#all i was trying to do was take this detail about his reminder of the promise that i thought was interesting and have some fun writing an
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floralscented · 2 days ago
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤGOTHIC HORROR! — vampire!dean
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the most loyal of soldiers build their armies, expand their ranks. they do not get attached to their underlings. they do not find solace in you.
content warnings, devotion to the highest, unhealthiest degrees. slight emotional manipulation. blood & gore depictions. minor self h/rm, but not with harmful intent. bloodplay. nsfw elements & insinuations, undetailed. voyeurism? undetailed. bi!dean. nick saint cameo. i made up this vampire lore as far as i'm aware, so discrepancies to the media you know is purposeful!
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dean was far used to the act of bleeding a person dry; it was you that was troubling him.
there came times in which he could not bring himself to take the victim out of their misery. it gnawed in the back of his mind, as they choked and spluttered on the blood pouring from their lips, that this life he’d carelessly taken had been cut too short. this one, his mind would tell him, was meant for something greater. 
and he’d singlehandedly snuffed that flame.
dean was far too old, now, to wallow in guilt or feel bad for actions he willfully chose to make. but if there was anything keeping him human, it was his conscience.
his mouth was still crusted with the blood he’d ripped from your throat when he brought his wrist up to tear into his skin. no blood naturally pumped through him anymore, but the accumulation of his immortality and abilities kept a supply cycling through him so that the body he inhabited did not wither or concave in on itself.
droplets as thick as cream and as dark as the richest wines pooled in the teeth marks he’d left on himself. his body was, for all intents and purposes, dead; he did not feel pain when he tore open his wrist, and he did not feel pain as it already began to stitch itself together. 
his unmarred arm slips beneath your upper back, raising you enough to cradle you into his chest. your eyes are as vacant as his must appear — death tended to get impatient, and steal the souls away before the heart finished its thrum. your breaths are ragged and thick with the blood pooling in your lungs. death’s rattle. he was here, then.
death always seemed to follow the dead. it was why genuine, true hauntings usually ended in death, too, for those involved. that place is cursed, the mortals whisper about the homes, the abandoned buildings, the decimated ruins of destruction, everyone dies there. 
it is lonely to die and be dead. sometimes the spirits or the creatures are impatient, and need something new to play with. sometimes, their conscience wakens from the deep slumber it typically stayed in, and reminded them that the people they feed from deserved second chances as much as they believed that they did not.
even in your semi lucid state, you struggle against him, trying to force your mouth away from the skin he presses to it. 
“don’t make this harder,” dean grunts, your struggles surprisingly strong for how little life essence still lingered in you. the adrenaline burst before your body gives, he imagines. it makes him more forceful. 
you choke and splutter, and he knows by now what his blood looks like on the skin of the lives he takes. yours, fresh and the color of ripe strawberries. his, thick and deep red, the color of decay.
there will be three minutes between your subsequent death and the revival. he does not have many that he sires, but each one was personable enough to remember these details. four of them, portraits lined on the walls of his dusty, towering home. portraits the only thing that dean has left of them, as they all unceremoniously left him when they realized how unhealthy it was to linger.
maybe you would stay. dean hoped that you did not.
he hears your heartbeat splutter out its last revs of life, and feels when your body becomes a heavier weight in his arms. three minutes, one hundred and eighty seconds, for him to look at you without you trying to claw through his clothes and pierce a vein. 
if you’d asked, dean would not know how to explain why he’d chosen you. there were many bodies that he left in his wake in the century that he’d been alive. there were exactly a handful now of ones that he’d chosen to keep. 
his first was because he was his friend, once. closest friend.
his second was because she was lovely, and he thought he might have loved her. 
his third was a child, and he torments himself about this one constantly.
his fourth was a mistake, by all accounts of the word.
his fifth was… you. pretty? yes. significant? he didn’t know. you had to be, or else his conscience would have stayed silent and slumbered on for another decade or so. but there were no indicators that you would have any impact on his life.
dean has always called it the shift, because the vampyr that had sired him called it such. when a soul slips away and the body is lifeless, and then suddenly, a jolt, as if what had been set free had been sharply snatched back. 
another wave of adrenaline pumps your heart back to life for a split second, enough to propel you conscious. 
dean lets you fall from his arms gracelessly. he takes a step back that is quick enough to instead be feet away from you.
this is the part that dean does not ever get used to. the rage. how angry the bonded are to have been spared. did they not know that dean did this for them? 
you look ravenous. it is no surprise that your speed is the first part of your new undead abilities that you tap into, when you launch yourself at him, fingers fisted tight and unwavering while you desperately try to claw at him. 
“don’t,” he repeats, fiercer this time, as he twists away before your teeth can sink into his skin, “make this harder.” 
he predicts the next words out of your mouth before they’re even spoken. “i am hungry.” 
hungry, and his blood, to you, would taste sinful and addictive. salted caramel and bourbon, a friend had once said, tracing his tongue over dean’s throat and sinking his teeth in.
it is always the shift of a new youngling vampyr that draws the memories of the others from the depths of his mind. if he isn’t careful, dean is going to end up doing something stupid — like writing them a letter, like calling, like…
you’re screaming, now. thrashing in his grip as if you were seizing, desperate to break his hold and gnaw the marrow out of his bones. 
he tightens his hold. snaps your wrist with nothing but a little more force from his fingers. that is what brings you to a halt. your broken wrist, hanging at an awkward angle. 
“behaving now?” dean asks, still keeping the hold on your wrist, only tight enough to feel the bones beneath the surface of your skin knitting together, the skin pulling taut. 
you rip your hand free from his, as if only then realizing the lengths of your strength. good. dean was not restraining you to hold that power over you, but mostly to keep control of the situation. it is best for the fresh vampyrs to discover their abilities on their own.
“what have you done to me?”
that one hits closer to home than dean wants it to. 
it does not strike as deep in his heart as it could; there are words he hears, still, from previous decades that remind him of his first four bad choices.
you would be different.
you had to be different.
trust does not start with secrets. but it is not something that should be handed out so freely. and so it is a conscious choice for dean to hold out his wrist in offering while still maintaining the physical distance between you two.
“it will be better if you drink,” he starts, his voice low and nearly apologetic if it wasn’t so self satisfied. “some things are hard to hear on an empty stomach.” 
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it was the same, though, as it always was. dean, letting you feed from his wrist like someone starved, while he tried to piece together the sugared down version of what he’d done to you. he always puts so much strain on himself; rushing the time with those sired to him, attempting to speak coherently as if his mind was not thrumming with the effects of your venom in his system. 
you closed yourself off into the room of his manor that he designated for the freshly turned vampires. they were closer to being human than he was, and humans needed space for themselves.
the door was always locked to him. never once, in all five of his sired, had one of them invited him in. and so he spends a week outside of said door, listening in out of fear of what would happen if he did not.
he'd gotten chaotic with the one prior to you. reckless, impulsive. dean would not let himself make the mistake again.
at least he was busy in those moments that he waited on your reappearance. dean was never one to make use of his time, usually; he had forever, why would he clean the bookcases now when in his equivalent to a blink, they'd be dusty again?
he wrote letters. four letters. olive branches extending blindly into the dark. the ravens carried them away. the birds were the only ones who knew where they were, after all. like he'd never been invited into their space, his original underlings had never bothered to send a postcard, either.
that little fact hurts like a bleeding wound, in one instance.
it aches like a bruise, in another.
it tears him open, in terms of the third.
it feels like solace and healing, with the fourth.
perhaps they would take up the invitation to come back to the manor tomorrow, if only for a night. more than likely, they would ignore him, and continue to let him rot.
out of the seven days he'd lingered outside your room, it is now that dean finally opens his mouth to speak. he will not let you abandon him like the others.
"if you starve yourself in there, i'm not permitted to enter and lay you to rest," dean calls from the heavy wooden frame.
your silence on the other end is unnerving. dean is in the middle of opening his mouth to call to you again when your voice rings out, finally. "go to hell."
"i am also not permitted in there, either," he says back, with a little twitch of his lips. "you may hate me and be angry with me all you want, i will never deny you the human feelings you cling to. but your strength is important."
it's a conscious choice of words. calling it livelihood when there is no ounce of life left within you did not go over well with the others.
his ears strain, but he hears it. the padding of the bedspread dipping, the near silent, inhuman steps to the door, the harsh click and turn of the lock. useless, he wants to say, your invitiation is the only thing that keeps you from him. but there are little human things that every single one of his underlings still maintained. he was not cruel enough to take them away, too.
dean suspected that you'd look weary. seven days denying yourself what you wanted tended to do that. he does not offer his wrist this time, but he does nod backwards down the darkened hallway. "it is my due diligence to wean you off, not encourage the bad habit."
"that does not make any sense," you snap at him, your sharpened vision blowing the pupils in your eyes wide. you are trying to study the portraits hung on the walls. he quickly extends a hand, not crossing the threshold of your room, to stop you. "i do not want a tour of my prison."
dean's mouth quirks again. you remind him of himself, and his first love; second sired. "it is not a tour of the prison, it is a lead to the kitchen."
"what could you possibly have in there?" your words are fierce and vile, spat at him like they will somehow poison him. "the dead do not eat vegetables."
"the dead keep their blood cold and from spoiling in the refrigerators. do not try to explain to me what you know nothing about."
you stare at him for a long while before one of your feet steps out of the boundary. "i do not want to drink blood."
dean nearly snorts. he did not want to, either. "but the second i spill my blood, you will be clawing at me for a taste."
your pupils are still huge when they land on him. the hunger has been wearing you down; he sees it in your lack of inhibitions. he lets his hand fall when it is clear you will not take it. "but it is my responsibility to not let you become addicted, even though i know the temptation to tear my clothes off and tear into me must be unbearable."
"you have a lot of arrogance for a man who must force all of his playthings to stick around," you say, and it hits a little too close for comfort. he is glad that you did not take up his hand, because he might have lashed out.
he leads you down the hall regardless, this time in a silence that feels as heavy as lead. he breathes deeply, slowly, though it is entirely useless of a gesture. it'd been a long time since dean had to take ten deep breaths, to maintain his composure. while you and his others had your habits, he'd considered his long forgotten.
as he promised, the ancient kitchen is empty. the fridge is nothing more than a metal box on claw feet, the table coated in a thick layer of dust. the cabinets, once deep mahogany, were grayed.
dean grabs a wine glass from the cupboard and sets it on the dust coated countertop. he opens the fridge door and, lo and behold, there is a severed arm lit up like a halo in the center rack. if he was capable of it, he'd blush. how embarrassing to leave leftovers scattered around when he knew he had guests.
he shoves the fingers out of the way and closes his hand around a vial of blood instead. you would probably like it from the source better, but you would not like anything until he acclimated you off of his taste, and onto human blood.
another mistake that he has since fixed.
he pours the vial into the glass, and then shatters it on the edge of the countertop. the shard is what he uses to break the skin of his wrist, letting the blood pour in a slow stream into the glass too. less than how much you took from him a week ago, though still more than he should. he was bound and determined, it seemed, to let history repeat itself.
your control is better. the little one that'd turned, a week in, was still climbing over the counters and throwing furniture to get to the open wound in his arm. a week in self-proclaimed isolation had done well for you.
when dean turns, he holds the glass out. "won't be as good as you will wish for it to be," he says, his arms folding across his chest, "but it is a necessary evil, i assure you."
"i do not want this," you try to argue, but your voice is weak, and you take a sip anyways in the same breath. a sip becomes a long drink becomes the glass is emptied.
dean doesn't bother making a comment on it. you'd still poked an open wound earlier. grudges were more often than not held longer by those who lived forever. "we all do things we don't want to do."
"is that how you justify it to yourself?"
at least this time, you have the decency to regret it. it is easier to be kind to him when his blood is in your system. hard to be angry with when you want to devote your every breath to him.
dean is not in the mood to play tonight, though. his other bonded might come the next day. it was important to him that he was prepared for it, and not wallowing in the cruel words you weaponized against him without knowing how true they were.
"goodnight, beautiful," he says anyways, as he turns to leave.
he has never been good at denying himself indulgences.
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you sense the stranger's presence before you see it. undead, like you, like the one who turned you. there is no heartbeat but there is a steady thrum of blood, still as a stagnant pond.
"interesting," the person says. deep voiced. heavy footsteps indicate big, heavier shoes, thudding hard on the hardwood of your room's floor. male, you imagine. "and here i thought he wrote because he missed me."
your eyes fly open, and there he is. you did not see much of the paintings on the wall, but that was the first, the one closest to where your room's door was. broad shoulders, tall in stature, and looking entirely too amused for your comfort.
sleep was not necessary for you, but it was peaceful, in a way, to imagine you still could. the act of going about your every day routine brought comfort that you hadn't imagined you'd feel lost without.
"who are you?" you ask, unable to tear your eyes from him. dark mop of hair. piercing light colored eyes that, too, have not left yours.
his eyebrows bounce, and the lift of his lips indents dimples into his cheeks. "i'm the first you."
the riddled, vague speech was becoming old and frustrating at once. "explain it."
"what, this whole situation? or what i mean?" he tips his head to the side, eyebrows raising even higher on his forehead, disappearing behind the soft, dark bangs. "words hold meaning, little fang. you live too long now to use them so uselessly."
the man from the painting is nearly as infuriating as the one who'd bitten you. "the whole situation. he is keeping secrets from me."
"because dean winchester does not know how to properly treat the toys he feels entitled to play with," the man's response is immediate, shrugging off the coat from his shoulders. "i feel the best place to start is the hall."
you sit up slowly in the bedspread, your expression twisting. "the hall?"
something akin to bitterness drapes across his face like a mask. "get up. there's not a lot of time between the flicker of the switch and him noticing the light is on."
riddles again. this time, you do not argue. instead, you clamber out of the bed and follow in silence behind him out of the room. right beside your doorframe is a light switch you both never noticed the presence of, and never noticed was always off.
he flips it up, and the hall lights golden.
peeling maroon wallpaper gives way to wooden boards. the trim is curling in on itself, deep mahogany exposing the pale splintered wood. but what somehow remains untouched, undusted, well kempt, are the paintings.
four large portraits evenly spaced along the side of the wall that your room is on.
a man, a woman, a child, a husk.
the one closest to you is identical to the man stood beside you; the same but younger. fresh clothes off of the rack, unmarred by the long life that you imagined he'd had so far, if he was truly the first.
the next is beautiful. warm skin that's golden underneath the hall's lights, curls spilling down her shoulders, a little smile on her mouth. on her shoulders rest the straps of a sage green dress that cuts at the cups and turns into picture frame.
the third is like a punch in the stomach. a little boy with terror in his glossed eyes, his lips parted like he was shuddering down gasps that did nothing to alleviate his panic.
the fourth used to be a man, you think. a long mop of brown hair, warm eyes. but the humanity ends there, and in its place is greyed skin, a vacant expression, dirty and thin clothes from a time period that was no longer.
"i don't understand," you breathe out, unable to look away from the sight laid out before you.
the man beside you straightens. "his best friend, his first love, his first save, and his brother."
it is a plain enough answer, but there's not enough detail to lessen the blow of it. there's a lot to unpack, and so you land on a starting point. your finger reaches out to tap the wooden frame of the first portrait. his portrait. "it's you."
"not really," the man says, stepping forward to brush a finger's worth of dust from the tops of the frames that you could not see. "he picked to preserve my memory from a time when i actually liked him. that has not been me for... hell, decades now."
you step forward to examine it better. the bottom of the frame is engraved. nicholas.
nicholas steps around you to stand in front of the woman's portrait. he dusts along the top of this one, too, with his finger. "cassie." his voice is wistful, memories and history you don't know built in between the words. "i imagine she will not be around today."
"what's today?" you ask, even though the answer feels so disconnected from you. here are people that the man who turned you — dean — cared for desperately, and now... you. how did a person even go about unpacking decades worth of history and find a place for themselves within it?
his smile is spread thin across his mouth. "a day of desperation for him, i imagine. it comes every decade or so, when dean feels the need to line his mistakes up and check in."
"is that what you think this is, nick?"
dean's voice cuts through the silent buzz in the hall, and your eyes shoot to the end of it, where he takes up the entire width of it.
"well, you certainly don't love us anymore," nick says back, that bitter smile leaking into his words, now, "that sentiment is made exceptionally clear when you make a fifth and then think of the others you subjected to this life."
you want to shrink away. you did not want to stay here, but being used as a weapon in their argument feels like poison in your veins. you did not know dean, especially did not know nick, but already you had become a thorn in the sides of both of them.
"don't spoil the mood before the others come." dean turns on his heel before he glances over a shoulder. his eyes land on you, and then nick's, and all it seems to do is rub salt into wounds you did not mean to make exist.
"you are a fool to think that cassie will show, let alone bring jude."
jude. the child, or the man who looked more like death than he did like a person?
dean's jaw visibly ticks. "i was a fool for thinking that, at the very least, you wouldn't show."
"don't be unkind in front of the baby vampyr, dean, it's unbecoming."
it was not unbecoming to you. uncomfortable was the better word for it. there was no comfortable way to witness an argument rehashing itself after decades of time elapsed.
you begin to walk through the middle of their argument, not making any sort of eye contact with dean as you brush past him. it is not your business, and you will not make it as such.
the men do not follow you to the kitchen. part of you is desperate to listen in, well aware that you can now. the other part does not want to get involved in their drama anymore than you've already become.
it would be easier to detach from them, you'd thought. but there was no easy way to unwind from around dean winchester when he'd sank his teeth into you. you just didn't know it yet.
