#and I don’t know if he cares about birthdays

[sincerelyneo]

i wanna be yours | p.js

“secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought”

💿now playing: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

❯ summary: Jisung has known for years that his best friend, Chenle’s, sister is his. So there’s no way he’s going to sit back and watch another man touch you—especially not now, when he’s already had a taste of you.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend

❯ words: 3.8k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don’t do this), dirty talk, fingering, manhandling, jealousy, slightly toxic, praise, squirting, creampies, jisung has something to prove, arguing, older reader, jisung just being jealous and obsessive for almost 4k words

an: first post of 2025 and it’s an idea that i started writing on the bus lol. (also i’m a firm believer of the jisung is very possessive and clingy agenda)

Jisung could sit here and lie, say that the only reason he’s white-knuckling his fist right now is because he’s protective of you. He could lie and say that he’s just worried about the guy who’s currently got his arm around your waist because you’re his best friend’s sister. He could lie and say he’s just concerned—but he’s not.

He’s jealous.

So fucking jealous.

But he has no right to be. You’re Chenle’s older sister. You can handle yourself—you’ve told him that plenty of times, mocking him with that stupid fucking ‘Jisungie’ nickname you used to call him when you were all just kids.

And still, he watches the way you laugh at something the guy says, your head tilting back just enough to make his chest burn. He knows that laugh. He’s heard it a thousand times before, he loves it, but tonight, it feels different—feels wrong. Your laugh is not meant for this guy. It’s not meant for anyone else but him for that matter. 

Jisung knows he should look away before it becomes too obvious—obvious that he likes you, obvious that he's jealous, obvious that he can’t get you out of his head. But that’s hard to do when just ten minutes ago he had you pressed up against the wall of your childhood room—the same wall you share with Chenle—his cock pounding into you from behind without mercy, and you’d let him. Loved it.

How can he stay composed when that asshole has his hand on his girl’s—Chenle’s sister’s—waist? Jisung jolts as he hears his teeth grind together—fuck, was that his jaw clenching? Safe to say he’s passed subtlety. 

He sucks in a breath. This is Chenle’s birthday party, stop thinking about his sister you idiot. 

Actually, fuck that. 

Because why is that stranger’s hand moving up your thigh so easily? Why does your breath hitch when he leans in closer? Call him toxic; he doesn’t care. But Jisung wishes he hadn’t let you put your panties back on, so that asshole could see—no, feel—his cum dripping out of you as his hand traces your thigh right now.

He scoffs and nurses his drink. Keep calm, it’s Chenle’s birthday. 

Speak of the devil—almost on cue, Jisung feels his best friend slap him on the shoulders with a shout. He glances over his shoulder to see Chenle, clearly drunk, and while he usually hates dealing with his wild, inebriated antics, he appreciates that his best friend is oblivious to the way Jisung is currently eyeing his older sister tonight.

He settles into the empty seat next to Jisung with a grunt. “Y/N forgot my cake. One job that girl had,” Chenle shakes his head, guzzling down the last of his beer before grabbing another and cracking it open.

“She was probably preoccupied,” Jisung shrugs, trying to dismiss any thought of you from his mind. He doesn’t exactly know the right way to tell his friend that his sister was too busy being preoccupied on his cock, and that’s why she forgot his birthday cake. 

Chenle scoffs, “She’s always preoccupied. Look at her,” he gestures toward you. “I think I heard her with that guy earlier. Traumatizing.” He visibly shakes and squeezes his eyes shut.

“It wasn’t him,” Jisung growls.

Chenle swats his hand in the air, already halfway through that new beer bottle. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t matter who it was, still traumatizing.”

Jisung nods and purses his lips. But to him, it does matter because it was him. Him who made you pant so desperately, him who filled you so completely that your legs wobbled, and he had to hold you steady, his fingertips imprinted into your hips. Him who made you cum. Him. Always him. And right now, he wanted to make sure that it was only him. 

The sound of Chenle snoring in the seat next to him pulls Jisung from his thoughts and back to where he feels most at home—you. He swears he could find you in seconds; you’re like a magnet, an obsession in his mind. You’re all he can think about, all he’s ever been able to think about, and now that he’s had you, he’s never you letting go. Call him a maniac.

With Chenle undoubtedly crashed out, his eyes find you and the sight of you leaning in closer to that guy, lips almost touching, ignites a fire in him. He sees red—hot, undeniable crimson. Without a thought, he storms over. That’s not true, he’s been thinking about it for the past twenty minutes. 

“Y/N!” he calls out, but not to get your attention, to stop your lips connecting with that asshole, who Jisung is certain he’d be able to take in a fight. 

You turn, surprise flickering in those pretty eyes he loves, and that’s all it takes for Jisung to reach you. He steps between you and the guy, his chest heaving, anger palpable. Without giving you a moment to process, his rough hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back to your childhood bedroom.

Your own wave of crimson flushes over your body as the pink walls come into view and the lock you’d begged your parents for during puberty clicks into place. Jisung had been in your room countless times as kids, when you dressed him and Chenle up like dolls or begged them to play board games. But now, knowing he had you in a pathetic, desperate moaning mess not long ago and gave you the best sex of your life in this very room, it feels different.

He feels different. 

Nostrils flared, fists clenched, and muscles taut. This was not the Jisungie you once made friendship bracelets with or taught to roller skate. No, this was just Jisung—grown up, exuding a raw, masculine energy that was both captivating and intimidating. Sexy even. Perhaps that’s why you got distracted when he came over early to set up for Chenle’s birthday.

You shouldn’t have gotten distracted, or indulged, no matter how hot he’d gotten over the summer. He was still, and always would be, your little brother’s best friend. 

Snap out of it, Y/N. 

“Jisung, what do you think you’re doing?” You snap at him and back to reality. 

His eyes narrow, drawn into a sharp expression that shouldn’t make your thighs weak, but it does. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/N?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“That guy, Y/N.” He spits your name, a low growl that tightens your chest, “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m just going to stand by while you flirt with some guy.”

You scoff, unable to deny it. Yes, you had been flirting with that guy, but honestly, it was just a distraction to take your mind off the fact that you’d just let your brother’s childhood friend fuck you six ways to Sunday. 

“You’re being ridiculous," you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “You have no right to act like this.”

His nostrils flare again, and he steps closer, invading your space. You instinctively take a step back—because this is how it happened last time, his stupid muscular body and obnoxious height inching towards you (minus the argument.)

"Ridiculous? You think it’s ridiculous that I care? That I don’t want to see you with someone like him?"

“Someone like him? You don’t know anything about him.”

Jisung tongues the inside of his cheek, inhaling sharply before muttering, “He had his hands all over you in the middle of a kitchen. Pretty sure that makes him an automatic asshole.”

You can feel your heart racing, but you refuse to back down. "You’re getting jealous over one guy after we—after a one-time thing, Jisung. It’s so childish!"

The moment that singular word leaves your mouth, you see a shift in his expression. His eyes darken, and there’s a flicker of something raw and primal lingering in his irises. Desire, maybe lust, but definitely determination.

Without a word, Jisung moves toward you in a blur of motion, his hand snapping out to grip your wrist, yanking you back before you even have time to react. You stumble, your back slamming against the door with a harsh thud. Thank God, there’s a party downstairs because you’re certain the impact was savage enough to be heard if not for the music.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he cages you in, his body pressing against yours, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. His hands bracket your face, fingers digging into the wood behind you, holding you there, trapped beneath his gaze, trapped beneath his body. 

"Childish, huh?" His voice drops an octave, and you can feel the heat, the anger, the hunger, radiating off him. "I’ll show you childish."

It’s a threat, a rise to your challenge, and said with an edge that makes your stomach flutter—against your will.

You meet his eyes, refusing to show any fear, though your heart races in your chest. “What, you think you can intimidate me?”

A corner of his mouth curls up in a half-smirk. "I know I can do a lot more than that."

Before you can respond, his face closes the distance between you, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that feels like a challenge—not the passion he offered earlier, just pure desperation and need. His hands grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing harder against yours like he can’t get close enough. 

You can’t tell if it’s anger or the desperate need to prove something that drives him, but the way his touch grows possessive leaves no room for argument. You don’t want to argue though, not when his other hand trails down your thigh, hiking up your dress, and one calloused finger slips beneath the black lace of your panties to find your swollen, aching clit.

You draw in a shallow breath, one that only fuels his cocky grin as he nuzzles into your neck, his warm breath skimming along the delicate curve of your nape before trailing to your ear. His finger continues to rub slow, so painfully slow, circles into your clit.

“Was I childish when I finger fucked you to orgasm with Chenle just next door? Was I childish when I pounded this pretty pussy into your pillows? Or was I childish when—”

“J-Jisungie,” you gasp, voice trembling with need, cutting him off. But who could blame you? The slow, deliberate motion of his fingers, paired with the weight of his words, had you aching for more—more of him, more of this, anything with friction. 

His blunt nails dig into the tender flesh of your thigh, possessive and unyielding, as his lips skim the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone. A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your skin. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

You let out a soft whimper of submission, your legs trembling as he edges them apart, giving himself better access to the spot you need him most—the spot he knows you need him most.

“Is that what this is about?” you manage to ask, though your voice is shaky, breathless.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He doesn’t need to respond because his fingers do it for him, their pace quickening against your sensitive nerves.

You can’t believe this is happening—again. Chenle would kill you both if he found out, but the thought isn’t enough to stop you. Your hips buck instinctively, meeting the rhythm of his long, slender fingers as they work relentlessly to coax an orgasm out of you.

“Ji–We can’t do this,” you whisper, though the words come out weak, entirely unconvincing.

His lips pause against your neck, but his fingers don’t. If anything, they press harder, toying against your clit, drawing a choked moan from your lips as he hovers just close enough for you to feel his breath.

“Oh, so we can’t do this,” there’s venom in his voice, as his finger sinks lower until it’s circling your entrance, “but you were ready to let that asshole do this to you in the kitchen.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of shame and defiance flaring within you. “It’s not the same.”

“Exactly,” he growls, his fingers curling inside you in a way that makes your knees buckle. “It’s not the same, because he’ll never touch you the way I do. He’ll never make you feel the way I do, never get the fucking chance.”

“Jisung—” you start, but he cuts you off, his free hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with something lust. 

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, lips brushing dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t kiss you, but nips at the bottom of your plush lip. “Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N, and I’ll stop.”

You try to form the words, to muster any resistance, but they melt into a moan as his fingers press against that spot deep inside you, leaving your legs trembling. It’s almost sick, really—how well he knows your body, as if he’s memorized every reaction, every weak spot. Like he’s studied the blueprint of you, mastered it, and has no intention of ever letting anyone else have access to it.

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his smirk sharp and sinister. His lips finally crash against yours, stealing what little resolve you had left.

His kiss is hungry, consuming, as if he’s trying to prove a point with every press of his mouth, clash of teeth, and every curl of his fingers. And the worst part is, he’s right—you do want this. You want him.

“Say it,” he demands against your lips. “Say you want me.”

Your hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, body arching into him as his touch overwhelms you. The fight leaves you entirely, your resistance crumbling to dust. “I want you,” you confess, the words spilling from your lips before you can even think to stop them.

He grins against your mouth. “Good, because you’re mine.”

And he’s going to make damn sure you know it. He’s going to make sure everyone knows it—especially that fucking asshole who touched you. You’re his. 

Jisung finds the length of your neck again, his skilled fingers continuing their work on your pussy. He knows you’re close, knows exactly how to draw this out of you until you’re cumming, all while he’s branding your skin with purple bruises across your neck. Call it an ego thing, but knowing some part of him will be etched onto your skin has his cock throbbing, his bulge swelling in his jeans just from the thought of you belonging to him—even if it’s only temporary. Jisung doesn’t care. He’ll keep doing this until it’s permanent, until your mind finally catches up, and you realize you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you.

“For someone who was so insistent that we can’t do this, you have no problem making a mess on my fingers, noona,” he coos, his whispers brushing against your skin. “I can hear how wet you are, all for me, yeah?”

He’s a cocky fucker, and he knows it.

“Ji—please,” you whine, your body moving in sync with his, desperate to push yourself over the edge. Jisung laughs, the vibration of it shooting through you straight to your core. His fingertips dig into your pelvis, halting your movements because he’s the one in control. He’s the one with something to prove.

“You wanna cum, noona?” he asks, almost mockingly. “Want me to make you cum?”

You nod eagerly, desperation etched across your features. Yes, you want it—no orgasm could ever compare to the one you know he can give you.

Jisung pulls away from your neck, his pupils blown wide as he admires the art painted across your skin—his mark. He’s never been one for art, never understood what people meant by seeing a message in a painting, but as his fingers trace the deep red imprints of his mouth, he understands exactly what this piece of skin says: mine.

His fingers plunge deeper inside your cunt, the steady rhythm driving you wild. He curls them just right, his touch grazing that rough patch inside you that makes you gasp, your breath catching and lips parting. 

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours as he mouths words of praise and instructions. At least, you think he’s mouthing them—your mind is fogged, overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure crashing over you, the only sound you can focus on is the buzzing of your orgasm, your cries and the way his name spills from your lips in a frantic, desperate whisper.

"Such a good fucking girl," he murmurs when your high starts to fade, voice low with approval. "My good fucking girl."

Maybe it’s the post-climax haze, your mind still swimming in fog, but your arms find their way around Jisung’s neck, pulling him down to crash your lips against his. He’s caught off guard, just as much as you are—you're not one to initiate, and he hadn’t expected more. He’d already made his point clear: he knows your body, he knows how to make you feel good, how to make you cum.

But here you are, nipping at his lip, devouring his mouth with a hunger that catches you both by suprise. And when you whisper a soft, "Fuck me again, please, Jisung," he's done for.

"My girl is so impatient and greedy, huh?" He tsks, but it's more to regain his composure than anything. He’d almost cum in his pants at the sight of you begging him to fuck you, like some horny teenager. But his determination to prove he’s not the boy you grew up with keeps him grounded.

He hoists you up effortlessly, his hands gripping the underside of your ass as your legs instinctively wrap around his body. With ease, he carries you to the bed, dropping you onto it with a predatory gleam in his eyes. As he climbs over you, his gaze darkens with hunger, every movement clear, saying one thing: he's going to devour you.

"Such a dirty girl, letting your brother’s friend fuck you twice in one night," he teases, his hands slowly working to peel the dress from your body. When he sees you’ve been wearing no bra underneath, your nipples fully exposed and standing at attention instantly, a low curse slips from his lips. 

He could admire your body for hours—he hadn’t had the chance to earlier because the stakes felt higher then. But for you, the moment is urgent. You need him—all of him—inside you, now. Maybe that’s why you decide to taunt him.

“I can always get someone else to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Watch it,” he warns, as his grip tightens on you. His eyes darken with possessiveness, a wave of jealousy flickering in his eyes. The thought of someone else touching you like this, even as a joke, triggers something primal inside him.

Without another word, Jisung sheds his own clothes, hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart with a firm, controlled movement. His breath hitches as he stares down at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, so fucking his.

“Made to take my cock,” he mutters, giving you a moment to adjust. You nod softly, the sensation of him filling every part of you dulling every lingering ache. 

He circles the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you as payback for that little comment, before slowly sinking into you, inch by inch. Your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch, your body yielding to him as he fits into you so perfectly. So big, so deep, so yours.

It isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you, balls against your skin, that a groan escapes both of you.

He doesn't hold back, his groans raw and needy. He wants you to hear him—hear how good you make him feel, how desperate he's been for you, for this, how much he’s craved you for years. Every sound, every groan, he wants it etched in your memory. He wants you to remember him when you think about any other man—your first boyfriend, or the guy who took you to prom, and especially the flings you had on spring break.

He wants to be the only man who makes you come apart. The only one you grip with those pretty nails, scraping his back as if marking him, your own little claim to match his purple marks. 

Jisung has always had a soft spot for you, but the way he fucks is anything but soft. This is desperate, driven, a reminder that only he can make you feel this way—only he will. His thrusts are hard, dominating, consuming, each one a claim, marking you as his in the most primal way and you love it.

He knows you love it—the way your pussy clenches around him, fluttering rhythmically, milking his own orgasm from him with every squeeze. Sloppy, deep, and abrupt, his resolve twists tighter inside his stomach. His grip on your hips tightens and he drives into you with relentless, unyielding force, chasing his high. 

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “My pretty girl,” he growls. “Only mine.”

