots #f1 #formula 1

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mochism-writes · 3 months ago

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°☆Tug of the Force☆°

—PART 1

●type● intro to series, storyline, MLM romance, two men fighting over you, NSFW, violent, wild interactions

●pairing● anakin skywalker & obi wan kenobi x male reader

●warnings● double penetration, unprotected sex, threesome, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, (reader) dominated, crying, babying the reader, aggressive kissing, bottom reader, degration, homophobic slurs

●word count● IDK BUT VERY LONG

edit! : Thank u guys for all the support!!!

▪︎synopsis▪︎ You do not know Anakin or Obi Wan Kenobi personally. Both you and Anakin are Padawans, Jedi's in training. Anakin is 20 years old while you are 19, he is very advanced in using the Force, while you aren't as great since Anakin is a year ahead of you. Anakin has a mentor Obi Wan Kenobi 36 years old, that teaches him the way of the Force much like your own master. Even though Padawans learn the Force individually with their masters, your batch of former Jedi initiates have been called to the Jedi Temple of Coruscant for a graduation reunion...

》setting《 your hotel suite in Coruscant...

Your hotel suite has a futuristic, sleek, pale theme. One wall stands replaced with a large window, giving the most breathtaking view of Coruscant. The busy hovercraft traffic, the looming skyscrapers, the pinkish hue of the planet's atmosphere, it feels great to be back.

◇Your mind◇ "Cologne... tie... socks... what else?..."

Your mind rushes at the hotel as you try to check off the growing mental list in your head before the reunion party

◇Your mind◇ "Oh shit! I forgot to shave!"

—————————timeskip—————————

》setting《 Jedi Temple of Coruscant...

You arrive to the Temple via the metro, the busy train car felt suffocating, stuffed to the brim with miserable creatures of all alien backgrounds. Stepping off the metro, a cold breeze of the life sustaining oxygen caresses your face. How refreshing. As you near the Temple, the front gate is guarded by two male aliens that scan your face and give you entry to the seemingly infinite halls of the Jedi Temple of Coruscant

◇Your mind◇ "Woah... where is everyone..?"

This definitely wasn't the party you expected, empty endless halls. You recall your past here and remember the secret hideout that you had with your fellow initiates during your time at the Temple. The hideout was accessed via a secret door hidden within one of the discolored pillars of the grand hall.

◇Your mind◇ "There it is!"

The discolored pillar is visible in the distance, the velvet carpet of the halls steered right past the pillar, a non-Jedi would not think twice to inspect the slightly off-white pillar.

◇Your mind◇ "Not sure if this is where everyone is, but it will be nice to see the old hideout again"

You approach the pillar and trace your hands along its sides until you feel the subtle cracks outlining the hidden door. You step back and use your force to open the hidden door. Just like old times.

A spiral staircase leads down to the hideout, the air feels cool and dry. The winding staircase seemed so much more vast when you were younger, but now it seems like such a small distance.

◇Your mind◇ "Its been so long since I've been down here..."

The twisted staircase leads down, and an odd thumping emerges the deeper you go, causing a dust to fall from the stairs above you.

◇Your mind◇ "Is that music..? Is someone down here?..."

The thumping is now clear and you make it out as a distant club beat. Finally, you reach the door of the hideout. The door looks completely different than what you recall it to be. The puny stone door now replaced with a grand entrance made of a cloudy glass like material, giving you a faint look into the inside, colorful blurs shift behind the door.

◇Your mind◇ "They must have renovated this door.. it is so much fancier than what it used to be..."

You push the door open and bright lights and loud music flood out

》setting《 the Coruscant Jedi club...

The blaring music of the club and the flashing lights disorient you for a moment as you glare around at the busy, unfamiliar scene. A bar lays at the side of the club, populated with Jedis being catered to by well dressed servers. The club has a hot pink color scheme, produced by iridescent party lights blaring from the dance floor. A bridge hangs over the main dance floor, sprinkled with drunkards and dancers. The entire club has a breathtaking view of the skylines of Coruscant, the window definitely being one of the biggest you have ever seen.

◇Your mind◇ "What the fuck...? This isn't the hideout I remember..."

Walking in, the flashing lights and the upbeat music. Aliens and people in futuristic streetwear grinding upon eachother on the dance floor. Males socializing at the bar. The air feels humid and your body bounces to the base of the speakers.

◇Your mind◇ "They definitely did some fucking renovating huh..."

You scan the people on the dance floor, and a familiar face catcher your eye. Donovan. Your ex. Donovan sits on a lounge couch, two female aliens praising beside him. Donovan smirks as the aliens whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

◇Your mind◇ "Gross..."

You're reminded of your near expulsion because of your breakup with Donovan, you used the Force on him to throw him to the ground when you found out. Whatever. You decide a drink is just the right thing to loosen you up and forget about Donovan.

》scene《 The Bar...

The bar has a familiar theme to a Tatooine cantina, colorful drinks displayed behind the bar. You lean on the bar and wait for a server, a busy scene envelopes around you, chatter of Jedis and the mechanical clatter and hum of the server droids mixing drinks.

◇server droid◇ "What would you like as your appetizer before your drinks?"

◇You◇ "I'll just have some Ahrisa"

The server droid bumbles and whirrs as it ruffles through the cabinets of the bar for the spicy baked balls. The droid finally finds a bag of Ahrisa, poring five of them into the bowl infront of you.

◇server droid◇ "I will be back in a approximately five minutes for your drink"

The balls of baked bread have a savory, sweet, and spicy taste. As you nibble on your appetizer, a group of people next to you shuffle out of the area. You start to daydream when all the sudden a man takes up the vacant spot beside you.

◇Man, to server droid◇ "Hmm.. ill skip on the appetizer... I'm kina tight on money"

The man seems different than anyone you had ever met. He is a human like you. He has brown hair, a clean crisp Jedi robe, a lean body, his muscles barely outlining on his robe. He looks tired, and his sleepy eyes await for his drink. The man reaches out to your bowl and grabs a Ahrisa ball. You now stare at him shocked and out of your analytical state

◇Man◇ "What? You were staring at me for quite a while, I have a right to some of your Ahrisa"

He chuckles

◇You◇ "What?!... No.. I wasn't trying to be rude. Sorry if I weirded you out- it's just that its been a while since I've seen humans, I've been training in a remote area.."

The man smiles and analyzes your face for a moment before laughing dryly and patting you playfully on the back.

◇Man◇ "I'm Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."

His voice is warm and a little raspy, he tries to keep a cheerful tone despite his tired appearance.

◇You◇ "Nice to meet you! I'm Y/N."

◇Anakin◇ "Y/N huh?... A classic human name. Let me guess, your family is traditional"

Anakin suggests curiously

◇You◇ "Yeah heh, we even still have an air frier in our kitchen"

The two of you chuckle about the ancient kictchenwear

◇Anakin◇ " So, what year did you graduate from the Temple? I graduated 12904"

The server droid gives Anakin his drink and he thanks it briefly

◇You◇ "Oh, I graduated 12903. It's weird that I don't recognize you from back then!"

◇Anakin◇."Yeah, I was the quiet kid for sure. Never talked, always hid at the back of the class."

Anakin sips on his drink and let's out a sigh of refreshment after his seemingly long day

◇You◇ "You seem tired. Why haven't you been resting? We are on vacation anyway."

◇Anakin◇ "Nah, I wasn't even invited here. I skipped graduation day so I guess it's fair to say that I wasn't necessarily a favorite of the Temple. I hitched a ride here with my friends"

◇You◇ "And your master is okay with this?"

◇Anakin◇ "Yeah he's super chill, I don't worry about him"

◇You◇ "Whats his name?"

◇Anakin◇ "Obi Wan Kenobi, but I just call him Ben for short"

◇You◇ "Oh okay! He sounds sweet. My master is called Rima Del Unabe, but she's let me be on vacation for a month for the reunion"

◇Anakin◇ "Sounds fun. Ben has some work here so I'm just chilling around Coruscant"

Anakin slides closer

◇Anakin◇ "Why don't we slip out of here and you come over to my place huh?"

His voice his deep and seductive, his hot breath hits your ear

◇You◇ "Are you trying to.. hook up with me?.."

You glare at Anakin with a subtle disgust, as if he thought you would hook up with a stranger?

◇Anakin◇ "Is that a crime?..."

He thought right, you would definitely hook up with a stranger.

◇You◇ "Nope! Let's dip"

You wink at him, and he smirks back with his stern eyes, dropping a tip at the bar and taking your hand, guiding you out of the humid crowd of the club

—————————timeskip—————————

》scene《 Anakin's suite...

Anakin's suite has a large living room area on the patio, most of the suite being outdoors. His suite seems cozy and welcoming, the beautiful scenery of Coruscant being one of its main highlights. Anakin sits on the arm of one of the couches, looking out at the city. He looks back at you and scoots aside. He pats the vacant spot next to him, inviting you to sit next to him.

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck I love this planet. I wish I could be here forever."

◇You◇ "Why can't you?"

◇Anakin◇ "Ben always has some interplanetary task for me or some business elsewhere, I never have time to myself"

◇You◇ "That must suck.. I'm sorry"

◇Anakin◇ "Its fine.. he says it's for the best I guess. Atleast I have you beside me Y/N."

Anakin moves his arm closest to you behind you and rests it on your outer hip. You blush slightly. Anakin stands up

◇Anakin◇ "No more waisting time. I wanna fuck"

◇You◇ "Sheesh! Okay.. someones a little horny.."

You tease in a playful tone. Anakin begins to take off his robe, not breaking eye contact with you as he does. His breathing is heavy and his eyes look serious.

◇Anakin◇ "A little? Nah. I'm super horny."

Your body warms up as he asserts his dominating tone. You feel yourself starting to get hard underneath your robe.

◇Your mind◇ "Fuck... he's so hot... ugh I can't believe I'm doing this with a fucking stranger but honestly I feel safe around him. He seems sweet but definitely very dominant when he's riled up..."

Anakin stands infront of you, his dick hard from underneath his underwear. He is still wearing his now undone robe, it drapes over his body loosely

◇Anakin◇ "This dick isn't going to lubricate itself is it?... Or do you want me to fuck you dry?"

You shudder at his idea, fucking dry sounds like hell.

◇You◇ "Uh.. I.."

You stand there, blushing, looking at his growing erection while he glares at you with a smirk.

◇Anakin◇ "Don't worry, it doesn't bite."

He teases. You walk up to him and stand face to face with him, both of your heavy breathing brushing eachothers face. Anakin leans in and gives a light kiss to your lips. You stare at him for a moment and then kiss him harder, slipping your tounge into his mouth slightly. Anakin begins to grasp your head from behind and takes control of the passionate kiss, his tounge ramming into your mouth. As one of his hands keeps your head in place, he uses his other hand to rub his crotch, his fully grown cock is now leaking a little bit underneath his underwear.

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck you're so hot.."

Anakin moans in-between the hot and sloppy kisses. Anakin suddenly stops and pulls your head back violently by grasping your hair with force. He takes a good look at your face, his stern, sleepy eyes searching your face with a serious expression. Once he's satisfied, he pulls your head down, forcing you to your knees. You're now face to face with his crotch.

◇Anakin◇ "Suck faggot."

Anakin uses both hands to shove your face on his crotch area, rubbing his dick on your face from underneath his underwear. Anakin looks up, closes his eyes and grunts in pleasure, the friction of your face partially satisfying his cock. Anakin let's go of your head and allows you to unpackage his meat.

◇Anakin◇ "Take it out.. that's right..."

You firmly grasp the top of his trouser, and pull it down in one swift motion. Anakins rock hard dick hits you in the face, eager to be free from its prison. You make eye contact with Anakin, looking up at him lustfully as his dick lays atop of your face, you can feel its heavyness. Anakin's dick rests at 6.7 inches long, and has a girth of 2.5 inches, very girthy. Your eyes now look away from his face and now focus on his circumcised member. His dick reeks of testosterone and you can't resist but to lick the slit at the tip of his cock.

Anakin closes his eyes and shudders at the feeling of your tounge on his dick, he let's out deep and growling breaths, eager for more. You move on to his full tip, widening your mouth and enclosing it around his dark pink tip. You begin to suck his dick slowly, his tip hitting the back of your throat frequently.

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck.. Go faster..."

You try to go faster but his dick is just too big for your mouth. Anakin grasps your hair again and forcefully pushes your head to the very base of his dick. Your gag reflexes take over and you start to choke. The vibrations of your choke on Anakin's cock really turn him on so he continues to press your head on his dick all the way. Anakin gasps and grunts with pleasure as you gag on his dick. Finally, as you were about to pass out on his dick, Anakin pulls your head off his dick, and allows you to gasp for air.

◇Anakin◇ "That felt so good..."

You gasp for air, Anakin's dick pokes you in the face as if it yearns for more. His cock begins to drip with precum and you start to lick it all up, the salty, warm substance tastes even better when it comes from Anakin. You make eye contact with Anakin as you lick up his precum, licking the slit of his tip as soon as he produces it. Anakin glares at you lustfully from above and bites his lips, basking in how good you're making him feel. You begin to slowly jerk off his shaft with your hands while your mouth works his tip, Anakin moans in pleasure. The door of Anakin's suite unlocks and slams to the wall with a loud bang.

◇Ben◇ "What the hell did I say about noise after 9? I'm trying to fucking sleep in the suite next door!"

Ben's eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark suite. You're kneeling infront of Anakin so you cannot see the person that has just walked in. Anakin looks down at you in desperation.

◇Anakin◇ "Shit shit shit... Y/N. I need you to hide"

You're shocked and you're adrenaline pumps as Anakin's caring, raspy voice commands you. You desperately manage to crawl underneath a table and watch the scene unfold from a distance. Anakin hurriedly wraps his loose robe, concealing his dick.

◇Ben◇ "Oh bloody hell Anakin. What the hell is your problem.."

Ben Kenobi slowly starts to approach, closing the door behind him. His eyes glare around the room, his sleepy posture approaches Anakin. Anakin quickly turns around, acting innocent, his robe concealing the crime scene.

◇Anakin◇ "Ben! Haha.. I'm sorry I was just er.."

Ben stands a few feet away from his Padawan and tries to read his body language, noticing Anakin's suspicious mannerisms.

◇Ben◇ "Anakin. I know what you were doing"

From under the table, you shudder in fear. Your breathing begins to tremble in fear..

◇Your mind◇ "Fuck!... What if he tells my master..."

Your mind races as you watch the scene unfold. Ben puts his hand on Anakin's shoulder, in a kind and friendly way.

◇Anakin◇ "I assure you master.. this isn't what you think it is..."

Ben analyzes Anakins' face for a moment, the suspense makes you tremble from underneath the table.

◇Ben◇ "Anakin, you realize that touching yourself is normal, do it too. You do not need to be ashamed of it."

Your body relaxes from hearing his words.. thank God he's not suspicious of you. Anakin also seems relieved from his masters words.

◇Anakin◇ "Yeah.. you're right. That's what I was doing.."

Ben chuckles and pats Anakin's shoulder

◇Ben◇ "Alrighty then. Keep the moans down though mate. The entire galaxy must've heard you by now"

Ben laughs to himself as he turns away and begins to leave the suite.