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dean does not know how this always happens, or he does, and it is just not something he wants to address.
nick was his first mistake. everything a vampyr creating a sire bond could do wrong, he did. he let nick feed on him whenever he wanted. he let nick become addicted. and then he let nick leave, knowing that nothing would ever be able to satiate him; no person, no experience, nothing. not unless it was dean. and it was made clear, the day that nick left, that dean was the last thing that nick ever wanted to see.
and yet every time dean got lonely, confined to his own solitude, he could send a raven and know that the only one who would come was nick.
cassie was successful in cutting dean off. was the only one that was, really. jude might have come if cassie hadn't declared herself his caregiver, and ran off with him in the night. it is wishful thinking at best.
sam...
he didn't think about sam if he could help it.
no matter what, though, dean ended up here, in this exact position. knelt on the soft mattress of his unused bed, letting nick sink his teeth into dean's shoulder, his throat, his mouth. blood coated his skin like a second layer. it didn't ever bother dean; nick always cleaned up after himself.
"a new one," he all but snarls into the curve of dean's shoulder. "do you think so little of me, of us, that you dare repeat the same mistakes you always end up making?"
he's a little heady with nick's venom working through him. there's a lot of it, too, because nick is incapable of stopping himself. he's starved until dean makes the decision to call on him, and so he does not hold back on the fixes he feels entitled to.
and dean could never be mad at him for it, because this is the monster that he created.
"it will be different this time," dean slurs around his own pointed teeth. the sired taste like nothing to him, but he's always finding himself lost in the moment, with nick. they were both gluttons, in a sense.
nick leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss that is more teeth than lip, puncturing dean's bottom one with his fangs and sucking on it. "you said that about sam," he dares to say, dares to, because there was an unspoken rule that no one could talk about sam, and only nick ever seemed to breach it.
"sam was—"
"a mistake," nick interrupts, lifting his mouth off of dean's. his eyes are pitch black, his mouth is stained and glossy red. still, as weak as it's making dean, his chest swells at the sight of the color staining his skin now. no longer so pale and death-stricken. "we were all your selfish mistakes, dean, and now sam is in the caverns—"
dean grasps at nick's throat with his fingers, pushing him backward, creating space. "enough."
"staked," nick strains out anyways, and maybe he would have kept pushing, would have forced dean to confront his worst possible choice, if not for the floorboard outside of the bedroom door creaking.
you, stood watching, mouth agape. it must have been quite the sight. two men, nearly naked, coated in the deep dark of one of them's blood.
not to mention how the conversation steered. nick had reacted the same way to hearing about dean's slip in judgement. black magic to restore as much humanity back to his long dead brother as possible, and then the turning process to try and prolong him.
black magic was never simple, and never gave without taking. sam was less than human, less than vampyr, and now permanently staked in a coffin in the caverns so that he could not tear through the fabrics of the world and destroy it.
nick's mouth curves upward in a bloody, toothy smile at you, which only serves to make dean grimace. you were not safe around him; not when nick was always the most possessive over what he deemed to be his sire. "little fang."
mortification shifts onto your expression now. as dean always could, he sensed the general sense of where your head was at. he always could with his sired. nick needed dean in every way he could possibly imagine, and still, it would never be enough. you were beginning to realize why dean was so adamant on breaking the addiction quick, because your head was beginning to swim with the same thoughts that tormented nick.
dean did not want him to invite you in here. for some reason, this felt too intimate and intense for you to be thrown into. dean was doing so good with you, keeping you at arm's length, close enough to get your fix until you were free from him, far enough so that breaking away would not be difficult.
it is to his horror that dean is the one to say it. "come in." it's barely a breath. it weighs a thousand pounds on his chest. "if you'd like to."
nick's gaze is a physical weight on him. it speaks a thousand words that he does not utter out loud. i told you so, it seethes in dean's ear, you are the same as us, as much as you despise it. addicted and foolish. desperate and needy.
it is both relief and torment that you turn the other way and leave. relief, because you still have a chance. torment, because the voices were right.
he was not a good man.
dean was going to end up hanging a portrait of you, too.
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notes. lots of lore cld still be unpacked with this random au i threw together starting last night. so if u want a part two or something ... let me know hehe. i tried to make it as gothic as possible bc u know ... the title or whatev ... but if it's not good or it's too much MINDDDD UR BUSINESS ACTUALLY. anyways thank u for reading love u!
tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous @blushpinkdoll
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zepskies · 2 days ago
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@lamentationsofalonelypotato
LOL jumping right back into the ocean of feels! 😬
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I won't get my hopes up. I will be just as devastated now as when I find out that he is gone for good. 😭
Aww stay strong, my friend!! 💪🏽
Also I love that you said her mother refused to "entertain anything else" because Dean's job description is literally "anything else" lol. And it really is a wonderful thing (not wonderful like good but you know what I mean) that Dean and the reader can further connect on. Her knowing what Dean really did for a living and him being brave enough to risk his life on the possibility of "a chance."
Lol quite literally "anything else." 😆 Yeah the reader formed a connection with John through reading his journal entries, and now she can better understand Dean and connect with him too. 💞💞
I think Dean would've risked his life to gank the evil thing regardless, but definitely willing to do it for her, even if he finds her dad or not. 💔
It's too late for that kind of talk sexy mountain man. You're stuck with her and she is not going to let you go that easy.
LMAO this took me out. It's very much too late for that -- she's not letting him go for anything now. 😝
Am I trying to hide my emotions over Dean going into the wilderness alone to face a wendigo with humor? Yes, yes I am.
ehehehe 😜
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It's a whole vibe 🍞 Side note: I did have to look up what nesting was in the A/B/O universe, but that is so cute. 😭
Ahaha I love GBBO so it got a special mention. (Also me going, how the hell is she gonna pass time for a full week? 😂)
Aww yes, nesting is so cute isn't it? Even if she had nested in Dean's room, compelled by her anxiety, I think it would've melted his surly heart loll.
Oh goodness, yes it was a bad idea and I am so happy that Dean showed up when he did, because my anxiety for this reader was THROUGH THE ROOF. I mean yes, go get your man, but gurl please it's snowing and you've got a broken ankle. At least catch a bear or something to pull you on a sleigh lol. 🤣
SUCH a bad idea loll. I had to have Dean intervene there. Exactly like, go get your man, but not on a broken ankle, hun. 🤣 "Catch a bear" -- I'm deceased. I think she's pretty much done with bears from now on! LOL 🐻
See this is why I don't get my hopes up because OH MY SWEET GOODNESS I'M CRYING 😭 But at least Dean is there now to wipe away her tears. AND my tears will soon be dried with the fires of their passion so... LOL 😂
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bby we're all crying, but like you said, at least Dean's there to pick you up (and warm you up). 😏❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
See I feel better already 🥰
Oh good! lol that's what I was hoping for.~~
This is such a wonderful comparison to what it's like being around him for the reader. It holds the warmth and the feeling of home whenever you read it. I love it.
Honestly that description reminded me of the way you write the reader in Take a Chance, giving very human and specific details to her background and whenever she talked to Ben about her past -- so I'm very glad you enjoyed that part. 💕
And also you know how much I love the continuing idea of Dean thinking that he's not enough and that the reader would never like him. I know that I always point it out when I read something of yours, but it really always fits him and you write it so well my friend 💚
Aw thank you so much!! It seems I always come back to that in my Dean fics! I think subconsciously I'm trying to beat that mentality out of him with every story. 🤣 But also, I think his self-worth (or lack thereof) and his fear of being a danger to the people he loves are just key points of his character that you kind of have to deal with -- at least in the canon SPN world, whenever Dean gets close to being in a serious relationship with someone. 🥲❤️‍🩹
I also love this bit, because Dean reduces himself to physical wealth here rather than seeing all the wonderful qualities of himself that we all love being something that he can give the reader. It really makes their connection all the more loving and real, because the reader isn't asking for Dean to give her things or to be rich, she's just asking FOR Dean. And I think it will be a beautiful and wonderful thing when he realizes that.
In Dean's pov it's like, "I don't have a 'normal' house, I don't have a normal job, all I've got is my car and emotional baggage that I don't want to unload on someone else--especially someone outside of the Job." But she doesn't need him to have "normal" things. He literally saved her life and is meant to be hers. To her, the quality of who he is and the connection of being true mates is more important, and the rest they'll figure out together. 💞 Here's hoping Dean can realize that soon...
This chapter was so wonderful Alex! I loved every heart wrenching bit and I can't wait to read the next one my wonderful friend! ❤️
Aw thank you so much, my friend!! 🥰 I'm so happy that you're enjoying the mini rollercoaster of this story, and I truly hope you enjoy the grand finale too!! 💖💖
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Against the Wind - Part 3
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Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 
Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.
AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…
Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo
Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger
Word Count: 3.8K
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~
Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist
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Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn
“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”
“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”
You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.
“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.
He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”
“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”
“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”
You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.
“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.
“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 
You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.
“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.
“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”
“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”
You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”
You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.
“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.
“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”
Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?
“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”
“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.
He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.
Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.
“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.
A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.
You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.
Not for himself, but for you.
“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.
“What? What is it?!” you yell.
He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”
He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.
Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.
You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?
Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.
No matter what direction you take, you never find him.
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“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.
Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.
“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 
You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.
“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 
A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 
When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 
“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”
Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.
“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”
He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 
Wendigo. 
“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”
You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.
“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.
“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”
You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.
“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.
You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.
“Where did it happen?”
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Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.
“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”
“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.
“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 
Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.
“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”
By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.
“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.
Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.
“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.
“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.
Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?
“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”
His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.
“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.
At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.
“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.
Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.
“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”
You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 
Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 
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After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.
For when he gets back. 
You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.
Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 
On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)
On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.
With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.
“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.
You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 
But you’ll have to try. 
After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.
Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 
A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 
“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.
You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 
You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.
“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.
“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 
You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.
He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 
“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”
Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 
“I thought something happened to you,” you say.
Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 
“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”
Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”
His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”
You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.
“Did you find my dad?” you ask.
Dean’s expression sobers as well.
“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”
Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 
Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”
He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 
After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 
You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.
He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…
He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 
It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.
You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  
But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 
“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.
He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 
“Why?” is all you can ask.
He doesn’t want to answer. 
“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.
“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.
That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.
“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”
You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.
“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”
Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 
“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”
You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”
“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”
You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.
“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  
“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.
“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”
You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 
“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”
You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 
“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.
Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 
You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 
“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 
Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 
He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.
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AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘
Next Time:
“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.
You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.
“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.
“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.
Your lips curve upwards in return.
▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)
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evesedenramblings · 15 hours ago
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I want to talk about the Greek Myth of Damon and Pythias and how I think it could tie into Project: Eden’s Garden. For those unfamiliar, the story of Damon and Pythias basically goes like this:
A man named Pythias is to be given the death penalty for his crimes of protesting tyrannical authority against a man named Dionysus (not the God, just named after him). However, Damon volunteers to take his place so Pythias can tend to his affairs (basically say final goodbyes). If Pythias does not return by a certain time, Damon shall be executed in his place. Pythias arrives in time and neither character dies, and Dionysus praises the two for their friendship and loyalty, and even asks to join the two in their friendship but is rejected.
It’s important to look at the framework of the story rather than the details. If we do that, I think there’s a lot to work with.
The story ties very neatly into the idea that Tozu’s Killing Game “continues until there’s only two people”, those two people in this context being Damon and Pythias, especially considering Tozu has the ongoing theme of lying! The Killing Game would end, but then maybe only one person gets to leave, and then begins the free-for-all seen in the Prologue. But then if Damon is Damon, who is Pythias supposed to be? Who is Damon willing to go against his entire ideology for with the belief they won’t kill each other? Honestly it’s too early to say. But that’s not all we can take from the story.
I think Tozu is our Dionysus. Dionysus is a tyrannical ruler named after, but not actually, a God, which is interesting in terms of a power complex. His role in the story is to pit Damon and Pythias against each other, making them doubt and question their trust for each other. The key difference is obviously Tozu will be relying on them to kill each other- however, should the story follow beat-by-beat, they won’t kill each other, and Tozu will be so impressed, he may let the two of them go. Frankly, I have another theory pertaining to Tozu that I haven’t created it into a proper post yet, but I think Tozu may try to bring them into his organization, and the two reject.
It’s an interesting story that makes for a fascinating theory. Considering how often the myth comes up in the origin of the name Damon, I imagine it has to have some form of relevancy. Not to mention the story is just a little bit too perfect of a character arc for Damon and a kick in the nuts for Tozu.
Brief aside: thanks to @panomiels-box for inspiring this analysis! They reminded me my “Damon and Pythias” draft exists and did their own analysis on Damon and Pythias. Our theories are pretty different which is why I’m not reblogging off their post, I’d hate to take away from their theory. Make sure to read theirs too, they make a lot of interesting points!
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sea-buns · 1 year ago
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Holy fuck, man. What a trip Fearne has been on, huh?
You tell her how grateful you are to have her in your life, you flatter her, you tell her you need her, that you have to do this together. You have her make a promise that has this woman, born of chaos and fey, agreeing through shaking hands and a trembling voice.
You make her deceive your friends; you make her follow where they cannot know; you make her help you into this contraption; you make her feed this thing into you despite the fact that you both have been warned extensively of the risks. You make her watch you crumble and splinter and shatter and fracture and burst and implode. You make her watch you die, over and over and over and over, for a minute in agonizing bullet time.
You make her do all these things, because when she tries to back out, when she tries to not be the one who let you do this—how could you do this—
you tell her, "YOU PROMISED."
Because if there's one thing you know, it's that the fey do not break a promise.
#cant wait for her to fucking pissed for a very long time. shes really packing the entire human experience in a very short period of time.#critical role#cr spoilers#c3e77#fearne calloway#ashton greymoore#bells hells#just gonna get ahead of the um actually mfs and state that i am aware that its not confirmed that thats why ash brought up the promise#but boy howdy would it make for some great drama down the line huh?#edit: apparently i did not get ahead enough cuz ive had to turn off replies#since ppl were somehow interpreting this mini introspection piece as me infantilizing fearne??#anyway the first line is now changed to something a bit more neutral. after sleeping on it i do see how it was a bit aggressive at the top#other than that im not sure how else to reword without completely disregarding the core of the post#i might make more posts addressing this but im not sure yet. i wanna try to approach it in the best way possible.#but if it helps any the point of the post was not to say fearne had no agency. she had plenty of moments where she tilted one way or the#other. the POINT was to just shine some light on the emotional pressure she had been put under.#hasnt your friend ever asked you to keep a secret or promise that felt wrong or unsafe or made you anxious?#it has nothing to do with the amount of agency she had. ash wasnt holding a knife to her throat and forcing her to follow against her will#all i was trying to do was take this detail about his reminder of the promise that i thought was interesting and have some fun writing an#overview of the kinda stress she was under BEFORE theyd reached that scene. this entire ep was everyone discussing how grateful they were#for this family theyd made. and while im not saying ash was PURPOSELY emotionally manipulating fearne..#there is a level of unintentional manipulation when you pair the severity of his request with the convo theyd had 2 seconds prior#as well as the desperate need they all have to save each other NO MATTER WHAT.#ash was giving incredibly strong energy of a friend who peer pressures you into helping them do something that you know in your gut WILL#cause problems. hes a fucked up guy. theyre all fucked up guys. even if he didnt mean to “force” her into anything the pressure was THERE.#<- i feel like all of this overall gets my message across. i think maybe ill clean it up later into its own post.#im gonna try not to rush myself to get it done tho.#im under no obligation to explain myself. especially when ppl approach the misunderstanding by being rude af. but i do think it CAN#be clarified so id at least like to try to some degree
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s0fter-sin · 9 months ago
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i’ve been watching yannis marshall choreography for like 15 minutes and i’m back thinking about my dancer au
gaz suggests a pole dancing segment for the music video for price and ghost shuts it down hard, saying he doesn’t do pole. gaz calls him selfish, that he’s just saying no to spite him but ghost holds firm; not even listening to soap as he tries to reason with him and reach a compromise
soap gets to practice early like he always does, just to see ghost blasting another life by motionless in white and doing a flawless pole routine. he’s as mesmerised by him as he always is, such beautiful movements contrasted by the seemingly harsh music, and waits for him to break before teasing, “i thought you said you couldn’t do pole dancin’.”
ghost just wipes the sweat off his face with a towel. he knew he was there
he always knows when soap’s there
“i said i didn’t do pole; not that i couldn’t.”
“what’s stoppin’ you?” soap asks, genuine and innocently curious and it’s the only reason ghost doesn’t completely shut him down
“what ‘bout you?” he asks instead. “ever done pole?”
he shrugs and sets his bag down. “enough to get in a twirl or two. ‘sides, gaz’s better suited to that kinda delicate work.”
“now, that i know is bullshit,” ghost scoffs and soap tenses, expecting him to go off on another rant about his best mate (just like he waits through gaz going off on ghost) but- “i’ve seen your competition tapes; you’re plenty strong enough to work a pole.”
soap stares at him. “how have you-?”
“price,” he answers simply, throwing the towel on top of his gear and all but stalks towards him. “i like knowin’ who i’m working with; he sent me your breakdancin’ comps. if you can hold a three-fingered hollowback handstand, you can bend on a pole.”
soap sputters as ghost grips his tank top and yanks him over to the pole, setting his hands in place on the body-warmed metal; bracketing his body with his own. he guides his body through the motions; teaches him how to fall and catch himself in a spin, how to gracefully climb and hold his body in midair
soap laughs as he throws himself into a spin just to bend his legs over his head, twisting his body to latch onto the pole with knee and lean perfectly horizontal with his other leg splayed out; his arm thrown above his head
he tips his head back to catch ghost’s grin and almost drops himself as he jumps up to join him; artfully climbing above him and holding his whole weight on his hip as he flips down to look at him
soap’s breath catches at the scant distance between their faces; so close he can count the near invisible freckles on ghosts skin, his fair lashes and the deep flecks of gold in his dark eyes
ghost is just as entranced; his grin slowly fading as he looks into the light sparkling in soap’s eyes. he tips his head towards the mirrors lining the studio and they slowly turn to look at themselves; fitting perfectly together
“see?” he whispers. “we don’t look all that outta place, do we?”
“no,” soap whispers back. “we don’t.”