You can barely respond, the pleasure building so intensely that all you can do is cling to him, your fingernails digging into his pale skin, feeling every part of him take control. Each thrust pushes you closer to an edge you’ve never felt before, your stomach coiling tightly, a delicious tension threatening to snap.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and filled with heat, his pace never slowing. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath hitches, body trembling as the tension in your core reaches its peak. “Yours,” you whisper, but it’s enough to make him groan in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the world around you blurs as the pleasure overwhelms you. Your body responds, the waves crashing over you as your eyes roll. A choked cry escapes, and a rush of wetness unlike anything you’ve felt before floods your body. 

Your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, but Jisung doesn’t let you hide. He watches you, eyes dark,  filled with awe and pride, as he takes in the fact that he’s the one who’s just made you squirt.

“How’s that for childish?” he murmurs with a smirk, the words dripping with possessiveness.

And with one final thrust, he drives into you, his body shuddering as he reaches his own release, spilling inside of you.

“Oh, and by the way,” he murmurs breathlessly, lips brushing against your ear, “there’s no way this is just a one-time thing, Y/N.”

[gobeyondthesky]

I almost trip in shock.

The prince? Here? With a cake?

I must have lost my mind… maybe smelled one too many Dusklilies and I’m hallucinating. The image of a prince in his pristine outfit, complete with his little hat, standing in the middle of my living room/room/kitchen, with a dirt floor and an old Merlin’s Magical Goods tarp for a ceiling, was one I never thought I’d see.

Some remaining sane part of me screams “Say something!”, but shock is a funny thing. I’m stiff like late King Corvious’ statue and my mouth as dry as the Hasar Desert.

“Uh— is she dumb?” His Majesty asks.

That brings me back.

“Of course not!” I yelp. Quickly remembering I could lose my head for being rude, I add begrudgingly, “Erm, Your Majesty”.

I can’t remember when was the last time Prince Ellias left the palace. Rumor has it he’s been preparing for his ascension to the throne day and night, working to master his talents — mysterious powers no one knows about. I’ve always thought he’s just a stuck up bitch baby that won’t get his pretty little silk slippers dirty.

Sure, he is beautiful. Gray-blue eyes, sculpted face, silky black hair falling on his face gracefully… but nice? The stories seem to tell otherwise, and I’m confirming that live.

“You don’t seem like a flower girl at all”, the baby says, a sneer on his face. He looks me up and down, pointedly stopping at my empty hands.

The bastard. Like I wanted to do this. Stealing flowers and selling them is easier than stealing and selling anything else. Hells, there’s a house in Puckard Street owned by a blind lady that has a huge garden with all sorts of plants and it’s not like she will notice them missing.

The prince looks back at his advisor, confusion mixed with disdain. The advisor shrugs back, hands trembling a little over some papers.

“She’s the only flower lady in the realm that’s in her 20s and has a birthday today, Your Majesty,” the advisor tries to whisper, nervousness lacing his voice.

To me he says, mustering courage, “the Prince wishes to celebrate your birthday, as a sign of thanks for your service to the realm”.

I don’t buy it. So I stare at him point blank.

The Prince sighs, clearly debating something with himself, his body hunched as if in defeat.

The part of me that cares not for her head blurts out, “What.”

And suddenly, he’s on me.

His lips are trying to find mine and my two brain cells can’t decide between stabbing him with my hidden knife or kissing him and seeing where this is going, hopefully leading to some money. I’m tired of living in this alley makeshift house my mother left me in.

I decide to push him. Instinct I guess.

“You— what the hells is going on?!” I scream pushing with all my strength and the two loafs of bread I’ve had to eat today.

He stumbles back, his advisor catching him. His eyes lock with mine as he says “I will not continue to live with this curse, stop making this harder on yourself”.

The fuck?

Why can’t I have nice things? I mean, it’s my birthday for god’s sake! Where do these people get these ideas from? How can I, a mere flower girl that hasn’t two pennies to rub together, break a curse?

“What in the Hells are you saying?!” I stare back and hard. I will not stand for this.

“It’s your birthday is it not? The prophecy states I must share a love kiss with a ‘girl touched by flowers on the date of her 25th year or the darkness will persist’” he exclaims as if I had to have knowledge of this, because of course, who wouldn’t.

I can only stare in disbelief.

That damned mother of mine. She truly was a witch. And she truly meant it when she said she’d give me “the realm and the world to lead”. I thought she was on something. Balckcapped mushrooms perhaps.

And I, naturally, break out laughing.

The cake is a nice touch, but this is a game I can play too.

“Oh, Prince, I would most definitely kiss you, but this will cost you”, I purr.

The advisor bites his lip and closes his eyes, as the prince squints his eyes and shakes his head. I can hear him mutter to himself, “flower girl alright”.

I smile and mentally start to prepare for the rest of my life.

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Kill my time // Quinn Hughes

In a city full of lonely people, I just want you all to myself

summary: birthday celebrations causing jealousy while struggling to turn a certain age

warnings: drinking, clubbing, smut (18+)

── ∘◦ ⛤ ◦∘ ──

“I can’t believe I’m going to a bar like I’m in my early twenties again.”

I smoothed my dress down, picking apart everything wrong with me as I looked in the mirror. Turning thirty felt like my world was about to collapse, and what made it worse was knowing my boyfriend was only turning twenty five just two days after me.

“Not to mention with a bunch of guys who are twenty one.” My roommate added as she fixed us a couple of drinks. I saw her bring out a bottle of tequila, knowing I was going to be in for a long night.

“Ugh, what did I get myself into?”

“Girl, it’s fine! Quinn doesn’t care about your age so why should you?” She asks, passing me whatever concoction she made. A took a small sip, realizing it was tequila and soda…more like tequila with a splash of soda.

Deep down I knew she was right, because when I told Quinn I was older than him it didn’t phase him at all, I completely expected him to run. He told me the idea of being with someone older was a big turn on for him, something he didn’t discover until he met me. As for me, it didn’t matter what age the men were I dated, they were all extremely immature. I knew it was a risk with Quinn but he definitely didn’t act like men his age. After all he was the captain of an NHL team, he had to have a strong head on his shoulders.

An hour later I was making my way through a busy drunken crowd, holding onto Quinn’s hand for dear life. For whatever reason, his teammates chose this club to celebrate his birthday tonight. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, and I don’t think Quinn was thrilled on it either but he was too quiet to say anything. We always made the best of a bad situation and I knew tonight wouldn’t be any different. House music and lights were bouncing off the walls, making it hard to focus on where we were going. We finally got into our booth and a heavy sigh left me, I definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Quinn’s velvet voice echoed in my ear, calming my nerves. His eyes were bright green, almost enchanting as they peered into mine. My face grew hot, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be this gorgeous.

“Yeah it’s just been a while.” I wasn’t lying either. I spent most of my time in breweries with my friends since most of us were over going to clubs. Quinn likes to tell me he doesn’t like going out, but give him a few drinks and he makes a liar out of himself.

He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his stubble on my neck. “I won’t leave your side at all, I promise.”

“Okay.” I nodded before he gently brushed his lips over mine. I got lost in our own little world, the music melted away and I forgot we were in the middle of a busy club surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday after all.”

I rolled my eyes, “it’s also yours in two days.”

“Yeah, but …” his words trail off as he runs the pad of his thumb over my lip, “today brought me you.”

“How does it feel to be with a thirty year old?” The words falling last my lips causing my eyes to roll again. That number just didn’t sit right with me. “I’m officially an old lady.”

“Thirty has never looked better.” He mused, his hand running up my hip and pressing me closer to him. I pulled him into another kiss, his cologne hit me like a tidal wave causing butterflies in my stomach. His hand ran up my neck and gripped me tighter while his tongue begged to enter my mouth. We stayed like that, blissfully unaware of reality until his teammates came over with trays of various shots.

“Okay lover boy that’s enough. Let’s get you drunk.”

One thing about partying with hockey players is all of them have no limits when it comes to spending. I had to finally stop accepting every shot they brought around after the room began to spin. Best part of the night though was that the Devils were in town, so Jack and Luke, Quinn’s brothers were here to celebrate with everyone. This was only my second time meeting them but they were extremely welcoming and treated me like I was their sister. Jack at one point asked me to go dance with him and I couldn’t help but say yes.

“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Jack yelled into my ear as we danced to one of my favourite John Summit songs.

“Terrible. I’m almost a decade older than you!”

“You make thirty look so good though.” He smirks as Luke came behind me and picked me up, causing me to scream at him to put me down. As much as I fought he kept me over his shoulder.

“I just want you to know we fucking love you and you make my brother so happy.” Luke added as he finally put me down, the room was still spinning so I had to brace myself against him to make it stop.

“Thanks buddy.” I jumped a little, feeling Quinn’s hand on my back. His face was flushed, telling me he was taking shots without me.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?”

“Sorry bro!” Luke kissed the top of my head before him and Jack ran off to grab more drinks.

“You okay?” I asked Quinn as I turned to him, he smelt like whiskey and honey as he brought his lips to my neck.

“I will be.” He mumbles, burrowing his face into my neck. “I’m glad my brothers like you, but you’re my girlfriend. Not theirs.”

“Do you think they’re gonna steal me?” I clasped my mouth, trying to hold in my laughter because I know he was being serious. It was downright adorable.

“Maybe.”

“But I’m yours” I assured him, pressing closer to his body. My hands teaching behind his neck, slipping stands of his hair between my fingers. “No one will ever steal me from you.”

“Prove it.” He replied with such confidence, not taking his eyes off my lips. His hands reached up to my hips, pressing me even closer to him. I gasped as I felt his erection brush up against my leg, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” He mumbled, his eyes glazed with desire and whatever was in his system. I grabbed his hand, not knowing where he was taking me.

Quinn guided me into a private bathroom and locked the door. His hand brushed gently over my chest, hooking his finger under the strap of my dress. I watched him with intent, my heart pounding so fast I was surprised he didn’t feel it.

“You belong to me.” He whispered, slowly bringing me closer to him. My hands braced onto his chest as he captured my mouth into a kiss that started off sweet but grew sloppy.

“Let’s not wait then, birthday boy.”

He smirked so devilishly that I felt something more than butterflies in my stomach. Our kisses were met with biting of lower lips and Quinn grabbed my dress so tight I thought it was going to split. I wasted no time and began to unbutton his pants, dropping to my knees in the process. His dick sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre-cum as my eyes widened.

“Stick your tongue out baby.”

My exposed tongue was met with his tip as he gently circled over my taste buds. I could taste him already, it was making my mouth salivate and run down my chin.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed as his free hand tugged on my hair. “Open your mouth for me.”

I did as I was told and Quinn slowly slid his erection into my mouth, inch by inch until his tip hit the back of my throat. He bit his lip as I began to slide my mouth up and down, his grip on my hair getting tighter.

“Fuck, baby this feels so good.” He deeply moaned, making me feel it in the back of my throat. “Such a good girl taking my whole dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

I could tell he was getting close with how laboured his breathing became. I removed my mouth from him and began to lick his tip that was glistening with my spit. He looked down at me with pleading eyes, as if me mouth fucking him was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Come in my mouth Quinn, I know what you want to.”

“Not yet.” His voice sounded so husky as he motioned for me to stand up. I wiped my mouth, taking a long look at him. “Your turn birthday girl.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as he picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter. My back rested against the mirror as he spread my legs, situating himself between them. When our eyes met my heart felt like it was going to explode, I’ve never seen him like this before.

“How bad do you need me right now?” He asked, slowly taking my lip between his teeth again.

“I need you so fucking badly.”

He makes his home between my thighs and begins to tease me with his tip. I regretted wearing underwear tonight but feeling his pre cum soak the lace was the sweetest form of torture, and he knew it.


“Tell me again…how bad do you need me?” I couldn’t get a word out. His laugh was dark as he fluttered his somber eyes at me, “use your words sweetheart, what do you want for your birthday?”

“I want you.”

“That’s a good start.” He muses, applying pressure on my thighs with his thumbs, “where do you want me?”

No words were leaving me as I gasped for air. Quinn began to run his mouth over my jaw, down to my collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my thighs, his thumb instantly pressing onto my underwear.

“Right there?” He asks, slowly moving my underwear to the side. A small gasp in satisfaction left him as he felt how soaked I was for him. I just nodded, whimpering already from his touch. “Tell me how much you wish this was my dick instead?”

“Quinn, I need you please … I’m yours.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied so proudly, pushing his tip inside of me slowly. His head falls back once he’s fully inside me and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Fuck you feel so good, so fucking good.”

Quinn started off slowly, teasing my clit simultaneously with each stroke. He leaned into my ear, continuously praising me as his strokes became faster and harder. Sweat rolled down me as the building started up in my stomach, that familiar flutter began to take over and I knew I was done for. My nails dug into his back as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder as my orgasm left my body.

“Fuck I’m gonna -“

It only took a few seconds before he spilled into me. His hands gently found my face, guiding me to look at him. My legs were still shaking as he kissed me so softly. I was in a complete haze as we broke apart, that one unruly strand of hair fell in front of his face as he studied me. He was so beautiful, there were no other words to describe him.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He mused, gently kissing all the tattoos on my arm. Funny thing,

I never thought he’d go for a girl with a full sleeve and dark hair like me. He struck me as someone who went for blonde Instagram models but, once again he proved me wrong.

“You definitely just gave me the best birthday present ever.” I lightly laughed.

He titled his head to the side, cupping my cheek, “I don’t think anything will be beat the gift you gave me.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 15✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language, Angst, Fluff, Dean being hurt-badly

Word Count: 7917

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

Four days later, the door slammed open as Sam and Cas half-carried, half-dragged Dean into the motel room, his boots dragging along the carpet. The sight of him made your stomach twist. His face was pale, his body drenched in blood that stained his shirt and jeans, and his movements were sluggish at best. Yet, somehow, Dean was still holding on, still conscious, though it was clear he was barely hanging on.

Sam wasted no time, easing Dean onto the bed with Cas’s help. Dean grunted as his back hit the mattress, his jaw clenched tightly against the pain. Sam’s voice was sharp and urgent as he barked, “Get me the emergency kit. Now!”.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands moved on autopilot, grabbing the kit from its usual spot in Dean´s bag and rushing it over to Sam. Dean’s breathing was shallow and uneven, his face twisted in discomfort as Sam yanked up his shirt to reveal the extent of the damage.

The wound was gruesome, a deep gash that ran from his stomach up toward his chest, jagged and bleeding profusely. His broken arm hung limply at his side, and his entire torso was bruised and battered. It was a miracle he was still alive, let alone conscious. Sam swore under his breath as he examined the wound, grabbing supplies from the kit.

Dean, of course, couldn’t just let the seriousness of the situation sink in. Even as blood dripped down his sides and his whole body screamed in pain, he managed to tilt his head toward you, his swollen eyes searching for yours. “You good?”, he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with concern. “They didn’t get you, right?”.

Tears pricked at your eyes, both from relief that he was alive and from frustration at his stubborn selflessness. “Dean, you’re the one bleeding out on the bed, and you’re worried about me?”, you snapped, though your voice cracked with emotion. You couldn’t help it—you were scared. You’d never seen him like this, so close to the edge.

Dean tried to grin, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Yeah, well… I gotta know”.

Sam shot him a sharp look, pressing gauze against the wound to slow the bleeding. “Dean, shut up and stay still”, Sam ordered, his tone firm but edged with worry. “You’re lucky to be alive. Stop wasting your energy on questions”.

Cas hovered nearby, his face stoic but his eyes heavy with regret. Ever since the thing with Michael, Dean couldn’t be healed with angelic powers, and you could see the guilt weighing on Cas like a boulder. “If I could heal you, I would”, Cas muttered quietly, his hands clenched into fists.

Dean waved him off weakly. “S’not your fault, Cas”, he mumbled, his voice slurring slightly from the blood loss. His eyes flicked back to you, his expression softening despite the pain. “You okay?”, he asked again, his voice quieter this time, but no less insistent.

Your heart clenched at the sight of Dean, bloodied and broken, yet still stubbornly focused on you. His insistence on knowing you were safe made your chest ache in a way that was almost unbearable. You swallowed the lump in your throat and moved closer, kneeling at the edge of the bed so you were at eye level with him.

“I’m fine, Dean”, you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “You don’t need to worry about me right now. Let us take care of you”.

Dean blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy, but his gaze stayed locked on yours. “Always worry… ‘bout you”, he murmured, his words slurred slightly as he struggled to stay conscious.