Anakin stands in his place, watching his master leave, still frozen in fear from that close call. Ben approaches the door and grasps the handle.

◇Ben◇ "But Anakin.. Maybe you could've chosen a better hiding spot for your prostitute?"

Your eyes widen with fear from underneath the table. Anakin clears his throat dryly, his voice trembling.

◇Anakin◇ "Obi Wan.. I-I..."

Ben turns back, his face now stern and his body serious.

◇Ben◇ "You.. you what? There is no excuse for this shit."

Ben turns towards your hiding spot and begins to walk towards the table you are concealed under. Ben now stands infront of your table, the only thing visible to you are his slippers and his draped robe.

◇Your mind◇ "Please don't look under the table... please don't look under the tab.."

The table is flung from above you, Ben's hand is outreached in the direction that the table had gone, he had used the Force to reveal your hiding spot.

◇Ben◇ "Well well well... This prostitute seems different then the ones I typically see around here"

You lay sprawled on the floor, nervous and embarrassed. You glance at Anakin and he returns the same feared look. Ben towers over your body, he glares down at you, making you feel inferior to his presence. Ben kneels down to your body, his bearded, gruff face begins to scan you face, he grunts in confusion.

◇Ben◇ "A Jedi?"

You look up at the man nervously

◇You◇ "Yeah... my name is Y/N.."

Ben tilts your chin up with his fingers to get a better look at your face. His hands are strong and hard to resist.

◇Ben◇ "A Jedi prostitute?"

Anakin swiftly strides over and pulls Ben from the back, causing him to fall from his kneeled position, but Ben catches himself with his elbow and a grunt.

◇Anakin◇ "Don't call him a prostitute. He's my boyfriend."

Ben shifts on the ground, and gets back up on his feet, surprised by his student's reaction. Anakin takes your hand and helps you up to your feet, his expression now firm and protective.

◇Your mind◇ "We aren't boyfriends... we literally just met..."

Ben smirks at the scene.

◇Ben◇ "Boyfriends.. huh?"

◇Anakin◇ "Yep. Do you have a fucking problem?"

Ben chuckles to himself

◇Ben◇ "Anakin. We have been over this. No dating until your training is over."

Anakin shifts uncomfortably, and takes a quick look at you as if to say, "I better not regret this.."

◇Anakin◇ "I don't care. We aren't in love and you can't do anything about it."

Ben stares in disbelief, his student is disobeying him and he expects to get away with it? He stands there, analyzing the situation. You see his muscular build, and his beard low-key turns you on. He has a "dilf" quality to him. Ben looks at you, and his mind seems to have made a decision.

◇Ben◇ "You're lucky I think you're attractive."

Ben steps very close towards you, your faces near eachother at an uncomfortable distance. Ben breathes heavily, his hot breath smells of coffee.

◇Ben◇ "This is how it's gonna go."

Ben says in a demanding tone. His eyes lock onto yours, his nose technically rubbing against your nose. Anakin watches from aside, he looks his master seducing his hookup with rage.

◇Anakin◇ "What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuc-?"

Anakin's furious voice cuts abruptly, you notice that Ben's hand is outreached and he has used the Force to silence Anakin. Anakin stands frozen in place. You try to object but Ben desperately looks you in the eyes.

◇Ben◇ "Shhh... don't worry about him... he will have his turn with you..."

Ben begins to kiss you roughly, his eyes still locked onto yours. His beard feels rough on your face, and his moans sound desperate.

Ben begins to slip his tongue into your mouth, your two tounges start to lick eachother and you finally embrace the passionate kiss, even though deep down you feel bad for Anakin, watching from beside.

Ben pulls out of the kiss, he licks your lips one last time.

◇Ben◇ "Because you broke the rules Anakin, you must share Y/N with me. No excuses."

With a smooth swoop of his hand, Ben releases Anakin from his frozen state.

◇Anakin◇ "Go to hell!"

Ben chuckles, he contines to keep eye contact with you in a suggestive fasion.

◇Ben◇ "What can I say, there are consequences to your actions Anakin."

Ben puts his arm behind your back and guides you to a couch in Anakin's living room, Ben keeps looking behind him to make sure Anakin follows closely behind. All three of you stop at the couch.

◇Ben◇ "Now, could you be a dear and take off your clothes"

You look to Anakin, flustered, and he gives a solemn nod of approval, Ben is his master after all.

◇Your mind◇ "Wow. Never in my fucking life would I think that I would be in this situation. Well- I'm not really complaining about it. Both of the men before me are like super hot so I guess this is whatever"

You begin to undo your robe, your belt falling to the ground, your cloak following it. You take off your shirt, revealing your bare chest. Ben and Anakin are locked on a trance, as if what they were witnessing was worthy to be praised. You look at the duo, embarrassed and low-key turned on. You take off your underwear, your hard dick springs out, but the center of attention, your ass, shines pale in the dark moonlight.

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck dude! That's the best looking ass I've even seen."

◇Ben◇ "I call dibs first!"

Anakin glares at his master, but Ben doesn't notice, he pushes you onto the couch, doggy style. Ben kneels on the couch, behind you, and desperately starts to undo his robes.

◇Ben◇ "Fuck... Anakin, use Y/N's mouth, we'll trade off positions"

In front of you, Anakin looks down at you his massive cock tenting in his loose robes.

◇Anakin◇ "Finally. Let's finish what we started, shall we?"

Anakin undoes his belt, and his bare body shines from underneath his cloak. Anakin's cock springs out once more and he slaps you with his lucid, growing cock.

◇Anakin◇ "Haa.. open up for me will you?"

Anakin asks in a yearning tone, he lays his thumb on your bottom lip, and gently presses into your mouth.

◇Anakin◇ "Open wide..."

He gently moves his thumb into your mouth as you open your lips, Anakin's lustful and towering demeanor is too much to resist. Anakin takes his thumb out of your mouth swiftly, using the same hand to quickly pick up his cock and set the tip into your open mouth.

◇Anakin◇ "Just like that.. that's right.. suck it for me baby"

Anakin uses his other hand to firmly grasp the back of your head, and starts to slowly pump your head back and fourth on his leaking dick. Anakin can't help but to let out a satisfied groan as he begins to thrust his cock deeper into your mouth.

Behind you, Ben breathes wildly loudly as he tosses his clothes on the floor beside the couch. His hairy, toned body is the definition of a dad-bod. His abs are defined, and his stomach is wide. His chest is hairy, the hair running from his beard all the way down to the base of his cock, a thick snail trail leads the way to the north pole from his belly button. His cock, fully grown, starts to twitch in excitement, standing at 7.4 inches long and a girth of 3.4 inches. He starts to rub his yearning, circumcised cock with one of his veiny, overworked hands, and with the other hand he pulls back one of your ass cheeks, getting a closer look at your hole.

◇Ben◇ "Hmm! A virgin! Don't worry Y/N, I'll be sure to take really good care of you. I'll make sure to loosen you up so you don't get hurt"

Ben smirks as he inspects your hole, and he lets go of your cheek and begins to scratch his beard. He continues to rub his cock sensually with his other hand. After a thorough inspection and admiration of the scene, Ben finally frees both of his hands and spreads both of your cheeks apart, and licks your hole once, looking back at you to witness your reaction. Your hips start to buck towards Ben and you stop sucking Anakin for a moment to look back at Ben and give him a silent beg for more. Ben nods in approval, his piercing eyes making eye contact with yours for a moment, and then release you as if to allow you to continue to suck Anakin's cock.

◇Ben◇ "Thank goodness you douched before this Y/N. Although that would not have stopped me from absolutely destroying your ass anyway."

Ben slowly starts to press your hole with his tongue, allowing for you to take him in at your own pace. His beard scratches your ass in all the right places, sometimes you feel him intentionally rubbing his chin on your hole just to feel you shiver in pleasure. Ben draws his face back from your ass, spitting on his fingers. He starts to fit his pointer finger into your hole, being careful to pause when your grip seems too sudden or violent.

◇Anakin◇ "Suck better bitch! Are you loosing focus here?"

Snapping back into focus to the front half of your body, you glance up at Anakin, one of his hands holding his hair out of his face. His other hand reaches down and fondles your face.

◇Anakin◇ "Ben! Can we switch spots now?!"

Ben looks at Anakin, he currently has two fingers wedged inside of you.

◇Ben◇ "Fuck! Alright. Remember, three fingers and then work your way up to five."

◇Anakin◇ "Yeah yeah whatever.."

The two men switch spots, Ben now stands infront of you, his cock is already wet with precum. You jerk his cock off will passion, looking up at him for approval every time you go faster or slower.

◇Ben◇ "It's okay Y/N. Go at your own pace.."

Ben watches you warmly from above as you try to figure out how to fit his cock into your mouth.

On your rear, Anakin starts to fit his three fingers into your hole, but not soft and slowly like Ben, no. Anakin seems to be impatient and desperate, he jams three finger in and out of you without warning.

◇Anakin◇ "Pfft, work your way up to five. Why work my way up to five fingers when I could literally just stick my cock in now?"

Ben hears Anakin's remark, but his response is one second too late, Anakin jams his cock into your hole with brute force.

◇Ben◇ "ANAKIN! What the hell?? You're going to fucking kill Y/N!"

Anakin cannot seem to hear anything, his face is filled with pure extasy has he lets his entire cock sit inside you for a moment. Your body shudders in pain, and your ass tries to push Anakin out, but the resistance just seems to make him more turned on.

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck yeah! How does your virgin hole like that?"

Anakin flexes one of his arms as his other arm firmly gets hold of your lower back. You are too overstimulated to respond to his cocky remark. Anakin begins to fuck you with a rather fast pace. You wince in pain, but the pain starts to ease into fulfillment as Anakin's tip smashes against your G-spot. Ben looks at Anakin and back to you, seeming to feel bad for you. He knows you're in pain.

◇Ben◇ "Y/N I need you to suck my dick. It needs to be lubricated so I can take over Anakin's spot. Can you do that for me?"

You look up at Ben, his face is warm, and he sounds almost paternal talking to you. He is hard to resist. Through all the pain and pleasure Anakin is putting you through, you pick up Ben's cock and slowly fit it in your mouth.

◇Ben◇ "That's right... there you go!"

Ben cheers you on like a father at his son's football game as you fit his length. You salivate on his cock, Anakin's brute force keeps pushing you deeper onto Ben's cock. Your gag reflexes start to engage as you start to reach Ben's base. Ben rapidly pulls out as soon as he hears your choking.

◇Ben◇ "Y/N? Are you okay?"

Ben pulls your head up so he can have eye contact with you.

◇You◇ "Ye-ah... did I do good..?"

You force out between Anakin's blows. Ben smiles and ruffles your hair up playfully.

◇Ben◇ "You did good kid."

Ben storms to your backside quickly, his had outreached as if he was about to use the Force. Anakin is too busy abusing your hole to notice. With one foul thrusts of his hand, Ben throws Anakin backwards, out of your ass, and he lands with a thud on a wall. You begin to cry, your hole is so sore and without anything to support the huge amout of space Anakin left, you wince in pain. Ben hurriedly starts to rub your hole, as if to massage a sore back.

◇Ben◇ "Shhh, don't worry... I'm here... don't cry baby.."

You look back at him, sensually rubbing your hole with one hand, and slowly jerking his cock with his other hand. He stops rubbing and uses his hand to pull you off your arms, you both stand kneeled on the couch, Ben behind you. Ben's hairy body against your backside makes you shiver, but his immense body heat makes you lean into him more. Ben starts to move his hand to your front, while behind you, his other hand is still jerking off his now leaking cock. With the hand infront of you, Ben takes hold of your cock, and you inhale suddenly, Ben's big, rugged, warm hand feels unlike anything you have had on your dick before. You look back at Ben, his face inches away from yours, and you start to kiss him passionately while he starts to jerk off your cock. As you kiss, you reach behind you, and grasp Ben's poking cock, you can feel how wet it is. Pulling away from the kiss, you start to position the cock behind you at your tip, while Ben is still jerking you off. Ben looks down in excitement as you start to push your ass against his tip, slowly but surely your ass takes him in. Ben lets out a deep, husky groan as his tip is engulfed in your ass.

◇Ben◇ "Damn Y/N! You are taking me in so well.."

You smirk at him seductively as you finally feel your ass brush against his body hair. Even through Ben was much longer and thicker then Anakin, his comforting nature makes up for the pain. Ben starts to grasp your hips with both hands and slowly moves dick dick back and fourth in your ass. Suddenly, you hear Ben gagging behind you. Anakin stands a feet away from the scene and uses the Force to choke Ben. You quickly pull off of Ben's cock and use your force to push Anakin to the ground, releasing Ben from his grasp. Ben falls to the ground, gasping for air.

◇You◇ "Ben! Are you okay?"

You hurry to him, and kneel beside him on the ground, placing your hands on his bare chest

◇Ben◇ "I-im okay.."

Ben picks himself up, so does Anakin. The two stand facing eachother, naked and serious. Ben uses the Force to grab his lightsaber from his robe and Anakin does the same.

◇Anakin◇ "You took my fucking hookup away from me."

◇Ben◇ "Oh! So he's your hookup now? What happened to him being your boyfriend"

◇You◇ "He just lied so you wouldn't throw me out."

Anakin glares at you

◇Ben◇ "You broke my rules Anakin, so I had to make you pay for them. Although now I think your hookup likes me more then you?"

Both men face to you, and you stand there, nervous to give input. Anakin begins to turn on his lightsaber and starts to swing it at Ben.

◇You◇ "Ben! Behind you!!"

Ben swiftly turns back and blocks the saber with his own, the two engage in a heated duel with their lightsabers.

◇Anakin◇ "Y/N is mine! Back the fuck off of him!"

◇Ben◇ "You treat him like shit! He obviously wants me over you."

You watch, speechless, as the fight unfolds infront of you, every time someone swings their lightsaber you fear someone might loose a limb.

◇You◇ "STOP IT!"

They freeze and stare at you.

◇Ben◇ "Don't worry Y/N, I know what I am doing."

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck off man. I'll kill you for Y/N"

◇You◇ "Hey hey hey! Stop you two! Stop that now. I have a solution."

The three naked men look at eachother, Ben confused, Anakin smirking, and you wondering if what you are about to propose is physically possible.

◇You◇ "Both of you can fuck me at once."

Ben tilts him head, unsure if this is safe, while Anakin smiles widely.

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck yeah Y/N! I didn't know you were freaky like that!"

You climb onto the couch.

◇You◇ "Ben, lay beneath me"

Ben looks at you, still processing what you proposed.

◇Ben◇ "Okay.. are you sure you want to do this Y/N?.."

◇You◇ "Yes. Don't worry."

Ben lays on the couch, his dick straight up like a pole. You sit on his cock slowly, making sure your ass is adjusted. Ben moans in pleasure with his hands behind his head, closing his eyes in ecstasy. You begin to bounce up and down on his cock sensually.

◇Anakin◇ "That's it. It's my turn!"

Anakin kneels on the couch, his knees in-between Ben's legs, and he positions himself at you hole, already penetrated by Ben.

◇Anakin◇ "Lets make this short and sweet."