#after stripping for roba he cant do traditional pole without being reminded of it#of the hundreds of hungry eyes and greedy hands wanting to rip him apart. all encouraged by the man who has him trapped#im still trying to work out details (not that ill ever be fleshing this out beyond a notfic lmao) but i think other than soap’s self esteem#the other main subplot would be roba coming back after he realises ghost is simon#price got him away from his cartel backed strip club. whether he bought him out or has something else to hold over him i dont know#but part of simon taking on ghost was to hide from roba as much as it was to give himself a new life#but roba still has security footage of him in the club and if he releases it he’ll do irreparable damage to his and price’s career#the ghost used to work for (against his will) the cartel? esteemed director john price made a deal with him?#theyll both be ruined#not that ghost cares about his reputation. he only starts to go along with it bc itll hurt price#and after roba finds out about soap he threatens him too#how easy it would be for him to find soap and break a few bones. just enough to ensure he’ll never dance again#WAIT THIS COULD BE THE TURNING POINT I COULDNT FIGURE OUT!!#i said nikolai would be gazs manager so maybe ghost starts pushing soap away to try and protect him and gaz loses his shit#like ‘how dare you just drop soap after making him like you so much?!’ then it all just comes out and gaz says he’ll help#but hes doing it for soap and price /not/ ghost and enrolls nik who still has underworld connections of his own#oh shit its all coming together#if anyone wants to adopt and write this brw i would love you forever#coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt#we’re a team. ghost team#soapghost#ghostsoap#soap cod#john soap mactavish#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#gaz cod#task force 141#save post
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jeonginsleftcheek · 3 months ago
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Dolly
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pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader
synopsis: you feel lonely and buy a new sex doll on the market, not knowing what you got yourself into.
genre: smut, fluff, sci-fi
word count: 10.3k
warnings: alcohol, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), squirting, creampies
a/n: spooktober continues🤭🫶🏻 if u love black mirror, these are vibes for u! also i'm sorry if the ending seems rushed but i have two more things to write for hyunjin before i continue with my spooktober🫠
!!! this fic has an ambiguous ending
~ divider by @bunnysrph
~ Masterlist
~ Dolly masterlist
Your cursor hovers over the 'continue to payment' button.
Are you really doing this?
It's embarassing enough that you can't get a date lately, and everyone around you keeps bugging you about it, asking when you're going to find a partner already.
Like you need one. You were perfectly fine alone.
But everyone has needs, and the ad for the new sex dolls that have just come out on the market looked enticing.
Each one of the new models was a unique one, only one of them made as it was sort of a trial run for them and your attention was captured by Hyunjin, the romantic doll.
It was expensive too, but you had money saved up on the side and thought, why not get something for your pleasure and try something new as well.
'Fuck it!', you thought and clicked on the button, purchasing the doll; there was no going back now.
Eagerly, you awaited the day it would be delivered to your door and three weeks later, there was a big box in the middle of your living room.
Biting on your lip, you stare at the box as your heartbeat quickens.
In the pictures, it looked so real. Like it was a real human being and to say you were a bit disturbed was an understatement.
But as freaky as it was, you were still so curios about it so you opened up the box slowly, your eyes wide for the peculiarity of it all. There were covers neatly placed over the doll, and bubble wrap just about everywhere, but on top of it all was a letter.
You opened it up and it read;
Hello,
my name is Hyunjin and I am your romantic doll.
I love art, good food and wine, long walks on the beach and heartwarming movies.
Please, treat me with great care as I am sensitive, and no matter what you do with me, always end it with cuddles.
Hope you come to love me as much as I already love you.
As you read that, you couldn't help being a little freaked out by the doll professing his love to you, but you had to remind yourself it's just the creators of it who wrote the letter, making the concept more real and human to give some kind of comfort to the buyer and personality to the doll.
Taking a deep breath, you remove all the bubble wrap and slide off the cover.
"Oh." you gasp loudly, your hand slapped on your mouth as you finally see the doll.
He looks too real to be just a doll and for a second you just stare into his eyes, unmoving but somehow warm, his facial features chiseled to perfection, his lips plump and inviting.
Your eyes travel down to see he was dressed in a nice button up, intricate flower patterns sewn into the material, coupled with nice pants and even some very expensive looking shoes.
The doll had jewelry on, his nails were painted, there was so much detail on it; he even had a mole under his eye. You marvelled at the dedication of the people who made it and obviously put a lot of though into Hyunjin.
You notice then that there is a note sticking out of the shirt's pocket and you carefully pick it up.
My love!
I got dressed for our first date!
Hopefully you like it and enjoy our first romantic night together.
"Wow, they really went all out with this." you say out loud as you look at the doll, the next question forming in your mind.
How heavy is the doll?
You spend a few more minutes just examining it with your eyes, too nervous to touch it and you can't get over the way it looks just like a real human being.
You rest your hand on the box, your fingertips gently grazing the doll's cheek.
"Oh!" you gasp, retracting your hand. It feels like real skin and with wide eyes your hand moves closer to his face again, your palm pressing slowly against his cheek.
"Are you alive?" you chuckle to yourself but the doll doesn't answer or move at all, just as you expected.
Your fingers slowly explore the doll's face, his lips are plushy and they seem actually kissable, the material they used, whatever it was, made it seem like they were real human lips.
You lean in closer to take a better look into his eyes, your hand coming up to play with locks of dark hair, which again, seems like real hair, the little curls are soft to the touch and bounce back as you pull on them gently.
Now you're leaning so close to him, and you can smell the nice, comforting scent radiating off of the doll. You've no idea what they used, but he smells fresh and flowery.
"Okay, let's get you out of the box." you lean back and hook your hands under the doll's arms before making it sit up.
His head falls to the side a little, making you feel a bit creeped out because it really seemed like you were handling a dead person instead of an actual doll, but the only indication that it wasn't a dead human is the lightness of it.
He wasn't as light as a feather but he wasn't as heavy as dead weight either.
"Maybe the couch?" you talk to yourself as you look over to your comfy couch, the pillows fluffed up already and a soft blanket thrown over it.
Somehow, thankfully to your regular exercise, you manage to lift the doll into your arms and carry him to the couch.
The way he slumps when you put him down, again freaks you out a little, but for some weird reason you're even more interested in how you can actually use the doll.
You prop him to sit nicely and turn on the tv to some art channel, remembering how the doll 'said' that he likes art.
"I hope that's what you enjoy." you shrug and throw the fluffy blanket over the doll's legs, folding his soft hands into his lap, before you go back to the box to find the manual.
"Here it is." you dig out the booklet and start reading.
They listed the materials but you still had no idea what they were so it flew over your head. There was also a page with pictures of the other dolls and the makers' letter to the customers, thanking them for purchasing the doll.
Flipping the pages, you find what you were looking for.
Your face becomes red as you read the doll's 'abilites', including that his thing can vibrate and cum, he reacts to your touch and that he has a usb charger that gets plugged into the back of his neck.
"W-wow." you nod to yourself as you keep reading until you flip to the last page.
WARNING!
If there are any malfunctions with any part of the doll, please contact our services.
The doll can bathe in water except the charger opening so be aware of that.
Please do not disfigure or mutilate the doll.
Do not throw the doll into the trash.
Do not break, bruise or cut the doll.
If you're not satisfied, you can always return it to us and get your money back.
If you've purchased our Hyunjin doll, do not be too harsh on him considering he's sensitive.
Hope you enjoy the romantic soul you chose!
Bruise? The doll can bruise?
Why are they talking about it like it's alive?
You gulp and turn to look at the couch but the doll is unmoving, turned towards the tv, same position as before.
You peek back into the big box to find another, smaller box inside it, that was beneath the doll's feet earlier.
You carefully take it out, putting it on the floor and opening it curiously.
Inside, you found a change of clothes, more casual looking ones and something to be used as sleep wear. It was like getting a Barbie doll with all her outfits when you were a kid.
So bizzare, yet it made you feel excited in a way.
After getting up, you decide to clean up the mess you made with the bubble wrap and put the box away in your closet, just in case, if you ever wanted to return him.
"Okay." you nod and come back to peek at the doll.
The television screen reflects in his eyes, his hands crossed in his lap, just how you left him and relief washes over you.
Why are you even scared?
You shake your head and decide to prepare lunch.
You're in your kitchen, listening to some slow music as you cook, completely forgetting about the doll sitting in your living room.
That is, until the volume of the tv suddenly increases making you jolt and gasp.
Your back straightens as you turn off the stove.
Slowly turning around, you stare at the direction the sound is coming from.
You swallow and make your way to your couch, you don't know what to expect but the doll is still in the same position you left it, the tv remote is out of his reach, down on the coffee table.
You grab it and decrease the volume before looking back at the doll.
"If that wasn't you, we have ghosts in this apartment. But if it was you, you're obviously wanting my attention." you cross your arms as you stare at him.
Nothing.
"Fine, I will eat lunch with you." you declare before going back to the kitchen to get yourself food.
You mostly eat in front of your tv anyways, not caring about any rules since you live alone, enjoying the freedom it brings you.
Settling down next to Hyunjin, you pull the blanket over your legs too and start eating.
You chuckle to yourself, if someone saw you right now, they'd think you're absolutely insane, sitting down next to an inanimate doll that looks eerily human.
You take a peek at Hyunjin, sighing as he sits still.
"You do look alive. But I'm literally talking to myself." you say and of course get no answer.
Shrugging, you continue about your day, washing dishes and doing laundry, enjoying your selfcare routine after getting your apartment in order, your Hyunjin doll observing your movements from the couch.
In the evening hours, you finally come back to him.
"Are you tired of being in the same position?" you ask, knowing there will be no answer.
"We can have dinner now." you add and leave to the kitchen to bring out some food and a bottle of wine.
"This is insane. Top 5 weirdest things I've done." you talk to yourself as you look down at your black satin nightgown, with lace details on the top, perfectly resting on your chest. "Maybe it even takes up the first place."
You settle next to Hyunjin once again, changing his position a little as you fill up two glasses of wine.
"Our first date, I guess?" you sigh with a chuckle before drinking the wine.
His glass stands full on the coffee table, untouched as you start eating next to him once again.
"I guess I should tell you a bit about myself. I work in an office. I hate my job but it pays the bills." you say, "I always wanted to be in a band though. Played guitar in high school. Never got too far with that. I love art too, you know, any shape or form of it. Maybe that's why I chose you. You seem like an artist. Or you would be if you were real, ha." you chuckle, yapping away as you keep drinking the wine, the doll listening to you without moving.
You keep pouring the wine into both his and your glass but it's only you drinking from both glasses.
It gives you a nice buzz, warmness that spreads through your body and manifests itself between your legs.
Usually, you'd play with your vibrator or dildo but seeing as you got a literal sex doll, you thought you should use him for the purpose he's made for.
"Now, what do I do with you?" you smirk, your hand coming up to play with the doll's hair, twirling the lock in your fingers.
"I mean, I can do anything I want." you nod, scooting closer to the doll.
"I feel fucking crazy." you laugh, pulling the covers off of Hyunjin.
Your hand is pressed on his thigh as you touch him gently through his clothes, your mind still marvelling at the fact that he feels like a real human being.
"I'm curious." you whisper, your fingertip playing with the button of his shirt, wanting to see what he looks like underneath the nice clothes they made him wear.
Slowly, you start unbuttoning the doll, taking your time with it, as anticipation builds up, creating a swirl of excitement inside you.
When you pop open the last button, you open up the shirt and gasp.
"Wow." you lick your lips at the sight, the doll's nipples look aroused, his stomach is toned, it looks like there's a vein leading down into his pants making your eyes fall down at his crotch.
You still have no idea how they made him look so real but you're eager to explore, planting your hands on his chest, running them up and down to his stomach, tracing the vein with your fingertips.
You run your hands back up to his nipples and flick them gently with your thumb before pinching them experimentally.
Gasping, you notice a growing bulge in the doll's pants.
"Am I pushing the right buttons?" you chuckle at your own joke as you continue playing with his nipples.
Your impatience however doesn't let you stall for too long, so your hands make their way down to the hem of his pants.
"Let's see." with a smirk you unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling them down with a little struggle as you have to lift him up a little.
You place your hands on his thighs, squeezing the flesh a little, watching as his cock twitches like he was really alive.
"You really do react to touch." you gasp in wonder, what kind of technology was this?
They even put underwear on him which you think is a nice touch but at this point, you were too curious not to slide them off immediately.
"Woah!" you gasp as his cock springs free of its confines.
You think it's the biggest and most beautiful cock you've ever seen, framed by a neatly cut bush, a visible vein running up the whole length.
You stare at it for a little while before you wrap your hand around it, your other hand fondling his balls.
It feels real once again, like he's throbbing and twitching, hot and heavy on your palm, a bead of precum at the tip.
"What in the hell?" you mumble, your finger swiping at the tip as you gather the liquid and bring it to your lips.
You suck your finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and tasting the sweetness of the doll.
How he tasted so sweet was beyond you.
"Fuck it." you chuckle, pulling off your nightgown and tossing it aside, which leaves you completely naked like the doll is.
"I didn't even kiss you. Not very romantic of me." you smirk as you throw your leg over Hyunjin, sitting in his lap, your wet folds pressed against his cock.
You lean in and press a kiss to his lips, and of course the doll doesn't kiss back but his lips move with your movement and it feels good as you grind on his hard length.
"Look at you. Letting me do all the work like all the rest of them." you scoff with a smirk and at that, the doll's cock twitches a little too hard against you, almost pushing inside you.
"Wow. Someone's excited." you stare at the doll's eyes but there is nothing in there to indicate that he was in fact listening to you.
"For how much you cost, I hope this is worth it." you shrug and grip the base of his cock, guiding it inside you.
Sitting down on his length has you gasping as he fills you up perfectly, like his cock was made exactly for your pussy to take.
Your grip the doll's shoulders and use it for what you intended to when you clicked on that purchase button.
No matter how turned on you are though, staring at Hyunjin's almost expressionless face proves to be a turn off so you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you press your chest to his and continue bouncing on him.
Save for the fact that his hands lay limp on the side, his skin feels human and he feels kind of warm, like there was something inside the doll, warming it up.
"F-fuck." you whimper as the head of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside you, it's like the more wet you get and the harder you fuck on him, his cock responds to you.
"R-right hand for activation." you repeat the instruction from the manual, as you blindly search for his right hand, sliding your fingertips on his wrist to his palm, your head leaned on his shoulder as you slowly gyrate your hips.
Your fingers interlace with his and it feels almost like Hyunjin grips your hand back, making you jump a little but before you can move away, his cock starts vibrating inside you.
"A-ah!" you moan loudly as your other arm curls around him, holding onto him while you fiddle with his fingers, your legs clamping around him as you start falling apart.
"G-gonna cum!" you whimper, burying your face in Hyunjin's neck and he smells so nice, feels so good as his cock keeps vibrating against your spot, bringing you to your high quickly.
The ecstasy you feel as the vibrations persist, prolonging your orgasm, overstimulating you while you ride the feeling makes you miss the single blink that Hyunjin's eyes make before returning to their original glassy and unmoving state.
"Too much." you whimper, squeezing his thumb and the vibrations stop.
You know that the left hand brings a happy end to the doll but you're not sure if you're done with it yet.
Leaning back to finally look at his face has you a little disappointed as you don't notice any kind of change on his face.
"Kinda wish you were real." you whisper, hugging the doll as you start bouncing on his hard cock again, bringing yourself easily to another orgasm.
You squeeze the doll's left hand after that, and feel spurts of warm cum shooting inside you as his cock twitches, the head bruising against your spot violently as he fills you up with copious amounts of the sticky substance.
You're pretty sure the neighbors can hear you moan as you cum again, the feeling of being filled up to the brim satisfies you and has your eyes rolling in the back of your head.
"Wow." you breathe hard, your cheek leaned on Hyunjin's shoulder as you grip his wrists while you come down.
You lean back to look at the doll again.
Were his lips slightly upturned before?
In the fogginess of your orgasms, you couldn't tell or think straight.
"Be right back." you slide off of him and make your way to the bathroom, taking a quick five minute shower before you grab a wet cloth to clean the doll up.
He sits how you left him, and you kneel between his legs to clean him up carefully.
His cock is not completely soft nor hard anymore, it's somewhere in the middle, but as you touch it gently, it seems to react and twitch again.
"You came already." you smirk and experimentally pinch the tip of Hyunjin's cock, but nothing happens except the member twitching again.
You stand up with a sigh, covering him with the blanket again before you leave for the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Just as you turn on the water to wash your mouth out, you hear something akin to a sigh coming from your living room.
You freeze, turning off the water and listening closely but you only hear the quiet buzz of the lamp above your mirror.
Maybe you were just imagining things.
You shake your head and finish your business before going back to Hyunjin.
"I'm too tired to dress you now, but boxers should be enough." you say and struggle to get him dressed, almost giving up during the process.
"I should just keep you naked in my bed to avoid the hassle." you say, lifting him up and carrying him to your bed.
"Cuddles, right? I do love me some cuddles too." you say with a tired smile as you adjust Hyunjin in your bed.
You join him under the covers and lean on your elbow as you lay sideways, staring down at him.
"How'd they make you look and feel so real?" your hand is on his cheek, and you trace his eyebrows, his nose and lips.
Fingertips travel to his ears, down to his neck and his chest.
"Don't come alive and scare me while I'm sleeping, Hyunjin." a shadow passes in his eyes as you say his name but you're too busy caressing his toned stomach to notice.
"Night." you kiss his lips before turning off the lamp and laying your head on his shoulder.
Somehow, you adjust his arms so that it seems like he's holding you and you throw your leg over his, your hand tracing patterns on his chest and side.
It was like hugging and kissing your pillow in high school, except this one took the shape of a human being.
With thoughts and questions about Hyunjin swimming in your head, you fall asleep quickly, not noticing how the doll's arms tighten around you ever so slightly.
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Early in the morning as your alarm starts blaring loudly and annoyingly, you groan and stir, almost forgetting about Hyunjin being next to you.
"Oh!" you gasp. "Good morning, dolly." you say after turning the alarm off, as he stares at the ceiling.