Sam’s hands moved quickly, pressing layers of gauze against the wound to stem the bleeding. The sharp hiss of pain that escaped Dean’s lips made your stomach churn, but Sam didn’t stop.

Sam worked with the precision of someone who’d been in this situation too many times before, his hands moving swiftly to clean and stitch the gaping wound on Dean’s stomach. The room was tense, the air heavy with worry and unspoken words as you stayed by Dean’s side, gripping his hand tightly. His blood still seeped onto the bed despite Sam’s efforts, staining the sheets a deep crimson.

“This is going to hurt like hell”, Sam muttered grimly, glancing at Dean. He already had the suture kit in hand, the needle glinting under the harsh motel room light. “Dean, you need to stay still, or it’s going to get worse”.

Dean, ever the stubborn one, let out a weak, gravelly chuckle. “Yeah, no kidding”, he rasped, his lips twitching into a faint smirk despite the blood smeared across his face. “Not my first rodeo, Sammy. Just… get it over with”.

Sam sighed, shaking his head but not arguing. “Alright”, he said, his voice resigned but determined. “Here we go”.

The first puncture of the needle into Dean’s torn flesh made him flinch, his entire body tensing under the pain. He let out a sharp grunt, his jaw clenching so tightly you could see the strain in his neck. You tightened your grip on his hand, your free hand brushing against his damp hair in an attempt to comfort him.

“Breathe, Dean”, you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “You’ve got this”.

“Easy… for you to say”, Dean gritted out, his voice strained but still laced with his trademark sarcasm. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his breathing shallow as Sam worked carefully to stitch the wound.

The process was excruciatingly slow. Each tug of the needle and thread through Dean’s skin made him flinch or let out a low groan of pain, though he tried his damnedest to keep still. His knuckles were white where he gripped your hand, his strength ebbing and flowing as he fought to stay conscious. You could see the sweat beading on his forehead, mixing with the blood that streaked his face.

“Almost there”, Sam muttered, his hands steady as he tied off another stitch. His voice was calm, but you could hear the urgency beneath it. He was pushing himself to work faster.

Dean let out a low, guttural sound as the needle pierced his flesh again, his body jerking slightly despite his efforts to remain still. “Son of a bitch”, he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse. “You tryin’ to kill me, Sammy?”.

“Not funny, Dean”, Sam shot back, his tone sharp with worry. “You’re lucky you’re even alive right now. Just hold still, okay?”.

Dean let out a weak laugh, though it turned into a groan as Sam continued stitching. “If this is what alive feels like… might rethink my options”.

Sam ignored Dean’s attempt at humor, though you caught the faintest twitch of a smirk on his face as he focused on tying off another stitch. The room felt stifling, every groan or wince from Dean making your heart ache. His usual bravado, even in this state, was so him, but it only made the moment more painful to witness. He was in agony, and he was still trying to lighten the mood.

“Dean”, you said softly, leaning closer, your free hand gently brushing through his damp hair. “You don’t get to ‘rethink your options’. You’re stuck with us, so just keep holding on, alright?”.

Dean’s green eyes flicked toward you, dull but filled with the faintest glimmer of warmth. “Bossy”, he rasped, his lips twitching into a weak smile. “Kinda like it”.

Sam rolled his eyes as he finished another stitch, pulling the thread taut. “Can you two save the flirting for when you’re not bleeding out?”, he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration but also relief that Dean was still conscious enough to crack jokes.

“Who’s flirting?”, Dean shot back, his voice weaker now but still defiant. He gritted his teeth as Sam pushed gauze against the wound to clean away the excess blood. “I’m just—ahh, son of a—”.

“Hold still”, Sam snapped, his hands steady but his face tight with concern. “I’m almost done, but if you keep squirming, you’re gonna rip these stitches out before I even finish”.

Dean let out a heavy, pained breath, his head lolling slightly toward you. “You hear that? Sammy’s always been the gentle one”, he joked weakly, though his face contorted with another wave of pain as Sam moved to tie off the final stitch.

“You’re lucky I am gentle”, Sam muttered. “Otherwise, I’d leave you to patch yourself up”.

The tension in the room lessened just a fraction as Sam pulled back, finally finished. The deep gash was now closed, a neat row of stitches lining Dean’s torso. But the sight of it still made your stomach twist—it was a brutal reminder of how close he had come to losing his life.

“Alright”, Sam said, his voice calm but firm. “That should hold. Now, you need to stay still, Dean. No sudden movements, no heroics. You’ve already lost too much blood”.

Dean let out a tired huff, his head sinking further into the pillow. “Yeah, yeah. You’re like a broken record”, he muttered, though his voice was softer now, his strength clearly fading.

Sam reached for the bottle of antiseptic, his expression tightening as he unscrewed the cap. “Ready?", he asked, his voice low and serious, “We can’t leave it untreated. Infection isn’t an option.”

Dean opened one eye, glaring at Sam with as much annoyance as his battered state would allow. “You already stitched me up, Sammy. How much worse can it get?”.

Sam didn’t answer, his silence making it clear the answer was a lot worse. Instead, he grabbed a clean cloth, pouring the clear liquid onto it until it was soaked. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air, making you wince in anticipation. Dean didn’t flinch, but you could see his jaw tightening, his hand clenching weakly at the bedsheet.

Sam leaned in, pausing for a brief moment to give Dean a warning look. “Ready?”.

Dean let out a breathy, exasperated chuckle. “Just do it”.

The moment the antiseptic-soaked cloth made contact with the gash, Dean’s entire body tensed like a coiled spring. A guttural growl of pain tore from his throat, his hand gripping the sheet so tightly you thought it might tear. His face contorted in agony, every muscle in his body straining against the pain. Despite himself, he let out a string of curses under his breath, his voice ragged.

As the searing pain overwhelmed him, Dean’s body tensed one last time before his head lolled to the side, his grip on the sheets slackening. His labored breaths evened out slightly as he slipped into unconsciousness, his face finally relaxing from the pain.

You froze for a moment, panic bubbling up in your chest. “Sam!”, you called sharply, your voice tinged with fear.

Sam sighed, his hand already moving to check Dean’s pulse at his neck. “He’s fine”, he said quickly, his tone reassuring but tired. “He passed out from the pain. Honestly, it’s probably for the best”. He gave a faint, humorless chuckle as he pulled back, shaking his head. “Now I can finally finish patching him up without him squirming or complaining”.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, nodding as you settled back into your spot beside the bed. “Guess that’s a silver lining”, you muttered, though the sight of Dean unconscious still left you uneasy.

Sam moved swiftly, grabbing the materials he needed to set Dean’s broken arm. The break was clean, but it would still take time to heal—and knowing Dean, time and rest were luxuries he rarely allowed himself. Sam unwrapped the temporary splint he’d fashioned earlier in the field, wincing slightly as he saw the swelling and bruising around the break.

“He really did a number on himself this time”, Sam muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked.

You watched as Sam mixed the plaster, his movements methodical and practiced. He’d done this more times than either of you could count, but the gravity of the situation never seemed to lessen. Sam carefully wrapped Dean’s arm in fresh bandages, his hands steady as he secured the splint in place before beginning to apply the plaster.

“He’s lucky it’s just a clean break. Could’ve been a lot worse”.

You nodded, your eyes flicking between Dean’s still form and Sam’s hands as he shaped the plaster, ensuring it set evenly. “Yeah, well, ‘lucky’ isn’t the word I’d use”, you muttered, your voice laced with frustration and worry.

Sam glanced at you as he worked, his brow furrowed in concentration as he smoothed the plaster over Dean’s arm. His voice was quiet, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “You know why this happened, right?”.

You frowned, looking between Sam and Dean’s unconscious form. “Because Dean can’t go two seconds without throwing himself into danger?”.

Sam let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s more than that. He thought you were in danger”. He kept his eyes on his work as he continued. “That’s why he wasn’t paying attention to his own safety. He saw you struggling with that demon and just… reacted”.

Your chest tightened at Sam’s words, guilt washing over you like a tidal wave. “I had it under control”, you whispered, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your confidence. “I didn’t need him to…”.

Sam finally looked up, his gaze softening as he saw the emotions flickering across your face. “You know Dean”, he said, his tone gentler now. “He wasn’t going to take that chance. It doesn’t matter if you had it under control. If he even thinks you’re in danger, he’s going to put himself between you and whatever’s coming”.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Dean. His face was pale, his breaths shallow but steady. The sight of him so broken, so vulnerable, was a stark contrast to the man who always seemed invincible to you. “It doesn’t make it okay”, you muttered, your voice cracking. “He almost died, Sam”.

Sam nodded solemnly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I know”, he said softly. “But that’s who he is. He doesn’t think about himself when it comes to the people he cares about. You, me, Cas, Jack—we’re all he’s got, and he’ll do anything to keep us safe. Even if it costs him”.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you looked at Dean, your hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “It’s not fair”, you murmured, your voice barely audible. “He shouldn’t have to keep doing this—sacrificing himself for everyone else”.

Sam sighed, his hands stilling as he finished wrapping the cast around Dean’s arm. “No, he shouldn’t”, he agreed quietly. “But try telling him that. He’s been this way his whole life—it’s not something you can just turn off”.

You nodded, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of Dean’s bruised face.

Sam wiped his hands on a towel and reached into the first-aid kit for a fresh, damp cloth. He handed it to you, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smirk. “Here”, he said softly, nodding toward Dean. “I think the cleaning part’s more your department”.

You took the cloth, feeling the warmth of Sam’s subtle teasing cutting through the heaviness in the room. “Thanks”, you murmured, glancing at Dean’s battered face and knowing Sam was right. Sam stood, stretching his back as he packed up the remaining supplies.

“If anything feels off, call me”, Sam added, his tone serious again. He gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading toward the door. “I’m gonna check on Cas and Jack. We’ll get the Impala ready to roll as soon as Dean wakes up”.

“Alright”, you said, your voice soft but grateful. You watched as Sam exited the room, leaving you alone with Dean. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the steady, shallow rhythm of Dean’s breathing.

You turned back to him, your heart aching as you took in his injuries up close. His face was pale, bruised, and smeared with dried blood, and you could see the tension still lingering in his features even as he rested. You dipped the cloth into the basin of water Sam had left, wringing it out before carefully pressing it against the dried blood on Dean’s forehead.

“I swear, Dean”, you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You scare the hell out of me when you do this”.

You worked slowly, gently wiping away the blood and grime that clung to his skin. Every bruise and cut felt like a testament to how much he gave, how much he sacrificed for the people he cared about. The thought of him throwing himself into danger for your sake was both humbling and infuriating. You wanted to protect him just as much as he protected you, but Dean never seemed to let anyone do that for him.

As you finished cleaning Dean’s face, your heart ached at the sheer number of cuts and bruises scattered across his skin. You dipped the cloth back into the water, wringing it out before moving lower to clean his chest and arms. His torso was a mess—dark bruises marred his ribs, and patches of dried blood stuck stubbornly to his skin.

You worked carefully, your touch gentle as you wiped away the blood and grime. Dean remained still, his breathing steady but shallow, and you couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable he looked like this. Dean Winchester, the man who always seemed larger than life, reduced to a battered heap by his own stubbornness and selflessness.

As you moved to his stomach and the deep gash Sam had stitched, you swallowed hard, the sight of the angry red wound making your chest tighten. The bandages around his torso were soaked with blood in places, but they were doing their job, and for that, you were grateful. You worked around them as delicately as possible, not wanting to disturb Sam’s handiwork.

Finally, your attention shifted lower to his blood-soaked jeans. The fabric was dark and stiff with dried blood, and you knew it would have to come off to properly clean him up. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip, before reaching for his belt. Your fingers worked to unbuckle it, but the leather was stubborn, and you struggled for a moment before finally getting it undone. The zipper was just as uncooperative, but you managed to tug it down carefully without jostling him too much.

Sliding his jeans down was no easy task. The fabric clung to his legs, and you had to work slowly to avoid causing him any unnecessary pain.

As you reached the waistband of Dean’s boxers, your hands stilled, a deep flush rising to your cheeks. You weren’t sure how far you should go—this wasn’t something you’d ever done before, not like this. The intimate act of undressing him, especially in such a vulnerable state, felt different. Necessary, yes, but undeniably personal.

As your hands hovered at the waistband of Dean’s boxers, he stirred, his body shifting slightly under your touch. His eyelids fluttered open just a crack, and a faint, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, despite the exhaustion etched into his features.

“Well, sweetheart”, he rasped, his voice hoarse but still carrying that unmistakable Dean Winchester charm, “didn’t know you were this eager to get me out of my clothes”.

You froze, the blush on your cheeks deepening as your mouth opened to respond. But before you could form a single word, Dean’s expression shifted slightly, the smirk fading as something flickered behind his eyes—pride, discomfort, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Then, with a low grunt of effort, Dean pushed himself upright, his movements slow and deliberate. “That’s enough”, he muttered, his voice gruff, his tone leaving little room for argument. The sudden motion caused more blood to seep through the bandage on his torso, the dark red staining the already battered fabric.

“Dean!”, you exclaimed, alarmed, reaching out to steady him. “You’re going to rip the stitches! Lay back down”.

He ignored you, his jaw set as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m fine”, he said tersely, though the wince on his face betrayed the words. “You’ve done enough. I’ll handle the rest”.

You frowned, your worry mounting as you watched him try to shake off your care. “Dean, stop. You’re not in any shape to—”.

“Just… stop”, he interrupted, his voice low but firm, his eyes avoiding yours. His hands fumbled at his sides as he tried to stand, his stubbornness overriding all logic. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his pride was battling against his vulnerability.

You stepped closer, your hands hovering near him in case he lost his balance. “Dean, you’re being ridiculous. You’re hurt, and you need to let someone take care of you”.

Somehow, through sheer stubbornness, Dean managed to pull himself together enough to get dressed. His movements were shaky and clumsy, but his pride wouldn’t let him sit still any longer. His shirt, hastily thrown on, was already beginning to soak through with fresh blood, and his jeans hung loosely on his hips, the zipper still undone and his boots untied.

“Dean, stop this”, you pleaded, stepping in front of him as he stumbled toward the door. “You’re not in any condition to move on your own”.

He shot you a hard look, though the exhaustion in his eyes dulled the usual sharpness of his expression. “I’ve gotta… gotta check on the car”, he muttered, his voice weak but determined. “Can’t sit here doing nothing”.

You reached out, grabbing his arm in a desperate attempt to stop him, but he shook you off with more strength than you expected. “Dean!”, you called after him, frustration and fear mingling in your voice. “You’re going to kill yourself!”.

He ignored you, his steps unsteady but dogged as he opened the motel door and stepped outside. The cold air hit him immediately, and for a moment, he seemed to steady himself, his hand bracing against the doorframe. But it didn’t last long. As he took another step, his body swayed dangerously, and his knees buckled beneath him.

“Dean!”, you shouted, rushing forward, but you weren’t fast enough.

Sam, who had just been walking up from the Impala, saw the scene unfold. His eyes went wide with alarm, and within seconds, he was at Dean’s side, catching him before he could hit the ground. The anger on Sam’s face was evident, his jaw clenched tight as he heaved Dean back up to his feet with a strength born of pure frustration.

“Are you kidding me, Dean?”, Sam growled, his voice low but laced with fury. His eyes flicked to the fresh blood soaking through Dean’s shirt, his anger deepening. “You’re bleeding all over the damn place, and you think it’s a good idea to wander around like this? What the hell is wrong with you?”.

Dean groaned, his head lolling slightly as he tried—and failed—to straighten himself up. “I’m fine”, he muttered weakly, his voice slurring. “Just needed some air”.

“Air?”, Sam snapped, his grip tightening around Dean’s arm as he practically dragged him toward the Impala. “You need a hospital, Dean, not a walk in the parking lot!”.

You followed close behind, your heart pounding as you watched Sam wrestle Dean into the backseat of the Impala. Dean protested weakly, but Sam silenced him with a sharp glare, his patience clearly worn thin.

“Sit down, shut up, and don’t move”, Sam ordered, his tone brooking no argument. He grabbed a fresh towel from the trunk, pressing it firmly against Dean’s torso to try to stem the bleeding again. “You’ve already done enough damage for one day”.

Dean let out a weak chuckle, though it quickly turned into a groan of pain. “Always… so bossy”, he mumbled, his eyes half-lidded as he slumped against the seat.

Sam shot you a look as he climbed into the driver’s seat, his face a mix of anger and concern. “You’re riding with him”, he said firmly. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid”.