Anakin presses his tip at your hole, already wrapped around Ben's cock. Anakin uses his fingers to stretch out the small area of hole you have left, and finally fits in his tip. Anakin's cock glides on Ben's as he pushes deeper into your ass. The pain is almost unbearable as the two cocks fill up your hole, the same hole that had never been used a day in its life the day before.

◇Anakin◇ "Fuck yeah!! Your cock is so warm Obi Wan!"

Ben rolls his eyes, but the feeling of your ass and Anakin's cock against his own is certainly the best thing he has ever felt before.

◇You◇ "Okay.. you two can pick up the pace back there.."

Ben and Anakin begin to thrust in and out of your hole, their cocks rubbing against one another within you. Your G-spot feels tired from all the sensitivity. You rest your head on Ben's neck as he contines to fuck you, his breath deep and husky. He whispers in your ear.

◇Ben◇ "Don't worry baby.. I'm here for you.."

He says softly as he contines to abuse your hole with his Jedi apprentice. Anakin grunts in pleasure, his cock leaking precum and lubricating your anal walls.

◇Anakin◇ "I think I'm about to cum... what about you old man?"

◇Ben◇ "I-I'm close.. Y/N prepare yourself.."

The two men thrust even more violently than before, your hole starts to leak of precum as the men push in and out.

◇Ben◇ "I'm about to cum.."

◇Anakin◇ "Me too.."

You brace yourself and suddenly the thrusting stops. Ben and Anakin stay fully buried within your hole. Ben is the first to cum, his dick starts to twitch slowly and he starts to ejaculate inside of you. His hot substance fills you up. Anakin is second, he cums quickly and forcefully, his shots feel like stabs as he cums into your ass. Finally the two pull out, you gasp for air as they leave your hole empty, and you lay on your back on the couch, Anakin and Ben do the same. Both men wrap their arms around you, you lay inbetween them as you all bask in the afterglow of the sensual experience you all just shared.

◇Anakin◇ "That was nice."

◇You◇ "Yeah, it was.."

Ben turns his head and whispers in your ear, his breath hot and deep.

◇Ben◇ "You like me more though"

◇Anakin◇ "Hey! I fucking heard that! Back off grandpa!"

You giggle as the duo begins to fight once more. But genuinely, deep down, you still don't know who you prefer more.

——————to be continued???——————

75 notes · View notes

slytherinboysvip · 11 months ago

Text

Intoxicatingly sweet | L.B

(Tw: uhhh basically control over a huge emotion hm idk !! unprotected p/v, cream pie, honestly idk just enjoy)

He didn’t mean to do it, honestly he wasn’t thinking straight. Before he knew it he’d left the chocolates on your bed and scrambled.

Odd. You stepped into your room and something seemed off, it didn’t take but a moment before you noticed the huge heart shaped box on your bed, curiously walking towards it and opening it up. Chocolates, loads of them, the smell was delicious and intoxicating, drawing you in. You couldn’t resist any longer, grabbing a piece and enjoying every flavor.

Suddenly the urge to see him took over. All you could think about was the boy you constantly crossed paths with. Lorenzo Berkshire. His perfect hair, his perfect eyes, lips, voice, face.. you loved him. Nothing was going to stop you from seeing him, you absolutely needed to see him.

Just as you were about to give up your search you spotted him. Just as you were going up to him he ran to you, “Y/n, I did something earlier and it was pretty dumb so just don’t eat the chocolates on your bed” He let the words out pretty fast, and you couldn’t believe it! He had left those chocolates just for you! Your cheeks brightened and your smile grew larger “I had some already they were delicious! Thank you so much for them!” Your excitement was infectious and soon his mostly shocked face turned into a smile.

“How do you feel about me?” He scanned your face as you spoke, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this but.. I’m in love with you!” Your words bursted out and he knew it that moment they worked. The chocolates weren’t just any chocolates, no, they were infused with amortentia. He knew how wrong this was, and he knew he shouldn’t give in, but he did. “Y/n, I’m in love with you too” He looked at you for a moment before kissing your lips softly. It was like a dream come true, your one and only finally kissing you.

The small kiss sent flutters through your body and all you knew was you needed more, “We can go back to my dorm you know” You hinted at him, he looked at you smirking,“Let’s go then shall we?” He reached out for your hand and you led the way. As soon as you stepped into the room he pushed you against the wall, left hand resting on your cheek, and right hand on your hip, you made eye contact before you leaned forward kissing his lips. He quickly took control over the kiss and was exploring your mouth.

His hand slowly began going towards your throat, squeezing softly causing soft moans. His opposite hand also exploring, squeezing your ass every so often. You felt like a wild animal needing more, but you definitely needed more than this. “Please, please fuck me Lorenzo” Your voice was more of a whimper, but maybe that’s what got him to immediately throw you onto the bed. Switch clicking and ready to show you what having sex should really feel like.

His hands ran up and down your thighs teasingly before slowly pulling down your school skirt. You took your shirt off and were left in underwear and a bra. Feeling exposed you went to cover up a little but he moved your hands away, “Just let me admire for a second love”. His words made your cheeks rush red and your heart pound, you teasingly opened your legs and bit your lip looking up at him. He chuckled, smiling and shaking his head “Fucking hell, I swear you’ll be the death of me, but I’m going to love every minute of this.”

As the words left his mouth he quickly undressed leaving his underwear for last, you could already see the outline of his dick and you were scared. He pulled them down and as scared as you were you felt yourself getting more turned on. Not only does he have an amazing body, he has a big fucking dick. “I need it already ” You mumbled, starring impatiently, the need and arousal growing. He pumped his dick slowly just looking at you as you were “Go ahead and take the rest off for me sweetheart.”

Doing as you were told you took your bra and underwear off with no complaints and laid back down, he got onto the bed and laid a pillow under your lower back just above your butt, “Trust me” He winked. With no warnings you felt his fingers gliding through your soaking pussy, without any words he connected his lips onto yours and entered two fingers, you couldn’t hold in your moans but his lips were trapping anything from escaping.

Even though He only used two fingers they were already driving you mad, they were long and slender, hitting the perfect spot everytime he curled them upwards. Just as you thought it couldn’t get any better you felt his thumb begin to rub in circles over your clit. At this rate you felt your orgasm already approaching, your stomach was turning in knots and your walls clenched around his fingers, then, he stopped.

He removed his fingers quickly, then looked at you smiling deviously. “You did so well with that, now it’s time to actually make you feel good”. His dick was at your entrance and slid in smoothly, you were so sensitive you clenched around him as he entered, not even thrusting yet you felt like his dick was in your stomach. He thrusted slowly, and that alone made you moan seemingly fueling his fire, his thrusts immediately picked up and your moans echoed through the room.

He continued thrusting into you, picking up your legs and putting them over his shoulder; He was hitting your cervix yet it felt so good, you were a screaming moaning mess. “Go on and tell me how good it feels love” His voice was breathy and deep, “It’s so good! Your dick feels so fucking good!” The words came out in broken up moans but it satisfied him perfectly.

He moved his hand down to your pussy and rubbed his thumb over your clit quickly as he thrusted in and out of you, your orgasm started building up again and you felt your legs begin to shake, “Cum for me like a good girl Y/n”. Just as the words left his mouth the feeling washed over you and he didn’t stop any of what he was doing, the pleasure was neverending and it was becoming too much, “Say cherry whenever you want me to stop”

You wanted to say it, but you couldn’t do it, you wanted more and more, “Please cum in me!” The words left your mouth so suddenly and you weren’t even thinking about it. His thrusts got harder then sloppier and you could tell what that meant. You knew he couldn’t actually cum inside of you but you absolutely needed it. No matter what consequences could happen you needed it.

All the thoughts left your brain when you felt the warm sensation of him filling you up , knowing it was Lorenzo who was doing the filling made it all the better. You don’t know why, but now all you can think about is, you hope you get pregnant so he stays forever.

Hopefully you liked this!! I know this is like rly bad LMAO cause he literally gave her a love potion then they immediately had sex but like hey it was her idea tho right so like it’s fineeee 🤗

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idkhoworwhytell · 2 months ago

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The old , the new and the remembered.

The old, the new, and the remembered

This is many to be set up as if this was firsts journal , the ‘’ are intentional and is meant to respresent firsts thoughts.

i do feel as this was rushed but its good ending for me to get something out.

for context, this is first (the hero in the manga in the hyrule hisotra’’) i think first and sky, have a family relation ship. They act father/son but its really like grandpa/ grandson sky knew first when he was young (for this fic first never died but lived very secluded from other hylains) first was a mentor to the other links, (think guide reader, i really need to find the person who made that au beucase for some reason I can’t) like a voice in their heads/ also a lot like shade. Just not wolf from , but appeared in dreams and helped them train.

Just over 1k words!

theres a group of boys I’ve awaken too.

I’ve been awakened to be in what seems to be a chamber of safe keeping?

Looking behind me I can see the crystal I just awoke from. If you looked closer you could see the desperation in my eyes to go back to my respective relam. It wasn’t an oddity to be in an era that wasn’t my own. The voice inside the sword I once wielded, now on the boy's back whispered in my head “it's the heroes of the wilds”.

the Boys/Men? Are looking at me in awe. Which is odd because literally I am just my underwear at this given moment in time.

i hear the one with the white cape say,

”the first hero”

Now , I know I knew these boys in front of me, I was their mentor of course. But am i going to tell them just yet? No, I am not.

” Pardon for waking you, but we have been sent on a quest to find you to help us dearest our enmeny. Apparently you have a connection with the master sword, yes?

I could feel the elder one stare at me as I rose to stand. ‘Why in the world are they staring? They have seen scars before!’

”That's right. But let me assume. Your names are all link correct?’”

“Yes, hero’s across time , brought together to fight an evil.”

‘Why would this evil need 10 hero’s?’ I defeated demise on my own and I helped these boys too! Shouldn’t be that hard. ‘Best not to get cocky, might be a tough one’

there was a young boy in that crowd, hero of the winds as I recall, the poor boy looked at me with tears in his eyes. But as much as I wanted to comfort the boy, I was currently being faced off by the one with my old friend's markings on his face. ‘Ferice long time no see bud’ I could hear the hum form the mask on the man's hip as I spoke in my mind, some form of telepathy we’ve always shared.

By this time after this mans talk about destroying some evil being (lizard i think? Idk I’ve beaten too many things for this.)

i simply don't have the patience to write his whole talk in this journal , i think i'll run out of pages! As he talked, I dressed myself. I could hear a collective gasp as I wrapped a red scarf around my neck. Seemed to be similar to their supposed captain I think.

”So will you come with us?” Oh I forgot he needed my compliance for this .

“I'd be more than willing to help, this beast needs some help staying dead. Plus what’s one more adventure.”

I was holding out my hand to shake but it went unrequited.

The white cape from earlier had stepped up to hand me my previous sword it seemed. It looked as if its been through it.

“ hold it, it’ll give us your moniker.”

But to their surprise, the moment I held it, my beloved fi flew out.

‘Why are so many people crying today’ i think as i see the skyloftian as I’ve been told, have welling in his eyes.

Of course, after she flys out I hear the voice again.

”Master, First. Is the name you carry .”

Some of the Boys looked frozen, one looked like he was in a trance. ‘Memory id suppose.’

the one in the wolf pelt was by his side right away. Kinda like an older brother. ‘Reminds me of someone’

And before the skyloftain could say anything. She was right back in the sword I held in my arms.

“ Look, I know I just met you but how in the world did you get her out the sword!”

This boy looks a lot like me. just shorter ‘atleast he got some of my good genes.” ’old friend. She wasn’t in the sword when I weiled it. It was separate. Maybe I bought something from it?”

”but, for right now that aside I believe introductions are in order”

huh. I see a lot of myself in these boys.

i see my desire for collecting and my number of adventures in legend, of course my love for arson in wild ‘ I can tell by just looking at this kid cause just look at him!’ This twilight kid reminds me a lot like my child and teenage years. Working on a ranch and farm , huh seems to be a trait passed down. The tiredness in times eye(s) ‘ that’s a dangerous blind spot can’t see what going on to the left of you!’

Some of the boys looked like they were raised near the castle. The captain seemed to be stuck acting as if he was on castle grounds can’t blame the kid i was that way for a while the veteran’ seemed like he knew how to appease the nobles, play his cards right get them off his back. Now wild, is a wild card. He doesn't remember much he says, but from what I can see he wasn’t happy when he was a knight, not even as the princess guard’ I like this version of him, not the boy i knew before and was silent not matter who he was around . I'm going to start my travels with these boys. But for now I am waiting for the chaos to unfold when they remember who i am to them.

#lu fanfiction #linked universe #lu chain #linkeduniverse #linked universe imagine #linked universe x reader #linked universe fanfic #First loz

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killersfool · 1 year ago

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fluff w bobby! idk smth like hurt/comfort. maybe she’s had a bad date and goes to bobby and they like confess , idrk but i think that’d be cute

Comfort | ROBERT KEATING

thank you for the request !!

PAIRING: robert keating x f!reader

WORDS: 3.4k

SUMMARY: reader goes on a terrible date. she calls her old work friend, rob, who comforts her and opens up about some hidden feelings.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, fluff

WARNINGS: references to eating disorder

The worst date of my life occured on a Tuesday afternoon, starting at exactly 8.43pm. For starters, the guy was late, 13 minutes late on the dot. Never trust your Tinder matches. I guess I should've figured out what a mess the whole thing would be. I'd sat down at a window seat in Nando's. Sun glowed gently across the table. It gave me a positive outlook on the whole thing. But by the end of the evening, as I left that dreaded restaurant with a soggy bag of chips in my right hand, I was holding back tears. Rain was pouring. My umbrella had broken. Dark clouds had appeared in the sky. Pathetic fallacy. I could hardly even breathe as I sat down in the train.

My first port of call — for some odd reason — was my old work friend. Rob and I had worked together in a restaurant just down my street. We'd been through hell together. My worst memory was when I dropped about ten glasses across the kitchen floor, accidentally smashing them to pieces. The manager heard the crash ring out through the entire restaurant. He ran through the kitchen doors. They swung open as if he was a wild beast prepared to eat me whole. Bones and all. This was the first time I'd made a major mistake as a kitchen porter. I was trying to prepare myself for the incessant shouting to soon ensue. But before I could even build a wall around me, a hand grabbed mine and pulled me out of the kitchen. I wasn't sure who it was grabbing my pinky finger or why they were helping me escape but I didn't complain, I just let them lead me through the main restaurant where guests were staring at us with patient eyes. They really believed we were running around just to ask for their order.

The long mane of curly hair made me realise who was dragging me alone. Robert Keating. The waiter who's sarcasm was off the charts. Each time he came into the kitchen, he'd be going on a rant about how stupid the job was and how much he hated the manager. Most of the chefs agreed. But they'd make sure to put on cheery faces whenever Mr Jacob came in to check everything was alright. Robert had worn Doc Martens to the beach when they had a dinner party to celebrate 10 years of the restaurant. I had made sure to come along with my best dress on and trainers. Robert had appeared with some Doc Marten boots, red shorts and Joy Division shirt, assuring everyone that his boots were 'made for walking on sandy terrain'. Then he complained about them for the entire time. He didn't make any sense.