"Sadly, I gotta go to work and leave you here alone. You better behave while I'm out." you lift a finger up menacingly, but there's a playful smile on your face.
"Man, I'm crazy." you shake your head before leaning in to leave a nice, wet smooch on Hyunjin's cheek.
"I'll come say bye before I leave."
And you do so, after eating breakfast and getting ready, you're back in your room.
"Should I put you in the living room so you can watch tv?"
The doll never answers.
"Maybe, yeah. You'll be bored lying in bed all day." you nod and carry Hyunjin to your couch.
You make him comfy, cover him with the blanket, card your fingers through his messy hair and then turn on the tv, leaving the remote in his lap.
"Gonna be late because of you." you sigh and lean down to place a kiss on the doll's lips.
"Be a good doll."
And with that you finally leave your apartment.
All day at work, you can't help but wonder if your Hyunjin doll somehow came alive, and for some reason you were looking forward to seeing him even if he didn't.
"What's got you so happy? Finally got laid?" your coworker chuckles as you stand in the office kitchen making yourself some coffee, you know she always gossips about you behind your back so you don't wanna give her the time of the day.
"Mind your business, Amanda." you answer quickly, turning to leave back to your office.
"Okay, you didn't then." she calls behind you with a giggle but you decide to ignore her.
"Fucking bitch." you mutter to yourself as you close the door.
The rest of the day goes by uneventfully and you can't wait to drive back home to Hyunjin.
"I'm home!" you yell out as soon as you step inside, hearing that the tv is still on, nothing out of the ordinary.
You make your way to your living room to find Hyunjin in the exact same position as you left him almost 9 hours ago, the remote still next to his right hand, the same channel you turned on this morning on the tv.
For some reason, your shoulders slump.
"Well, I guess you've been a good doll and took my warning literally." you shrug a little.
"Still, I want to reward you. As soon as I eat and take a nap that is." you add and go about your routine, eating lunch, taking a shower and of course changing into your comfy clothes, which at this time of the year consisted of an oversized t-shirt and panties.
"Let's take a nap together, dolly." you say to Hyunjin as you lift him up and move him to your bed again.
You lay him on his side, then mirror his position, taking his arm and wrapping it around your waist, the other comfortably under your neck.
Tracing patterns on his stomach and chest again, you start talking.
"Your life is so easy. From the couch to the bed, you don't even have to work or go anywhere. Meanwhile, I have to endure fucking Amanda every day at work. Do you have any idea how bitchy that woman is?", you talk as you cuddle your doll. "She has to know eeeeverything about eeeeeveryone. Soon, she'll crawl up my ass just to look at my insides."
You look at Hyunjin's face and for a moment it seems as if his eyes moved.
"Are you listening to me, perhaps?" you whisper, your hand on his cheek. "I know I'm probably crazy. But I'm glad I got you. Even though you're a bit creepy, you bring me comfort." you add, tucking your head into his neck.
"I'm gonna sleep now."
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Slowly blinking your eyes awake, you feel warmness enveloping you that's not coming just from your blanket but from Hyunjin.
Quickly, you realize that somehow his thigh ended up pressed against your core, your leg thrown over him as you scooted closer to him in sleep.
"Oh." a little sound escapes your lips as you grind against his warm thigh, feeling wetness on your panties.
Before looking up at him, you press a kiss to his collarbone and it seems like his thigh moves against you once, making you jolt.
"Hey." you look up at him, but his eyes are unmoving as always.
You observe his face but the throbbing between your legs makes you grind against him again.
"F-feels good." you whimper, leaning in and kissing him, letting your tongue dart out and lick at the plump lips.
You feel his erection press against your other thigh, the one flush against him and you chuckle a little.
"Someone likes me a lot." you say, leaning back to look at him.
It looks like there's a small smile on his face that you swear wasn't there before.
"Hm." you squint your eyes as you stop your movements.
"Gotta try something." you declare after a moment of silence, lifting up and removing the blanket.
You push Hyunjin on his back, hooking your fingers in his boxers and pulling them off of him.
"Aw, you really do like me a lot." you smirk at the sight of the doll's cock, twitching and leaking again like it did yesterday.
"I'll give you some attention, you deserved it."
You spread his legs, adjusting them so you can kneel between his thighs and you lean down.
"I haven't done this in a while. You can't complain though." you chuckle a little as you grip his cock and let your tongue dart out, catching the sweet tasting precum with it.
You don't understand how he tastes so sweet, it's hard to put your finger on what exactly the taste is but it makes you want more so you swirl your tongue around his head, your moans muffled as you swallow the sweet liquid.
"Mm. Fuck you taste good." you whine and put your lips around him again, slowly taking more of him in as you bob your head up and down.
Sucking cock like that is not your favorite thing to do, sometimes it makes you feel uncomfortable but having Hyunjin be so still and so tasty has your arousal pooling on your panties and you keep wanting more.
You take as much as you can, coating his cock in your saliva, your tongue pressing along his vein as you fondle his balls has him twitching inside you.
You smirk and grip his left hand, spurts of hot cum hitting your throat and it tastes even sweeter than before as you whimper and swallow everything.
"Damn hot." you whine, quickly getting rid of your shirt and panties, before you take his now completely wet cock in your hand and start jerking him off to make him hard for you again.
It doesn't take long to excite the doll and you decide to turn your back to him and fuck on his cock like that so that you don't have to look into his lifeless eyes while pleasing yourself.
You sit on him and push his cock inside yourself, your warm cunt engulfing his entire length easily.
"Mm." you gyrate your hips as you close your eyes and enjoy teasing yourself, your wet pussy coating his navel and balls.
"God, you're perfect Hyunjin." you whine and start fucking on him.
In the deep throes of passion as you bounce on him, your nails digging into his thighs for support, your eyes closed in pure bliss, you don't notice anything.
You don't notice Hyunjin blinking, his lips opening to speak but nothing comes out.
He can't move no matter how hard he tries and once again his eyes go back to the glassy state they're always in.
"Gonna cum." you whine loudly, gripping his right hand and he starts vibrating inside you, pushing you over the edge and making you scream as you squirt all over him.
"Fuck." you whine as your eyes focus, noticing you have left red marks in his thighs.
"Oh. Did I hurt you?" you gasp, your fingertips gently running over the marks.
"Didn't mean to." you look back at him but he lays still.
His cock twitches inside you and you grip his left hand, making the doll fill you up as you slowly ride him.
You lift up slowly, his cum sliding down your inner thigh together with your release.
"Made a mess of you, dolly." you look at the state of him.
"Maybe a bath?" he doesn't answer but still you prepare a bath and place him in it, careful of the usb opening on his neck.
You get inside after him, settling between his legs and leaning your back on his chest.
"Why are you so warm, Hyunjin?" you caress his arm as you hold it, his other one thrown over your stomach.
Sighing, you lean on his shoulder and close your eyes, trying to relax in the warm water, as Hyunjin 'held' you.
You still couldn't understand how they made him, but you were willing not to think about that, as he brought you a kind of comfort you didn't expect, making you wanna indulge in that feeling for as long as you could.
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It's been exactly two months since you've gotten your Hyunjin doll, and ever since then you've loved spending every day with him.
You talked to him like he was alive, you watched movies with him, you read him books, you slept next to him every single night, you brought him to the kitchen so he can watch you cook, you even took him on late night drives sometimes, feeling bad that he was locked up in the apartment all day.
Sometimes, you thought you saw a flicker in his eyes, a slight smile on his face, or his fingers twitching against his thighs.
Some nights, while you're half asleep, you could swear that he tightened his hold on you or his chest lifted up and down like he was breathing.
Some days, as you'd come home from work you found him in a slightly different position than you left him.
One time, you sat him next to the window so you could watch rain together, and when you came back from making some tea, there was a heart shape in the fog on the glass.
"Did you do this dolly?" you caress his hair and look at him closely but he doesn't react.
You sigh, tracing another heart next to the first one before you sit in his lap, bringing the warm cup to your lips and observing him.
You thought you were going crazy in the beginning but as time passed by, you were becoming sure that there was more to Hyunjin than you initially knew.
"Just say something if you can hear me. Or squeeze my hand." you try for the nth time as you sit on your couch with Hyunjin but nothing happens.
"Fine." you huff. "Maybe you want something first. What would you like? I bought you new clothes. Maybe you want something else like... like something to do with art? We can paint together, if you'd like."
Hyunjin doesn't answer.
Nevertheless, you bring your art supplies and a bottle of wine.
You make yourself comfortable on the floor, next to Hyunjin's legs as he sits on the couch.
You end up being the one painting and drinking, Hyunjin's eyes move to look down at you, the look in his eyes softens, unlike the glassy one he always has.
He wants to talk, he wants to lean over and caress your hair, he wants to taste the wine off of your lips and feel the paintbrush between his fingertips.
But he can't. His eyes become glassy again as your phone rings, jolting you out of your peaceful activity.
It's your mother.
The conversation starts as always and it escalates into a fight of when are you settling down, why aren't you married, why are you closing yourself off, why are you such a failure?
As soon as you hang up a sob escapes your lips and you fall into Hyunjin, seeking comfort as you wrap your limbs around him, your face buried in his neck and your hot tears sliding down from your cheeks to his shirt, soaking it up.
"No one would understand." you cry. "They'd say I'm crazy and maybe I am. But I don't give a fuck."
Your body trembles against Hyunjin as you hiccup and sniffle, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your leg thrown over his thighs.
His body seems warmer than before and you squeeze him a little.
"Maybe I'm fucking crazy for loving a doll. But I love you Hyunjin." you sigh, closing your eyes as you lean against him.
His eyelids flutter a few times. He blinks.
A deep breath through his nose and you almost miss the way his chest moves up.
You place your hand on his chest, and feel it.
A heart beat slowly forming, at first almost too slow to be normal until it becomes steady and then speeds up.
He's breathing, his lips are dry as he licks at them, his hands clutch onto you and you scream.
You jump up quickly, your eyes wide as you look at him.
Hyunjin looks back up at you, his eyes wide and filled with fear and shock, mirroring yours.
He opens his mouth and a series of coughs escape his lips.
"Wh- How? Am I hallucinating?"
"Y- y/n." is the first thing he says, weakly and quietly as he reaches out for you.
You stay still as a statue, not sure what the hell is happening before your eyes.
"P-please, don't be scared." he begs as he tries to get up but his legs give out and he falls to the floor with a thud.
"Ugh." he whimpers, his hands grabbing at the coffee table.
You're slow to react to him falling from the shock of it all, making your way back to him cautiously.
"Did you hurt yourself?" you ask quietly.
"N-no, I don't think so." he says as he looks up at you.
"Who- who are you?" you don't know what else to ask, because the doll you used and played with was now a human with a heartbeat and he was looking at you, even knew your name.
"What do you mean? I'm- I'm Hyunjin, your romantic doll." he answers like it's the most normal thing ever.
"How are you alive? Why now all of a sudden? I don't get it." you say as he sits back on his legs.
"You... You love me. Your love brought me to life." he swallows, his cheeks rosy.
"Oh... There was nothing about this in the manual." The fucking manual. The doll's actual purpose. Everything you ever did to him. Embarassment washes over you and you feel absolutely mortified.
"Do you... did you hear me all this time? And um, see and feel what I was doing?"
"Y-yeah." he nods, his cheeks becoming even more red.
"Fucking hell." you whine, covering your face with your hands as you sit on the couch.
"Hey, it's okay. I- I was made for that." he says, his hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you.
You peek at him through your fingers.
"And you were so nice to me. So... warm and loving. You made me feel so good. You never mistreated me even when you knew very well you could do whatever you want with me. I'm thankful for that. And I- I love you too, y/n." Hyunjin talks, his thumb gently caressing your skin.
"Are you programmed to say stuff like that? Are you a robot?"
He chuckles.
"I'm not programmed and I'm not a robot. Didn't you feel my heart beating?"
"I did but... I don't understand. How were you made?" you finally remove your hands from your face.
"I don't know. I wish I could answer your questions but I'm as clueless as you are. I just know I was conscious the whole time while I was with you but I couldn't speak or move. Like I was paralyzed. It was horrible. I tried giving you signs, I tried to talk multiple times but it's like something would hold me back, like there was a wall and I couldn't break through."
"That does sound horrible. I'm sorry if I ever did something you wouldn't agree to." you say quietly, your face burning in embarassment.
"No, no, I liked everything you did." he says with a sheepish smile, averting his eyes. "Wish I could reciprocate." he looks up at you through his lashes.
You're biting on your lip nervously, his hand reaches for you and you accidentally snatch yours away, not used to your doll talking to you and trying to touch you.
"A-are you gonna abandon me now?" he asks quietly as he eyes your hand.
"What?" you look back at him to see that his eyes are watery and you gasp. "No, of course not! I always wished you'd come to life. Didn't think it would actually happen so I'm still processing and hoping that I'm not dreaming."
"Oh, thank god." he exhales and you let him grab your hand. "I- uhm... I'm very hungry and thirsty. Could you help me with that?"
"Oh! Of course! I will make some dinner for us." you say and help him sit up on the couch, noticing that now he's heavier than he used to be.
"I guess I still need to get feeling in my legs and arms." he says as you bring him a glass of water.
"Mhm, probably you need to have blood pumping properly through your body. Don't worry." you pet his hair as he drinks and he looks at you.
"Here, you'll be warm like this." you wrap him up in your fluffy blanket and notice a change on the back of his neck.
"Oh!" you exclaim, your fingertips touching the skin there, making Hyunjin shiver a little.
"The usb opening is gone." you declare and he brings his hand to touch it, your fingertips grazing against each other.
"That's weird." he says absentmindedly.
"All of this is weird." you chuckle and he chuckles with you, making you look at him.
God, he's even more beautiful with a smile gracing his face, you think to yourself.
Without thinking your hands gently cup his cheeks.
"You're really alive." you whisper, your thumbs gently stroking his face, his eyes flutter as he pushes into your hands.
"I am. Does that make you happy?" he asks with a sparkle in his eyes.
"Very happy." you nod with a smile, leaning closer to him.
"Good. I want to make you happy. When you're happy, I'm happy too."
"Hyunjinnie." you whine against his lips and kiss him gently.
Having him kiss back as he clutches at your shirt is the sweetest thing ever, you think as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.
"Okay, I don't want you to starve now that you came to life." you lean back with a chuckle as he chases your lips.
"Yeah, please, I need food." he nods and you make your way to the kitchen, whipping up a quick dinner, checking constantly if he's okay.
You bring two plates as soon as you're done and Hyunjin's eyes seem to get bigger as soon as they land on the food.
"Be careful, it's still hot." you warn him.
"Okay." Hyunjin nods.
He eats happily, asking for more which you of course bring to him.
"Are you feeling better?" you ask when the two of you finish eating.
"Yes, much better. But I feel very tired now."
"You need sleep. Let's go to bed. Do you think you can walk now?"
"I think so." you grab his arm and help him become steady on his feet.
You lead him to the bathroom and he looks at you.
"Now that you're alive, you need to brush your teeth and wash up before bed."
"Right." he nods.
After a whole ordeal of getting ready, you finally plop down under the covers.
"Can I- Can I hold you?" Hyunjin asks sweetly and you chuckle, rolling your body into his.
"Of course."
"Always wanted to do that." his limbs wrap around you as he holds you tightly, your face buried in his chest.
"Good night, Hyunjin. Please be there when I wake up." you nuzzle into him, inhaling the familiar fresh and flowery scent of him.
"I promise I will. Good night, y/n."
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It wasn't a dream.
Your eyes flutter open and Hyunjin smiles at you fondly, his hand gently caressing your cheek.
"Morning, dol- Hyunjin."
"You can call me dolly if that's what you like." he smirks and you chuckle.
"Eh, well you're human now. It feels like I'm degrading you." you gently touch his chest.
"I don't mind." he shifts and you feel his erection press against your thigh.
You gasp a little, your core throbbing with want.
"I'm sorry." his face is red instantly. "It's just- when you touch me... I can't help it."
"It's okay, Hyunjinnie." you slide your hand down to cup him through his boxers.
He whimpers, leaning into you, his eyes fluttering shut and you press your lips on his in a heated kiss.
His tongue licks at your lower lip and you let him in, eager to finally feel his kisses how you craved to.
Hyunjin kisses you messily and hungrily, grinding into your hand, grunting against your lips.
As soon as you slide off his boxers, automatically your hands lift up to push him on his back but he grabs your wrists gently to stop you.
"My sweet girl, let me take care of you how you deserve now that I'm able to." he rasps, his eyes hooded as he looks at you with lust.
"O-okay." you whisper and lay down on your back, letting Hyunjin slide your panties off as you pull off your shirt and toss it somewhere aside.
"I've spent so much time receiving. I want to give, my angel. My hands hurt when I couldn't touch you and make you feel good. That's all I want to do." he sounds desperate as his lips attach to your neck, leaving wet kisses on your skin, his hands roaming on your body and settling on your breasts.
"Mm, make me feel good, Jinnie." you whimper as he squeezes your breasts, massaging them and moaning against your skin like it was more pleasurable to him than to you.
He mumbles sweet praises as he leaves more kisses that lead to your nipple, his tongue darting out to swirl around it, making you arch into him.
His eyes are dark as he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking, his other hand sliding down to grip your inner thigh.
Fingertips ghost on your skin, both his hands now spreading your legs apart.
"Do you know how much I longed to taste your sweet nectar? Will you let me drink from you, my angel?" Hyunjin asks, his finger gently pressing into your clit, circling it.
"Yes, please, oh my god." you whimper, your hips lifting up into his touch.
He smirks, trailing kisses down to your core.
He stops for a moment to admire you and you don't even have time to feel self-conscious as he spreads your pussy lips apart and leans in to stick his tongue inside you.
"F-fuck!" you jolt as he starts moving it before he leans back a little and licks at your sensitive clit.