You nodded, quickly sliding into the backseat, after getting your and Dean´s stuff inside, next to Dean. As the Impala roared to life, you reached out to steady him, your hand resting gently on his arm. He looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips twitching into a faint, tired smile.

“Sorry, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Didn’t mean to scare you”.

You squeezed his arm gently, your heart aching at the sight of him so weak. “You’re impossible, you know that?”, you said softly, though your voice was filled with more relief than frustration. “But you’re going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it”.

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, his head resting against the window as the Impala sped off into the night.

A few hours later, the bunker was eerily quiet. The tension from earlier had simmered down, but the weight of the close call still lingered in the air. Sam, Cas, and Jack had taken turns keeping watch outside Dean’s room to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid again. It wasn’t just precaution—it was necessary when it came to Dean’s bullheaded stubbornness.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was different. Dean lay completely still, knocked out from the pain meds you’d practically forced him to take. His breaths were deep and steady, his body finally given a chance to rest after the relentless beating it had endured.

You were tucked at his side, your head resting gently on his shoulder. One of your hands lightly brushed over the fresh bandage on his torso, where a tiny blotch of blood had seeped through. You frowned slightly, your fingers ghosting over the edge of the gauze, careful not to disturb it. Even asleep, Dean looked tense, as if his body couldn’t fully relax even with the meds dulling the pain.

Biting your lip, you shifted closer, your arm draping over his chest carefully. The heat of his skin beneath yours was grounding, a reminder that he was here, alive, and slowly recovering. The fear from earlier still lingered in the back of your mind, but the steady rise and fall of his chest was enough to soothe it—at least for now.

Dean stirred slightly in his sleep, his head tilting toward you. A low, unintelligible murmur escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly. It was rare to see him this vulnerable, this unguarded, and despite the circumstances, it felt like a privilege to be here with him like this.

Your fingers brushed over his bandaged torso again, trailing lightly as if your touch could somehow will him to heal faster. You leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, your lips lingering for a moment. “You scared the hell out of me today”, you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. “But I’m not going anywhere, Dean. So you’d better stick around, too”.

Dean didn’t respond, still lost in the haze of painkillers and exhaustion, but his body relaxed just a fraction more against yours. You stayed like that, cuddled up beside him, your hand resting gently over his heart.

The next morning, the tension that had weighed heavily in the room the previous night seemed to have eased just slightly. Dean remained still, his body finally allowed the time it needed to recover. You sat on the edge of the bed, your knees tucked beneath you, watching him stir for the first time since the pain meds had knocked him out. His face, still bruised but more rested, twitched as he began to wake.

Sam stood at Dean’s side, meticulously checking the bandages wrapped around his torso. The bleeding had stopped, thank God, and his stitches were still intact. Sam gently pulled up the edge of the bandage, peering at the wound to make sure it was clean and hadn’t reopened. You winced slightly at the sight but couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Every moment felt like progress now, a step closer to Dean being himself again.

Dean let out a low groan as he stirred further, his head shifting against the pillow. His green eyes cracked open, blinking groggily at the light. His gaze landed on you first, and for a brief moment, his expression softened. “Hey”, he rasped, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Hey yourself”, you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. Relief flooded through you at hearing his voice, even if it was rough and tired.

Sam gave Dean a look as he finished checking the bandage, his hand pressing lightly against Dean’s shoulder to keep him still. “Stay down, Dean”, Sam warned, already seeing the stubborn glint in his brother’s eyes. “You’re not getting up yet”.

Predictably, Dean tried to sit up anyway, his jaw set in defiance. The movement was slow and strained, his muscles protesting loudly, but he managed to lift himself just a fraction before Sam firmly pressed him back down with one hand. “Dean, don’t”, Sam said sharply, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Dean let out a growl of frustration, his teeth gritting as he glared at Sam. “I’m fine, Sam”, he muttered, though the weakness in his voice betrayed the claim. “I don’t need a damn babysitter”.

“You’re not fine”, Sam shot back, his tone exasperated but edged with concern. “You almost bled out yesterday, and you’re still healing. You’re not moving until I say so”.

Dean grumbled under his breath, his irritation clear, but he didn’t fight Sam’s hand anymore. Instead, he turned his gaze back to you, his expression softening again as he took in your worried look. His voice, though hoarse, carried the familiar edge of determination. “You’re not hurt, right?”, he asked again, his tone soft but insistent.

Before you could respond, Dean winced, his breath hitching as Sam adjusted the position of his broken arm to ensure it stayed in the sling. “Damn it, Sam”, Dean muttered through gritted teeth, his irritation bubbling up even as he struggled to stay still. “Little warning next time?”.

Sam rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Dean’s grumbling. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that”, he said dryly. “Just stay still, Dean. You’re lucky it’s a clean break. If you screw this up, you’ll be stuck in that sling even longer”.

Dean groaned before he tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he waited for your answer. “You good?”, he asked again, his voice quieter this time, almost as if he didn’t trust his own strength to ask the question properly.

You reached out, placing your hand gently on his uninjured shoulder, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Dean”, you said softly, your voice steady despite the lingering tension in the room. “You made sure of that, didn’t you?”.

Dean’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good”, he murmured, his voice heavy with relief. “I just… I needed to hear it”.

Sam glanced between the two of you, his expression flickering with something unreadable before he stepped back, giving you both a moment. “I’ll go check on breakfast”, Sam muttered, grabbing the used gauze and other supplies before heading for the door. “Try not to do anything stupid while I’m gone, Dean”.

Dean let out a low chuckle, though it was weak and short-lived. “Define stupid”, he called after Sam, earning only a muttered “Don’t push it” in return.

Once the door clicked shut, the silence in the room felt heavy but not uncomfortable. You shifted closer, brushing your fingers lightly over the edge of his bandages, careful not to cause him any pain. “You need to stop worrying about me, Dean”, you said gently, your voice almost a whisper. “You’re the one who almost died”.

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he opened them again, meeting your gaze. “It’s what I do”, he said simply, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “I can’t turn it off”.

You leaned in closer, your hand resting over his heart. “Then let me take care of you for a change”, you whispered, your voice full of quiet determination. “You don’t have to do this alone, Dean. Not anymore”.

Dean didn’t reply, but the way his hand moved to rest over yours, his fingers brushing yours lightly, told you everything he couldn’t say. For now, that was enough.

Two days later, the tension in the bunker had eased slightly as Dean slowly regained his strength. He was finally able to walk again without collapsing with every step, but it was clear he was still struggling. His movements were slow and deliberate, though he tried to mask the discomfort with his usual stoic determination. He hated feeling weak, and you could see it in the tight set of his jaw and the way his hand frequently rested over the wound on his chest and stomach, as if trying to hold himself together.

You and Sam were in the kitchen, working together to prepare breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon filled the air, and the clatter of pans and utensils provided a comforting rhythm. Dean’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, a little uneven but steady enough to reach the kitchen doorway.

He paused there for a moment, leaning slightly against the frame as he surveyed the scene. His face was still swollen and bruised, a deep cut running from his forehead down to his brow and a split lip adding to the battle scars. He looked tired, but his gaze lingered on you, his expression softening as he watched you move around the kitchen.

What bothered him the most, though, wasn’t the pain or the slow recovery—it was the distance. You hadn’t kissed him since the accident, and it gnawed at him. He told himself it was understandable—you were worried about his injuries, focused on helping him heal—but it still left him feeling unsettled. Still, he wasn’t about to bring it up while Sam was around.

As if on cue, Sam grabbed a few empty bottles from the counter and muttered, “I’ll go grab some drinks from the garage. Be back in a minute”. He shot you both a small smile before disappearing down the hall.

The second Sam was out of earshot, Dean straightened slightly, though you could see the effort it cost him. He walked toward you, his broken arm awkwardly tucked against his side, his good hand resting on the counter for support.

“Hey”, he said, his voice rough but warm. His green eyes flicked to yours, searching for a reaction. “Need a hand?”.

You glanced over at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Dean, you should be resting”, you said, the concern in your voice impossible to hide.

Dean smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Resting’s boring”, he quipped, his tone teasing. He stepped closer, his gaze locking on yours. “Besides, I think there’s something I’ve been missing”.

You raised an eyebrow, pausing your movements. “What’s that?”.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his usual bravado tempered by the vulnerability he couldn’t quite hide. “You”, he said simply, his voice low. “Haven’t had a proper kiss in days”.

Your breath hitched slightly, your heart fluttering at his words. His expression softened further, a small, hopeful smile playing on his bruised lips as he waited for your response.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, as Dean’s words hung in the air. The way he looked at you, with that small, hopeful smile on his battered face, made your chest tighten. He was bruised, broken, and still healing, yet his focus wasn’t on himself—it was on you.

“You’ve been keeping track, huh?”, you teased softly, though your voice wavered slightly. You turned to face him fully, setting down the spatula you’d been holding.

Dean’s smirk widened just a fraction, the gesture tugging at his split lip, but he didn’t seem to care. “Hard not to”, he muttered, his green eyes locking on yours. “Kinda gets to a guy”.

You bit your lip, glancing at his hand, which still rested on the counter for support, and then at the arm awkwardly tucked against him. “Dean, you’re still recovering”, you said gently, your voice tinged with both affection and concern. “I didn’t want to—”.

“Didn’t want to what?”, Dean interrupted, his tone soft but insistent. “Didn’t want to hurt me? Sweetheart, you’ve patched me up more times than I can count. A kiss isn’t gonna kill me”.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at him. He always had a way of making things seem so simple, even when they weren’t. But this wasn’t complicated—not really. You had missed him, too, and now that you were looking into his eyes, you couldn’t resist any longer.

Carefully, you stepped closer, your hands reaching out to rest lightly on his good arm and his chest, avoiding the bandages. His warmth radiated through you, grounding you as you tilted your head up toward him. Dean’s gaze softened, and he leaned down slowly, his movements deliberate to avoid causing himself more pain.

Your lips met in a kiss that was gentle but filled with all the emotion you hadn’t been able to express in words. Dean’s hand slipped from the counter to rest lightly at your waist, his grip weak but firm enough to pull you closer. The kiss was tender, slower than usual, but it felt perfect.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breaths mingling in the quiet moment. “Happy now?”, you murmured, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

Dean let out a soft chuckle, his good hand brushing lightly against your side. “Getting there”, he replied, his voice low and warm. “Might need a few more of those, just to be sure”.

You laughed softly, your hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair away from his forehead, careful of the cut. “We’ll see”, you teased, though your smile gave away your willingness.

Before either of you could say anything more, you heard the faint sound of Sam’s boots approaching from down the hall. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as he straightened slightly, his smirk returning. “Perfect timing, as always”, he muttered under his breath.

You stepped back, your cheeks still flushed as you turned your attention back to the stove. Dean leaned against the counter, trying to look nonchalant, though the small, satisfied smile on his face was impossible to miss. When Sam entered the kitchen, drinks in hand, he gave you both a curious glance but didn’t comment, much to your relief.

Dean adjusted his stance subtly, as if trying to mask the discomfort he was clearly feeling.

“How you feelin’?”, Sam asked, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of concern. He turned to help you with the food, setting plates on the counter while glancing back at Dean.

Dean shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement, though he quickly tried to cover it with a smirk. “Like I just walked away from a fight with a Mack truck”, he replied, his voice laced with dry humor. “But, you know, still handsome as ever”.

You rolled your eyes with a small smile as you flipped the pancakes. “Still milking the charm, huh?”.

Dean’s smirk widened just a fraction, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Sam, however, wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. He set down the utensils he was holding and crossed his arms, giving Dean his signature big-brother stare.

“Dean, seriously”, Sam said, his voice dropping into that stern tone that always managed to cut through Dean’s deflection. “You shouldn’t even be standing, let alone wandering around the bunker like you’re fine”.

Dean huffed, straightening up slightly, though his hand instinctively went to his chest, resting just above the bandages. “I’m not ‘wandering’, Sammy”, he shot back, his voice tinged with irritation. “I’m walking to the kitchen. Big difference”.

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Your shirt’s already pulling blood through, and you’re favoring your side like it’s about to fall off. Sitting down wouldn’t kill you”.

Dean grumbled under his breath, his pride refusing to let him admit that Sam was probably right. Before he could retort, you cut in, your voice firm but gentle. “Dean, maybe you should listen to him. Breakfast is almost ready, and you can sit at the table while we finish”.

Dean’s gaze flicked to you, his irritation softening as he caught the concern in your eyes. “Fine”, he muttered begrudgingly, pushing off the counter and making his way—slowly—to the table. His movements were stiff and deliberate, and you could tell he was in pain despite his best efforts to hide it.

Sam sighed as he watched Dean sit down, the tension easing from his shoulders slightly. “Stubborn as hell”, he muttered, shaking his head before turning back to help you.

You smiled softly, glancing over at Dean as he settled into his seat, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the table. Despite his protests, you could see the relief on his face as he finally allowed himself to rest. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

After breakfast, you and Dean made your way to the small room where the TV was set up. Dean insisted the couch would be fine for him, brushing off any suggestion that he should head back to bed. You could see the determination in his eyes, but it was tempered by the clear discomfort in his movements. His hand stayed pressed to his chest over the bandaged wound, and the crimson stain on his shirt—a new one, his tenth in just two days—was all the proof you needed that he wasn’t as fine as he claimed to be.

“You know”, you started as you grabbed the remote and sat down beside him, “I think at this point, we should just skip the shirts altogether. It’d save me from constantly doing your bloody laundry”.

Dean smirked faintly, his head leaning back against the couch. “What can I say? Red’s my color”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Seriously, though, Dean. You’ve bled through more shirts in two days than most people do in a lifetime. Maybe that’s a sign to, oh, I don’t know, stay in bed?”.

Dean waved you off, clearly not interested in entertaining the idea. “The couch is bed enough”, he said, adjusting his position with a slight wince. “I’m not gonna spend the whole day lying around. I’ll go stir-crazy”.

You gave him a skeptical look, but you didn’t push. You knew how much Dean hated feeling weak, and while you wanted him to rest, you also knew that sometimes, it was better to let him have these small victories.

“Fine”, you said, leaning back against the couch. “But if you pass out again, I’m dragging you back to bed whether you like it or not”.

Dean chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with fatigue. “Noted, sweetheart”, he said, reaching for the remote. “Now, what are we watching?”.

As he flipped through the channels, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His face was still bruised and swollen, the cut above his brow stitched neatly but still angry and red. Despite his stubbornness, he looked exhausted, and the sight made your heart ache.

“You okay?”, you asked gently, your voice cutting through the sound of the TV.

Dean paused, his thumb hovering over the remote’s buttons. He turned to look at you, his green eyes softening slightly. “Yeah”, he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I’m okay”. He shifted slightly on the couch, a faint grimace crossing his face as he tried to get comfortable. He let out a low grumble, his hand still pressed lightly to his chest as he glanced at you. “Now, c’mere”, he muttered, his voice soft but insistent.

You blinked at him, tilting your head in slight confusion. “Dean, you’re supposed to be resting—”.

“Yeah, yeah”, he cut you off, waving his good hand weakly before letting it drop to the couch. “I’m resting. Just… get over here”. He slowly and awkwardly lifted his uninjured arm, the movement clearly a struggle but one he was determined to push through.

A small smile crept onto your lips as you saw the stubborn look in his eyes. “Dean, you’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met”, you said softly, but you moved closer anyway, sliding toward him on the couch.

“And you love it”, he teased, his voice rough but warm.

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue. Carefully, you nestled yourself beside him, mindful of his injuries as you rested your head gently on his shoulder. His arm came around you slowly, his hand settling on your waist with a surprising gentleness. The warmth of his touch was comforting, grounding, even as you could feel the tension in his muscles from the effort.

“There”, he muttered, his voice quieter now. “That’s better”.

You glanced up at him, your head still resting against his shoulder. His green eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion clear in his expression, but there was a soft smile on his bruised lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”, you murmured, your tone fond.