Once we'd escaped through the front door of 'Jacob's Pizza', we continued running down the street until we got to the park. I knew by that moment I'd sure be fired. No one was running after us. No one really gave two shits about us. We weren't a necessity to the work force. We were just there. Looming.

Rob had sat down on one of the kid's swings (the tiny ones that you can't get into once you grow out of them). He allowed his infinitely long legs to dangle off the edge—not putting them through the holes because he'd surely get stuck which would've been a very Rob thing to do. The park was empty. It was a Tuesday evening. Stars lined the sky. Rob patted the swing next to him, asking me through his motions to join him. I complied. Awkwardly slotted myself in a mildly comfortable position onto the swing. I grabbed onto the rusty chains which had been there for dozens of years. Paint ripped away by years of use, years of bad weather.

"Mr Jacob didn't deserve us. We were too good for him." Sixteen-year-old Rob always thought quite highly of himself—not to the point of being a show off—but just enough to make you shake your head. The use of the collective pronoun was different for him. A change to usual. He was including me in his declaration of greatness. His blue eyes were shining and he'd thrown his apron to the ground. Black button-up shirt and black trousers. His smile was a lighthouse, illuminating that stretch of grass before us.

"I fucked up. Sorry, Rob." I'd looked away from him. Wrung my fingers together, picked at my nails. We'd been working there for months. Of course I had to be the one to make a mistake.

"Hey, don't worry. There's loads of jobs around here. I'm sure you'll find somewhere else," he assured. He reached out a hand between the two swings, let it linger on my shoulder. I followed suit with him. Chucked my apron into the nearest bin. One of those bins that never get emptied. Overflowing with fizzy drinks and sweet packets.

I allowed my head to drop down onto his hand. His fingers took a short hike through my hair.

He then started to laugh. "How the fuck did you drop all those glasses? I swear you purposely tipped the tray over."

"What if I did?" I smirked. It had been accident. Or maybe my irritation at the place just wanted to come out.

Rob was pressing his shoes to the ground, trying to make the swing fly upwards. He'd smiled to himself at my words. "Then I thank you for your service. I'd been trying to get out of there for a while. My band are getting way more gigs and the job was getting in the way of everything."

"Your band? You've never told me about that." I was intrigued. I had no idea he played an instrument. I knew that he loved The Strokes as he'd always put them on the kitchen playlist. I couldn't imagine him on a stage. Performing. Making music. It was the last thing I'd expected he'd do.

"Yeah. We've called it Inhaler. An ode to Eli's asthma—"

"Hewson? He's in it? Fuck no." I'd never been the biggest fan of Elijah. He'd dated my friend and left her heartbroken. I'd never personally spoken to guy but from a distance, I was the slightest bit terrified of him.

"I had no choice! He forced me into it."

"So he's singing, right? Then you're playing what?"

"Bass."

"Really? That's..."

"So sexy. I know."

That's when I shook my head, smiling. His face was serious but as my teeth appeared, so did his. We were both laughing at nothing, giddy because of the air cooling our cheeks. Just his presence, him being next to me, made me feel so much warmer.

Now my eyes are teary, my throat is raw. I'm sat in the corner of a train compartment. Toddlers are screaming at their parents, music is blasting in my ears and the fields turn to blurs of green as I lean back into my seat.

The guy was a prick. A self-centered waste of time who thought the whole world revolved around him and only him. I was asking all the questions. He didn't want to know anything about me. His mouth would never stop moving. I hardly got a single word into any conversation. He showed off about his job, his money, the university he went to and he joked about how much I ate. He'd stared at my stomach when I stood up, as if he was trying to measure my waist with his eyes. That's when I just walked out of the place, taking my remaining chips with me. I don't know why I even agreed to go. He wasn't even nice on the app.

Phone ringing. Hand over my stomach. I had gained weight. I'd started eating more than I had months ago. Food was a comfort, food was a memory-store, food was something to keep me going. There were all kinds of flavours that would bring me back to figments of my past. Eating was a way to reminisce and a way to make new memories. It had irked me—that look in his eye, the raise of a brow. I was skinnier on my Tinder profile. But back then I wasn't happy. Constantly focused on my calorie intake, on how much exercise I had done in a week.

"Hello?" Rob picks up. His words play through my headphones. His voice hasn't changed since I last saw him. It's still low and raspy.

I sniffle, finding it hard to even get my words out. I can see in the train window that my skin is blotchy and red. My bottom lip is quivering. I'm trying to hold everything in. I'm like a bomb on the verge of explosion. I don't like crying. I especially don't like crying on a train where eyes are glancing over in my direction.

"You alright?" He whispers. It's 10pm and I'm wondering what he's been doing. Has he been at a show? I've been trying to keep a track of where they've been going on their tour. Right now he could be absolutely anywhere. The last I heard he was in Scotland.

"What are you up to?" I try to divert the conversation to him. I just want to hear him talk. Anything he tells me, I'll listen.

"I'm back home in Dublin. Eating mince pies. I know it's early but my Ma is too obsessed with Christmas for her own good. It's what, 2nd of November? And she's already got her tree up. Tinsel and everything. What's up with you? You sound different. Has Eli been giving you shit again? That gobshite needs his head knocked in."

He's in Dublin. I'm in Dublin.

"I miss your Ma." I remember the one time we walked home from work together. His Ma had given me a lung constricting hug. She'd thought I was Rob's girlfriend. Told me that he non-stop talked about me. I didn't believe her. I still don't believe her. I could never see Rob having a crush on anyone, let alone me. "It's nothing to do with Eli. Although I agree, he is a little bitch. It's actually this shitty bloke I met on Tinder. He thought he was all that. Most boring guy I've met in my life."

"Instagram, please?"

"I don't trust you with anyone's Instagram."

"At least tell me his name. I want to make fun of him."

"Albert."

"What a name. Honestly, I'm thinking about getting my name legally changed to that. Albert. Wow. I'm impressed."

"He told me his nickname was 'Alby'. I almost laughed." I smile to myself, wiping tears away. I hear Rob snort through the phone.

"Found his Instagram. That was easy. He looks weird. Shit hairline."

"Rob!!! Keep away from his DM's please."

He went silent. He was most definitely already sending him stupid messages. I didn't really mind. The guys deserved shit after what he put me through. Two hours of nonsense. At least the food was good. Nando's is my favourite.

"Aren't you in Dublin? Do you want to come play some bird bingo? It's been a while since I saw you. We've got at least a years supply of mince pies."

I'm cheesing. Sucking in quick breaths as my tears stop falling. The train comes to a halt in the station. My head is leaning against the window, my mouth opens wide as I see a figure sat down on a bench. That familiar mop of hair, those shining eyes, an entire bass guitar case sat beside him. I'm gobsmacked.

The call ends before I can try to speak. Before long, my legs are moving and I'm shuffling through crowds, trying to find the exit. Maybe I was just imagining him. Maybe I just wanted him to be there. But then I'm outside the train, walking down the platform and two arms wrap around my stomach.

"Hey," is all he says, straight into my ear.

He isn't usually this touchy. We used to go for coffee and he'd never hug me. We weren't that kind of friends. Now his arms are holding me flush against his chest and his hair is tickling my ear and I just want to close my eyes and blow the world away.

I turn around to face him. His hands are still on my waist, scrunching the material of my jumper. He has a cardigan on, his eyelashes are so long, he's watching me with worry etched upon his features.

Then I break down. I can't deal with it anymore. I can't hold it in.

"Sweetheart..." He pulls me straight into his chest, hands cupping my head like it's going to split into two. I sob into his cardigan. My palms are against his shoulderblades and his head is on my shoulder. I can feel his nose smush into my skin and he mumbles quiet comforts into the air. "He doesn't deserve you. He's an idiot. Piece of shit." Words of comfort are usually just insults from Rob—but they still make me feel way better.

I don't know what I would've done without him. I keep imagining myself going home and crying into my pillow, no one there to tell me it'll be okay. I'm so glad he's here. I'm so glad he's holding me.

"Let's go home?" He pulls me away the slightest bit just to see my face. His thumb jumps just beneath my eye, wiping away the falling tears. He then gently kisses my nose. I'm shocked and confused. The warmth of his lips against my freezing nose is a welcome relief. I'm sure a sigh escaped my lips at the gesture.

I'm not sure which home he means. His or mine. But wherever we're going, I'll follow him. I want to be somewhere warm. I want to eat some nice, warm food and forget that guy ever even existed. Rob still has an arm around me as we walk through the station. He gives me a packet of tissues and buys me a hot chocolate from Starbucks. Even whilst carrying his entire bass along on his other shoulder, he makes sure to keep an arm around my back, fingers curled over my waist.

"How come you've got your bass?" I taste the hot chocolate. It burns my tongue. My spare hand points along the rather massive case which is definitely heavy.

"I was practicing with the band. I was about to head home when you called me so I ran to the station instead."

"So you lied about the mince pies?"

"Oh no. That is very true. You'll see when we get back. I just lied about where I was—you know, for the surprise element."

His then. We are going to his. I've never been inside his house before. I've only walked down his street and glanced through the windows. He'd always have the best Halloween decorations. The Keating house was always a go to in order to get the best sweets. His mum would come out dressed in the most flamboyant costume possible. Rob would always be standing beside her, forced forwards with a bag of sweets in his hands.

Up past his parents' cars. Still some Halloween stickers on the windowsill and pumpkins next to the welcome mat. He twists his key in the door. It clicks and opens up to a corridor. He was right about the Christmas decorations. Snow globes on a bookshelf, wreath on the door, Christmas tree lights are colourful through the window. The whole living room is dark green.

The house is silent. The dishwasher is wildly spinning and wind is wailing. Other than that it is extremely quiet. And warm. So very warm. I can actually feel my fingers now.

Rob takes my hand once I've pulled off my shoes. He pulls me along into the living room, we crash down onto the sofa.

"Tell me everything," he says. He stretches out his legs and places his feet on the coffee table. He has fluffy socks that have the face of a red robin. "All the nitty gritty. Get it all out of your system."

"I don't even know where to start." I pull at the skin of my cheek, look up at the ceiling. "We went to Nando's. It was my idea. I got there bang on time but had to wait for ages for him to get there. He was late—"

"First red flag."

"Right? I should've just left. Anyway, he came in. Blamed his lateness on traffic when he literally lived in the town I went to. Like wouldn't you just walk? He ordered hardly any food then got all weird when I ordered my usual. I had a pudding too. He was just so judgy. He told me about his degree in Maths and how he was doing a phD. He didn't seem to impressed about my Law degree. He barely even let me talk. Then the last thing, the cherry on top, was when he stared at my belly when I stood up as if I had some kind of disease. I felt ill. I've never been so insecure in my life."

Rob's mouth was open wide, jaw dropped. He kept his eyes on mine. Listening. It was so nice to have someone just hear what I was saying for once.

"You're the prettiest, most intelligent girl— I'm going to have a right word with that nob— I'm going to have a right fucking word with him. He thinks he can just..." His burst of emotions makes him stand up and pace around the room. I smile at his compliments but frown when he starts to get angry.

"It's fine. I'm here now. I don't have to think about him again."

Rob sits down again. Then his head falls onto my stomach. He closes his eyes. His arm reaches over for the coffee table. He grabs two mince pies. One for me, one for him. Bending his arm and extending it, he passes one up to me. I gratefully take it. I peel off the metal then take a bite. It’s delicious. Rob is smiling up at me. There’s a little pastry on his chin. I wipe it away with my thumb. My finger seems to have a mind of its own. It starts to trace lines along his face. Beauty spot to beauty spot. Like his skin is paper and I’m doing a join the dot. My thumb lands back on his lips and I trace along the two pink shapes. A little chapped, warm and soft. He opens his eyes again.

Then I’m hit by this weird feeling. Like I’m reaching a high. Or I’m slamming the accelerator. Or I’m at a claw machine and finally win a prize. That hum of euphoria, singing through your ears. He’s twisting his head on my belly like it’s a pillow. My thumb is still at the corner of his mouth. My heart is beating in my ears. There’s something clicking. A realisation.

I’m in love with Rob. I’ve always been in love with him.

“Look, I know this is a really bad time to say this,” Rob speaks. His words a gruff. I listen intently.

“What’s up?” I brush his hair out of his face. Curls between my fingers.

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

Rob closes his eyes again. He breathes out. He looks for my other hand and places it on his chest, his hand resting just above it. I can feel his heart pounding like crazy. I never knew a human heart could move so quickly. I never knew that here, in this dimly lit room, after my heart has been torn into two separate pieces I’d be feeling Rob’s heart under my fingertips.

“Geez, Rob. Am I that scary?” I stroke his hair again, his fingers now grazing my knuckles.

“Yeah, terrifying.”

“Just tell me. What is it?”

“I love you.”

The whole room falls apart. My whole body feels like it’s been ripped into two then sewn back together. His eyes close again but he peeks a little with his left one just to gauge my reaction. I’ve stopped moving. My brain isn’t working.

“Christ. Really?” I whisper.

“Yes. I think of you every time I buy pizza, every time it’s Halloween, every time I’m drinking from a glass. Everywhere I go, you’re there. Whenever we went for coffee, I’d feel empty when you left. It just—even when you told me about this date. I was jealous at first. I want to take you on dates and fall in love with you even more.”

He sits up. He grabs onto both of my cheeks.

“I love you too,” I say before pulling him into a kiss.

#robert keating #bobby skeetz #inhaler band #inhaler fanfiction #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson #inhaler x reader #inhaler imagines #robert keating fanfiction #bobby skeetz fanfiction #inhaler oneshot #inhaler imagine #inhaler oneshots #fanfiction

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ryiju-muunie · 3 months ago

Text

He'll jump in the river, you'll wish you're the water

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Omega!Trans!Zoro Roronoa/Omega!Trans!Sanji Vinsmoke Warnings: Omega Verse, Trans Male Roronoa Zoro, Trans male Sanji, first heat, t4t roronoa zoro/sanji, Coming Untouched, Nipple Play, Tribadism/tribbing, Vaginal Fingering, Making Out, Dubious Consent, theres plot to this porn, Omega/Omega, Love Confessions, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Wet & Messy, no when i say wet and messy i mean WET AND MESSY, induced heat, someones coming out pregnant and its not me, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Fisting, Sub Sanji, he might top but hes definitely no dom, Scenting, No Beta we die like block buster, Incoherent Maybe idk you tell me! but be nice Word count: 5095 DESC: Zoro was a beta. He was a beta who had never once in his life considered what it would be like to turn into an omega or even an alpha. But something on his skin was lit on fire and burning to be put out, deep inside his core, between his le- No! He had to focus, get something done at least! If he didn’t know any better it sounded like he was having a heat, but that was impossible. He was a beta after all, a beta who couldn’t go into heat… Right?

GODDDDD WHAT HAVE YOU DONNNEEE YOURE A PINK PONY GIRRL

Zoro was a beta. He was a beta who had never once in his life considered what it would be like to turn into an omega or even an alpha. He never once yearned to smell their pheromones or even feel what their different kinds of arousals did to their bodies. He never yearned to look at his omega roommate and wonder what he truly smelt like; well, he told himself he never did. Of course, the beta had been told before by their other friends he was sweet, bitterly so. But a part of him always thought about it. Was it sweet in a fluffy way, like pure sugar? Or was it sweet in the way of something more flavorful, like cinnamon or chocolate?