"Taste even sweeter than I imagined." he moans, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucks on it, his thumbs gently caressing your pussy lips.
"H-H-Hyunjin!" you whimper as he sucks harder, your hips lifting up in pleasure.
"Could be here for hours. Eating this sweet pussy out." he moans, pushing his tongue inside you again, this time fucking you faster, his nose giving the perfect pressure on your sensitive nub and driving you crazy.
Your hand grips his hair, pushing him more into you as he skilfully moves his tongue, his lips pressing into your lower ones as he makes out with you.
Your orgasm washes over you quickly, coating Hyunjin's face and he laps it all up greedily, his eyes shut as he whimpers into you, sending vibrations right into your core.
You feel crazy with desire the more he continues eating you out like a man starved and you have to grip his hair and pull him away after he gives you two more orgasms.
"H-Hyune, please, I need your cock." you whimper, feeling like you're falling apart.
He licks at his red lips, his eyes crazed with lust he feels for you.
"Anything my angel needs." his voice is husky as he leans over you, the tip of his cock pressed against your wet, messy cunt.
He pushes in with ease, after all, you've been fucking on him for the last two months, your pussy was used to the stretch.
"Mm, Hyunjin!" that doesn't make it feel less pleasurable when he fills you up, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.
"Move, please." you whimper, already feeling out of it.
Hyunjin grips your thighs and starts fucking you at a steady pace, his cock dragging against your walls deliciously, sliding easily through your wetness.
"Feel so good. So warm. Just for me." he whimpers, his eyes fluttering shut before they open again and look down where his cock disappears inside you.
"Just for you, Jinnie." you moan and he looks up at you, a smile on his face.
He leans closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and in turn you wrap yours around his shoulders, bringing your bodies flush together as he buries himself deep inside your heat.
He ruts into you desperately, your lips meeting in messy kisses, spit dribbles down your chin and he licks at it, kissing your jaw and your neck wetly.
"P-please tell me you love me." he whimpers in your ear, holding you tightly as he fucks you harder, only taking a little bit of his length out and shoving it back in with force that has your mind spinning.
"I love you, Hyunjin. I love you. So much." you cry happy tears, making him cry too as you clutch onto each other.
"My angel, I love you more than anything." he says as he kisses you, his tongue playing with yours.
He brings you to another orgasm, his fingers on your nipples, pinching and pulling as he keeps rutting into you desperately.
"C-can I cum?" he whimpers, his hands gripping desperately at your waist.
"Yeah." you nod quickly and he gives you his left hand to squeeze and as your fingers entwine, he cums, filling you up endlessly, more than when he was just doll and you whimper as your legs clamp around him, lifting your middle into him and cumming with him again.
Both of you breathe hard as he stays inside you for a moment, before pulling out and watching his cum drip out of you.
"D-do I still have to squeeze your left hand for you to cum?" you chuckle a little.
"No, just... force of habit, I guess." he says sheepishly like he didn't just fuck your brains out.
"What about the vibrations?"
"You really liked that, didn't you?" he smirks, his hand sliding up your thigh tentatively, before his fingers slide between your folds, playing with the wetness.
"Shut up." you say embarassingly, swatting his hand away.
"Don't worry, I can vibrate if you want." he bites on his lip as he looks at you.
"I'm too sensitive now." you whisper and he chuckles.
"I know. Usually you don't go above four, five orgasms in one sitting. Maybe six if you're extra horny."
"It's embarassing to me that you know this in such detail." your face becomes red as Hyunjin chuckles, shaking his head.
"Nothing you should be embarassed about. I'm happy to please you." he says and leans down to kiss you gently.
You pull him into your embrace, hoping that from now on, he stays human, and keeps loving you because in this moment you can't imagine your life without Hyunjin in it.
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"Thank you for letting me use your painting supplies." Hyunjin smiles up at you as he sits on the floor of your living room, like you always did when you painted.
"Don't thank me, Jinnie. What's mine is yours." you smile as you sit next to him and lean in closer.
"Let me see." you say as he looks down sheepishly.
He pushes the sketchbook towards you and you gasp.
"Hyunjin, this is amazing! How did you manage to paint so well?! And you painted me! That's so sweet."
"I- I don't know. As I started, it's like I got déjà vu, like I already did this before and many times so."
"Really? That's peculiar." you say.
"Maybe we should call the company I got you from." you add, tapping your chin.
"P-please don't!" Hyunjin panics, gripping at your thigh. "I'm scared. I don't know why but when I try to think of that place, it feels bad. Please don't call them. I don't want them to take me away from you."
"Hey, hey, it's okay. No one will take you away from me. I won't call them." you quickly grab his face to calm him down.
"You promise?" his pupils shake as he looks at you.
"I promise." you nod and kiss him sweetly to let him know he can trust you.
Hyunjin visibly relaxes with your touch, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his face in your neck.
"Um... could we go outside? We only ever went on night drives which is understandable but now that I can walk and stuff, we could go out on real dates and maybe visit museums?" he looks up at you with a smile.
"Of course! Anywhere you want to go." you smile back at him, and he leans up to kiss you.
For the next several weeks, you take Hyunjin everywhere.
To the park, the movies, museums, to a club, to different restaurants, to a mall, anything that comes to your mind, the two of you decide to visit, even going to a little town nearby for a day trip.
You don't remember the last time you were this happy and had someone next to you who made everything look so easy and sweet.
Hyunjin had taken an interest in capturing all the pretty moments so you got him a camera, deciding to surprise him for your 6 month anniversary.
As you came home from work, you called out to him but there was no answer.
"Jinnie? Are you sleeping?" you pushed the bedroom door open but the bed was vacant.
A heavy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach as you searched your entire apartment and couldn't find him.
Frantically, you looked for him again, knowing that he didn't suddenly become Barbie sized and hid somewhere.
He was gone.
You ran out of your apartment to knock on your neighbor's door.
"Tony! Did you see Hyunjin today maybe?" you asked him as soon as he opened the door.
"No, I didn't, sorry." he shook his head.
You didn't know what to do so you went back to your apartment and burst into tears.
Hyunjin didn't have a phone you could contact him with as he never had the need to use one so you had no way of reaching him.
All you could do was sit and wait, biting your nails as every single scenario runs through your mind.
He will come back, you reassure yourself as you fall asleep from exhaustion.
And he does, around 10pm the door clicks open and you jolt up from your nap on the couch.
"Hyunjin?" you say into the dark space and he turns on the light, standing in the middle of your living room with two gift bags in his hand and an apologetic look on his face.
"Oh my god, Hyunjin!" you jump to your feet, running to him and throwing your arms around him, squeezing him tightly and almost knocking him down as the bags fall out of his hands and he wraps his arms around your waist.
"I'm so sorry, y/n. I should've left you a note. I-I went out to get a gift for our anniversary tommorow."
"Please, don't ever disappear like that again. Do you have any idea how scared I was?" you cry and Hyunjin gasps, his hands on your face as he wipes away your tears.
"I'm really sorry. I will never ever do something like this again." his eyes water too.
"I should get you a phone." you shake your head. "Hey, how did you even manage to buy a gift? You don't have any money." you chuckle, wiping at your cheeks.
"I went to the park and painted portraits of people for money, then got the gift."
"Oh, Jinnie, you sweet fool. Just don't give me any more scares."
"I promise I won't." he nods and your lips seal in a kiss.
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Despite having so many options to choose from now, Hyunjin and you decide to have a nice dinner at home for your anniversary, where it all started.
You even took out the most expensive plates and silverware you owned, adding some candles to create a more intimate atmosphere, some light romantic music playing in the background.
"Y/n, I um- got you something I'd like to see you wear tonight for me."
"Oh, you did?" you smirk. "Show it to me."
Hyunjin grabs one of the gift bags and reaches it to you with an excited smile.
You chuckle and peek inside, seeing that he got you black and red lacy lingerie as well as a dress.
"Do you like it?" he asks.
"Very much so." you take out the dress and touch the silky material. "This dress is very revealing." you notice the opened back and the deep neck line that would definitely almost make your breasts fall out.
"I was counting on the fact that we celebrate here because you in that dress is for my eyes only." his eyes darken suddenly.
"Oh yeah? Let me get ready for our dinner then." you chuckle and make your way to the bathroom.
Hyunjin decides to wear the clothes he arrived in, since those were the only fancy clothing items he owned, and he thought it was kind of symbolic to put them on tonight.
You walk into your bedroom to find Hyunjin dressed and staring at the big box he was packed in, one you still didn't get rid of.
"Jinnie?" you call out as he seems to be deep in thought.
"You kept the box." he says, still looking at it.
"I did. I had no idea what I was getting into so I left it just in case. I was gonna throw it out, it's just really heavy." you explain, making your way to him.
"When you arrived, two men had to carry the box in, and somehow the box seemed heavier than you. I barely managed to get it into the closet. Had to push it and stuff. Sorry I didn't have the chance to get rid of it."
"It's okay, y/n. You don't have to apologize." he smiles as he turns towards you.
"Oh." a gasp leaves his lips as he sees you all dressed up for him.
"You like?" you smirk, winking at him.
"Mhm." he nods quickly. "You look stunning, my angel."
"Thank you, Jinnie. You look handsome."
His cheeks seem to become more red with the praise as he mutters, his eyes darting left and right.
You enjoy your dinner together, romantic music playing in the background, the tv mute, left on just from the habit of it.
After you finish eating, you migrate to the couch to cuddle and drink wine, some stupid show playing on the screen and the two of you jokingly read from the character's lips, making up nonsensical conversations and laughing.
After some time and some more wine, Hyunjin becomes even more handsy than usual, grabbing at your thighs, sliding his hands on the silky material of the dress.
You melt into him, kissing him as your arms wrap around his shoulders, your tongues languidly massaging each other as your core throbs with need.
Hyunjin caresses you gently, his hands worshipping you, sliding down your throat, to your collarbone, to the swell of your breasts, down to your stomach and waist, landing on your hips.
His lips attach to your neck as he leaves wet kisses on your skin, licking at it and sinking his teeth in.
"Mm." you moan, playing with his hair as he kisses your collarbone and the flesh of your breast, leaving another love bite on the soft skin.
His hands travel under your dress, roaming around on your legs and your eyes open, landing on the tv, making you gasp.
"Hyunjin, that's you!" you jolt, pointing at the screen.
"Huh?" he mumbles, already drunk on you.
You quickly grab the remote and turn on the sound.
"...seemingly the dolls have some kind of malfunction that the company does not wish to reveal to the public. All eight of the purchased dolls are required to be returned and the buyers will get their money back, guaranteed. The customers will be contacted accordingly..."
"M-my friends. I vaguely remember them." Hyunjin breathes quickly, you can see that he's getting upset quickly. "They wanna take me away from you."
"I won't let them." you quickly shake your head.
"What are we gonna do?" he asks, clenching his fists and you gently grab his hands, trying to soothe him.
"We're gonna... leave."
"Leave?"
"Yeah, I have a house my aunt left me up in the mountains. I don't think they can find us there. For now, until we think of where to go next." you start planning immediately.
There was no way you would let anyone take Hyunjin away from you.
"But, what about your job? And your things?" Hyunjin bites on his lip.
"I don't care. All I care about right now is making sure you're safe." you smile at him, your hand coming up to caress his cheek.
Hyunjin smiles, leaning into your touch and wrapping his arms around you.
"Thank you." he whispers into your hair.
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You get a call from an unknown number the next day, but one quick google search tells you it's the company Hyunjin came from.
You packed one bag of a few essential things you'd need, leaving most of your belongings behind.
"Y/n! There's a black van posted outside. It's been there for hours. They're looking at the building right now." Hyunjin announces and you make your way to the window, half hiding behind him.
"We need to use the fire exit." you declare and Hyunjin nods as he turns to you.
"I won't let them take you. I promise." you hold his hands.
"I trust you, my angel." he smiles and you kiss him gently before the two of you exit the building, quickly entering your car.
You step on the gas, and reach out to hold Hyunjin's hand in yours.
As you speed off into the sunset, hoping for a better tomorrow, a black van rounds the corner, following you from afar...
✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @lixies-favorite-cookie
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reddevilmcnt · 2 days ago
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Ross is getting all shifty and silly from feeling the vodka. Recognizing as much pulls a deliciously devious grin across Maksim’s face, though he doesn’t call him out on it. That’s what the vodka was for, to grease the wheels of this conversation and keep things rolling smoothly. Not that their conversations were ever awkward or terribly strained... they had a knack for swinging wildly from laid-back teasing to absolute batshit behavior without missing a beat. Nonetheless, after that last phone call? Maksim had been a bit nervous about how to approach Ross. He’d already been branded a dangerous fuck up, and that much he could live with. Dangerous was part of the package, especially when you stacked him up against anyone Ross had ever known. But being an emotional fuck up? That was a different beast entirely, and while Maksim could more than handle the 'dangerous' label as it immediately formed boundaries, kept things in check, letting his more tender emotions trickle in? Was opening a door of way too much risk, of closeness no one outside his kind, or even his pack, had ever truly earned. It sounds snobbish as hell, and it was, but to Maksim, it was all about loyalty. Trusting Ross above those he held dear, or even so much as putting them on equal playing field? Would make him a disgrace of an Alpha. But, well, it wasn’t likely to become a problem anytime soon, now was it?
Luckily? ...The conversation takes a raunchy turn and stays there, and Maksim doesn't seem to really mind. He’s a damn apex predator, with probably the highest sex drive of them all. Of course his mind’s filthy as hell, and he’s experienced more than his share of equally lewd and enticing gossip. What’s starting to grate on him, though, is the way Ross keeps painting certain images in his head. For instance, there’s no reason he should be abruptly thinking about how pretty Ross’s ass might look while riding dick. None. But that isn’t about mutual attraction. No, it’s just the way Maksim’s mind and body are wired------- always ready to take a comment or stray detail and run wild with it. He reminds himself that Ross isn’t trying to provoke him, not like that. And even if he were, Maksim knows better than to go there with someone he could end up accidentally killing, after he swore protection.
"You? Into being degraded? With that fucking mouth?" Maksim snickers, his voice dripping with disbelief. There’s no way he’d let any man talk down to him, even in bed. Right? Right. (And surely Ross wouldn’t be crazy enough to take Maksim’s various threats to rip his throat out as some kind of fun, right? He’s not that insane.) But the next short story gives him some time to deliberate, humming lowly from the bottom of his chest and finally wiping off his mouth with a napkin. "Well, not every man has that 'Alpha Dom' thing in him, or whatever you call it. But, speaking from experience, it could've just been a bad match. I've known bottoms who get off on being overstretched more than anything----- and then there are the others, like yourself, who probably need something more average sized or smaller, that can hit the right spots." Maksim's smirk widens, taking on a comically evil edge as he imagines Ross struggling with anything bigger. And that's----- well, fucking funny, but also somewhat disappointing for an Alpha with a big cock and knot. But, you know what? He doesn't need to be bringing any of that up. No point in teasing Ross about their hypothetical sexual incompatibility------ it's obvious enough, after all. "...I do see your point, though. Just because it's big doesn't mean you sling it around without knowing who you're dealing with. But, yeah, pace yourself, little one."
He starts going for the nachos, easily clearing half the box of them within moments. Big wolf, big appetite, you know how it is. Doesn't look like Ross can keep up anyway (poor thing already getting too tipsy,) so he might as well put most of it away himself. "What's a William Golding?" Whatever. "Oh, yeah? You'd train them? I mean, I know how I would do it, but this I gotta hear. From the perspective of a bottom who probably only handles below average dick at best." Something dark flashes in Maksim's eye, and finally, he wipes his fingers clean, then folds his broad, beefy arms on the counter, locking eyes with the swaying fool in front of him. "...Fine, let's make a bet. I'll go on the stupid blind date, but if it fucking sucks? You have to introduce me to someone else instead. At the club." It's not just a ploy to get his boring ass out and slutty-drunk... but if that does happen? Well, Maksim's fully prepared to laugh it up, snap a few pictures, and keep them as blackmail material he’ll gleefully hold over Ross for the rest of his life.
this feels easy, and that feels scary to ross. as the food is splayed out, as the drinks flow (and ross finds himself deep into glass number three of vodka), and the apartment fills with the sound of warm laughter and lighthearted fun, something grips in his chest, that always present fear that something's going to ruin it, destroy the small moment of happiness and come crashing in to shove him back to the bottom of the well when he's finally started to see the sun at the top of it.
he thinks he's good at not letting it show, with the way he laughs, takes bites of food or sips of vodka, slower now as his face starts to warm, cheeks redden, and especially when the sweater comes off and gets tossed into a chair so that he can cool off from the heat inside of him, leaving nothing but a worn old tank top hanging loosely from his frame. "i'm not in a school and you are certainly not a child, so i think you can handle hearing the word slutty, big guy." the words come out through bites of taco, as his eyes roam a little more than they should across a strong jaw and a built frame.
maksim is hot, and it definitely isn't fair, but ross, even slutty vodka ross isn't going to just throw himself at the guy and beg to get fucked like an animal in his own living room. he's got some self respect left, and maksim seems to be quite clear on the lines he's drawing, the teasing is one thing, but going beyond that feels absolutely like crossing those.
instead, he takes another bite of food, chews thoughtfully, and then shrugs at the man, finishing yet another glass of that vodka and moving a little more playfully where he stands in front of the counter, the perch he's taken so that he can look at the man head on. he's swaying a little on his feet, keeping his body moving in an almost constant rhythm to music that isn't playing. "for someone to split me open and tell me how bad of a boy i've been? abso-fucking-lutely. let me tell you, this guy i was dating before, total snore. like, what's the point of having a nice cock if you don't know how to use is properly? and he wanted to be the big strong alpha dom, but didn't even know how to properly hold me down. wanna talk about boring. that guy." he's definitely talking too much, sharing too much, and yet he can't bring himself to care, because he's laughing still, filling the air with the soft melody of it.