“Yeah”, he replied, his voice barely above a whisper as his head leaned back against the couch.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

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[lucygraysboy]

“i wish i was lyin’…” he laughs, watching her cover her mouth and try to refrain from throwing up. it feels good to spend time with someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn’t expect him to enjoy grilled eel just because they do. “you’re perfect just the way you are, lucy gray. i hope you know that you’re my favorite person in the whole wide world,” billy muses with a smile, wrapping his strong arm around her petite frame when she turns around and hugs him. careful not to spill their coffees. “sometimes, i really miss that place. you know, the one somewhere down yonder in some hills and hollers where we take care of each other.” though, maybe he just misses what it used to be when his ma was still alive, the feeling of coming back home to her loving arms and sweet smiles… “i’m so excited about comin’ back home for christmas. with you.” he rests his cheek atop her head again, eyes fixated on the changing train stations, making sure they don’t miss their stop. holding her feels good, real good, and he doesn’t want to let go. “we really should go there someday, take a week or two off and just explore. i know there’s some great hiking trails down there with beautiful views.” too bad filming for the show he’s starring in, rebel of the west, is supposed to begin right after new year’s or he’d take her on that trip around valentine’s. but maybe for her birthday or something… he’ll figure it out. “that’s the worst part of new york city, no questions asked.” the homelessness crisis. it breaks his heart to see the less fortunate people just living on the streets. “oh, 96th street! that means we’ll be gettin’ off on the next station!”

“you gotta be lyin’…” covering her mouth with ring clad hand, trying to hold in puke reflexes. thinking there’s nothing sophisticated about it, but down right sickening like people in the south eating frog legs. “oh, i bet i do. that must’ve been the first giveaway.” playing along, an amused smile on her face. “oh, you know. just somewhere down yonder in some hills and hollers where we take care of each other.” lucy gray replies, gently laughing before the sweet bird nickname makes her mushy instead and she’s hugging up to him. starbucks bag hanging off her wrist, coffee in other hand, making do with what room she’s got to press herself against him and snuggle into him. “that’d be fun, i can’t even imagine what new mexico is like. that’d be surreal to find out, too. like new york has been.” cheek nuzzling against his chest, feeling extra affectionate. "my poor billy bean, but least you had toilet paper to offer. she didn’t give you a chance.” lucy gray softly laughs at their harmless joke, but she’ll silently give that lady a prayer to wish a better life for her.

[science-lings]

It’s funny that like every 2-6 months Bruce makes the decision that he clearly makes everyone’s life worse by being in it and distances himself to keep them safe and realizes that either he needs them or they would actually benefit to have him around sometimes so he has to casually make everything right again or get bullied into being a dad again.

Dick is kind of sick of it but also so in tune to the cycle that he can accurately predict when it’s due to occur, in which case he notifies the batfam (-Bruce) group chat. Everyone has their ways of dealing with it from suddenly wanting to hang out (read: being annoyingly clingy) all day (Jason) to convoluted schemes to root out the cause of Bruce’s current depressive spiral and proving that he can’t do it alone (Tim), to not doing anything at all bc that is ‘not my fucking problem’ (Steph), etc.

What they haven’t all realized is that even when Bruce is going through his sad little hermit episodes, he would still be at their sides the moment they ask for him because no matter how much self hatred he feels at any given moment, his kids needing his help snaps him out of it so fast it gives him whiplash.

[hazbinshusk]

huskerdust x fem!reader. a birthday present for the wonderful, inimitable @mckeeks. if anyone deserves to be lovingly spoilt (and dicked down) by this duo, it is unequivocally her. ❤️ happy birthday, babe!

when you reluctantly reveal to the other residents of the hazbin hotel that you're still a virgin, angel graciously offers up his and husk's services in rectifying that condition for you. and how could you turn down such a kind offer from hell's best couple?

(as always, the dynamic here is one in which husk serves as the hinge between the reader and angel). way longer than I thought it'd be - 7.8k.

featuring: afab/fem-presenting reader, established!huskerdust, polyamory, soft!dom angel dust, voyuerism/exhibitionism, praise kink, lowkey daddy kink, oral sex (reader receiving), handjobs (husk receiving), masturbation, facials, husk has barbs (and you're into it), unprotected sex (it's hell so who cares), gendered petnames, the hotel rooms have cuck chairs (sorry).

“Sooo…” Angel draws out liltingly, his glass clasped between two hands, and you immediately regret accepting his invitation to join him at the bar. His voice isn’t teasing – just curious – but you can still feel your face begin to burn before he even gets the question you know is coming past his lips and into the air between you. “…A virgin, huh?”

Dear God or whoever is listening, if there is any chance that the ground could open up and swallow you whole, you really needed it to happen right about now.

“Angel.” Husk says from his usual position on the other side of the bar. He has his back to you as he sorts the bottles back into their designated positions after a long night of ‘family bonding’ with the rest of the residents. You’re grateful, for once, that his eyes aren’t on you. Husk’s voice is edged with a gentleness you think might be reserved just for the spider. Still, there’s a warning there, too. “Leave it.”

Where he’d usually make some teasing or sarcastic remark, Angel’s silent for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice stays gentle, still curious. “You one of those god-fearin’ types or ya just never had the opportunity?”

You loved Charlie, you really did, but right now…

Right now, fuck her and her bonding activities.

“I just…” you swallow the knot sticking in the middle of your throat, keeping your eyes trained pointedly away from Angel’s face. You notice that maybe Husk’s hand pauses for a moment, as though he’s waiting for an explanation too. Well, who wouldn’t? You might have died younger than most, but not young enough to just chalk up your inexperience to the innocence of youth. “I just never met anyone I liked, I guess. And Hell’s not exactly lousy with decent men.”

“Huh.” Angel says simply, finishing his drink. He sets the glass back down, stretching one pair of arms above his head, the other two behind him. He settles all four of his hands in his lap as Husk refills his drink. And then,

“You should get Husk to help ya out with that.”

Your cheeks flame, and Husk chokes on the drink he’s just taken. Eyes watering and his throat burning with the whiskey that sticks in it, he coughs his admonishment. “Angel!”

You grope for a response, for a joke that’ll get the conversation away from your sex life… or lack thereof. Before you can find one, Angel continues, ignoring the way Husk is still hacking up the last of his drink. Even as mortified as you are, you feel your lips quirk upwards slightly in amusement as Husk reaches blindly for a new bottle before he’s even done coughing up the remains of the first.

“Look at you two, blushin’ like some kinda…” Angel smirks as he glances pointedly at you. “…well.”

You frown. “I really don’t need you mocking me, Angel.”

“I ain’t mockin’ ya dollface,” he replies, raising two hands in surrender. Still, that placid note stays in his voice, something that could be read as sincerity if what he was offering wasn’t such a ridiculous notion. “I’m bein’ serious here. Huskie’s downright godly in the sack.”

Husk finally turns around to face the two of you properly, bright pink staining his muzzle. You notice his eyes dart towards you, and you could swear the blush deepens. The idea that it does sends a thrill through you, and you clutch tightly at your glass as though it could somehow stem the feelings churning inside you.

Husk was Angel’s. You’d accepted that, you had. You’d written off your attraction to the bartender as some silly crush. You didn’t think about him like that anymore.

You didn’t.

“Legs, I’m beggin’ ya,” Husk says, even as he refills the spider’s glass, “For the sake of whatever you believe in, please shut the fuck up.”

“What?” Angel protests, waving a hand almost dismissively. He actually looks confused by the objection. “I ain’t got a problem sharin’ if it’s with a friend.”

Husk sighs, directing his eyes towards the ceiling. There’s a tightness to how he stands, in the way his tail is switching back and forth behind him. He’s still avoiding your eye, his face still warm with colour.

“That ain’t the—” he breaks off, taking a deep pull from the bottle in his hand. He grimaces, tilting the bottle to read the label – watermelon vodka of all things – but shrugs and takes another drink as though it helps him gather his thoughts. Or his nerves. “She ain’t a toy, Angel. You can’t jus—”

“You tellin’ me ya ain’t interested anymore?” Angel interjects pointedly, raising a brow.

Husk stiffens, his ears dropping back against his skull. “I—”

“What?” you finally find your voice again, straightening slightly in your seat. You turn your attention fully to the bartender, and he meets your gaze with equally wide eyes. “You… you were interested? In me?”

“I…” Husk seems to struggle for words for a moment before he sighs, an almost sheepish, self-deprecating smile touching his lips as he exhales. “C’mon, doll. I’d have to be blind not to notice you.”

Something warm and wonderfully light settles in your chest, and Angel’s smile widens as he takes in your reaction. You jump as you feel one of his hands touch your arm.

“Told ya so,” he says, skimming his hand up along your arm as he stands. He continues to caress across your shoulder blades, moving to stand behind you. “Shoulda seen it, baby. How he’d bend himself all outta shape feelin’ guilty for feelin’ all warm and gooey over ya.”

“Angel, I didn’t—”

“’s okay,” he assures you gently, his hands taking your shoulders and waist. He leans against your back, meeting Husk’s eye as he speaks in your ear. Angel’s voice is low; his warm breath against your neck makes you shiver. “Like I said, I don’t mind sharin’.”

Your eyes flick back to Husk.

“So, why not get somethin’ out of it? Huskie here can be real romantic about it… he’ll make ya feel so, so good…”

You can feel your breath leave you unsteadily. Husk’s pupils all but eclipse the gold of his eyes, and his gaze falls to your mouth for a moment before he meets your eye again.

“There’s no pressure, baby,” Angel assures you, and you can tell he means it. “I’m jus’ sayin’, we’d have a lot of fun together.”

“‘We’?” you repeat, surprised enough to turn and face him. Angel wears his pride like a second skin, and as far as you were aware, he never swung back the other way without being paid for it. You try to find the right words as Angel beckons Husk to join the two of you, and heat pools in the small of your back as you hear, feel, the bartender round the bar towards you slowly. You choose the words carefully. “I didn’t think you were…”

Angel smirks, lifting your chin with two delicate fingers. That same heat burns in the pit of your stomach at the gentle dominance of the action. “Don’t panic, dollface. I ain’t joinin’ in the ride. It’s your show; yours and Husk’s.”

He leans down, bringing his face so, so much closer to yours. You feel Husk’s presence beside the two of you, and Angel reaches out to take his hand. Husk takes it wordlessly; he’s so close you can feel the soft fur of his stomach brush against your knee as he breathes. It puts images in your head of him stepping between your thighs, taking hold of your hips… trapping you between his body and the bar…

There’s a heat in Angel’s eyes that makes it impossible for you to look away; one that floods through every inch of you. It makes your entire body tingle with need for connection, for touch. Angel seems to recognize this; he reaches up with another hand to brush hair behind your ear and his smile twitches wider when you shudder.

“I jus’ want a front row seat.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Nerves war with the excitement that has bloomed in the very centre of you, and you feel alien and out of place sitting on the bed, one knee bent against the mattress, the other leg hanging off the side. Husk sits in a mirrored position, wings tucked tight against his back. He’s so close that his knee bumps against yours.

The lights are low, but his eyes still glow as they study you. Your eyes keep falling to your hands where they tangle in your lap before they find his again, and you can feel just how flushed your cheeks are under his gaze. The feathered end of his tail twitches back and forth slowly beside the bed, and he clears his throat.

“We don’ have to do anything you don’ want to, sweetness.” he says in a low murmur, his voice all warm velvet and silk. The pet-name makes you press your lips together, the tip of your tongue darting out to wet them. Husk’s gaze falls to follow the movement, and he inhales sharply. “We… I don’ want you to feel like we’re forcin’ you into anything y—”

You lean forward and press your lips to Husk’s impulsively in a brief, fleeting kiss. You hear, feel, the quiet mrrp of surprise he makes, his wings fluttering and relaxing behind him. You can feel the softness of his lips before you pull away again, your face aflame. He blinks at you before his lips curl into a smile, and your breath catches in your throat as he closes the distance between you again.

Husk’s hand cups your cheek in the same moment his lips meet yours. This time the kiss lingers, and your nerves give way to desire as you feel his other paw touch your knee. Husk kisses you softly, searchingly, his lips brushing gently against yours. Your own lips part, his nose bumping against yours as you take a breath. Then he’s kissing you again and you whimper as you feel his tongue touch your bottom lip, begging permission.

God, the way he groans quietly when you part your lips and meet his tongue tentatively with your own.

Husk strokes your cheek with his thumb, the pad of his palm soft against your skin as he slides his claws carefully into your hair. It makes you shiver and you lean into his embrace, reaching up with uncertain hands to card fingers through the fur of his chest. A rumble sounds from deep within him, a rusty purr that you feel as a light buzz under your fingertips.

You can’t help the light, breathless laugh that leaves you as you realise that’s what it is – you’ve made the bartender purr – and Husk smiles into your kiss as he pulls you back to him, catching your lips again. His touch on your knee becomes more confident as you relax into his embrace, and he ghosts the tips of his claws up over your inner thigh, teasing just under the hem of your dress.

“Husk…” you breathe his name against his lips and he chuckles, eyes closed as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, it sounds so pretty comin’ from you…” he murmurs, his nose cold against your heated skin as he moves to kiss you again.

Your hand journeys up from his chest to slide through the fur of his neck and up to his cheek, and Husk leans into your touch with a soft smile. His paws close around your thighs and he tugs you closer, your legs unfolding to rest on either side of his. Husk’s touch moves to your hips and he kisses you again, guiding you gently back against the pillows as his body covers yours.

Winding your arms around his neck, you feel his feathers tickle at your knees as you bend them to rest against his hips. The move brings him flush against you, and Husk breaks away from your lips with a breathless sound halfway between a groan and a disbelieving laugh.

“Fuck…” Husk lets his head fall forward, his forehead bumping against your collarbone. You feel his hips rock into yours before he can stop himself, and you whimper as you feel his arousal press up between your thighs. He exhales shakily, brushing his lips against your shoulder, your throat, your cheek before he meets your eye again. “’s this okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, carding your fingers through the fur at the base of his ear. Husk shudders against you, eyes rolling back slightly at the touch. A crease forms in his brow as he forces himself not to move, not to grind himself down against your warmth. Your dress is bunched up around him, baring your inner thighs to his tickling fur, his breath warm against your cheek. “Yeah, please… do it again, Husk.”

“Christ,” Husk mutters as you tease at his ear again, knocking his hat off his head. He kisses you firmly, deeply, one paw taking hold of your thigh and squeezing the soft flesh in a way that you could almost call possessive. “You got no idea how dangerous you are…”

“Holy shit, you two are cute.”

Angel’s voice breaks through the haze between the two of you, and you pull away from Husk slightly as you’re suddenly reminded that the spider is there. Your cheeks flush with heat; you’d been so wrapped up in the man in bed with you that you’d almost forgotten your friend was watching. Instead of being cowed by his interruption however, you’re almost taken aback by how much it excites you, knowing he’s watching.

Husk presses another kiss to the edge of your jaw before he turns his head to roll his eyes and smile at his paramour. “You plannin’ on jus’ addin’ colour commentary here, legs?”

“For now, yeah,” Angel replies with a grin, lounging comfortably in the armchair in the corner. He’s watching the two of you with hooded eyes, and there’s something almost sensual in the way he strokes a hand lazily back and forth along the velvety fabric of the arm of the chair. “I’m jus’ waitin’ for ya to do that thing with your tongue that’ll make her go blind for a second.”

Husk snickers and, feeling daring, you lean up to tease the side of his throat with your lips. You feel him groan as your teeth graze over his pulse point. The bartender’s hand tightens on your thigh, hitching it higher against his hip. “Fuck…”

“Ooh, she’s a quick study,” Angel coos, and you thrill under the praise as Husk turns his head to catch your lips in another kiss. “Think you can keep up with her, kitty?”

“Don’ call me that,” Husk mumbles without breaking the kiss, and Angel giggles. Husk dusts kisses down over your throat, and you feel him grin against your neck when he sucks a bruise into the curve where it meets your shoulder and you curse. The sound of it is low and throaty and begs for more, and Husk rewards it with a louder purr and a trail of kisses that teases down along the neckline of your dress. You arch up into his touch as his lips brush over your sternum, his whiskers tickling at the swell of your breasts.

His paw continues its journey up your thigh, taking the skirt of your dress with it. His tail sways back and forth behind him, and when he reaches your hip, he pauses, pressing one more kiss to your chest before pulling back to meet your eye. A smirk plays over his features, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide with desire.

“You got me at a disadvantage here, sweetness,” he murmurs, lips catching yours again briefly. “You’re a little overdressed for the occasion.”

You giggle. “Well, of course you’d think that; you’re the one who walks around the hotel half-naked all day.”

Husk chuckles, and you hear Angel hum a laugh, too. The cat kisses you, his thumb hooking in the band of your underwear and snapping it tauntingly against your hip. “Cheeky girl.”