He liked Sanji in every way that was considered normal. As a friend, as a fighter, as a cook, and as a roommate. There was nothing more that lingered behind his feelings, much to Robin’s protests. She had insisted there was something more to his stare, although he pressed it was nothing more than her wild imagination. He never wondered about the omegas skin, how soft it would be underneath his fingers, how it would feel, how it would taste. How would his tongue trace circles around his neck, before biting down? How would the other man react to the sensation? Would he moan? Would he whimper?

Zoro instantly blinked, forcing the thoughts out of his mind without a second glance. He was seated on their joint couch doing some work on his laptop for a history class of his. No one had told him college was mainly reading, especially being a history major. And no one told him it would be harder to concentrate with his thoughts drifting to Sanji again and again. That was somewhat normal, but being so sexual in nature was odd. In fact, if he focused, he felt hot. Something on his skin was lit on fire and burning to be put out, deep inside his core, between his le-

No!

Roronoa shook his head, raking one hand over his cropped green hair. He had to focus, get something done at least! As hard it was becoming, the moss-head had to work! The man swallowed and tabbed back into his work, which was reading a passage and answering questions as he went. It was juvenile but about ancient weaponry, so he was starting to enjoy himself.

All of his enjoyment of schoolwork went away when his legs started to shift together. Almost uncontrollably his thighs pressed together to apply pressure to his pussy, shifting to alleviate the itch growing warm. It was unconscious and it was good, as his wetness started to pool around his underwear. It was… Zoro bit his lip and froze, spreading his legs apart and staring at his reflection in the computer.

Something was wrong.

Did he ingest some aphrodisiac drug that made him an aroused mess? Was his period coming? He was always overly horny before his period. But this was different, it was like Zoro was on fire. Every movement was sending shockwaves to his clit, making him wet. And that too! He was unbelievably wet, as if he was about to soak his pants through. If he didn’t know any better it sounded like he was having a heat, but that was impossible. He was a beta after all, a beta who couldn’t go into heat… Right?

The man tabbed into Google, hastily typing out the most embarrassing search he had ever concocted in his life. “Can betas go into heat… ye- Yes!?” Zoro muttered, sputtering when he saw the answer. It wasn’t a definite yes, but it wasn’t helping him, “Yes, some betas can go into late heat typically after their 21st birthday. Then will a late bloomer show their secondary sex and go into heat soon after… fuck.”

Zoro slammed his laptop shut and slowly set it on the ground, standing up. To his horror, the couch already had a growing wet spot, as his pants were soaked. He swallowed and whined when the friction of his panties sent a pang of arousal through his body, making him stop and shiver. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be in heat. He couldn’t be an omega! He couldn’t especially when his roommate was ten minutes from coming home. His roommate who would know in an instant if he was now an omega from the pheromones that were probably oozing off of his body.

This couldn’t be happening; he thought as the man practically sprinted to his room. He pressed his body against the door to shut it, letting his back rest on the cold wood. It was bad he was going into heat late in life, and it was equally bad that he had no idea what came with it, or even what to do. Roronoa knew it involved sex and uncontrollable slick, but that was about it. He didn’t realize it would be this debilitating, this hard to keep his hands from his sopping cunt.

His fists balled at his sides and the moss-head tried to breathe, to gather some decorum not to go animalistic and fuck himself until he couldn’t think. But it was so hard, when his panties were stuck to his folds and aching to be pried off. It was hard when his nipples were hardened and poking through his binder, breasts yearning to be fondled. And it was so hot how he was falling apart, hands beginning to wander… What was he even thinking about beforehand?

Calloused hands ran up his side, pulling off his shirt and hooking underneath his black binder. It wouldn’t hurt to just be shirtless, yeah, it wouldn’t hurt. He nodded his head and took it off, exhaling as the squeeze subsided and his breasts laid back onto his front. Fingers prodded against the flesh and kneaded it, his index and thumb coming to run his nipple against the pads. A moan escaped Zoro’s lips that he couldn’t hold back. The feeling of his tits being fondled felt so good, so intense, he was so close already. Just a few more touches and he felt himself come undone, gasping and cumming into his slick filled underwear. It was a blinding flash of pleasure, running up his core and spiraling into his stomach, spreading down his legs within an instant.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed to fuck his pussy that was begging to be abused or he would go insane. Zoro wasn’t sure how but he ended up naked on his bed, spreading his legs and pumping his fingers out of his cunt. First it was one, then it was two, but fuck, it wasn’t enough. He needed three, maybe four- or just all of them! The pads of his fingers brushed against his g-spot, bending to poke at it. To massage it between his digits and soak the mattress underneath him further. His other hand came to his neglected clit, rubbing quick circles against the bundle of nerves.

There was no noise but his moans and the squelching of his honeypot, dripping down his ass and spreading slick against his thighs, “F-Fuck… I’m-I’m gonn.. Fuckkk… I’m gonn.. Gonna.. Ah..a-sh.. Shit.. ah..mm fuck…” It was so hot as his folds twitched, before coming undone and squirting his juices on the mattress below him, pulsating with each finger that continued to pump inside him. Zoro arched his back to the sensation of pleasure, feeling it leave his body. Almost being too much, he panted and continued to finger himself. Just a little more, he told himself, a little more.

He had almost forgotten his omega roommate was on his way home, opening the front door and whistling to himself. It was quiet in the apartment for a few moments, until Sanji heard a whimper escape his roommates closed door. At first, he chose to ignore it and put his stuff down, throwing his keys on the kitchen counter and resting his backpack on the island.

But then he smelt it. If he didn’t know any better, it was the smell of an omega deep in heat. It was savory, different than anyone he had ever smelt before. Something kind of like a sweeter bonfire, with that edge of smoke to it. And if he didn’t know any better, the blonde would say it was coming from Zoro’s room.

Sanji swallowed and approached the door, hearing the noises that fell from his roommate's lips almost instantly upon getting closer. It was mindless fucked-out begging, panting, whimpering, writhing for pleasure- for more release. He knew the sensation all too well. It sounded like Roronoa, but it couldn’t have been. That brute didn’t have a begging or whimpering bone in his body, for one. And second off, he was a beta. How could he go into heat and be a…

His twenty-first birthday was last week.

The cook knocked on the door, “Uh Zoro? Are you okay?” The wet noises stopped; moans being replaced with pure silence. He heard some shuffling and a loud noise, probably the moss-head falling over. When the door opened, he was greeted by Zoro, who was naked with sweat dripping down his face. His hair was pressed to his forehead and his skin was hot, red with lust.

“Curly brow,” he rasped out, clearly out of breath from the looks of it, “I think I’m dying.” One of his hands came up, shaking, to grip the doorframe, “I think I’m about to… die.”

The blonde sniffed visibly, “No… It’s clearly a heat,” he went to continue but his stomach dropped. It was an intense feeling that came on, causing him to grab the door and slam it in his friend's face. Warmth spread across his legs, down his cunt and up his spine, making him shiver, “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”

“...Curly?” Zoro asked from the other side of the door, “Are you dying too?” He was so out of it, because usually he’d at least make some sense. But now the moss-head was nothing more than incoherent babbles, leaning against his door and waiting for his roommate to appear again.

Slick started to pool in Sanji’s panties, making them stick to his vulva and fuck wouldn’t it be nice if he opened that door and fucked Zoro then and- He shook his head and pressed his head against the door, exhaling a shaky breath. He had to stay in control, he couldn’t lose it. He couldn’t do something he would regret with someone he held so dearly.

Sanji liked Zoro in every way that wasn’t normal. He was a kind, stupid, idiotic, pretty, stupid, man who knew nothing about basic manners. But he was Zoro, and God, it was hard to keep that door in between them. He didn’t want to ruin this with his desires, and he didn’t want his roommate to look at him the next morning with disgust.

“Sanji… Come in please,” the omega heard a quiet voice from his green-haired friend on the other side of the door, “I really want you to be with me right now.” It sounded genuine, it sounded real. Not clouded with lust, not clouded with his heat.

“That’s your heat talking, just give me a second. I think you triggered mine,” he forced out through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw to keep himself in check.

At that the so-called beta wrenched the ironclad grip that his blonde friend had on the door from him, forcing the door open so they could stare at each other. Sweat ran down his tanned skin and his black eyes bore into Sanji’s blue ones, searching for something. Was it consent? Was it an answer? But an answer to what? Whatever Sanji said or was it an answer to Zoro’s own feelings he had neglected for so long? Because, fuck, spending his heat with his roommate sounded so good.

“I always want you to be with me,” Roronoa whispered, extending his hand, “I don’t think that’s the heat. I think it’s my heat, idiot,” he pointed his other hand to his chest, pressing against the center as if he was pointing to his heart.

Sanji tried to hold back a laugh but it tumbled from his mouth, the corners turning up into a pained smile, “I always want to be with you. But in a… different way,” he took his roommates hand, gasping when their skin met. It was electric and it was right. As if every moment in his life had led up to this, so they could touch each other like it was the first time again.

“What way?” The moss-head slowly walked backward, pulling them into his room with ease.

“Um…” The blonde looked away and closed the door, “Romantically?”

Zoro stopped walking and looked down at their hands. They were interlaced, fingers against fingers, holding onto each other for dear life. As if when they broke it would be the end. He didn’t want it to break, he didn’t want it to end either. And the thought of being romantic with Sanji wasn’t unappealing at all. Especially with his arousal talking, it sounded pretty damn good.

He then nodded, “I like that. Let’s do it, curly.”

“Do… what?” Sanji narrowed his eyes, letting his mouth hang open for a moment.

“Romance stuff, like holding hands or kissing,” He then paused, “...Can we kiss?” His black eyes widened, the new omegas other hand coming to clasp over their joint hands. He pulled the other man in closer, staring with something new. This was the lust. This was that overpowering lust he had been fighting off for half of this interaction, before it won and took hold of his body. This was the thing that Sanji had secretly hoped would take over so he could let go and do something. Let his hands wander, fondle, touch, grasp at any surface he could.

Sanji nodded and their lips found each other, pressing together to make one person within an instant. Fuck it felt so good to kiss, pressing shallow pecks along both their mouths before it deepened. Before tongues lolled against one another and teeth collided. Pleasure spiked from this alone and, god, Zoro could’ve cum from this alone. The blonde's hands started to undo his own shirt, forcing the buttons off their holes and shrugging off the blue once he got a chance. His skin was perfect, made just for the green-haired male to run his hands along his newly flat chest. The scars were fresh but they were perfect, especially if they made Vinsmoke happy.

“I like you,” Zoro broke apart the kiss to press a slobbery one along his roommate's jaw, pressing more down his neck, “Like a lot.” His hands came to hook onto the jeans holding back his friend's cunt, which he could smell. God, he could smell the pheromones. It hit him and he couldn’t get enough of it. It was sweet, it was so sweet. He wanted to lick along the scent gland once he found it, just to taste more of that liquor against his lips.

“Marimo… I love you,” Sanji breathed out, helping him pull off his jeans and slick soaked panties. He was breathtaking, everything the other had imagined. A perfect pussy for a perfect omega, sticking out between his legs for Zoro to tease with two fingers.

He looked up at his blonde roommate, falling onto his knees to get a better feel for his folds, “You love me, cook?” Zoro’s fingers felt around the plush vulva, finding his engorged clit and running it between his pads. He forced himself to stare up into the blue eyes staring back at him with affection and lust, instead of diving into that pretty pussy.

“I think I do,” the blonde whispered, running his hand over green hair.

“I love you,” Roronoa leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his pubic bone, not minding the blonde hair that laid there, “I want to have sex with you a lot … too.” His eyes were blown out with lust as he kissed, sloppy open-mouthed kisses along his skin, taking his time as he worked up, meeting his lover's face with a smile.

“Yeah,” Sanji whined, grabbing the back of his neck to guide their mouths together, “Let me make this the best heat,” their lips met with fervor for longer than they should’ve, hands exploring lower and lower before he pulled back, “You’ve ever had.”

Mouths pressed and hands grabbed, fondling every part they could grab until Zoro’s back was against the soaked mattress again. His legs spread, slicked folds shining in the dull light as his lover pried them apart with gentle fingers. He dipped down into the wetness, hooking his hand to see how the new omega would react. Slowly brushing against his G-spot, it was easy to get the moss-head to let out whines that sounded foreign on his lips, arching his back to the pleasure.

Zoro was never someone who was submissive, but this heat was rendering his brain to nothing but mush. Mush that wanted the omega above him so bad. To live inside him and grab his body, pull him in and never let go. To mold their bodies and make him feel as good as he made the green-haired male. To make Sanji feel so good he can’t move, but instead whisper Zoro’s name like a chant- like a prayer.

Sanji fingered him for a little while longer, slicking his hand until it was sopping. He pulled it back and licked along his digits, taking it into his mouth and making eye contact as he sucked. He looked overjoyed to taste the moss-head, wanting so badly to dive inside and eat him up. Devour him on a platter and never come up for air.

“God, fuck me already,” Roronoa leaned his head back, turning it to rest on one of his shoulders as they gazed upon each other. The other loved to be a brat, loved to tease, even though they were both aware they both wanted to break the distance.

Sanji knew that all too well, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lover's nose, “Be patient. I’m gonna make you feel so good…” His hand spread Roronoa apart as his legs shifted, the left hooking overtop the others right. They molded together, as he leaned forward and pressed their pussies together. His outer vulva and bottom growth rubbed circles along Zoro’s cunt, all with slow jerks of his hips. Wetness upon wetness squelched as the blonde started to ride the other, rocking back and forth continuously to satiate the burning in his lower stomach.

“A-Ah~ You.. You’re… Oh my god…” Zoro gaped at him, two familiar hands coming to grab at his breasts and fondle them. Fingers squeezed his nipples, causing a surge of pleasure to drop into his aching clit.

“I’m gonna.. Mm.. I’m gonna fuck you so good…” Sanji whined, pressing further to calm the itch that needed to be scratched deep inside him, “You’re gonna.. F-fuck.. Hahh.. You’re gonna be all taken.. Mm taken ca-care of..ha.. Hahh.. Mari-... Zoro…” His engorged clit found Zoro’s, pressing into it and massaging with the slow grinding of his hips.

Zoro wrapped his arm around his lover's neck, bringing their faces together, “Sa-Say my name again.” He gritted through a tight jaw, bringing wet kisses to his neck, to his perfect scent gland. It tasted like sugar, becoming nothing more than a muddled shell of itself after he licked on it, kissed it, even nibbled a bit.

The blonde moaned, “Z-Zoro… Fuck..” He squeezed Zoro’s tits together, digging his fingernails into the skin, picking up his pace, “Zoro… You’re doing so good..”

“Y-Yeah?” He breathed out, wrenching Sanji into an open-mouthed kiss, tilting his head to tongue-fuck him with no remorse. They thrashed together, taking each other in- drinking each other in. To taste the blonde omega was better than any wine, any beer, anything he’d ever drank before. Fuck, Zoro needed him in every sense of the word.