"i am really good at my job. i can teach kids about william golding, and i can probably teach aspiring sluts how to properly take dick. maybe a side business, if i'm ever hurting for cash." a small nod follows his words, as he pours himself yet another glass, reaches for one of the shrimp that maksim is definitely hogging to pop into his mouth with a cheeky grin. "but please, do tell me how it goes if you do go on that blind date. i'd love to know what other people think of you, see how it compares to my notes."
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poppyberry · 1 month ago
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Everybody NEEDS to listen to the new Wild Life retrospective on Imp and Skizz's podcast. They got Grian called in and they give so many cool insights into the series (and honestly say so many things I think people need to hear)
Highlights for me:
Grian designed each wild card to be weaponized and wanted everyone to take advantage of them. He goes over each individually and all the thought he put into them and all the work the backend team put into their execution. He's rightfully really proud of them. Him gushing about Trivia Bot and how excited he was to show his friends the "coolest snail ever" is particularly sweet.
Skizz says discovering each wild card was a LOT of fun. He says something like "I can't believe as an adult I get to have so much fun." Impulse is really impressed with the execution of each, citing stuff like making it rain when the time one activated and the passive mobs spawning in before being replaced, and how the little details like that built excitement and tension.
Grian says how he understands that some viewers maybe just want more seasons of the essentially the same series, ie six seasons of just Third Life, but it's more important to him that the Lifers get to experience something new and fresh. He also doesn't like comparing each series, preferring to consider each one as its own thing.
Impulse can't wait to do another Life series, Skizz is equally excited but tries to hold discussion about it back since he doesn't want anyone pressuring Grian, who is palpably burned out. Like, you can hear how tired this man is. Grian says there will probably be more series since everyone is still enjoying it, but he's not trying to outdo himself and not to expect him to keep escalating.
Skizz always tries to do something new each season yet feels like he always falls back into the same habits and dynamics, but not this time: he feels like he got to explore a new dynamic with the Spanners and had a blast doing it. He and Grian gush about how much fun they had with their "big brother trying to keep his little brothers alive" routine.
They have a grand time making fun of Impulse and his "Sweats". Impulse is unabashedly still hungry to win a series.
Impulse didn't want to kill zombie Skizz, because of the five minute cooldown, but Skizz makes clear that he was really happy with being a zombie, even if there was a lot of doing nothing in between summons. He says it means a lot to him that he got to help with the burden of facilitating the series, even just a little bit.
Grian gives good insight into his personal life strategy: he does some things to deliberately test his relationship with other players. Standing in the Danger Zone was a trust exercise, testing Jimmy and Scar. Jimmy and Scar failed.
Despite Scar failing the trust exercise, Grian heard the disappointment in Scar's voice about the Snail Bot thing and immediately caved, but he's really happy that it led them to in-canon reconciling and becoming strong allies again.
Grian's favorite moment was making Jimmy pay for the failed trust exercise by blowing up the bunker, particularly pleased with his one liner of "it was always gonna be like this". He says Wild Life as a whole has been the most enjoyable series for him, even though he didn't get to have as much fun as the other players due to knowing all the wild cards.
All three of them gush over the scene of everybody failing to kill Joel as he teleports around, laughing about how it was straight out of a movie or an anime. Impulse feels like Joel took his superpower to a new level, but Grian reminds him the he didn't have an army chasing him around trying to kill him. They're all super impressed with how the finale turned out.
Some of the powers were assigned (Cleo, BigB, BDubs, Scar, Lizzie), some were random (Impulse, Martyn). Some were based on players' names, others on their personal narratives, but coming up with ~16 different powers without including any that would just be exploited for cheap instakills was really difficult, which is why there were so many espionage ones. Hilariously, Grian was hoping Scar would accidentally kill Jimmy by punching him off a cliff because of their ritual of trying punching in the earlier episodes. He also gave Scar that power because he knew Scar wouldn't feel bad about killing people with it.
Grian chose to give himself the mimic so he could show people how their powers worked if he needed to, and so that it wasn't given to somebody else who'd have to spend the whole session figuring out the mechanics of 15 separate superpowers and potentially dying because of it. And because he thinks its the coolest one and he wanted it (lol)
All around there's tons of fun details and stuff in this episode of the podcast and absolutely everybody should listen to it all the way through.
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flwrkid14 · 2 months ago
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Tim and Danny: Love, Trust, and the Weight of Protection
part 1
Danny knows what it's like to be hunted.
It’s been his reality for as long as he can remember—forever glancing over his shoulder, never truly at ease. Between vengeful ghosts, government agents, and countless other dangers, his survival has depended solely on his instincts, his powers, and the fickleness of luck. He has his friends—two best friends and a sister who would drop everything to stand by him, who he knows would always have his back. But the weight of that reliance feels heavy, a burden he can't quite shake.
Trusting others, truly leaning on them, has always felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford. He wants to feel safe, to let someone else take some of the weight, but the thought of putting them in danger because of him? That’s a risk he can't bring himself to take.
Then he meets Tim Drake.
At first, Tim’s protectiveness doesn’t faze him. It’s Gotham. You don’t date a Wayne-adjacent vigilante and expect anything less than a little paranoia. Danny’s been through worse. A tracker on his phone? Standard. Tim pulling files on his professors? Honestly, kind of funny.
But then, Danny finds out how deep it goes.
He stumbles upon a folder on Tim’s desk—his name printed neatly on the tab. Inside? Background checks on his classmates, neighbors and friends. Surveillance reports. A detailed map of his daily routine. Heart rate data. Sleeping patterns. Eating habits. There’s even a file on Phantom.
For a moment, Danny froze.
This should terrify him—it used to. Being watched, tracked for his every move, reminded him too much of those who hunted him, who’d wanted to tear him apart and dissect him like a lab rat. His first instinct was always to run.
But at that moment? He felt... safe. The notes in the margins weren’t cold or clinical like the ones his parents would have written. No, instead, they were worried. Make sure he’s eating enough. Possible threat? Keep an eye on this one. Look for ectoplasmic spikes—could mean trouble.
This wasn’t someone trying to control him. This was someone trying to protect him.
Tim’s not like the people who hunted him in Amity Park. There’s no malice in what he does. No intent to control or hurt. It’s all fear. Love, even. Danny can see it in Tim’s eyes when he stammers through an explanation, bracing himself for anger or rejection.
He’s scared Danny will leave.
And that’s what gets Danny.
No one has ever cared for him like this, no one willing to go through such lengths just to ensure his safety. Yeah, it’s intense, maybe unhealthy, even by the standards of a world that isn’t known for its normalcy. Danny knows Sam, Tucker, and Jazz would do the same—they’ve all put their lives on the line for him before, and he loves them for it. But Tim is different.
Tim is strong enough to face the dangers of Danny’s world and carry the weight of his burdens without hesitation. It’s something Danny could never ask his friends to do—not because they wouldn’t, but because they have their own lives, their own paths. They would drop everything for him, just as Tim would, but Tim does it with the resolve of a vigilante, already living a life where protecting others is his duty. This is someone who understands the risks, who’s already made those sacrifices, and still chooses to say, “I will protect you, no matter the cost.”
So, he smiles. He kisses Tim’s cheek. And he asks, “Can I put a tracker on you too?”
The way Tim’s eyes light up? Yeah, Danny thinks. This is love.
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The batfamily doesn’t get it.
They corner Danny one day, all serious expressions and careful words.
“Danny, we’re worried,” Dick starts, voice soft. “About Tim?” Danny tilts his head. “About both of you,” Steph says. “This… surveillance thing. It’s not normal.”
Danny shrugs. “Neither am I.”
They might understand—on some level. They’d lived through their own kind of danger, faced their own threats. But for Danny, it was different. They didn’t grow up being hunted, didn’t spend years hiding from people who wanted to tear them apart just for existing. For him, trusting the wrong person wasn’t just a risk; it was a matter of life and death.
Tim’s methods might be extreme, but Danny sees the intent behind them. It’s not control. It’s care. Tim watches his back because he knows what it’s like to lose people. Danny lets him because he knows what it’s like to be alone.
“Tim’s the first person who’s made me feel safe,” Danny tells them, voice steady. “You see obsession. I see someone who cares enough to watch my back.”
They don’t know what to say to that.
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Their relationship isn’t conventional. But in a city like Gotham, love isn’t always soft and simple. Sometimes, it’s vigilance. Sometimes, it’s knowing someone’s tracking your heartbeat because they’d die if it ever stopped.
Tim watches over Danny. Danny watches over Tim. It’s not about control—it’s about trust. About knowing that, no matter what, someone’s got your back.
The bats worry. They whisper about boundaries, red flags and healthy relationships.
Danny doesn’t listen. He knows what he’s got.
In a world where ghosts and vigilantes collide, where danger lurks in every shadow, Danny’s finally found someone who won’t let him face it alone.
And that? That’s everything.
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heyysteven · 16 days ago
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I love, I love, I love
Summary: A bunch of Husband!salesman headcannons
Warnings: Brief mentions of death and Fluff :))
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Husband!salesman who just loves to be the little spoon, he absolutely loves the feeling of resting his head on your chest as you caress his hair talking about the details of your day. He didn't mind being the big spoon either. He just loves any reason to be wrapped around you really.
Husband!salesman who could hear you talk for the rest of his hours. Tell him about the book you just finished reading, tell him about the new recipe you wanted to try, tell him about new gossip at work. He would listen patiently and ask questions wherever he got confused.
Husband!salesman who texted you every two hours. Did you reach your office safely? I’m eating the sandwich you packed! Did you have your lunch? Any updates on the new gossip? Will reach home in twenty minutes;)) Do you want anything from the grocery store? Got you donuts just in case.
Husband!salesman who would take pictures of every sunset, every animal, every flower and send them to you because they reminded him of you and how you would have taken pictures if you were with him.
Husband!salesman who would buy you a huge bouquet of flowers before every date night, conveying different messages using the language of flowers. Last time he got home one full of red tulips and sunflowers (because his passion for you ran murderously deep silly!).
Husband!salesman who planned every date night down to the minute. He would book the reservations for that cuisine you once mentioned you wanted to try. He would whistle as soon as you step out the room in your evening dress, twirl you by your hand and ask for the n’th time how he got so lucky (would definitely be disappointed if you wore something without back zips). He would always be the perfect gentleman for you; right from driving you, opening the doors, pulling your chairs, all you had to do was shut your brain and enjoy the evening.
Husband!salesman who always tried matching his tie to the color of your dress.
Husband!salesman who loved holding hands more than life itself. He would love feeling the cold metal of your wedding ring every time you locked your fingers. He would walk around with the most proud smile ever on his face, softly swinging your intertwined fingers with each step.
Husband!salesman who could never say no to you. He was born with a lot of impressive abilities and strategic skills. Murdering someone with a fork? Easy! Selling people the idea of getting rich by playing a bunch of game? A piece of cake! Saying no to his wife? What is that? Shouldn’t it be punishable by law?
Husband!salesman who couldn’t cook to save his life. He somehow ended up burning everything he put on stove, so he just stuck to cleaning instead. It was a silent agreement, you would make the breakfast and dinners and he would wash and dust while you cooked. On days he ran late, he loved being welcomed by the aroma of the dish you were making. It made him feel like that this was the reason he was alive.
Husband!salesman who still got flustered when you kiss his cheek. It had quickly become your power move. On the rare occasion where you disagreed upon something, you would simply kiss his cheek and watch him fumble with his words. It was the most adorable thing ever.
Husband!salesman who would kiss and bite your neck every chance he got. He loved the fact that he could attack your neck any time he wanted.
Husband!salesman who loved when you asked him to pick you up after work. He waited for the moment you would come running and jump to hug him tight.
Husband!salesman who always noticed every single detail. Like the time he caught a man making you uncomfortable while walking. He did exactly what the man deserved; beat him till his teeth were bloody and carved his fingers out from their socket,  for ever daring to make his wife feel unsafe.
Husband!salesman who got jealous easily. He didn’t ask for much, he just wanted every single person with conspicuous intentions towards you to just get hit by a truck on the highway (with him driving the truck preferably).
Husband!salesman who always made sure to support your hobbies! Even if you abandon them after two weeks, he’s proud of you for trying.
Husband!salesman who hated your plushies and teddy bears. He hated how much distance they created between you while sleeping. He would just throw them to the floor when you weren’t looking.
Husband!salesman who doesn’t like getting his shirt bloody because “My wife chose that for me, its rude of you to bleed on my clothes.”
Husband!salesman who says I love you like it’s the air he needs for breathing. He would find every reason to squeeze your hands thrice.
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shysuccubusstuff · 10 days ago
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Yandere! Caleb:
Content: Non proof-reader; Gaslight + Manipulation + Lying; Established relationship + Somnophilia + Masturbating with clothes + Possessiveness + Riding + Size difference + Praising + Dumbification + Overstimulation + Thigh riding.
Note: I have never been a Caleb hater, so of course I had to write something about this cutie... Have you all seen the trailer? What do you think about him? I'm actually quite glad that they added someone who better fits the role of a dark romance, as Sylus was just a green forest contrary to what he was presented as. Let me know if you want in comments/private messages!! Also, sorry if it seems a bit too short :((
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SFW:
Yandere! Caleb, who has known you since childhood, thus it is only natural that he knows every single small detail about you. What do you mean by saying that it's not normal for him to know the exact measures of every single inch of your body? He has known you for over eleven years, it's only natural.
Yandere! Caleb who sometimes takes advantage of your kind heart, remarking just how close you are, gaslighting you into thinking that some of the stuff he does for you is completely normal between friends. I mean, of course friends tell each other where are they every single second, and of course they know all of their other friends.
Yandere! Caleb who also uses the advantage of being a bit older than you, so you just have to trust his advices. He knows best, and he loves you, so how could you even doubt him?
Yandere! Caleb who slowly makes sure to get rid of your other friends, specially those who seem a bit too eager to hangout with you. He does this by lying, asking you to help him searching for the perfect gift for grandma, as he wasn't completely sure if that would actuall suit her taste. Or maybe getting sick on purpose, bathing with freezing cold water, staying there for a few hours just to make sure you would refuse to leave him all alone.
Yandere! Caleb who overprotected you since he was young, always holding hands with you until you started to get shy about it. He was always leading you, his magnetic gaze making it impossible to refuse his requests.
Yandere! Caleb who starts to train late at night as a way to stop his own urges to chain you to him. Punching the training bag as he keeps reminding himself that if he does that it would mean breaking the façade he had spent so much time creating just for your entertainment.
Yandere! Caleb who buys you a beautiful necklace for your birthday, he smiles brightly as he helps you put it around your neck. You were still unaware, but this was just one of the most tame ways he came up with to show just how much he wanted you only for him.
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NSFW:
Yandere! Caleb who sometimes makes his way inside your house late at night, the keys to it in his pockets as you had given them to him in case he ever needed a place to rest, or he simply wanted to pay a visit. He rummages around your drawers, searching for anything that has your scent, he presses it to his nose, smelling that sweet scent as he feels his erection grow under his pants. He bites his lips as a way to keep himself from undoing his belt and start to touch himself just from imagining your precious face smiling at him.
Yandere! Caleb who enjoys using his own body weight as he fucks your pretty pussy, making you whine and mewl each time he increases the pressure against your lower tummy causing his dick rubbing even more against your insides. Even despite you cling to the sheets for dear life as he plunges against you, he simply smiles sadistically, one of his hands petting your hair as he keeps watching you try to stop yourself from spilling out all those lewd moans by biting on the pillow. His mind rushing as he imagines all those damn "friends" hearing you melt under him just from him moving his hips a bit as he forces his way into you.
Yandere! Caleb who loves seeing the necklace he gave you recoiling against your chest each time he helped you to move up and down his cock, nails digging on his back as he kept hitting that sweet spot, kissing your neck as he whispered sweet nothings against your ear: "You're doing so good for me, yeah, keep moving your hips baby..." [...] "Are you getting tired, baby? Let me help you." Suddenly, his hands wrap around your hips, forcing his whole length on a single thrust, a squeal leaving your mouth as the tip of his cock suddenly hit against your cervix, eyes rolling back as he kept pressing his cock against you, mainting you completely still as he kept praising you. "Shh... You're doing so good for me, taking my whole cock inside you... So good baby, so good for me... Just a bit more, yeah? Gotta make sure you get all dumb and pretty for me, right?"
Yandere! Caleb who loves dirtying your face with his cum, allowing you to give him head, his fingers making their way into your lower half, using his rough fingertips to play with your clit as you started to spread soft kisses all over his length. By the time he finally cums, your mind was completely melted from cumming all over his fingers and mouth, sucking on his cock mindlessly as he moved his hips in a slow rythm, only increasing it as he came inside your mouth. When he opened his eyes, he found a precious sight, your mouth slightly open as a few strings of his cum escapep from your soft lips, your eyes looking at him as if you were dazed, glistening with a mixture of pure love and devotion. He quickly cleans it, kissing your lips as lets you rest on top of him, peppering soft kisses all over your face. "You did amazing, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me."
Yandere! Caleb, who sometimes becomes extra mean with you, making you mewl as he forces you to orgasm just from using his knee, having you ride them as he looks at you with an unamused look on his face. You keep rubbing against his clothed lower half, pleading between soft moans to get him to touch you, whispering things like: "Please, please, please, just the tip-- Can't take it anymore... Caleb please--". By the time he decides to get you to cum, you are already a panting mess, drool falling down your chin as your mind is already too far gone, tears falling down your face from the frustration. Before you are even able to realise, Caleb is already forcing you to cum all over your panties, his fingers rubbing against your clothed clit as you mumble a few words of gratitude.
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crookedteethed · 1 month ago
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18+ -mdni
ᥫ᭡. Soft!Rafe Headcanons (but oh, it turns dark)
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At first, he doesn’t seem like the other guys on Kildare. Everyone knows Rafe Cameron as the kook prince: arrogant, troublemaker, sometimes violent. But when he first meets you, there’s this quiet charm to him. He stumbles over his words, blushes when you catch him staring too long, and fumbles with his sleeves nervously. It’s almost sweet—almost like he’s a different Rafe entirely.