You sit up and Husk helps you tug your dress up over your head, and God the way he looks at you…

Pulling him down into another kiss, you massage your fingers against the base of his ears and Husk moans, rough and worn and needy. He retakes your hips as you buck up against him, eager to feel him again with one less barrier between you. Husk snickers, kissing your cheek.

“Slow down, princess,” he tells you gently, claws tickling against your ribs as he strokes them soothingly. He hooks them in either side of your underwear, and you whine. He draws them down your legs slowly, pulling away from you long enough for you to kick them away. “I’ve got you, baby. One step at a time.”

You hear Angel shift in his chair and look towards him automatically. The spider smiles and winks, still watching the two of you with that same addictive intensity. You hold his gaze as Husk kisses his way back down your chest, sliding your bra strap down your shoulder gently. You gasp, arching up under Husk at the first touch of his tongue to your nipple. Angel’s smile widens.

Husk’s tongue is warm and wet and deliciously rough, and you moan as he sucks a teasing pressure around the hardened point. It makes your fingers tighten in his fur, and his other paw comes up to brush is claws over your other nipple. He pinches it and tugs, and the sudden pain makes you jump, and Husk snickers into your chest.

“Fuck, Husk…” you whine, eyes squeezed closed. You shift long enough to reach behind yourself and unclip your bra, tossing it aside as Husk immediately returns his attention to your breasts, paw kneading into the soft flesh. “Shit…”

“Ain’t he jus’ got the most magic tongue:” Angel coos, standing slowly. He makes his way towards the bed slowly, focused intently on how Husk’s back arches as he grinds himself into the mattress between your thighs. “Oh, he’s gonna make you feel so good, baby…”

Husk lingers at your breasts a moment longer, still purring deeply, before he continues lower. He dusts soft, teasing kisses down over your belly, paws smoothing down over the curve of your waist. He pauses just above the apex of your thighs, pressing the cold heart of his nose hard against your skin and inhaling deeply, his eyes closed.

“Christ…” he mutters, running his paws down over your hips and over your thighs, pressing them gently apart. His back arches in a long, fluid motion as Angel scratches his fingers through the fur along the cat’s spine. The spider’s touch lingers between his wing joints, and Husk groans, bumping his forehead against your thigh. “Fuuuuck… you smell so good, baby…”

“Husk…” you murmur, an ache throbbing between your thighs. You press your hips up, desperate for him to bring his mouth lower. “Please…”

“Oh, don’t you sound so pretty when you beg?” Husk rumbles, pressing an infuriatingly chaste kiss to your inner thighs, first one, then the other, his eyes watching your face hungrily. The smirk he wears is maddening, as is the snicker you hear from Angel. The spider sits next to you on the bed, stroking his fingers through your hair. You lean into the touch, eyes closing, a frown tugging at your lips as your impatience grows.

“Don’t she?” Angel agrees, nails scratching pleasantly against your scalp. “Be a nice kitty for her, baby.”

Husk’s smirk widens and Angel slips behind you, lifting you gently just long enough to fold his legs under you so your head is in his lap. The spider winks at you again, upside down, just as Husk finally slides his tongue slowly up over your clit.

“Oh, fuck!”

Angel giggles at the way you gasp, your hips rising off the sheets. Your eyes roll back as Husk flicks his tongue over your clit and the cat groans into your cunt at the taste of you. His paws clutch at your thighs, pinning you against the mattress, and while he planned on taking you apart slowly, the taste of you is already too addictive to let him pace himself.

Angel keeps stroking your hair with two hands, and your own reach down to grab at fistfuls of the fur between Husk’s ears. The bartender’s wings quiver as your nails scratch at his scalp.

Grinding your hips up against his mouth as best you can under his hold, you bite your lip against the downright pornographic sounds you can feel catching in his throat as Husk tortures your clit. Angel smirks, another hand coming up to glide over your chin, gently unhooking you lip from beneath your teeth. He giggles as you wrap your lips around two of his fingers blindly, curl your tongue against them and suck.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” he sighs, and Husk moans between your legs as he watches. “Oh, you’re in for a fuckin’ treat if you get her on her knees, Husk-baby.”

Husk chuckles, fangs grazing your inner thigh for a moment before he slides his tongue over your clit and down into your dripping cunt. He fucks you with his tongue eagerly, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit. When your fingers brush against the shell of Husk’s ears he purrs again, and you moan, loud and broken and keening as the sound vibrates up into your pussy.

Angel hums approvingly, withdrawing his hand to slide it down around your throat. He cups it, squeezes it just a little, and you cum with a hoarse cry of Husk’s name. There’s no doubt you’re being loud enough to be heard in the hallway but you don’t care, not with the way Husk’s tongue feels inside you, the way his claws are digging into the flesh of your hips.

Husk doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, your thighs clamping around his ears, one hand clutching at the fur between them. You can feel a wet patch on the comforter beneath your ass, and Husk’s expression is decidedly smug as he climbs back up your body, one suspender hanging off his shoulder. Angel intercepts him before you can kiss him, and you whimper as they kiss over you, Angel cupping the bartender’s head with two hands. You can see their tongues sliding against each other and when Angel moans at the taste of you, you whimper, grinding your hips up against Husk’s clothed erection.

He groans, breaking away from Angel with a breathless chuckle. “Needy little thing…”

Husk leans back down to kiss you, and you can taste a heady mix of the sweetness of Angel’s last cocktail and your own arousal on his tongue. When you reach between you to fumble with the fastening of his pants, he closes a large hand over both of yours, stilling you.

“Slow down, pet. I’ve…” he kisses you gently again, steadying his voice. “Hell ain’t exactly left me with the anatomy you’re expectin’…”

“Say it like that and you’re gonna scare her,” Angel teases, reaching out to rub his fingers against the base of Husk’s ear. The bartender purrs, leaning into it instinctively. Angel looks down at you, giving you a smile that’s somehow both reassuring and downright lascivious. “You’re gonna love it, aren’t ya, babydoll?”

You nod, and there’s a surprising thrill that’s curling inside you at Husk’s warning. Or maybe that’s the way his claws trail lightly up over your hip. He swipes his thumb over your clit again, and you jerk under the touch.

“Angel…”

“Look at her, Huskie,” Angel coos, giving his partner a teasing pout. “It’d be cruel to deprive our sweet girl now. She’s about thirty seconds away from beggin’ ya for it. ‘Sides,” he shrugs. “I got lube if she needs it.”

Husk raises a brow. “You’ve got lube?”

“What d’ya take me for? Some kinda amateur?” Angel says, affronted. “Course I’ve got lube!”

The bartender chuckles, rolling his eyes and apologising by pulling the spider into another kiss. You feel his paw loosen its grip where it still holds your hands against his zipper, and you palm his erection through his pants. Husk moans, shuddering under the touch as he pulls away to meet your eye. “We… we take it slow, alright?”

You nod, maybe too quickly from the way Angel smirks, but Husk accepts it and releases you. You make quick work of his fly as he slips off his suspenders, and your eyes widen as his cock is freed from the fabric. It’s tapered slightly, thickening to the base, and along the length of it are small, pointed barbs. Angel brushes hair away from your face, cooing softly. “They’re gonna feel so good inside you, baby… you’re gonna take his cock so good for us…”

You exhale shakily, a sound echoed by Husk as you wrap your fingers gently around the base of his cock. You stroke him experimentally, and the way the barbs feel against your palm… Husk moans as you squeeze him, stroke your thumb over the tip of his cock. He peppers kisses over your forehead, your temples and your cheeks, catching your lips again and kissing you deeply as you pump his cock slowly. Angel hums his approval and when Husk kisses your brow Angel hooks his fingers under the cat’s chin, bringing him up for another kiss of his own.

You can hear every reaction Husk makes to your touch, the way his breath catches, the way he moans into Angel’s mouth. He thrusts himself into your hand, and you stroke your other hand through the fur over his ribs. When Angel reaches past him to massage the base of Husk’s wings the cat gasps, jerking away from the both of you. “Christ, fuck, you two are gonna kill me here.”

You giggle, and Husk grins, leaning up to kiss Angel’s cheek before he settles himself back between your thighs. Your breath catches as the head of his cock presses up against your cunt, and Angel strokes your cheek as Husk slides an inch slowly into you.

“Oh, God, Husk…” you whine, hips shifting as you feel his cock stretch you open. “Fuck…”

“Look at you,” Angel whispers sweetly as Husk pulls back and presses into you again, sliding another inch into you. The bartender groans as you flex around him, his paws tight on your hips. “Look at how pretty you look like this...”

You reach up to clutch at the pillows and Angel wraps his hand around yours, interlacing his fingers with your own. Husk’s body is warm and firm and a wonderful weight over yours, his face buried in the curve of your neck as he tries to maintain this torturous, glacial pace. Each thrust of his hips stretches you further, and it aches wonderfully, each barb of his cock taking the breath from your lungs in a little ‘hahh’.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” Angel continues, trailing fingers of another hand along your other collarbone. “Bein’ such a good girl for daddy… makin’ him feel so good.”

Husk moans into your shoulder, teeth grazing the supple flesh. His paw spreads possessively over your waist, kneading into the flesh of your belly.

“Listen to how hot you get him,” Angel says, a third hand scratching the fur between Husk’s ears. “Look at how kitty fucks you… he’s tryin’ so hard not to hurt you, baby. But you’re so wet for him, aren’t you? You’re so wet and so ready and all you gotta do is say ‘please’… say ‘please’ pretty baby and Huskie’s gonna fuck you so deep and so good… fuck you like you deserve for bein’ such a good girl for him…”

“Fuck…” you whine, rocking your hips up to meet Husk’s. He’s almost completely inside you; the way he corkscrews his hips makes the barbs of his cock drag against the flesh of your cunt deliciously, and your eyes roll back at the feeling of it. “Fuck!”

“C’mon, baby,” Angel urges, sugar-sweet. The hand on your shoulder dips lower, teasing over the curve of your breast. He flicks his fingers over your nipple, and your breath catches in what could almost be a sob. “Beg nice and pretty for daddy and he’ll fuck you just how you need it. “

“Please,” you whine, brow furrowed in frustration as Husk pulls out completely, sliding his cock up against your clit. His breathing is heavy, torn with need of his own, and he dips his head to kiss you, hard and deep. You moan into his mouth as his barbs drag against your clit, and you wrap your arm around his neck, your other hand still locked in Angel’s. “Please, Husk… fuck me, please… Fuck… I need you to… please, Husk…”

“That’s a good girl,” Husk sighs, and the two of you moan in unison as he slides his cock back into you, his hips finally, finally flush with yours. “Holy… fuuuuck…”

“Listen to you two,” Angel says admiringly, his voice strung with his own desire. “Sound so fuckin’ pretty together…”

Husk fucks you deep; each time he pulls back he thrusts in again far enough to make your breath leave you in quick, cut moans. You raise your knees higher, trying to get him deeper, and Angel reaches down with his lower arms, hooks his hands under your knees and draws them up towards your chest. The angle makes Husk’s cock brush against something inside you with each press of his hips into yours and you keen with it, the sound tearing hoarsely from your throat, high-pitched and broken.

“That’s it, baby,” Angel tells you. “Tell daddy how good he feels; tell him how good he feels fucking you.”

“So good…” your breath catches in your throat as Husk touches a careful claw to your clit, your body shuddering with the added stimulation. “Fuck, it’s so good…”

Husk kisses the other side of your neck, tongue and teeth teasing over your pulse point before he kisses you again, sweet and deep and addictive. A purr rumbles through him as he speaks against your lips, bumping his nose against yours. “You feel so fuckin’ good, doll. Fuck, you’re like pure fuckin’ silk…”

Your voice comes out high-pitched, a whine that matches the tears burning in the corners of your eyes. “Please, Husk… I’m so close, I can’t… Husk…”

“’s okay, baby, I got you,” he kisses you again, brief but tender. “I got you, doll. Fuck, you’re so… Christ…”

You clutch at the fur at the back of his head, urging his face back down to your neck. Husk moves obediently, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck just as he thrusts deep into your quivering cunt. You moan aloud as you cum, eyes rolling back and rocking your hips up against his as soon as Angel releases your thighs. Husk groans into your throat, keeping his teeth buried in your sensitive flesh until he feels you slowly relax again. He laps gently at the mark he’s left behind, the roughness of his tongue making your body jerk with each stroke of it against your neck.

Husk’s breathing is just as laboured as yours, and he presses kisses over your cheeks, your chin as he steadies his hips. You whine as he slips his cock out of you, bucking up against him as he slides the barbs of it slowly against your clit.

“Fucking… holy shit,” you reach down to grasp at his hips, and Husk chuckles brokenly into the edge of your jaw as he stops moving. He kisses the bridge of your nose and you wrinkle it when it tickles, and you echo his laugh breathlessly as he brings his lips back to yours. Husk purrs against your lips.

“Fuck, you two are hot as shit,” Angel sighs, squeezing your hand. You hum happily, squeezing back, and Husk breaks the kiss to lean up and kiss him. It’s soft and languid and sweet, and Husk groans into it, rutting himself against your thigh. Angel coos against Husk’s lips, kissing him between words. “You still need to cum, don’t ya, kitty?”

Husk nods, groaning as you stroke your fingers through the fur of his chest. “Don’t tease me, legs.”

“Never, baby,” Angel promises with the sweetest smirk, petting the bartender’s cheek. “Now be a good boy and sit back for me.”

Husk does as he’s told, and Angel strokes your cheek with careful fingers. You lean into it contentedly, and his expression softens further with an affectionate smile. “How ya feelin’, dollface?”

“Take a guess,” you sigh happily and he snickers.

“Atta girl.”

You feel Husk smooth a paw up over your calf, and your body warms as you shift to meet his eye. He has his other paw wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly. Each time he reaches the base he squeezes, his breathing unsteady. His pupils are still blown wide, his wings quivering and his tail switching behind him.

“Roll over for him, baby,” Angel instructs you gently. “Up on your knees.”

You groan at the soft ache between your thighs as you roll over, hear Husk’s breath catch as you bare your naked back to him. You feel his paw smooth up the back of your thigh to squeeze your ass, and you lean back against him, his fur tickling at your bare skin, his cock hard against the curve of your ass. He wraps his arm around your middle, claws digging into the soft flesh in what feels addictively possessive, his other hand catching your chin and turning your face towards him. He kisses you over your shoulder, that sweet purr vibrating into your back.

Angel leans forward, turning your face away from Husk’s so he can kiss him instead, moaning quietly into the embrace. When they part, Angel surprises you by brushing his lips over yours. “Bend over, sweet girl.”

You shudder at his tone, a moan catching in your throat as you do as he asks. Husk moves to slide his cock between your thighs, and he groans, low and rough. Angel smooths hair away from your face as he guides you down to rest your cheek against his thigh, and your excitement sparks even brighter as you notice the spider’s erection beneath the tight fabric of his skirt, only a few inches from your face.

Husk thrusts into you again, nice and slow, exhaling heavily as your warm, wet cunt squeezes around him again. A shiver rolls up your spine as he takes hold of your hips, palms pressing into the flesh of your ass, claws digging into your skin. Angel’s lower hands move to your shoulders, pinning your chest to the mattress so your back is arched almost obscenely. He moans as you nuzzle your cheek against his clothed cock, and he gathers your hair in his fist so he can watch your face as Husk rolls his hips into yours.

“Fuck, you’re an eager lil’ thing,” Angel giggles breathlessly. He pulls up his skirt, and you watch through heavy-hooded eyes as Angel strokes himself through the barely-there lace of his thong, the fabric damp with his pre-cum. “Look at how much you’re turnin’ us on, baby… fuck…”

He moans as you clutch at his thigh, nails digging into the lithe muscles hidden under downy fur. You rock your hips back to meet Husk’s every thrust, urging him deeper into you. The bartender is muttering a string of curses the closer he gets to release, the swearing broken by moans and half-there praise for the two of you. When Angel pushes his underwear to the side to wrap his delicate, talented fingers around his own cock, he and Husk moan in unison. Your eyes roll back as Husk’s hands tighten on your hips and his pace quickens desperately.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuck…” you grunt out each time his hips meet your ass, your throat raw. You reach beneath yourself to play with your clit, the sounds you’re making turning high pitched. Angel’s fingers grasp at your hair tighter, his hips rising beneath you to fuck himself into his hand. “Fuck, Husk… Angel… I… fuck…”

“Christ, baby, I can’t…” Husk moans, tail wrapping itself around your sweat-slick thigh. His feathers tickle at the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, at the back of your hand as you roll your fingers hungrily against your clit. “Fuck, I can’t—”

“Hear that, babydoll?” Angel asks you, his usually almost teasing lilt broken by his own desperation. Instead his voice is reedier, breathier, and it’s far hotter than any of the moans you’ve heard him make in any one of the pornos he’s showcased for the other residents. “Don’t ya want our sweet kitty to cum for ya?”