“Yeah,” the man pulled back to marvel at the man quivering underneath him. Slick and wetness dripped down his thighs, smearing against his skin and down into Zoro, melding their bodies together as one, “Zoro.. fuck you’re so-so .. so.. So good..” Their clits were twitching in turn, so full of hedonistic delight it was almost too much. Even still, they wanted more of that hot satisfaction. They needed each other until time ended.

“Right there.. Yea-a-ah, that’s it,” Roronoa’s hand snaked to his lover's hip, pleading him to grind harder. It gripped his partner's skin and moved him, grating their heats together. His core was so close, so full to snapping and releasing fluids all over themselves. The coil that had wrapped itself in his stomach, buried deep with warmth was about to explode, dripping hot slick as they humped.

“Please,” Sanji mewled, pressing their foreheads together, “Fuck I need this.. I need you.. I need.. Zoro.. Z-Zoro I need you,” tears were streaming down his cheeks, rutting his pussy as quickly as he could to get some gratification. If Zoro had any mind he’d be making fun of him, but his brain was so drunk off of his omegas scent he couldn’t do anything more than moan and attempt to jerk his hips in tandem.

“I’m here,” he cooed, his free left hand coming to grab the blondes which were doing nothing more than flicking the others nipples. Their fingers interlaced and pressed into the mattress that creaked beneath their moving bodies, squeezing each other. The squeeze was to say this is real, at least they hoped it was. They both hoped this was reality and not some hyper realistic dream. Not something they could ever wake up from.

“I-I need you,” Vinsmoke keened, thrusting his honeypot against Zoro’s, hitting that perfect spot. The green-haired male was so close to coming undone, pressing himself into the mattress for some kind of leverage. Something to keep that feeling going, that perfect angle that was making him barely hold back.

“Y-Yeah.. I-I need you too.. f-f..mm.. Shit I’m.. I’m..” Zoro stuttered, his head falling back to loll against the bed.

Within the minute he felt himself crash, coming undone and releasing his fluids against his lover. It was warm and it was sticky, coming out in squelching waves. He groaned, the hand on Sanji’s hip coming up to grab his omega behind the neck and bring him down into a kiss. It was something more tender than before, something touching- No, not touching, something intimate. Something that combined their souls and made them one, once and for all.

His pussy was so sensitive as the omega kept humping him, mushing their folds together and using his spare hand to slide his fingers between the two for more friction. He found Zoro’s clit and started to rub on it, scissoring it between two fingers to get that delicate spot that melted underneath his touch.

“I’m so close,” the blonde let out a cry, “God, I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long,” his voice rasped against his throat. This was better than any vibrator or any dildo, any rabbit or any rose toy. It was hot flesh rubbing against hot flesh for some kind of release they both could give, they both knew they could. And they wanted to. Holy hell, he wanted to cum all over Zoro and fuck it back inside him.

When Sanji did cum it was louder than his lover. His hips sputtered in tune, hot liquid dripping from his urethra on top of Zoro’s sloppy mound. It felt so good and freeing, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. As if the pleasure building in his gut exploded and cascaded down his front, into his core and flooded back into his face. He tried not to stop, to keep going but it was so much, too much for him.

Without speaking, the blonde scooted back from the others cunt, much to a loud protest. He tried to gather as much of their joint slick on his fingers as he could, before sticking digit after digit inside Zoro. He was going to fuck his hot slick right back inside his omega if it killed him. Vinsmoke was going to fuck him so good, make his first heat so good. Make every second of side stepping and awkward banter worth it so they could consummate their love once and for all.

“S-Sanji…” Zoro groaned, pressing his hips into the mattress and letting his back lift just a bit, “Wh… Mmm.. Don’t- f-fuck… Don’t stop..” He whined, something new but, fuck, it was hot. God, he was so hot when he was disheveled and begging for more. When he was covered in sweat and slick. When his pussy was throbbing and swollen, mercilessly begging for it to end but aching for it to continue. When his face was contorting into expressions, they both knew he couldn’t control, eyes crossing and tongue lapping out the side of his mouth.

“Good.. g-good boy. Yeah, that’s it… You like my fingers?” Sanji smiled, letting four fingers get swallowed by his lover's pink walls.

“Don’t get.. C-cocky,” the first time the whole night Zoro was conscious enough to make some sort of comeback, that was quickly drowned out with his mewling and whimpering for more, “Sanjiii,” he exhaled, “Fuck, you d.. Mm do so good.”

Sanji leaned down, letting his tongue graze his marimo’s quivering clit as his fingers pumped in and out of his pussy, “Is this too much?” His tone was teasing but his question was genuine, beckoning an answer out of the other with another lick to that oh-so sensitive clitoris.

“M-more… whole hand..” Zoro mumbled, nodding his head and spreading his legs back with his hands. He brought his knees up, holding his calves to his thighs to give Sanji better access to his pretty little core. Sanji, who slowly stopped fingering the other man to stare at him inquisitively.

“Whole… hand?” He repeated, but he nodded.

The four fingers were soon replaced by five when his thumb came to gently work his lover open, letting his knuckles pass through gummy walls. Sanji pinched his hand together, targeting that perfect g-spot that was swollen to the touch. It was just behind his clitoris and begging to be stroked and pet, begging to be abused by his digits. The slick made it incredibly easy to squeeze inside Zoro, painting the new omega’s thighs in clear wetness that the blonde couldn’t help but eye.

Zoro let out a moan when his lover started to fist-fuck him, gently dragging his hand in and out past his entrance to stimulate his core. And he let out another moan when Sanji’s mouth found his inner right thigh, sucking and licking along the skin to clean up that mess. It wasn’t just open-mouthed kisses, fuck, he was making out with the skin. Passion behind his mouth as he bit and teased, licked, kissed, and sucked tenderly. His spare left hand came up on the front of his omega's thigh to his knee, then back down, sending goosebumps throughout the other.

“You.. A-Ah~ God,” his groan was guttural, coming deep inside his chest, “You’re.. ha..hah.. I’m.. mm.. Shit..” Within seconds of being fucked with one whole hand, Zoro was cuming and squirting his hot wetness onto his lover. It came out in quick bursts, lightly spraying from his pussy and barely missing Sanji’s face.

Although, the blonde wouldn’t have minded tasting him, especially when he was so lust-drunk on the moss-heads … everything. Everything Zoro did was making the omega ache, deep inside his bones. Even without the guise of it being purely sexual, it made him throb. He was full of pure unbridled affection for the idiot beneath him, who stared at Sanji as if he was looking at an angel on Earth for the first time in his life.

Sanji slowly pulled out of him, making sure not to hurt him as he continued. When the other was emptied of fingers, that was when his lover leaned up and kissed him. Just as gentle and intimate as before, even more so now. They were bound, they were bound until time stopped. There was nothing that could tear their bond apart and create a rift between their bodies, between their souls. A hand came to cradle Zoro’s face, placing peck after peck on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” Sanji smiled into the kiss, letting his teeth brush against his lovers, “I really love you.” His mouth trailed to Zoro’s eyes, kissing the lids and dragging down to his cheeks. He placed deliberate kisses on his face that were inching toward that new scent gland on his lover's neck.

“I love you too,” their bodies entangled together in the pool of their wetness and slick, as Zoro’s heat finally began to subside. It would only be for now, but he’d relish in these gentle touches he was getting until he was blinded by arousal again.

“You’re not just saying that ‘cause of your heat?” He heard the blonde omega murmur, laying atop his roommate and pressing his nose against the new scent gland. It was a foreign feeling to Roronoa, but it was pleasurable. More relaxing in this context, more soothing.

Zoro wrapped his arms around the others back, letting his hands rest on the small of his back, “Definitely not.” He exhaled when Sanji licked a stripe against his gland, practically tasting the blonde's sweetness on his tongue. It became more prominent as he was scented, letting his eyes flutter closed to the calming sensation.

“I wasn’t lying,” Vinsmoke muttered into the gland, bringing one finger to trace around the edge, “I really have wanted this for a long time.”

“Honestly, me too,” the moss-head let out a yawn and nuzzled his head against his lovers, getting a low chuckle in response.

“You have such a way with words,” he teased, pulling back to face Zoro again. The omegas hands came up and cupped his face, relishing in the warmth that radiated off of him, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Zoro smiled back at him. Maybe being an omega wasn’t such a bad thing after all…

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queenlua · 22 days ago

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Odd question - do you have any favorite books / places to look into animism for the curious, and that you thought were remarkably well done? (Only if you're comfortable answering, though!)

happy to help! though i suspect my answer will be a rather unsatisfying potpourri lol

inasmuch as i have an animistic practice it’s mostly an experiential thing. i spent a lot of time running around in the woods as a kid & found myself relatively sensitive to a sense of awe, divine connection, etc in that context. i was raised southern baptist so i contextualized those experiences as experiences of God, but, y’know. later on i decided differently

and i do think a lot of relatively commonplace heavily-secularized rituals we experience in our daily lives have a sort of animistic component. like, when i was a kid at Girl Scout camp, we had opening campfire and closing campfire each week, and we had a thing where we’d do a few big SHOUTS to wake up the spirit of the camp at the beginning of the week, and we’d say goodbye at the end of the week. and sure yeah it was a cheesy fun activity to get a bunch of kids and preteens SHOUTING for FUN. but also it's not that different than a lot of earnestly-practiced animistic rituals practiced worldwide. you can still say hi and bye to a forest before and after you go trampling around in there. it's extremely legal. if you wanted to get started you could probably do a lot worse than learning some Girl Scout songs & singing them around a campfire imho

anyway! i became interested in neopaganism/animism/polytheism due to a confluence of resources:

* i stumbled upon & then clicked around the religion section on Everything Shii Knows's personal wiki, which was kind of my introduction to some concepts that are pretty common-knowledge if you're a better student of history and/or religion than i was at the time, but, had a lot of nice resources on religious-studies-type stuff with a particular emphasis on neopaganism, since the author was the archdruid of the RDNA Mother Grove for a bit

(note that if you track down the author's current writings, he's taken a bit of a trad-right-wing turn, which i find kind of disappointing, but is also awkwardly common for writers in this space, so uh, word to the wise i guess)

* i liked John Michael Greer’s A World Full of Gods useful for offering a sort of "apologetics for polytheism" piece—as someone who, again, was raised pretty southern baptist and had a pretty specific mindset for What Valid/Invalid Theological Justifications Look Like, this gave me just enough justification that i felt intellectually OK exploring this sort of thing further. (this was probably mostly brainworms & idk how i'd feel about the book if i read it again today but it was invaluable at the time)

* (it just now occurs to me that it's pretty likely i heard of the book via either The Wild Hunt or some blog in the neopagan blogosphere back in the day. idk what became of the rest of that space but Wild Hunt's still around)

so once i decided i was open to this shit & it was resonating with me, i spent a lot of time at various rituals held by Earthspirit in the Boston area, and in particular i attended their Twilight Covening, which is an annual weekend-long... spiritual... thingy? in the mountains? idk, you get a bunch of woo new age people together for a weekend to do a weekend-long ritual plus intense focus on a particular discipline. a few of the participants i found to be kind of unserious and silly, but most of them were really cool & had spent a lot of time thinking about and practicing their various traditions. i studied under this intense awesome terrifying old lady who was really into Odin and had two phds, one of them in Nordic Stuff™. when i miss boston i mostly mean that i miss terrifying old ladies with multiple phds

...wow this is rambling on

ANYWAY, look, the New Age-y community broadly has the following subsets:

reconstructionists who are e.g. trying to recreate the rituals and religious practices of a particular older polytheistic religion as best as they are able (e.g. a bunch of people interested in Hellenistic Gods doing research on How Exactly Rituals Involving Zeus worked, and then doing them)

neopagans who freely acknowledge that the Thing They're Doing mostly originated in the late 1800s, but will often freely ape stuff from a variety of traditions. like they may be inspired by Hellenistic religion and they may be praying to Aphrodite or whatever but they are not super troubled by whether what they're doing particularly resembles what the ancient Greeks were doing

i think what reconstructionists are doing is really cool but not for me. i also think what neopagans are doing is really cool, but at the end of the day i was kind of like, it feels sort of dishonest/weird to ape from older traditions that may or may not have anything to do with the place i'm in...

...but at this point i HAD learned a lot of stuff from the community about e.g. how a ritual's constructed, how to access certain headspaces, etc

so i was like: can i just use these practices with special attention to the spirits/deities that i'm pretty sure actually exist in my own space?

and yeah, i had a particularly memorable trip to central Washington in winter where i was focusing on this sort of thing, and

that's about the time i started self-describing more as "animist" than "neopagan," since animist i think describes a broader, more generic concept of "paying attention to the Spirits Around You," and i don't think has to come with a bunch of baggage / hard doctrine / etc outside of like.. paying attention

the problem is about any religion that becomes Serious enough to start writing things down has generally moved past animism, so idk if you'll be able to find much writing about "animism as a modern practice" specifically. but i think doing a previous study of meditative/contemplative traditions in pretty much any religion, and then applying that to The World Near You, is probably the ticket

that or just read more history. i did write a paper on pre-Shinto religion in Japan once and that was definitely fun to research, the various nature cults at the time were definitely animist in nature, etc

(i guess in the spirit of full transparency i should say i went through a Weird Spiritual Crisis this past summer and so my personal views on What This All Is and What Spiritual Practice Makes Sense To Me are kind of in flux atm. i don't think that makes any of what i said here less valid; i've been doing neopagan/animist stuff since like 2012 at this point & don't have any particular regrets about that decade+, but yeah, just FYI so i don't look like i'm contradicting myself later on haha)

#sorry for the long post anon.#didn't have time to write a shorter one.#hope it's interesting to you at least lol #wee woo

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atopvisenyashill · 2 months ago

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there’s a few characters that imo, it just depends on how the story ends. jorah is the main one - i’ll reserve judgement on him until we see his ending bc the thing is, he’s not portrayed positively. he’s pathetic! pathetic in the eyes of everyone around him! dany thinks to herself if he apologizes - just says SORRY & takes responsibility - she’ll forgive him immediately and that’s the most tragic scene in their relationship for me. he crosses so many boundaries with her, he is NOT the knight she needs, but she loves him anyway for being the ONLY even vaguely kind person to her when she wanted to kill herself, for believing in her when everyone else turned away (even if he believed for the wrong reason!), she TRIES to make herself fall in love with him that’s how much she DOES love him, she is willing to forgive him a HUGE betrayal…and he can’t even say he’s sorry!!!

so like, sometimes i feel like he’s a character whose arc has stretched on too long but at the same time, he is SHOWN to be just as pathetic as he truly is. i have no idea what his ending will be but i more or less trust it will be interesting.

drogo……tied for rhaegar for me in being the worst depiction of “light and dark both” as a character. his ONLY relationship is with dany, who is his child bride. he has no relationship with parents, siblings, friends, not even bloodriders - it’s wild to me that dany’s bloodriders show her more loyalty & love than drogo’s show him! every word out of his mouth is a compliment to himself. he has no aspirations, no goals, no internal personhood. he exists to traumatize dany.

if i’ve bitched about rhaegar once i’ve bitched a hundred times. his actions are nonsensical, stupid, reckless beyond belief. part of this is because we still haven’t gotten the ~big reveal~ in book canon so on the one hand it’s like, yeah sure i do want to wait to see what george has up his sleeve. but best case scenario this man tries to do a blackfyre 2.0 conflict & is surprised it blew up in his face. his positives are more informed than anything - they say he was better than aerys, a True Prince, but what on earth does he do to earn that? on the other other hand, the people saying that shit are like, jaime who has some trauma regarding the targaryens in general bc of the sack, barristan who is the world’s number one targ apologist, and joncon who was in love with him. there’s a lot of room to move here but for me, right now, it’s just like. oh another one of those wife disrespecting silver fire obsessed silver haired motherfuckers. next.

areo hotah is probably the most egregious to me tho because he’s a pov…but WHAT DOES HE WANT. his whole character begins and ends at being devoted to doran - and like, sorry, if you’re going to make this guard’s whole personality he that he’s devoted to the man he serves, he should have been doran’s lover or something, like a joncon thing. he’s got this paternal thing going on with arianne but it’s not deep enough for him to like. idk try to stop her from doing the queenmaker plot, or spare any of her friends, or have any sort of internal conflict at being at odds with her in affc, and then in adwd he’s just completely forgiven her. what does he WANT. he carries doran softly to bed. it’s sweet. it’s empty! does he even miss norvos?????