Soft!Rafe who insists on driving you everywhere. He’d show up outside your house at random times with this stupidly proud smile, like he’s already won just by getting to see you. He always opens the car door for you, fingers grazing the small of your back a little too long. And he drives slow—too slow—just to keep you in his car for longer.
He buys you little things constantly. A bouquet of flowers just because. Your favorite iced coffee. A gold chain with a tiny charm that you offhandedly mentioned once. “It made me think of you,” he’d mumble, soft voice barely audible. But he always watches intently as you react, cataloging every smile or laugh.
Soft!Rafe whose obsession starts with him memorizing every detail about you. The exact shade of your nail polish. The way you like your coffee. The perfume you wear. He swears it lingers in his car after he’s dropped you off, and he secretly takes the long way home just to breathe it in.
Late-night texts turn unsettlingly consistent. At first, it’s cute—“you up?” or “i can’t sleep. thinking of you :)” But soon, it turns into long, rambling messages about how he misses you even though he just saw you. “Do you think of me the way I think of you? I can’t get you out of my head, it’s killing me.”
Soft!Rafe who worships your body. When things inevitably escalate, he’s almost reverent. Every kiss is lingering, every touch is careful—like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against your skin, breathless. He’ll spend hours between your legs, murmuring praises like it’s his purpose to make you fall apart under him.
Soft!Rafe whose sweetness starts to seem... off. He tells you how beautiful you are a little too intensely. There’s a quiet desperation in his voice sometimes, like he’s trying to convince you to stay. “No one could ever love you like I do.” And when you pull away? His sweet smile falters just a little too long.
He keeps things that remind him of you. The sweater you let him borrow once—it’s folded neatly under his pillow. A lipstick you accidentally left in his car sits on his desk like a trophy. He’s even saved your voicemail, replaying it late at night when he’s alone in his room.
Soft!Rafe who loses it the first time you mention another guy. At first, he plays it cool—laughs it off with that forced smile of his. But his hand tightens around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Later that night, you get a slew of texts: “He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t even know you like I do.”
He starts showing up uninvited. Outside your job when you get off. At parties you didn’t even tell him about.“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. But his eyes are dark—there’s something possessive behind them that you can’t ignore anymore.
Soft!Rafe who makes love to you like you’re his religion. His touches turn frantic, kisses bruising as he whispers, “Mine. You’re mine, aren’t you?” over and over again. There’s something in the way he holds you—almost desperate—like if he lets go, you’ll disappear.
The shift is slow but terrifying. One day, you notice how eerily quiet he gets when you don’t give him all your attention. His soft demeanor doesn’t falter, but there’s a shadow of something unhinged in his eyes when he tilts his head and asks, “Who were you with earlier?”
Soft!Rafe who convinces you he’s harmless. Even when you start to get uneasy, he pulls you right back in with his charm. “You’re the only good thing in my life,” he whispers, voice trembling as he cups your face. And suddenly, you feel guilty for doubting him. After all, he’s sweet Rafe—he wouldn’t hurt you... right?
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a/n-emptying out my drafts, yuh.
as always, comments, likes, and reblogs all keep me motivated. 🫶🏾
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dollishmehrayan · 1 month ago
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# HOW BATBOYS REACT TO YOU WEARING THEY'RE COLOR ── .✦ ( eg. nails, clothes, anything ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )
a/n: so I first did a small idea of this (here) and then I thought why not do it based off this anon (here) so yeahh, anyways I kinda fell so off course like genuinely I need to make more batboys content, tags: (batboys x reader)
© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )
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DICK GRAYSON ── .✦
Dick notices instantly. He’s hyper-aware of the blue.
“Wait, are those nails painted Nightwing blue? Babe, did you do that for me?” Cue the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.
Compliments you non-stop. He’s not subtle about how much he loves it.
“You’re really pulling off my color, you know. Almost makes me think you’re trying to steal my spotlight.”
Gets extra touchy holding your hand, brushing your hair back, etc. “You’re so cute I can’t even deal right now.”, “It’s just blue and black colored nails dick.”
If it’s a clothing piece, he’ll joke, “Matching outfits for day? Say the word, and we’ll be Gotham’s most fashionable duo.”
JASON TODD ── .✦
Jason notices but plays it cool at first. “Nice color choice,” he says casually, though he’s dying and resurrecting inside.
If it’s your nails “You’re carrying my whole brand on those hands. Should I start paying you royalties?”
If it’s clothing, “Careful, babe, wearing red this well might make you a target and you might be mistaken for me.” But his smirk shows he’s all for it.
Low-key proud you’re repping his colors but doesn’t know how to express it well. Might just stare a little longer than usual.
Ends up pulling you closer while murmuring, “You look good in my color. Too good.”
Secretly starts thinking of ways to return the gesture, like wearing something in your favorite color. (He’s hoping it’s not absurd neon colors😭)
TIM DRAKE ── .✦
Blushes immediately. He’s not even subtle about it. “Wait… is that red because of… me?”
Obsesses over the details. “Did you match your nails to the exact shade of my suit? That’s, like, the coolest thing ever.”
Super flustered but also unbelievably touched. “I didn’t know you liked my colors that much.”
If it’s a clothing item, he’d be stunned for a moment before saying, “You look so�� wow. You’re killing it.”
Gets a little shy but can’t stop glancing at you all day. Ends up fiddling with your hand if it’s your nails.
Might text you later "Thanks for making my day with that. You didn’t have to, but I really, really loved it.”
DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦
Notices instantly but acts unimpressed. “Hmph. So you’re inspired by me today?”
Low-key thrilled but refuses to let you know. If it’s your nails, he might sarcastically say, “Subtle.” But he’s secretly staring.
If it’s clothing, “Green suits you. Perhaps you should wear it more often.” It’s his way of saying you look amazing.
After some time, he’ll let his walls down. “It’s not awful… You look better in my colors than I do.”
Will absolutely brag to Alfred or the others about it later. “Clearly, they understand quality when they see it.”
Ends up gifting you something else in his colors—maybe a scarf or bracelet—just to see you wear it again.
BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦
Bruce notices immediately but doesn’t say much at first. He’ll just give you that classic Bruce Wayne smirk.
If it’s clothing, he’ll subtly comment, “You look good in black. Suits you.” (High praise from him)
If it’s nails, he’ll gently take your hand and examine them. “Interesting choice. Are you sending a message, or…?”
Deep down, he’s really touched but doesn’t know how to express it. Might make a dry joke like, “So you’re my sidekick now?”
Later, when you’re alone, he’d admit, “It’s nice seeing you in something that reminds me of… us.”
Low-key loves the idea of you wearing his colors often. He’d never say it outright, but his actions like buying you more black and yellow pieces make it clear (to a point half your dresses were either black or yellow even you’re gold jewelry has yellow hints and accents😭😭)
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tbaluver · 26 days ago
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"Where Do Babies Come From?" - The Love And DeepSpace Men
pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader genre: fluff fluff + silly + scenario summary: your child(ren) ask you and your lover where babies come from requested: anonnie ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა a/n: hihi lovelies ! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)♡ posting this before the livestream that's in a couple hours ! i hope you all enjoy reading and i hope to have a couple more posts out this week ! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
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Xavier:
“Papa, where do babies come frwom?” The question was simple yet it struck him like a lightning bolt. His son’s innocent eyes stared up at him, waiting for an answer but he was left frozen at his spot, his mind completely blank. How could he possibly explain this? He was never prepared for this question, it was never in the parenting books he’s read when you were pregnant.
In your shared bedroom, you sat on the bed, scrolling through your phone when Xavier and your son walked in, hand in hand. Xavier held a small notebook in the other but your son darting towards you with open arms distracts you. “Mommy!” He squeals as you scoop him up and plant a sweet kiss at the top of his head.
“Mommy, me and daddy want to know where babies come from!” You blink, glancing at Xavier who sits at the edge of the bed, nodding along to his son as he opens up the notebook, ready to take notes
“You and daddy?” You ask, darting your gaze at your son and back to Xavier. “Well..when mommy and daddy love each other very much..” You trail off, choosing your words carefully. You wanted to keep it as innocent and simple as possible and it seems that your son believed you as he nodded along.
When your son ran off the play, you sighed in relief, glad to know that the topic didn’t go any more awkward than that. “So Xavier...why did you need to know?” You quirk a brow at him, as if he wasn’t also the reason you both have a son who you both love very much.
“So next time, when we have another child I’ll know what to say.”
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Zayne:
Small footsteps padded across the floor making their way towards Zayne’s home office. He sat at his desk, reviewing the slides for his upcoming conference, absorbing all the details. Zayne usually lets her play around in his office if she wants to, but if there is anything bothering her, he can always ask her.
“Daddy?” She peeks at the side of his desk, stretching up on her tippy toes so she can see him. Zayne’s attention shifts, the sound of his office chair turning so she knows his focus was fully on her. He reached out, scooping her up and settled her comfortably in his lap.
“What’s wrong dear?” He asks softly.
She tilts her, “Since you’re a doctor where do babies come from?” The question caught him off guard for a moment but it quickly softened into a smile. It’s impossible for him not to find her adorable to be so curious at this age. It reminded him of his own childhood where he would always ask his parents questions.
He clears his throat, “They come from their mother’s stomach.” A simple answer his own mother had given him when he was around her age. It was enough for him even if he hadn’t fully understood it at the time.
Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed the information, her finger tapping her lip as she thought. “But..how did the baby get there?”
Zayne chuckles softly, his heart melting at the sight of her little mind trying to piece things together. Gently, he pinches her cheek. “I promise I’ll explain it to you when you’re older, alright ?After I’m finished with this, we can go play”” He kisses the top of her head before setting her down, hoping she’ll forget about it for now.
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Rafayel:
Small feets padded their way toward their father who sat at the couch, balancing a pencil between the bridge of his nose as he concentrated on a sketch. The moment he heard their playful shrieks come closer to him, his attention shifts as he sets the sketchbook down. With arms opened wide, the children dove into his embrace, their tiny bodies crashing into him playfully.
“Daddy daddy!” One of your sons bounce up and down in excitement, his voice bubbling with curiosity.
He chuckles softly, pulling them away. “Yes my little glub glubs?” He asks as all the children snuggle closer to him. They exchange glances, deciding on who would speak first. Rafayel raises a brow, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches his children in curiosity
“Where do babies come from?” One of them suddenly asks, the other two nodded in unison, their eyes wide as they wait for their lemurian father to speak. He froze in his spot, leaving him momentarily speechless.
“Oh!” He stammered, scratching the back of his hair, smiling sheepishly. “How about you ask mommy? Y'know she’s very experienced with that.” Yes, yes he’s a genius. He dodged the question for now.
“Mommy told us to ask you!”
“Yeah! Yeah!” Another chimes in.
“She said you’re the reason we’re here!” They nodded eagerly, waiting for him to provide an answer.
“Does that make you our mommy then daddy?” The youngest asks, innocence in their eyes as well as confusion. However, the question hit him like a brick, leaving him frozen in his spot again. They completely misunderstood what you said and now his children are looking at him as if he was a male seahorse.
He blinks, “No, no I’m still daddy,” He clarifies, chuckling nervously. “What mommy means is...when me and her kiss.. in the sea, we make a seagull come and deliver you to us one by one! It’s a realllyyyy long process.”
You’re definitely going to pay him back after this.
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Sylus:
You and Sylus were nestled in the living room couch, your hand resting gently on your baby bump. While you watched a show/ movie, Sylus sat beside you, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he flipped through pages. Your little girl sat at the coffee table, creating little scenarios in her world of dolls and toys, the tiny figurines making soft clicking noises as she moved them across the table.
With a curious expression, she picked up the two dolls in each hand, one she often associated them as ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’, studying both of them. Her crimson eyes flicked between the two figures and then over to their small family of children she had arranged in the playset. Her gaze shifts to your grown belly, curiosity of hers growing.
“Mommy, Daddy?” she asks, her cute little voice gaining both of your attention. She walks over to you both, her white hair tied up slightly bouncing with each step.
“What is it sweetie?” Sylus asks, lowering the papers, his crimson eyes meeting hers. She hesitates for a moment, still holding the dolls before shifting her gaze back between you both.
“Where do babies come from?” She asks innocently. The question hung in the air for a moment, catching you both off guard. It wasn’t just the question itself, but it just felt so sudden. Sylus knew that this would eventually come but he didn’t expect it to be quite so soon. Maybe he shouldn’t have bought her a room full of dolls.
“Well sweetie they come from your mother’s v-”
“AHEM.”
Looks like you’ll handle this for now and Sylus gets to sit this one out
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buckyalpine · 5 months ago
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18+ AF Minors dni. Just a lil smutty thought with a scene I imagined. Bucky finds out Tony updated the security system for the compound and upgraded all the cameras to HD quality.
"So what you're saying is that footage would've recorded everything in the kitchen from morning to evening and the middle of the night...everything?" Bucky shuffled by Tony's desk after everyone had left the briefing about the latest Stark tech. Everyone's phones w
"Yes grandpa, that's how a security system works" Tony snorted while Bucky hummed, his mind still wandering.
"Yeah but....everything..in full detail? Including sound?"
"Yes, why, what are you doing in the kitchen" He cocked his head in confusion while the super soldier gave him a blank stare, only blinking twice in response, his cheeks growing redder with each passing second.
"Oh"
"OH"
Bucky scrambled out of the room, leaving behind a cackling Tony, his fingers desperately tapping his phone to unlock and check the security archives. He locked himself in his room, his stomach already churning when he saw the date of the video still very much accessible, dragging his finger to find the exact time-
"FUCK Sergeant!!" Bucky nearly flung the phone, quickly lowering the volume of the video, your loud, slutty moans and fucked out face clear as day. "P-please Sergeant, harder!"
"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"
What had started off as wholesome date night had turned into something else by the time Bucky had you alone in the compound. He'd struggled to keep his hand to himself all night with the dress you were wearing and it didn't help that the waiter at dinner shamelessly flirted with you the entire time. You didn't entertain it but it didn't stop the former assassin from growing jealous, itching to remind you who you belonged to by the end of the night.
You'd gone by the kitchen to grab a glass of water and the sight of you leaning over the counter to fill your cup was enough to break Bucky's resolve. His bedroom could wait.
"Princess" Bucky swallowed thickly hearing his voice dripping with possessiveness, watching himself cage you against the counter, purring in your ear. He could see you shiver as his lips trail up the column of your neck, preening as he licked your skin, pressing his achingly hard erection against your ass.
"B-Bucky" You whimpered, squeaking at the spank he gave you, clicking his tongue.
"Try again, baby"
"Sergeant Barnes" Your voice melted into a moan as he hummed, taking his time slipping your dress up over your hips to give himself a perfect view of your lacy covered cunt.
Bucky fully intended on deleting the video. He was going to highlight the section and get rid of it for good. He desperately tried to ignore the way his cock stirred the longer he watched, unable to tear his eyes off the way you were bent over the kitchen counter like such a good girl, waiting for him to do something.
"That's right. Your Sergeant" The clink of his belt hitting the floor made you whine. He wasn't interested in prepping you, no foreplay, this was pure possessiveness, every vein in his body itching to own you. "You're a little slut for your Sergeant, aren't you princess?"
"M'your slut" you nodded, gasping at the tear of your panties, the lacy material tossed to the side.
"Let me show I fuck my slut" Bucky didn't give you a second to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace, your hips bumping against the marble countertop.
"S-SERGEANT BAR-NES!-" Bucky slapped his hand over your mouth, your broken screams muffled against his palm.
"Take it" He growled, his other hand pressing against your shoulder blades, purely using you for his pleasure, "You love how your Sergeant fucks you, my perfect little slut, mine"
"Fuck Sergeant!!" You wailed while Bucky snaked his hand to circle your clit, his cock starting to leak at the way you tightened around him. You'd never looked prettier. Your makeup was ruined. Sweat covered your body. Your eyes rolled back. Bucky replayed that part of the video over and over again, finally giving into his heavy cock begging for attention. He gave himself a squeeze hoping it would calm him down but before he knew it, he'd pulled it out and started to tug, precum glistening at the head.
"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"
"Pleasepleaseplease-fill-me" you slurred, unable to form sentences while Bucky's grunts grw louder, his pace faltering.
"Gonna fill you up with so much cum, you'll feel me in your pussy for days princess" Bucky fucked you like an animal, eyes feral as he kept you caged under him, his heavy balls and hard cock ready to blow, "We'll go back to that restaurant. Have that same waiter try and talk to you while I drip out between your legs. Won't even let you wear panties baby, want you to make a mess on their chair, let them see where I marked you, fuck m'cumming!!"
Bucky tightly held the base of his cock to keep from cumming as he watched himself pump you full, hips stuttering. He couldn't cum yet. Not when he knew what was coming up next. He watched himself pull out of you, cooing at your soft little whimper before decidedly acting like a deranged feral fuck again.
"Shhh, let your Sergeant clean you up again" He smirked, picking you up with 0 effort and setting you down on the counter, spreading your legs apart so he could lick up every bit of cum that dripped out of you, the most salacious sounds filling the room. He greedily lapped and sucked at your clit, groaning at the tasted of his spend mixed with yours, loving that no other man would get to taste something so good. No other man would get to watch their cum drip out of you after filling you past the brim. No other man would get to have you at your most sensitive, cleaning every bit of their cum off you with their face buried between their legs-
"F-fuck" Bucky whimpered, quickly biting his lip to shut himself up but it was no use. His chest heaved, breathy moans growing louder as he jerked himself faster. "Yes, yeah, shit-" Bucky was nearly whining at this point, his hand working at his sensitive cockhead, giving himself quick, hard strokes, "OH FUCKK" Thick ropes of cum spilled from his cock, a steady stream making a mess all over his sheets as he continued to touch himself, rewinding the video to the beginning. His hard cock wasn't going to go away anytime soon.
Maybe he wouldn't delete the video just yet.