“Yes…” you choke out, your thighs shaking, heat pooling in the small of your back. Husk bends over you to press kisses along your spine, and you feel like you want to cry from all the warring sensations. “God, fuck yes—Husk…”

He growls in response, fangs grazing the middle of your back as he kisses the curve of your back. His paws tighten on your hips further, despite himself, and you find yourself thrilling at the idea that he might mark you.

“Gotta – shit – ask nicely, sugar,” Angel reminds you, nails scratching against the nape of your neck. “Beg for daddy.”

“Please,” you whimper immediately; you can taste iron from the way your teeth dig into your lip. You’re so fucking close, each thrust of Husk’s cock keeps you teetering on that precipice. Each graze of his rigid barbs against the inside of your cunt makes heat pulse through every inch of you and you need to feel him cum. “Please, Husk… please, I – uhnn—I want you to… fuck—cum for me…”

You reach back to grasp blindly for him, closing your fingers around his paw. You swear Husk almost whimpers at your touch.

“Cum inside me, Husk.”

The sound the bartender makes is sinful, an addictive mix of a deep, throaty moan and this cattish growl that you hope will be imprinted on your brain. He squeezes your hand back as he thrusts hard into you, his body curving over yours to press his chest against your back as he spills himself deep inside you.

A few more seconds rubbing furiously at your clit and you follow him, burying your teeth in Angel’s thigh in an attempt to muffle the way you cry out as you orgasm. Angel moans loudly, eyes rolling back, hips thrusting up, and you feel the warmth of his cum on your cheek. “Oh, fuck!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The flush of the toilet seems a little too loud, and you stand on shaky legs in front of the bathroom mirror as you wash your hands, run damp fingers through your hair to tame it. Your eyes seem too bright, your cheeks still flushed and your bottom lip bee-stung. You touch fingers to the bruises darkening on the side of your throat, flashes of the way Husk’s mouth had felt there replaying in your mind.

Even after three orgasms strong enough to knock the breath out of you, excitement tickles between your thighs at the memory. You exhale shakily, trying to calm yourself, fill the glass on the side of the sink with cold water from the tap and swallow it down.

Holy shit.

There a few lighter bruises across your breasts; your nipple aches as you brush your fingers against the darker bruise beside it. You glance down, making a happy note of the scratch marks on your hips. They’re light, barely there, but a thrilling reminder all the same.

Holy.

Shit.

You’d just lost your virginity.

In a threesome.

With a former Overlord and Hell’s most famous porn star.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Pulling on the oversized tee-shirt you use a pyjamas and wishing you had a clean pair of underwear with you, you take another steadying breath, preparing yourself for an empty room. After all, Angel had explained at the beginning of all this that by going to your room, you’d ‘feel more comfortable telling them to fuck the hell off’ if you needed to. Now that the… experience was over, why would they stay?

So, when you open the bathroom door to find the two of them waiting for you on the edge of the bed, you almost trip over the area rug.

“We were startin’ to think you weren’t comin’ outta there,” Angel says lightly, giving you a reassuring smile. “You okay, sugar?”

You nod, tucking hair behind your ear uncertainly.

“You sure?” Husk asks. His expression is soft, and you’re surprised to see his muzzle is once again stained with a blush. “You look like you’re ready to rabbit. If we did somethin’ you ain’t—”

“What? No!” you assure him quickly, your cheeks warming to match his. “No, I just… I guess I wasn’t expecting you two to stick around.”

Husk raises an eyebrow, and something that could be hurt flashes briefly across his features. “D’you want us to go?”

“And skip the afterglow?” Angel says, like he’s playfully offended shocked Husk would even suggest it. He stands, and you notice then that he’s changed his clothes – his everyday outfit exchanged for a pyjama set and thigh-high socks. He glances down at himself, offering by way of explanation, “Had to check on Nuggets. And ‘sides, I look cute as shit in this.”

The comment breaks some of the tension you’re feeling, and you huff a quiet laugh. Angel’s own smile widens and he closes the distance between the two of you. he turns and wraps an arm around your shoulders in the same friendly way he’s done a hundred times before, but this time he squeezes your shoulders, another hand coming up to play idly with the ends of your hair. You feel his lips brush your temple as he bends down to speak in your ear. “You want us gone, baby, all you gotta do is say so. But Huskie’s big on the aftercare and checkin’ in and all that. He waited here while I changed – don’t think he’s leavin’ ‘til he knows you’re happy.”

The sentiment warms you, and you lean into Angel’s side. You speak louder than he did, so Husk can hear you, too. You smile softly as his ears flick upward at the sound of your voice, husky and worn from overuse. “I’m happy. Still… not entirely sure if what just happened, happened, but happy.”

“If it didn’t, it might jus’ be hottest fuckin’ dream I ever had,” Angel laughs, fingers playing teasingly with the edge of your towel. “Now go cuddle up to our boy before he combusts.”

Our boy.

Husk’s worried expression softens into a smile as you approach where he still sits on the edge of the bed, and he holds up a paw to you invitingly. His touch is warm and soft and wonderfully comforting as it wraps around your hand, and you blush when he turns your hand over to brush his lips to the inside of your wrist, a crease between his brows.

“How’re you feelin’?” he asks against your skin, his eyes opening to meet your gaze. You smile, bending down impulsively and pressing a kiss to the lines between his brows. A quiet purr sounds from him at the touch, ears folding down. The fur between his ears is dishevelled and it makes him look younger, less worn.

“I’m good.”

He smiles back up at you. “Good.”

“Fuck, you two are givin’ me a toothache over here.” Angel interjects in amusement, and you hadn’t even realised he’d made himself comfortable against the pillows and the headboard. “Now, am I gettin’ my ass cuddled good and proper here or what?”

You giggle, and he opens all four arms to you expectantly, a smirk playing over his features. Husk seems reluctant to let you go, his hand following you as you move to join his partner on the bed. Tugging your shirt down as best you can to cover yourself, you crawl onto the bed and laugh as you collapse into the spider’s waiting arms. He snickers, wrapping them around you, swatting your ass playfully with one hand. You shove him away with a laugh, breath catching in your throat as you feel Husk climb up the bed and wrap his arms around you.

You settle on your side between them, cradled against Angel’s chest and Husk pressed against your back. His wing curves around you, feathers tickling at your bare arm, his thighs pressed up against the backs of yours. He reaches over you to interlock his fingers with Angel’s, his face tucked in over your shoulder. Husk’s breath tickles at the side of your neck, and he hums contentedly as he inhales the scent of you.

“… Did you two change the sheets?”

Angel nods and grins, trailing fingers up over your thigh idly. “Ya left a hell of a wet patch, baby. Next time we should probably put down a towel.”

You swallow, tilting your head back to look at him. “… Next time?”

“Only if you want, baby,” Husk murmurs into the side of you throat. He shifts, leaning up over your shoulder. Angel hooks a couple of delicate fingers against your cheek in the same moment, turning your head so Husk can kiss you. It’s soft and sweet and wonderful, and you sigh into his kiss. Husk’s purr deepens. “No pressure.”

You turn back to the man you’re laying on, studying his expression. “Angel?”

His smile is warm and sincere, even as that teasing lilt to it remains. “Like I said, baby, I got no problem sharin’ with a friend.”

Husk rubs his forehead against your shoulder, up along the curve of your throat. His voice is soft and velvety, warm in your ear. “’s up to you, pet. We’d love to keep you.”

.

.

.

Again, happy birthday Keeks! Hope you liked this thoroughly un-proofread piece of smut. I am once again letting you know just how grateful I am to have you in my life - we've almost known each other for a year now, and I already cannot imagine life without you. You're an angel, and I love you :)

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

She thought that coming up the hill would be the hardest part, but that proves to be wrong once she’s at the top.

Max hadn’t had the courage to visit by herself. Hadn’t wanted to experience the awkwardness of being both alone and un-alone, talking to someone and no one.

Most likely no one.

She thought about buying a Ouija board, but Robin very narrowly talked her out of it.

This seemed like a better alternative anyway.

Of all the birthdays she knows her brother spent alone, held up in his room with no gifts or cake because he claimed to not care about that shit, she figured that he shouldn’t get to choose this time.

So, there’s a blanket spread out on the grass with an unopened cake from Melvald’s on top, and a bouquet of flowers.

“Man, he would’ve called this gay,” Steve muses.

He leans against his hand, legs semi-stretched beside him, admiring the inscription on the headstone like it’s nothing more than a rock with writing on it.

And maybe, to him, it isn’t.

Max huffs a laugh, but it’s clipped near the end. Heavy, when her throat bobs, and she nods as tears slip down her cheeks.

“He’d call me a shithead and probably still try to steal a slice when nobody was looking,” Max says with a chuckle.

Steve huffs amusedly and shrugs.

“He was a funny guy.”

His gaze wanders off as he tugs some blades of grass up from the ground, snapping and sprinkling them into a small pile at his side with his free hand.

The finality to his words has Max’s brows drawing together.

She often wonders if, maybe, she and Steve never clicked for a reason, and if she probably shouldn’t have invited him up here when Robin suggested it.

Trust me, she had said. Take Steve, if you take anyone.

“Guess so,” Max murmurs.

Her eyes wander down to the cake sitting between them, blank, just as it was on the shelf. She wipes her eyes and thinks about reaching out to pop the plastic lid off when Steve shifts.

“Wasn’t really big on sweets,” he says.

Max blinks at him.

“What?”

“Billy,” Steve says, glancing over at her and gesturing vaguely to the headstone. “He didn’t like sweets.”

She stares for a long moment, searching her mind for a protest. Comes up blank when she tries to think of the two of them getting ice cream or something together, but she can’t recall him ever ordering anything for himself.

Across the blanket, Steve hums amusedly and smiles to himself, fiddling with a single grass blade between his fingers.

“He liked the apple pie at the diner, though. With a scoop of plain vanilla ice cream.”

“You guys went to the diner together?”

Steve’s face flushes a light pink and he shrugs again.

“Yeah? Quite a bit, actually. I think they still have his senior photo up by the register. Guy could demolish a burger.”

Max’s eyes mist over again, but she chews her lip and nods. Pushes a hand through her hair and turns her gaze down toward the blanket.

“I always thought he was, like, out partying or something.”

“We partied,” Steve admits. Shifts and lays down on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “But we usually… found somewhere quiet and just talked. Sometimes at the diner, sometimes the quarry, I think even the pool once or twice.”

He suppresses a grin as he thinks to himself, lightly nudging his sneaker against the stone. Like he’s unaware that it’s even there.

The line between Max’s brows deepens.

“If you guys were so close, then why weren’t you at his funeral?” she snaps.

Immediately, she cups a hand over her mouth, eyes widening as Steve glances at her again.

His brown eyes grow bigger for just a moment.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. A new heat rises to the surface of his skin, eyes becoming glassy. “Felt like maybe I wasn’t supposed…” he pauses to clear his throat before continuing, “I, ah, visit a lot, though.”

“You do?” Max blurts.

Steve nods. Nudges the slightly older, more brittle bouquet lying next to the fresh one with the tip of his shoe.

“Who do you think leaves the flowers?”

With her hand still clamped over her mouth, Max stares at him again.

“How often do you come here?”

“Oh, just… whenever,” he says. “Maybe like three or more times a week?”

“Three or more times a week?”

Now, Steve sits up, brows drawing together.

“What’s your deal? If I knew you were gonna freak out and yell at me about everything I say, I wouldn’t have agreed to come up here.”

Max holds her hands out in front of her.

“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry,” she says. Sighs and rubs a hand over her face. “I guess I just… I dunno, we were never close, but I kinda always thought I knew him best. Now I’m finding out you guys were apparently linked at the hip, and he never… I didn’t even know he didn’t like sweet stuff…”

Her skin grows hot and her eyes well with tears again. Chapped and boiling over.

Steve’s expression relaxes, and he drops his shoulders.

“He wasn’t just secretive with you. Most of what I learned about him was just by observing,” Steve reassures. Then chuckles. “He was always calling me these stupid nicknames, and the one time I called him something back — angel face — he flipped and yelled at me. No idea why.”

Max sniffles and wipes her eyes with her palms, accepting the small bundle of napkins when Steve passes it over to her.

“Angel face?” she asks.

Suddenly, Steve looks away bashfully.

“Dunno, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing I said. He hated it, so I never used nicknames again.”

Max shakes her head, which earns a puzzled look.

“He didn’t hate nicknames,” she says. Glances briefly at the headstone and then away again. “Angel face is what his mom called him.” It feels like a betrayal, to say it out loud, and Max winces. “I overheard Neil mention it in their arguments once or twice.”

She fiddles with her pant leg in her lap for a moment. Looks up to see Steve’s eyes nearly overflowing with tears, staring at the headstone.

“Oh,” he croaks.

The sight, the sound of his voice has Max’s throat going tight.

She shifts in place. Watches as Steve takes a shaky breath and reaches up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palm. Then, she’s pushing herself up and shuffling across the blanket on her knees, reaching her arms around his shoulders.

At first, he doesn’t react. Then there’s an arm stretching around her back.

Hugging him is exactly like she thought it would be. Like he’s comforting her, and not the other way around. Steady, grounding, like she knows him to be for others.

She makes a mental note to thank Robin later on.

“He really was a funny guy.”

[winchesterwild78]

Happy New Year pt 2

Master List

 Read Part 1 here

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, mentions of Danneel, reader’s husband, and other people. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, divorce, fluff

A/N: This story was supposed to be a one shot, but so many are asking for a second part. So here it is. There will be a time jump by a few months in this part. 

Jensen and Reader are co-workers and ended up at the same New Year’s Eve party. They had sex in the bathroom, and we learn this isn’t the first time they’ve been together.

This is a work of fiction, and I don’t condone cheating, but that’s what this story was about. 

Written fast and not edited well. Please overlook any errors. 

All work is my own, please don’t take it in any way. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few months were a whirlwind. Our break from filming was coming to an end and we were due back on set soon. Jensen and I kept in touch through text, and occasionally would find time to see each other. 

I couldn’t help it, I was falling for him. 

I knew it was dangerous. He’s married and so am I, but being with him, being in his arms I felt like I was all that mattered to him. 

We both have obligations, and commitments. His were to Danneel and their children, and mine were to my husband. Since the New Years Eve party my husband and I drifted further apart. He was consumed with which celebrities I could introduce him to, and of course the money I was making that was setting him up for a very comfortable lifestyle. 

At the end of February we finally hit the wall. “I can’t take this anymore. You’re more worried about which celebrity I can introduce you to, or how much money I’m bringing home than you are me. I’ve been sick for weeks and you haven’t noticed or cared. I’m done. I need you to leave.” 

He didn’t even argue, he packed his things and left. I sat on the couch and cried. Part of me was relieved we were done, but then the loneliness began to set in. 

I decided to keep the breakup to myself, at least for now. I was due back on set in a few days, and didn’t want to distract anyone, especially Jensen. 

I packed and headed to Toronto. Walking into the apartment I rented I let out the breath I’d been holding for what felt like months. 

Unpacking, I took inventory of everything I needed and grabbed my jacket to head to the store. My phone went off with a notification.

Jensen: Hey sweetheart. I’m in town early. I’d like to see you if you’re up to it.

I bit my lip. The last time I saw him, a few weeks ago, he held me and we talked about our future. He told me he wanted to be with me, but wasn’t sure how we could make it work. Especially with the kids involved. I understood, but I’d be lying if it didn’t break my heart a little. 

We poured our hearts out to each other, said everything including “I love you”. I felt it, and I know he did too. 

Me: Yeah, hey. I’m heading to the store, but I can message you when I get back. Want to come over here?

Jensen: Yeah. I’d love to. See you soon, sweetheart.

My heart fluttered. I headed to the store and grabbed the things I needed and went home. Putting up the groceries I got a notification on my phone. It was an Instagram post from Danneel. 

It was a picture of the kids and Jensen. She captioned it with “We are really missing daddy right now. First birthday in a few years we won’t get to spend with him. We love you and can’t wait to celebrate when we come to see you.” 