#getting on my soap box #like everyone else i bitch about. they’re just like unpleasant villains. they’re supposed to piss me off! and it works!#these guys (minus jorah - he has some scenes that really move me)#they just feel so flat. drogo is perplexing bc george loves him.#and again - i just need more from a rape fantasy. there’s gotta be something here besides that played straight.

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crazylittlejester · 10 months ago

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for a prompt

idk just warriors having pent up stress, the others are teasing him and stuff and he’s having a SHIT TIME and just goes OFF on all of them, and is like “bro shit I’m gonna cry” and he just runs off and has a mental breakdown somewhere (the others give boy plenty of hugs)

this is such a good prompt and i honestly might write another thing with it later. I had this idea half written in my drafts from MONTHS ago, and i’m sorry if its a bit odd or choppy I finished it in the waiting room of an urgent care lmao (the ao3 authors curse came for me) 🕺🕺🕺 BUT HERE YOU GO!! (542 words):

It had been a long couple days for all of them. Emotions were running high, stress was through the roof, but since Twilight’s miraculous recovery, things had been slowly calming down and going back to normal. After having stayed up all of the previous night, Time allowed Warriors to convince him to sleep for a few hours in the morning. The captain had promised to keep an eye on everyone, and with Twilight safely out of the danger zone, Time felt he could finally allow himself to rest. Besides, if anything happened, his brother would come wake him up.

After his short nap, the group had gone into the woods to test Twilight’s strength. He was doing well considering the severity of the wound, but the rancher was a bit disappointed in his lack of strength. Despite everything, everyone was doing well. This was the happiest he’d seen them all in months. Well, everyone except Warriors.

Time felt bad that he hadn’t noticed exactly when the captain had started acting weirdly, but over time they spent at the inn, it was becoming more and more apparent that something was wrong. He was snappier than usual, telling the others off for joking around when normally he would’ve been messing around right there with them, and standing much more rigidly. Gone was his relaxed posture, replaced by the clear physical signs of stress.

Legend and Hyrule teasing Sky for his bad stamina seemed to be the final straw.

“Stop it,” Warriors mumbled, shaking his head violently. Time looked to him in concern.

“Well maybe if you could run just a little bit faster,” Legend jabbed, teasing tone in his voice.

Sky opened his mouth to retort back, but the sound of Warriors’s knees hitting the floor cut him off. Time’s head snapped in the captain’s direction to find him curled in on himself, shaking with his hands over his ears. His head was tucked into his chest, only a few inches away from resting on the floor. Sky and Legend had gone completely silent, the only sound in the room was the captain’s ragged breathing.

“I can’t fucking do it anymore,” he wheezed, and Time carefully knelt down at his brother’s head.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” He asked softly, gesturing for the others to back up a little.

“I don’t even know,” Warriors cried, sitting up and looking at Time with wide eyes full of tears. “I don’t… I’ve been awake for too many hours and I… I’m just…?”

“Stressed?” Time suggested, and the captain just nodded, his legs sliding out from under him. He held out his arms and to his surprise, Warriors leaned up against him.

Twilight quickly joined them, wrapping his arms around both Warriors and Time, pressing his chest to the captain’s back. Everyone else quickly followed in as well, surrounding Wars in the middle of a hug pile.

“You deserve a nice long nap,” Wind told him from where he’d somehow squeezed himself right up next to Warriors. “You’ve done a lot for us, you can sleep now.”

“Yeah,” Wild nodded from the back of the group. “Stop worrying about all of us and take care of yourself.”

“We love you,” Sky told him from somewhere in the middle.

#the fanfiction authors curse has bitten me in the ass #but i will continue to whump wars #don’t yall even worry about that #im no quitter #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wars #jes talks #jes ask #jes fic #jes mini fic

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strawberryfairi · 11 months ago

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Synopsis✨: The story of how you catch heavy feelings for the hot photography student, Shuji Hanma…even though you already have the perfect (fake) boyfriend.

Pairings: Photography Student! Shuji Hanma X Dance Major! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Drama, lots of denial, angst, sneaky link, lots of cheating, mutual pining, unserious Shuji, controlling parents, forced relationships, romance, fighting, porn with a good plot vibes, intense sexual tension, etc (just find out the rest lol)

w.c: 5k💠 Released: April 1, 2024

Previous | Next... | Chapters Masterlist

NOTE: Honestly, idk bout this chapter fr, I like it but don't at the same time lol. I was kinda struggling with this chapter buuuuut the tea 🫖 is for sure hot with this one! Hope y'all enjooooy❤︎

C.W: SMUT and HOT TEA! P in V, oral: fem receiving (I think that's it really)

7; Fake Date 约会

Flashback Saturday

A soft knock comes from Ken's dorm suite door, ripping him out of his wild-running thoughts.

"Comin'!" He hollers lazily, setting his alcohol bottle down and making his way out to the front door.

"Emma?" His brow raises confusedly.

"H-hi Ken. Could I come in?" She asks sheepishly, clutching the strap of her tote bag.

💎

"So, you know I'd never go out of my way to start any drama, and I care about you both. You two are my friends." Emma says in a cautious, sincere tone, looking at her hands clasped together nervously in her lap.

The two of them were sat on the edge of Ken's bed, the room slightly messy which was unusual for the guy. "Yeah...?" He raises a brow, starting to become skeptical.

"So...the other day I-....I saw Y/N get into someone's car. A guy's car. And I know that might not sound like anything bad but, I don't know, it just gave me an odd feeling. She had her duffel bag with her and-

"You think she's cheating on me?" Ken cuts in, his tone coming across a bit sharper than he intended.

"No! No I-...I just wanted to maybe warn you...of the possibility?" Her brows furrow, not really sure what exactly she was even trying to say. Emma starts to doubt herself, doubt her reasoning for coming here. So what if she got into another guy's car? Was it really that deep to come and "warn" Ken about?

"The possibility?" He raises a brow.

Emma shakes her head, getting up from the bed and grabbing her tote bag. "I know, I know! Why would I say that? I'm sorry-I'm such an idiot. I shouldn't have come-

"No, it's fine Emma." Ken starts, grabbing her wrist and stopping her in her place. "To be honest I've been suspicious of her for a little while now." He sighs exasperatedly.

"Wait what?!" Emma's brows furrow in a mix of shock and confusion.

"It's not the first time I was told she got in a car with some other guy, and if it were her friend Baji neither of you would'a come to me about it."

"But-...but we don't know for sure if that means-

"You said you had an 'odd feeling', right? Well so do I." He says bitterly.

"That doesn't mean we're right, Ken." Emma assures, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Ken's jaw clenches as he looks to the side in thought.

"Emma...she's not in love with me. I know she's not, and it's becoming more and more clear every single day." He mutters wearily, feeling that harsh tug on his heart that he's been trying to run away from for the past few weeks.

"What?!" She outbursts, brows furrowed in bewilderment. "How could you say that?! You've been together for so long, how could you think-

"It's fake." Ken says plainly, rolling his eyes. Emma pauses, her mind malfunctioning as she tries to process his words. "W-what?" She murmurs, barely above a whisper.

"Our relationship, Emma, it's fake. Our parents are making us be together, and-...she just doesn't love me." He huffs exasperatedly.

Emma's brows furrow in disbelief, shaking her head. "I really don't understand. All this time, it's-..it's never been real? But I've seen you two though, the way you look at her, I know you're in love-

"Yeah, I am. She's the one that's not in love with me." He rolls his eyes. Emma looks up at him with an apologetic, and admittedly still baffled, expression.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't need pity, ok?" Ken grumbles, his tone much lower than before.

"I'm not pitying you, Ken. I'm sympathizing." Emma frowned, placing a hand on his cautiously.

"Lately I just-...I can feel her drifting away. She's slipping from me; right out of my hands, Emma."

"Is that why you've been..doing this more often?" She asks softly, gesturing towards the empty alcohol bottles on his once tidy desk.

Ken sighs, resting his elbows on his knees as he places his head in his hands. "Yeah."

"Ken I-..you know, it may not be my place to say, but this isn't a good outlet. You're an athlete, this'll only cause problems for you in the future. I understand how you're feeling, but don't take it out on your body."

"Nothing else works." He mumbles.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the girl I slowly started to fall in love with doesn't feel the same, Emma! I've tried everything to get my mind off it, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm not good enough for her!" Ken outbursts, looking up at Emma with teary eyes.

"Ken..." Emma trails off, not even sure of what to really say anymore.

"I've been takin' it out on her too, the girl I'm supposed to be in love with, getting pissed at her 'cause she doesn't feel the same. Then to make it worse, I think I might've said something bad to her one time; while I was high. She hasn't looked at me the same ever since. At this point, any chance I had to get her to love me back just went out the window." He shakes his head, tone filled with disappointment.

"I don't know, I just-..I just wanna feel something else. Even for a second." He admits wearily.

The two pause, looking one another in the eyes as the they both inwardly debate the exact same thing.

Emma knows she's always had feelings for Ken, ever since they first met during the universities' one week summer program. But she also knows where she stands with him, where her lane has always been. But in this small moment, all she can think of are his words, ringing all throughout her mind.

I just wanna feel something else....

She understands exactly how Ken feels, as she too is in the same boat. The one she loves is sitting directly in front of her yet feels just out of her reach, too busy sulking over a girl that's never even cared for him the way she does to notice her.

Ken sucks in a breath, suddenly feeling a heavy weight on his shoulders even heavier than what he's already been dealing with. How could he be mad over the thought of his girl possibly cheating when he's debating doing the exact same thing in this very moment. Before Ken can even decide for himself, Emma abruptly leans in, placing her lips desperately onto his. The kiss was only a few seconds long, yet it seemed to drag and linger all at the same time.

Emma pulls away as fast as she leaned in, hovering her hands over her mouth as her eyes widen in horror. "I-oh my god, I'm so sorr-

Ken cuts her off, taking her by the cheek and pulling her into another kiss, deciding that if drinking and using those drugs Cho's friend has been getting him wasn't working, then Emma will do just fine instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Present Tuesday Night Shuji's Place

"Hmmmm." You moan blissfully. Shuji's shower is everything, a whole different type of experience from your little dorm suite shower. First of all it's pretty big since he's so tall, which you were actually expecting, and the water pressure is so much better than yours. Second of all, his soaps smell soooo good.

Once you were done your shower and moisturizing with his lotion you found, you wrapped yourself back up in the black towel and headed out of his room.

Since you came straight to his place from your rehearsal you never got the chance to bring anything to change into, so you'd need something of his.

You spot Shuji over at the kitchen shirtless, his back turned to you as he focuses on whatever dish he's making. It actually smells amazing, much to your genuine surprise. A devious smirk makes its way on your lips, an idea popping into your head. Sneaking over as quietly as possible, you make your way behind him, hoping he wouldn't turn around and ruin your plan. Your grin widens as you finally get right behind him, your hands reaching out for his sides.

"AAH!" You holler, your fingers nipping at his sides as you attempt to scare him.

"Ohhhhh noooo!" He says in a fake terrified tone, turning the fire of the stove off then looking down at you as he chuckles at your disappointed expression. "That was cute." He adds, poking your nose, and only furthering your disappointment in the turn out.

"Bruh..." You deadpan, pouting your bottom lip. He's not one of those jumpy people. "I need some clothes. I don't got nothin'." You state plainly, changing the subject.

"For what? I think you're good just like that, angel." He says seductively, snaking his right arm around your waist and pulling you close. Your heart flutters in your chest, the way his light golden brown eyes look into yours so lustfully makes you feel trapped.

"Hey wait, don't start." You warn.

"Don't start what?" He asks innocently, setting the big spoon he had down and walking you backwards till you were up against the little island area.

"What you're starting right now", You chuckle, placing your hands on his arms, "We're supposed to have dinner first."

"Fuck it, I wanna go straight to dessert." His hands reach under your towel, gripping onto your ass firmly. "Gosh." You look down and to the side completely flustered. "You always make me feel so nervous..." You admit with a shy chuckle, still unable to look at him. He hums in satisfaction, his large hands slowly squeeze and massage your soft cheeks.

"I know, I love it; it turns me on. Now shut your sexy ass up and gimme a kiss." He demands playfully, brushing his lips along your jawline. You let out a small laugh, turning your head and placing your lips onto his. His left hand continues massaging your cheek, while the right slowly drags its way up to wrap around your neck, locking you in place. You gasp against his lips, feeling overwhelmed by the way he forces his tongue into your mouth all while firmly squeezing your throat.

He makes the kiss sloppy and slow, the sound of his tongue ravaging yours filling the space. Shuji pulls away, a thin string of saliva forming between both of your lips. His sensual eyes gaze into yours so intensely your legs involuntarily squeeze shut, trying to create a bit of friction for your needy core, aching for him like he was your source of oxygen. "You don't understand how much that little thing you do turns me on." He rasps sensually.

"What? What'd I do?" You mutter bashfully.

"You know. When you close your legs like that..." He looks down at your thighs then back up, letting out a deep sigh like he was trying to compose himself. "It makes me wanna do every nasty, wild thing I can think of to you." He says lowly, practically moaning as he spoke. You blink a few times completely shook at his words, only able to watch as the hand once around your neck takes the towel off your body, throwing it somewhere random. Then he cups your breasts, gently running his thumbs over your already hardened nipples.

"So here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna make you cum on my tongue, and my fingers...then you're gonna bend over on this counter and cum all over my dick like a good girl, you got me angel?" He states simply, his pretty eyes trapping you in place.

Damn...

You swallow, feeling almost intimidated at how incredibly horny, and dead serious, he is. "Yes." You answer breathlessly, slowly nodding your head. He gives you a satisfied grin, then captures yours lips in another intense kiss.

You've lost track of time, and honestly, your mind has completely fogged up by now. It's not like you haven't gotten head before, but it's never been anything like this, or for such a long time.

Your fingers were laced through Shuji's pretty dark hair, gripping onto the strands and pulling. Heavy, labored breaths mixed with loud, sob-like moans fill the apartment, along with the utterly lewd noises coming from the sloppy and noisy way he eats you out. He's some kind of water deprived, feral man right now, licking and slurping away at your innocent pussy like he's been through the longest drought and you were an oasis of fresh water.