Later in the groupchat:
Tony: Everyone, please don't check the kitchen footage from two days ago at exactly 1:04 to 1:38
Sam: Why would I check that in the first place
Nat: Wasn't planning on it
Steve: I don't know how to access the footage.
Tony: Trust me. None of you should check that exact time stamp.
Tony: 🙂
*a few minutes later after everyone obviously checked the footage*
Nat: Holy shit.
Sam: BARNES YOU DIRTY DOG
Nat: That's hot
Steve: Tony, I still can't access the footage.
Sam: YALL ARE NASTY
Steve: Who is nasty?
Sam: I love it though
Y/n: 😏He's the best sergeant
Sam: HAHAHA
Nat: You guys are so cute 🥺️🥺️
Bucky: I hate you all
Sam: What you gonna do about it Sergeant
-Bucky has left the chat-
Steve: Why did Bucky leave
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sincerelyneo · 3 months ago
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no control | l.jn
“i can't contain this anymore, i'm all yours i've got no control”
💿now playing: no control by one direction
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❯ summary: The guy sitting at the bar next to you seems pretty smitten - and Jeno hates it. He wants to be the one making you blush…or more accurately, scream his name.
❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader
❯ genre: smut, friends with benefits
❯ words: 3.7k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), jealousy, arguing, wall sex, swearing, back scratching/marking?, possessiveness, public sex, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, slight begging, a bit angsty, porn with feelings, literally just jeno being petty and jealous.
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Jeno hates to admit it, but Mark was right. Casual, no-strings-attached sex does in fact suck. And God does he know it. It’s hard to forget when his friends keep bringing you up.
“Who’s she talking to?” Renjun asks.
Jisung replies with a simple shrug before Chenle chimes in with a quick, “I don’t know, haven’t seen him before.”
Him. Jeno feels that pronoun hit harder than expected, but he forces himself to keep cool. He doesn’t turn around to see who’s got your attention, even though every fiber of his being screams and begs for him to look.
His spying friends keep giggling amongst themselves as they sit on the stools at the bar. But it wasn’t until Renjun throws back the last of his whiskey and says: “He looks pretty into her.” That Jeno’s gaze is forced to find you.
Jeno’s too proud to admit it but he finds you instantly, you’re like a magnet, a force that he’s drawn to. And truthfully, he considers it a talent that he can seek you out of a crowd in seconds.
There you are, with some guy. Some guy he didn’t know. Some guy that, from what he could see from the side of his head, was probably good-looking. The good-looking ones always liked to try and talk to you.
Not that it matters, Jeno reminds himself, dragging his eyes away from you for his own sake. You hadn’t come to this party with him; he never even asked you. He agreed to keep this casual. You could spend your time with whoever you damn well pleased.
Even if that wasn’t him. And even if that’s a bitter pill for him to swallow. 
“Leave him alone guys,” Jisung finally speaks up. “They’re probably just talking. Besides aren’t you staying over at Y/N’s tonight anyway Jen?” He asked. 
Jeno takes his eyes off you for a second to look at his friends, he’s thankful for the reminder that he was supposed to be coming over to your place tonight. But now his mind is racing. Maybe you would change your mind, ditching him to hang out with that good-looking man instead.
You’re not like that, he tells himself. While you hadn’t attended the party with him, you had promised to spend the night with him, and you weren’t one to break promises. Besides, you didn’t bring strangers you just met home, either. He had nothing to worry about.
Except…what if he did?
When he dared to glance over to the last spot he had seen you across the lavish bar, he wasn’t expecting to still find you there. Surely, you would’ve found an opening to excuse yourself and re-join the friends you’d arrived with, but there you were. Still talking to that asshole. Smiling at him. Enjoying yourself.
Maybe it was just the whiskey talking, but Jeno felt like he was being replaced as if he was across the world and not merely across the room. Because it had been well over half an hour since he had first seen them together. And who knew how long you two had been talking before he or his friends even noticed?
Jeno doesn’t like this feeling. So he orders another drink.
He tries to ignore you – tries to focus on his friends but they keep mentioning it. Mentioning you. Which makes it so damn difficult to stop his eyes from sliding over, and noticing every little detail about you. 
The short dress that had ridden up from where you’d sat down and crossed your legs, showing off more than enough of your toned thighs. The deep black of it suited you, and not just because it was Jeno’s favourite colour, but because it complemented the tumble of hair falling over your shoulder. You looked like a goddess, untouchable. Especially when you smile. God, he loves when you smile. 
Just not when he’s not the one doing it. He should be the only one to make you laugh, to make you feel more relaxed at a party. Because he knows you, all the little things and your quirks.
But not once did you glance his way; and he’s fully aware of that because Jeno has definitely been staring. You’re ignoring him, and he hates it. So fucking much.
Maybe the alchohol was catching up to him, finally settling into his bloodstream and mixing dangerously with his jealous streak because he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he has to do something. 
Impulsively, Jeno abandons the conversation he had already half checked out of with his friends, and doesn’t waste a second marching over to you and the man. Ideally, Jeno wanted you to be thrilled to have him sweep you away, but when he arrived at the booth you and him had been sitting at, Jeno sees your eyes flash with an undeniable ‘what the fuck are you doing over here?’
“Nice to see you, Y/N,” Jeno greets you charmingly, sliding right into the booth on your side without an invitation, blatantly interrupting.
“Hi, Jeno,” you reply, keeping your tone polite despite not moving to give him more room.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” It hasn’t. “I thought I’d get you a drink and we could catch up?”
Jeno’s attempt to get you away is feeble, but it’s not exactly like he had enough time to devise a good plan. He was being impulsive, jealous, reckless – acting on instinct and he instinct was telling him that he need you, by his side. 
“Maybe later, yeah Jen?”.
“Why? You having too much fun already?” he asks, which was rather a loaded question, considering you had company sitting right across from you. 
“I’m having a lot of fun,” you emphasise a little more than necessary, glancing at the brunette across the table and playfully rolling your eyes. It had the man smiling in understanding, which was quick to piss Jeno off. 
“Really?” he said flatly. “You don’t look it.”
“Maybe you don’t know what I look like when I’m having fun.”
“I think I know better than most.”
That’s when Jeno squeezes your knee, and you want to disagree, but you couldn’t. Because Jeno knew, alright. He knew pretty damn well.
The guy opposite you shifts in his seat, probably aware that he had suddenly become a third wheel, thanks to the flirty tone in Jeno’s voice. Jeno gets a sick sense of enjoyment watching the man get uncomfortable – all the confirmation that whatever little plan he had going on was working. It made him only want to do it more.
So Jeno oh so casually reaches to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear. You try not to react, but your head tilts slightly towards him, and your features soften. 
“You look beautiful,” Jeno compliments, fingers trailing down your hair, brushing over your shoulder before they settled back on your knee. “Black suits you.”
“Thanks,” you murmur. 
“Are you two friends?” The man asks, reminding you both of his presence.
“Sort of,” you began to say, just as Jeno declares, “Very close friends.”
With your cheeks now flushing, you cut him a look that he largely ignores, before feeling the need to explain yourself to the friendly guy you had just met. “We catch up sometimes. Occasionally.”
“We’ve known each other for ages.” Jeno emphasises because he liked that fact. Liked knowing he was here first, having that leverage and advantage over any guy you’d ever meet.   
“I should leave you to it then, let you two catch up,” the man says through a tight lipped smile as he began to slide out of the booth. He knew exactly what Jeno was trying to do. “Nice meeting you, Y/N. See you around sometime.”
“I hope so!” You reply trying to sound enthusiastic. You didn’t want to give Jeno the satisfaction he was clearly hoping for. 
Once the man turned his back on you, you grab your glass and take an extra generous gulp of your drink. 
Before Jeno had the chance to open his mouth and say something else that was only going to irritate you, you lean into him. 
“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Out. Get out. Let me out.”
Shuffling along as he was told, Jeno watches dumbly as you hastily slip out of the booth after the stranger, tugging the hem of your dress down with one hand and clutching your nearly empty glass in the other.
Jeno blinks for a second as you try to parade away from him. Then it registers in his mind and he’s chasing behind you and out of the bar. That’s when he tugs on your arm to stop you in your tracks. 
“Y/N. Stop, please.”
Much to Jeno’s surprise, you do as he says, turning around and holding up a commanding finger.  It almost seemed like a joke, but there was no humour in your tone when you asked, “What were you thinking?”
Jeno tilted his head to the side, tonguing the side of his cheek. 
“We weren’t at that party together! You knew that,” you continue your rant.
“I didn’t know it was a crime to speak to you in public,” Jeno replies naïvely with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.
“You know that’s not what we do. We don’t hang out at social events, Jeno. We agreed on casual. I don’t want a relationship.”
Casual. Yeah, you seemed to really not want a relationship when you were chatting up that guy for ages. The thought makes Jeno scoff, his gaze dropping to his feet. 
 You cross your arms over your chest, exhaling, “What?”
“That guy,” he simply says, his eyes flashing with a slight fury when he looks back up at you. “You were with that guy.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 
“Who was he?”
“It doesn’t matter!”
“It does matter when you refuse to even speak to me in public, but spend your whole night with him.”
Jeno’s smile is long gone, and almost, almost, you wanted to forget this whole thing and bring it back. You hated when Jeno was mad at you, not that he was very often, but he was being irrational right now. 
“I just met him, it was all friendly” you explain. “I can’t believe you’re jealous!”
“I’m not jealous!”
Jeno knew he was, but there was not a chance of him admitting that seeing you with any other man drove him absolutely insane. Every single damn time. Still, you know better.
“You obviously are! Jeno, you know how I feel about you–”
“Do I? You didn’t seem to be into me tonight.”
“Because you came out of nowhere and acted like I was all yours!”
“You are mine!”
That was the wrong thing to say. Jeno knew it as soon as it came out his mouth, saw it in the way your expression tightened slightly. Even so, he wouldn’t take back what he thought was true.
“We haven’t defined anything–” you fumble, “Infact, I think we did the opposite—” 
“How would you like it if I’d been flirting with another girl all night?” He cuts in.
“It wouldn’t matter,” you lie. “You can do what you want.
Jeno takes a few steps towards you, and it makes you unconsciously hold your breath. He’s so tall and intimidating and goddam sexy—wait you’re mad at him right now! 
“What I really want, Y/N, is to be with you,” he spells it out frustratingly slowly. “Seeing you all night long in that short dress that barely covers your ass and knowing I can’t touch you, claim you, fucking kills me.” 
Your eyes betray you, because despite every brain wave in your mind telling you to yell at him for that slightly misogynistic statement—your eyes still soften. 
“Well, you should’ve just said that,” you try to explain instead of lecturing him. “If you’ve been feeling like that you should’ve talked to me instead of acting like a caveman.” 
“You don’t listen.”
“I’m listening now.”
Jeno blinks at you, his jaw loosening as his eyes watch your gaze drift down to his lips. The action is loud enough for him to not waste another second before his hands move to your waist, pulling you in to the kiss he had been dying to give you all night. 
It’s harder than he would’ve given you earlier, more possessive – oh, definitely possessive when he forces your back against the brick wall at the side of the bar and your arms have no choice but to hastily wrap around his neck. You stumble a little, but he keeps a firm grip on you.
If you wanted him to tell you how he felt, well, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.
He tells you in the desperate way that he kisses you, lips parting and unwilling to leave yours. He tells you by the way he presses his body flush against yours, pinning you to the brick so you can’t slip away from him, not again. He tells you in the low moan that escapes him when your hand tangles up in his hair and your own lips work just as eager.
When he breaks away for a moment, he takes his time to just look at you. So pretty, so desperate, and so undoubtedly all his. 
And when you gaze back at him through long lashes and eyes radiating with lust, he has to groan because he’s the one making you like that. He’s the one getting you to bite down on those pretty lips, lips that were made for him, belong to him. 
But you’re feeling too desperate and he’s taking too long. So within a mere few seconds, you’re reaching for him again. It has him thinking maybe you’re trying to tell him the same thing. But there was no need to do that. Jeno had made it abundantly clear that he was yours. 
There was still a lingering frustration fuelling the two of you – mostly from you; it was jealousy for Jeno. He is jealous that someone else – another man – had gotten to spend the night at the party with you. He needed you to know that he hated to see you with him, and that this – this was never going to be better with anyone else. 
No matter how hard a man would try, they could never know you the way that he did. They could never make you feel the way he did. 
Ridiculously, you want to apologise despite him reading the situation all wrong. You hadn’t been flirting with anyone else, and you thought it didn’t matter who you chose to simply talk to. You never knew he’d feel this threatened. Never suspected it would upset him this much. 
You proposed the idea of keeping things casual to not get hurt. Jeno was unbelievably attractive and could have his pick of any woman. You thought keeping him at arm's length would protect you—figures it’s only hurting him. 
Regardless, no matter the context there was no denying that he was being a jealous ass tonight and the two of you had argued. An argument that you were both getting very turned on by and had you conflicted between getting down on your knees for him or letting him fuck you against the wall, outside and all. 
You always found great thrill in surprising him: breaking from the feverish kisses, you reach up under your dress and yank down your underwear. The delicate fabric falls around your ankles, and you kick them off to the side, inviting him to what he so clearly wanted.
I’m yours right here, right now, your eyes tell him.
And you really thought you had won at the whole surprising thing, until he hooks your legs around his waist and presses his hips harder against you. You never pegged yourself or Jeno for being an exhibitionist but something about him taking you against the wall of the very same bar he thought a man was flirting with you at, awakens something feral inside him. 
All of a sudden the wall seemed like the perfect spot for make up sex. Honestly, Jeno just wanted any sex. As long as it was with you. 
He exhales heavily when he starts to ease his pants down and you fumble to undo his shirt buttons. But you get far too distracted by his lips beginning to trail down your throat. He reaches for your thigh, smoothing up your soft skin, as he hitches up your dress around your hips. 
You’re so desperate for him you can’t help but whimper. And just when you think ‘Yes, finally,’ a cocky grin spreads across his face as his finger slips effortlessly (and too goddamn slowly) over your centre. His teasing is somewhat annoying, but it’s so hard to be pissed at him when he’s touching you like that. Hell, it’s hard to be mad at him in general—you’re weak to him and that’s exactly why you’re pushed up against a wall. 
Jeno picks up his pace as soon as he begins stroking you with another finger. You squirm against the wall and he watches that hungry expression grow as he rubs you rhythmically, fingers sliding up and down, up and down, so easily from how wet you are. Pride swells in his chest because he did that. 
Every moan that leaves your lips is his own little reward, one that he is dying to receive more, and more, and more of. Forever. 
Jeno knows you’re close. It would’ve been easy to get you off right there, and he would’ve, had he not abruptly pulled away from you. You curse under your breath at the loss of contact. 
“Jeno!” 
He smirks, loving the way you squirm as he nudges your legs further apart. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Got to tell me what you want, baby.” 
You groan frustratingly, since apparently he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said something. “I want you, now. Just need you inside me.”  
He smirks, the grip he had on your thighs tightening and the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shirt. He shifts his hips, pushing the crown of his cock against your entrance — slowly, sensually, tormentingly. 
You lean into him, nails digging into the fabric on his back as he presses his forehead against your neck, soft hisses escaping him as he feels you — wet and tight. 
“This pussy was fucking made for me,” he growls, cock buried to the hilt. He could stay there forever, selfishly he wants to, but he can hear your whimpers and the need to please you becomes priority. 
He bottoms out and then his hips are snapping forward hard, fast, possessive. Whatever words you wanted to say dissolves into a senseless moan. His thrusts become more erratic and needy and the pace has you clenching down around him. Fuck. 
Jeno stills. His breath ghosts over your collarbones and his fingers dig even further into your hips. You know that look, he’s struggling to keep himself under control, which, given the circumstances is the last fucking thing you want. 
“Not gonna last long if you keep doing that baby.” 
He’s trying to reason with you, but before you really have time to think about what you’re doing you’re clawing at his back, tightening your legs around and digging the heels of your shoes into his back hard enough that he growls, low and frightening in a way that makes your spine tingle. 
“Fuck,” he grits out thrusting into you hard. The sound of skin hitting skin is loud and vulgar in the middle of the street, but you don’t care and can’t care because fuck, all you can think about is how it feels as he rocks into you, again and again and again. 
“Jeno,” you gasp out, grip digging into his shoulders as he fucks you, ruthless and unforgiving. 
He’s relishing in it, you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he’s trying to fucking burn the sight into his brain forever, the sounds you’re making and the way you shiver in his arms and the sheer force of it all. He groans and when he kisses you again it’s nearly violent, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth. 
“All mine,” he groans against your mouth. He hisses as you bite at his bottom lip, retaliating with a growl and driving his hips into yours with a newfound ruthlessness. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“Oh—fuck please,” you gasp out, breaths coming out in little huffs in time with the movement of his body. 
“Not what I asked,” he lowers his voice, serious. His pace slows down and it has you squirming and crying out.
“Fuck yes—yours Jeno. Always been yours. Just please don’t stop—” 
Jeno groans and kisses your neck. He picks up his pace again. The same low tone in his voice as he promises, “I’m all yours too.” 
You swear those three simple words were the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Your walls flutter around him and you don’t miss the prideful grin on his face as his hand moves down from your hip and his thumb presses against your clit.
His fingers move hurriedly and the pleasure is suddenly blinding and white and fuck fuck—
“Jeno yes just like that I’m gonna—”
“Good fucking girl,” he chokes out, your orgasm shaking him to his core, making his thrusts half-desperate. 
His rhythm falters and his own breath catches. He digs his fingers into your hip hard enough that it makes you hiss and then he falters and slows and gives one, two, three more thrusts before pinning you harder with a shaky, breathless sigh.
The two of you stay like that for a beat before he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your dress. Then slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks, tasting you with a roll of his eyes. 
“I mean it, you know,” He quietly says. “I’m all yours.”
Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a revering kiss, and you tell him the exact same thing back. 
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