And then, he wraps his moist lips around your throbbing clit, sucking then flicking his tongue over and over. His finger plays with your tight entrance, circling and prodding before easing its way in to his knuckle, knocking the breath from your lungs. "Ooohh!" You cry out loudly, brows furrowing as he instantly adds another, setting the perfect medium pace back and forth. His long fingers, curl deep inside, hitting that perfect spot that nearly knocks the wind out of you. "Aaah, daddy!", You cry out shakily, "Right there!"

He moans lowly in satisfaction, the deep hum reverberating against your clit.

"I'm gonna cum again! Please, please don't stop!" You whine loudly. It was such a contrast of reactions, as you beg for more yet your hands and pads of your feet push against him. His fingers speed up their pace, just enough to make you cum on the spot. Your legs tremble as he works you through your heavy orgasm, slowing down to a stop.

Your body relaxes, puffing out soft, little pants.

"I ever tell you y'look so pretty when you cum?" Shuji asks flirtatiously, running his hands up your thighs and grabbing your hips gently. "Stop." You chuckle shyly, turning your head to the side. He laughs along with you, leaning over you and giving you a surprisingly soft peck on the lips.

"I'm serious, Doll, you make the best faces. It makes me wanna fuck you like this instead..." He murmurs softly, bringing your hips to the edge of the counter and lining himself up with your leaky entrance, sliding inside you easily. The two of you gasp in perfect sync, his large hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrusts to the base, moaning lowly at the feeling of him stretching you out once again.

Instantly he sets a pace, giving you hard and heavy thrusts that make your legs tremble and your eyes roll back in pleasure. "Ughhh, fuck! Oh my god!" You moan loudly, the sound of your creamy, wet pussy reaching up to your ears.

"Right there, baby?" He murmured, hitting your sweet spot again and again.

"Yeeess!" You cry, throwing your head back as you felt yourself speeding towards another intense orgasm. He thrusted into you harder, making your body slightly jerk against the now warm countertop with every movement. Your moans shot up louder and louder, your whole body shaking and squirming under him.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" You whimper shakily over and over, reaching down and gripping his arms tightly.

"Mhm, cum for me." He moans, keeping his fast strokes steady. You arch your back, breasts bouncing violently as you released all over him. He keeps going, not even bothering to slow down as you climax. You're absolutely reeling. "You're so damn wet." He coos, looking down at you with his pretty golden colored eyes. Abruptly, Shuji slows his pace down, slower and deeper, making you feel every single inch. You let out a long, drawn out moan, rocking your hips with his thrusts.

"Fuuuuck, it's so deeeep!" You whine breathlessly as he grinds into you harder with every stroke. You were about to cum all over again that fast. Then he leans over you, his captivating face just inches from yours, and says "Your man can't handle all this, pretty angel. You're too much for him."

Your breath hitches in your throat between moans, your brows creasing into a slight wince. Guilt suddenly washed over you, but not guilt that you were cheating, guilt that with every fiber of your being you felt that Shuji was right. All you could do was moan loudly in agreement, basking at the way his soft lips leave wet kisses against your neck.

"He can't fuck you like this, can he?" He questions, picking up the pace. His hands slide their way up your body, cupping and squeezing your breasts then running his thumbs over your hard nipples. "Uh uhh!" You shake your head weakly, looking up at him with glossy eyes. Those words and his hands squeezing your breasts were all it took for you to reach that beautiful climax again, the corners of your eyes watering with pleasure-filled tears.

Shuji slows to a stop, letting you ride it out this time, then helps you into a new position, bent over the counter with your hands splayed by either side of your head. He pulls your hips back against him, thrusting inside you, making you cry out "Ahhh!" loudly in pleasure. Your skin colliding with his and the beautiful pants and moans from both of you fill your ears, making you feel almost drunk.

"You feel so good daddyyy." You moan, throwing your ass back to meet with his hard thrusts. Shuji makes what you think might be the sexiest sound you've ever heard, a deep, drawn out moan that echoes in your mind. You had to hear it again, so you keep going, using your hands on the counter to help you. "Fuuuck baby." He groans sensually, loosening his grip around your hips.

"Keep going till you make yourself cum." Shuji instructs, running his hands up your back then down and over your ass, giving your right cheek a little smack. You whimper in response, loving the sting his hand left.

You didn't last very long, and quickly you were reaching another orgasm. It was becoming harder to stay steady, every movement becoming labored and weak. Your body is shaking too much, you couldn't help but slow down. "I-I can't!" You stammer, voice quivering.

"Don't stop." He commands, gripping your hips and setting you back at your original, faster pace. "I caaan't!" You whine, unable to keep up with this pace. You were starting to feel like before, when he made you squirt the first time. It was too overwhelming to control yourself. "'S it too much, angel?" He teases, giving you hard thrusts that made your walls flutter. Loud ah's were all you could respond with, squeezing your eyes closed as your legs flail around.

Then, the tightness in your cord breaks like a dam, squirting all over him as you scream. "So fuckin' sexy." He moans lowly. That was just enough for him to reach his own high, cumming soon after you.

You both pant heavily, slowly coming down from the intensity of climaxing. "We made a mess." Shuji chuckles, leaning over you and kissing the space between your neck and shoulder. You hum weakly in response, still not yet ready to move or stand upright.

40 Mins Later

You were beyond surprised that the two of you weren't knocked out immediately after everything that went down, too tired to really eat, but no. There seemed to be almost a short boost of energy from the both of you. Or at least enough of a boost of energy to want to eat before going to sleep.

He'd given you a red shirt to wear, though really it's a mid thigh length dress on you, but that just made it feel cozier. Tonight he'd made you both chicken curry, using Jasmine rice. It was a surprising meal choice in your opinion. You definitely did not really think of Shuji as the cooking type. Your both sat at the table near the kitchen, one across from the other.

"I can't even lie..." You begin, chuckling a little bit.

"Why do I already know what you're gonna say..?" He narrows his eyes halfheartedly at you.

"I'm surprised you cooked something this nice and like...didn't immediately burn the whole apartment building down. I'm actually impressed!" You full out laugh, his salty expression amusing you.

"I can cook a few things. I'm not livin' off cup noodles every single day." He pouts.

"I'm kinda jealous. My tiny little spot they call a kitchen space doesn't really let me make too many nice meals like I would at home. I wish I had an apartment." You huff, pouting before taking another bite of food.

"The dorms have a kitchen space?!"

"Yeah! They're like literal suites. There's a little living room, kitchen, and my dorm has a bathroom right across from my bedroom."

"You do have an apartment then. It's just a small ass one." He chuckles.

"Yeah, but it's not like-..WAIT SIDEBAR CONVERSATION!" You outburst abruptly.

"I don't even know why this just popped in my head, but bruh, story time. So I'm getting ready for rehearsal tonight, right? I'm at the water fountain fillin' up my bottle and all of a sudden this random ass, quiet ass guy just appeared. He's like stuttering his ass off talkin' bout "h-h-hey there" all weird-..."

You tell him the whole story, trying but failing to remember what that guys name was.

"He asked you on a date?" Shuji raises a brow, letting out a scoff-like laugh.

"He sure did! He was acting like he's seen me before too, which I don't know maybe he has, but I've never seen the dude! It was just the weirdest thing ever, and the way he wasn't trynna let go of my hand...I was like naaah I gotta bounce." You shake your head, laughing a bit along with him. Talking about it like this with Shuji made you feel less uncomfortable about the whole situation.

"What'd he look like?" He asks curiously.

"Not gonna lie, weird. But he had like kinda longish hair, dark eyes; plaid outfit. Really plain." You shrug. "I mean, I just told him I have a boyfriend, which..is true..." You trail off, feeling a little awkward saying that since you were currently living it up with another guy.

There goes the guilt again...

"What's up with you and him anyways?" He asks, his brow slightly raised in curiosity.

"Who? Ken?" You furrow your brows, completely caught off guard by the sudden switch of topics.

"Yeah. You two havin' trouble in paradise or somethin'?"

You go silent, pursing your lips a bit into a frown. "Uuhhh, it's not-..no, we're fine, really. We just argue a lot these days, but that's normal-

"Is it?" He cuts in, raising a brow.

"Well what do you know? You ever have a girlfriend?" You sass.

"No. But I know I wouldn't let my girl slip away over somethin' as dumb as a few arguments. Especially not one like you." His tone is shockingly sincere, looking you dead in the eyes. That last part was so unnecessary, and it bothered you the way it made your heart flutter like a lovestruck middle school girl. You huffed exasperatedly, debating with yourself if it seemed like a good idea to vent your relationship frustrations to the guy you're currently cheating on your "boyfriend" with.

"I'm not slipping away from him. We're fine." You mutter tight lipped, rolling your eyes a bit. "Sooo, what's your definition of slippin' away then doll, 'cause to everyone else that's exactly what you're doin'." He quips with a breathy chuckle. You narrow your eyes at him, getting annoyed at how he keeps backing you into a corner with every response you give him. "Ok..sure, maybe it is. Doesn't mean I don't still care." You throw your hands up.

"How do you care and slip away at the same time?" He asks with a raised brow. "Well-..." You go silent, not really able to think of a good comeback in time, so he takes the chance to go and throw another question your way. "If you don't wanna be with him, why bother to stay?"

You clench your jaw, barefoot tapping against the wooden floor rapidly. Ok, now he's treading into real deep, uncharted waters. What's he even care about any of this for? He doesn't really seem like the deep, emotional conversations type, but clearly that must be wrong.

"I bother to stay because that's what you do when you care for someone-

"No, that's what you do when you feel like you don't have any other options." He cuts in, his tone all matter of fact like he knows better than you or something.

"Ok then, you're right, I don't have any other options! Are you happy now, detective Hanma?! I stay because I have to." You argue, heart pumping a mixture of anxiousness and annoyance. The only people who know about your situation with Ken are your teacher Janette and recently Baji, that's it. It was already risking a lot telling those two but you actually trust them. Hanma though...he's too new. You weren't one hundred percent sure he wouldn't tell, yet at the same time, he hasn't spilled anything about you cheating all this time.

His lips part once again, getting ready to hit you with another personal question. "What's making you feel like-

"Our relationship is fake! It's fake, Shuji! It's why I seem like I never care, and why I seem to never feel all that bad about "cheating" on him. You can't really cheat on someone you're not even actually dating." You rant exasperatedly, resting your chin on your hand with your elbow propped up on the table.

He blinks a few times, looking at you like you just told him the earth is actually in the shape of a cube and not a sphere.

"Our parents...they're the ones making us be together. His dad and my mom to be exact. They want us together because I guess it looks good or something; I really don't even know anymore why they're making us do this. Their reasoning kind of changes the longer this goes on. First it was to keep a good appearance in front of sponsors and the administration, then it was to keep us from getting "distracted" from our goals or whatever. Basically if I break up with Ken, she'll pull me out of the school. I won't be able to dance, and I kinda care more about dancing than I do trynna fight about not wanting to be with Ken." You clarify softly, tone exhausted and slightly ashamed.

"I...wasn't expecting that." He says in shock, his eyes slightly wide as he takes in this new information.

"Yeah. Who would?" You murmur dryly.

"So...would you rather spend time with me or your fake boyfriend?" He raises a brow, a completely inappropriate for the situation type of grin on his face. "Wow." You shake your head, not even a little bit shocked that he'd ask something like that in this exact moment. Not a single "sheesh, that's really tough" or "I'm so sorry you're going through that", nope, his mind went straight for a would you rather question to boost his own head up. Such a guyish response.

"Neither." You respond nonchalantly, leaning back in the dining chair, matching the same smug grin on his face. He pouts, admittedly in a very cute way, placing a hand on his chest.

"Whaaaat?! I'm hurt, angel. I just made you cum like five times;...and made you a nice dinner just as you said." He says.

"Ok, first of all, no you did not actually keep count. Second, sure, for some reason I guess I would rather spend time with you over Ken. But don't get too hype, this could very well be just a little phase." You chuckle, pointing a warning finger at him. "Oh just a little phase? Come sit on my lap and say that again." He challenges with a flirtatious tone. A mischievous grin makes its way across the length of your lips, scooting your chair back from the table a bit.

"Nah I'm good. Why don't you come over here and make me say it again?" Your eyes sparkle with a little excitement as you stand your ground.

The both of you go dead silent, eyes watching each other, waiting for who would break first.

"I'm waiting..." You tilt your head to the side, sassiness dripping off your tongue.

He narrows his eyes halfheartedly, raising from the chair and making his way over to you. You watch in excitement as he rests his hands on either side of your seat, caging you in. Your eyes meet, and a sensual chill goes down your spine. Shuji's lips press onto yours in a dominating kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. A soft, blissful moan slips passed your lips, your hands cupping his face. Slowly he pulls away, lingering his lips against yours.

"You think you're so cute, huh? Tellin' me what to do." He rasps with a halfhearted glare.

"No, I know I'm cute tellin' you what to do", You chuckle softly, tapping your nose against his, "You like it always."

"Yeah; not really sure why." He grumbles.

Your lips shift into a smug grin. "It's that particular effect I have, you know? I just give off-

"Alright, not too much..." He waves you off, going and taking both of your plates to the sink. You giggle at his reaction, watching him briefly get to washing the dishes.

"Hey so...when are you gonna put those dance courses to use and dance for me?" He asks playfully, yet also fully serious. "Oop?" You laugh, brows furrowed in confusion and amusement at the random and abrupt topic change. "Uhhh, I gotchu after you dance for me. How 'bout that?" You chuckle softly. "Ok...I got a lil somethin'." He grins back at you, doing a very...interesting movement with his shoulders.

"Stop. Immediately stop." You cringe between laughs. He sets the plates on the little dryer rack, dries his hands off, then makes his way back over to you. "Dance with me." He says playfully, taking your hands and pulling you to your feet.

"How do you have all this energy? I thought we were gonna go to sleep now." You whine halfheartedly, nodding towards his bedroom behind you.

"You don't wanna dance with me?" He pouts cutely, pulling you close to him.

"I mean...do you even know how to dance like this?" You raise a knowing brow.

"Well you're the dancer. Teach me." He shrugs.

"Teach?! Uh uh, it's time to go to sleep. How do you all of a sudden wanna do a whole dance lesson?! Like, I know for a fact as soon as your head hits that pillow you're gonna be gone." You shake your head, taking his hand and attempting to lead him to the bedroom. He doesn't budge at all, just standing there still pouting like a baby.

"Ughhhh, ok, you know what? I promise I'll dance with you, but not tonight." You assure softly, giving him the most sincerest expression.

He instantly smiles at your promise, taking you and picking you up in his arms. "You better not forget."

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Ok but....not Ken and Emma tho. It's giving very much hypocrite with Ken. 🎶I'm not feelin' it, I'm not feelin' it!🎶! (Y'all know that Beyonce song? No? Ok...)

#strawberryfairi🧚🏾‍♀️#a mile away ㊙️#shuji hanma #shuji hanma x reader smut #shuji hanma x black fem reader #shuji hanma x fem reader #shuji hanma x black fem reader smut #shuji hanma smut #tokyo rev #ken ryuguji x black fem reader #ken ryuguji x reader #black female reader #black female writer

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