I felt my heart ache. The guilt and weight of our infidelity hung heavy over me and in my heart. 

Jensen’s birthday was in two days. I had planned to cook dinner for him and bake him a cake, but now I’m not sure he’d want that. Her post made me second guess everything. Were they still in love? Were they working it out? Was I just a way for him to pass the time when he was away from her? 

I sent him a message to tell him I was home and he replied he was on his way. 

About 20 minutes later there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Jensen standing there looking absolutely incredible. 

“Hey sweetheart. You look beautiful.” I smiled, “You’re looking pretty good yourself there Ackles.” 

He pulled me in for a hug and pushed me into the apartment, closing the door with his foot. 

His lips crashed on mine in a heated kiss and I moaned in his mouth. When we pulled apart Jensen cupped my face, “God I missed you.” “I missed you too, Jensen.” 

I turned to walk away and he took my hand, “Hey, what’s wrong?” I couldn’t look at him. The post from Danneel, my marriage falling apart, my feelings for him all became too much. The tears I held back started to fall. 

“Hey, shh, what’s wrong sweetheart, talk to me. Please.” His fingers tilted my chin up to look at him. 

Looking in his green eyes made my heart flutter and ache at the same time. “I don’t know what to do, Jensen. I made him leave. We’re done. This, what we have is becoming too much. Jensen, I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened, but I fell in love with you. I know you have D, love her and the kids, hell I get it. You have a perfect wife and children, a perfect life and then you have me. I think I need to take a step back from us. You and D deserve a chance to fix whatever pushed you into my arms. I think you should go.” 

Jensen stood there looking at me, wiping the tears that fell. “Baby, don’t say that. D and I aren’t in a good place. We’ve talked about divorce. Neither one of us is happy. Please, baby, don’t push me away.” “Jensen, talking about divorce and splitting up are two very different things. I love you Jensen, but I can’t keep doing this. I saw her Instagram post. I know I’m just the other woman.” 

He nodded, wiped the tears that fell and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “I know, and for what it’s worth, I love you too. You’re not the other woman, you’re my world, but I understand.” Then he walked out the door. 

I collapsed in the chair and sobbed. I was so utterly alone. I cried so hard I started vomiting and couldn’t stop. 

After crying all I could, and emptying all the contents of my stomach, I curled on the couch and looked through the photos on my phone. The ones of Jensen and I, the stolen moments we spent with each other. Jensen was the love of my life and I made him leave. The hole in my heart grew. 

Our first day back on set was Jensen’s birthday. The cast and crew sang Happy Birthday, made him a cake, and planned a dinner to celebrate. I stood in the back of the sound stage and watched him smile and thank everyone for their wishes. 

One of the other writers came up to me, “Hey, Y/N, you okay?” “Yeah, just feeling a little under the weather. Figured I’d stand over here in case I’m contagious.” I chuckled lightly. 

“Are you coming out tonight for Jensen’s birthday dinner?” “I don’t know. I think I’m going to head home and sleep for a bit. If I start feeling better then I might.” 

She nodded, placed a hand on my shoulder and left. When I looked up I made eye contact with Jensen. He smiled softly, but I turned and walked away. 

I couldn’t shake the sickness, and I was starting to get concerned. I’d been sick for weeks. At first I chalked it up to stress, but this felt different. I felt different. 

Then Jensen’s voice echoed in my head, “I’m gonna fuck a baby into this pussy. Let everyone know who you belong to.” 

Did I, could I… All I could think about was the night at the party. We’d always been so careful, even afterwards. That night however, Jensen didn’t use protection. 

On my way home I stopped at the store and grabbed 3 different tests just to be sure. 

Once in the safety of my apartment I carefully read the instructions for each test. Stepping into the bathroom I took each test and laid them on the counter. 

I nervously paced and my head spun with different scenarios. I knew if I was pregnant the baby was Jensen’s. My husband hadn’t touched me since before Halloween, and Jensen was the only other person I had been with. 

My heart hammered in my chest. What would I do if I was pregnant? Would Jensen even want the baby? Would I? 

The timer went off and I looked at the tests. The first test, two lines. The second test, a line and plus sign. The final test is just one word “pregnant”. 

My breath hitched. My hands were shaking and I felt the bile rise in my throat. 

“Oh my god.” I whispered. “What am I going to do?” I stood in the bathroom staring at the three tests. I had no idea what I was going to do. I had just left my husband, and made Jensen leave. I was completely alone. 

My phone went off with a notification, it was a text from Libby, another co-worker.

Libby: Girl, you need to come out tonight. It’s going to be so much fun. I know something is wrong, but nothing a little alcohol can’t fix. 

I chuckled a little, and touched my belly, “That’s what you think.”

Me: I’ll be there. Not sure about the alcohol, still not feeling great, but I’ll be there.

Libby: Great! I’ll save you a seat. See you later. 

I jumped in the shower, the tests still sitting on the counter. A reminder of what hung heavy over me. 

I got ready and headed to the restaurant. When I walked in I was ushered to a back room where the party was going on. I heard Jensen’s laugh before I even stepped in the room. 

Libby saw me and walked over, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.” I nodded and smiled. I walked over to the bar and asked for a glass of water. As I turned I made eye contact with Jensen from across the room. 

His smile grew when he saw me. I smiled back and turned away. I couldn’t look at him. The secret I carried in me was too much.

We all took our seats at the table, and I was directed to sit next to Eric, who was sitting near Jensen. I looked over at the empty chair, Of course it’s right beside Jensen. 

I took my seat and took a deep breath. I looked over at Jensen, my voice shaky, “Happy Birthday, Jensen. I hope you get everything you wish for.” He leaned in and hugged me, whispering in my ear, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” As he pulled back he placed a soft kiss on my cheek. 

My breath hitched. 

Throughout the dinner, Jensen’s hand rested on my thigh. When he first put it down I looked over at him and he started to move it, but I placed my hand on his. He left it. 

I realized sitting next to him he had a right to know. I needed to tell him. I excused myself and went to the restroom. I pulled out my phone and sent him a text. 

Me: Hey, I think we should talk. Want to come by later?

Jensen: Absolutely. Thank you baby.

Me: Don’t thank me yet. I’m not sure you’re going to be happy with what I need to tell you.

Jensen: There isn’t anything you can tell me that’s going to upset me. Well, except you never want to see me again. 

Me: Okay, well after this, come over so we can talk. 

Jensen: I’ll be there sweetheart.

I went back to the table. About an hour later we were saying our goodbyes and I headed home. 

Ten minutes later Jensen was at my door. “Hey, beautiful.” “Hey, Jens. Come on in.” 

He walked in. I half expected him to kiss me like he always did when he walked in, but he didn’t. I felt a pang of sadness rush through my body.

I motioned to the couch, “Want to have a seat?” He nodded, shrugged off his jacket and sat down. 

“Jensen, I, um, don’t know how to start this conversation.” Jensen took my hand, “Sweetheart, whatever it is, you can tell me. No matter what, I love you.”

My breath hitched, “I love you too Jensen, this is so hard. I do love you. So much, and I want to be with you. This is just so damn complicated.” 

“Baby, I want to be with you too. I know everything is complicated.” I shook my head, “No, Jensen. I’ve just complicated things more.” 

Jensen looked confused, “Baby, no you haven’t.” I swallowed hard, feeling like I was going to vomit.

“Jensen, I’m pregnant.” The words just slipped out faster than I’d expected. He sat stunned. “What? Are you sure?” I nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I took 3 tests and I realized I haven’t had my cycle in over 2 months. I know it’s yours too.” 

He just sat there and looked at me. I was terrified. The longer the silence between us stretched on, the more my anxiety ran through every scenario it could. 

I couldn’t take the silence any longer, “Jensen. I don’t expect anything from you. I just thought you should know. Nobody will know you’re the father. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

I just sobbed. His silence hurt me more than if he told me he didn’t want the baby. 

His arms wrapped around me and he pulled me close to him, “Shh baby. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. We did this, we made this baby together. I’m not going anywhere. I love you and I love this baby. We’re having a baby.” 

He pulled me on his lap and kissed my lips. 

When I leaned back I looked in his eyes. They were full of love and excitement. “You’re not mad?” 

He cupped my face, “Mad? Why would I be mad, baby? I remember telling you at the New Years Eve party I wanted to put a baby in you. Well, I guess I did.” He chuckled. 

“Jensen, what about D?” “We’ve decided to move forward with the divorce. We don’t want to stay together just for the kids and end up hating each other. Baby, you don’t worry about her. You need to keep yourself stress free and healthy for the baby.” He placed his hand on my belly. “How the hell did I get so lucky? I found the love of my life and we’re having a baby.” 

He pulled me to his lips and kissed me softly. His hands trailed up my body and into my hair. He pulled me in deeper as his tongue fought for dominance in my mouth. 

I felt my arousal pooling between my legs. His hands digging into the flesh of my hips, pulling me down onto him. 

Our moans filled the apartment. “Jens take me to our room.” 

He smiled against my mouth, “Yes ma’am.” He lifted me up like I weighed nothing. I protested the whole way. 

He laughed and when we went to the room he gently laid me on the bed. 

As he stood back he looked down at me, “you’re so damn beautiful, sweetheart. I can’t believe we’re having a baby.” 

Before we made love he stopped and chuckled, “Guess we don’t need protection, do we?” I laughed, “No, I guess not.” We made love like it was the first time. 

Everything that weighed us down was gone. The things that kept us separated, gone. Laying in his arms I felt safe and loved. 

“Thank you sweetheart. Thank you for letting me come over and for giving me the best birthday gift ever.” He placed his hand on my belly and kissed my lips. 

“You’re welcome, Jensen. Happy Birthday, baby. I love you.” “I love you too, Darlin.” 

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[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#1 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology | 600 words

previous next series masterlist

31st December, 1995 | 11.57 AM  

Toji Fushiguro ran the moment he could. His 20th birthday was spent on the streets, the first of many. Children who run don’t get the luxury of carefully packing a bag with cheese and wine; Toji escaped with only the clothes on his back and burning hope in his young heart. 

His ass was freezing. The frost-slick footpath seeped through his jeans, the dew wet his cheeks, the beer did nothing to warm him up. But it was okay, in fact– he’d never felt better. He was finally, finally free. 

The only worry that pressed him as he watched the fireworks celebrating the end of the year and the beginning of another, a better one, hopefully, was this: he had to find a job now. 

January - March, 1996 

“No, you can’t substitute your Cola for a Cookie Milkshake. What do you mean ‘why?’ Lady, where on the menu do you see milkshakes? Exactly. We don’t make those. No, I can’t make an exemption for you, we-don’t-make-those. Just take your Cola for God’s sake. No, you’re not allergic to Cola. Oh yeah, I am calling you a liar… Fucking fine, meet the goddamn manager! Suck his dick off for all I care!”

“Aisle 5. Aisle 7. We don’t sell dildoes. Aisle 8. No, I will not step on you, you’re too grown to be saying that. Aisle 5, I already told you.”

“Man, I’m just the cashier. I don’t know shit about cars, how am I supposed to fix it? Alllllright, weird kink but if all you wanna do is watch while I play mechanic, I guess… Pay me 1000 yen more and off the book, okay? And you’re just watching from a distance.” 

“Ladies, I have to kick you out, no coke in the host club. It’s written right there in fucking bold letters. Get your–hands off me! I don’t care how much you wanna pay– Oh my God, fine! Fucking fine! Pay my rent and groceries for a month and you can do what you want! Jesus-Fucking-Christ!”

Toji’s descent into escort services wasn’t much to his joy nor consent. It was simply the job with the highest ROI and gas prices were going up. And he was only 20.

Not as bad as it used to be, standing on the footpath looking for takers like those 100 yen whores. Toji kicks a pebble along as he walks to the café you’ve decided for your first meeting. At least I didn’t wear red lipstick and stuff my bra. 

To any middle aged businessman rolling down the car window in search for the cheapest fuck for buck, Toji and the red-lipstick-stuffed-bra folks looked exactly the same: dirt alley Minami-Senju hookers. Smoking, yelling, shoving, squatting on the street corner. For the sake of his dignity he refused to add that he often sold himself for lesser than 100 yen. 

He grumbles: hey, it was a long time ago and I didn’t know what I was doing, alright? Look at me now, working for Perfect Princes. Do you even know how much this lady’s paid for me? 

Lost in thought, he almost walked past The Blessed Fortune Café. The abrupt stop and turn makes him accidentally kick the pebble, a faithful companion of his long journey, through the sewer vent. 

It clink-clank-thunks though the metal pipe and finally splashes! into the dirty stinking water. Dirty like you, whispers that voice in his head. Down the drain like any dignity you really had. 

He steps into the café, craning his head around looking for you. The receptionist said you’d wear red. 

previous next series masterlist

a/n: divider. baby faced toji my beloved i want to wrap him in a blankie and tell him everything will be okay.

[fee224]

Catching up to your friends

Rafe Cameron x topper thortons baby sister reader

Warnings: manipulation, sex, underage sex. (Not proofread!!). Perspective is spoke in a young and naive perspective on purpose!!

MASTERLIST

You slammed the door of your big brothers forest green jeep as he pulled up to the Cameron residents. Soon you were promised a matching white jeep for you’re sixteenth birthday. Topper was seventeen and so was rafe.

Rafe seemed older but you always put that down to how big he was, being in the gym almost half of his life and his miserable undertone that disappeared when he noticed you staring at him from across the table at Sunday brunch, or midsummers.

“Look I don’t give a shit, You’re a Little snitch and you’ll tell mom and dad I left you and they’ll give me shit” topper rubbed his forehead and I rolled my eyes as he lead me through the door.

“Topper I’m not a baby! Im fifteen. I don’t need babysitting from you or…” the one boy you want to see you as a woman. You constantly worked your baby status in the family in your favour but that might be your worst nightmare if rafe saw you that way “any of your friends!”

“Hey I’m not any of his friends, am I?” Rafe startled you as you kicked off your shoes at the front door. Walking bare foot, admiring your mani pedi, into the kitchen where rafes back faced you making a drink.

“Yes you are” topper coughed as he stole the drink off the counter “nerves” he winked at rafe as he downs what looks like raw whiskey. Topper never told you where he was going but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You wandered over to his living room making yourself comfortable. A door slams and a few seconds later rafe is plopped down on the couch next to you.

You gulp, attempting to ignore his presence until “you know I’m fifteen, I don’t need babysitting. I do babysitting, this whole arrangement is ridiculous” you roll your eyes and pout with crossed arms.

“Yeah I can fucking see you aren’t a baby y/n” he shakes his head, focussed on his phone, texting someone.

“You gotta girlfriend?” You blurt out and his head spins towards you.

“No” he exhales dropping his phone down on the couch “you gotta boyfriend?” You shake your head with a small smile you’re trying to hide.

“Why not, you’re a pretty girl” he states and you look away to conceal your blush trying to not think about his words. He didn’t mean anything by it, it was a fact more than an opinion, nothing personal.

“Just don’t…… most of my friends do” you admit turning back to him and resting your cheek on the back of the couch. “Everyone’s loosing their virginity to them and I-“ you pause helplessly.

“You’re fifteen…. You’re way too young for that shit”

You raise your eyebrows amused “and what age did you loose your virginity, saint” it rolls off your tongue like an insult.

Thirteen.

“Fair point” he nodded “you’re still too young”

“No! I’m not….” You roll your eyes.

“You want to have sex?” He raised his eyebrows kicking his feet on the plush footrest as if your dangling virginity was amusing.

“Sure why not” you giggled as a joke.

“With what boy? They’re all…. dumb and cocky at your age” he was staring at you as if this conversation should be happening. As if it was about homework.

“I never said a boy my age” you roll your eyes and purposely don’t make eye contact.

“What does that mean” he scoffed shaking his head, as you gulped. Your smile was long gone and now all you could feel was sick to your stomach with nerves.

“Whatever you think it means” you quickly glance at him and then enter into a staring match with his dark oak coffee table.

“I don’t think it means what I think it does” his thumb was toying with his bottom lip. His soft bottom lip that he probably had kissed a lot of girls with.

“We’ll just because I’m two years younger doesn’t mean our brains are on other sides of the universe” you folded your arms, assuming again, making a fool of yourself again.

“I think it means you want to fuck me” he stated confidently and correct. Your mouth gaped staring at him weakly.

“You can’t just say that!”

“Why not!”

“Because I have feelings, and your toying with them!”

“Toying with them because I want to fuck you back?”

“Fuck off rafe, you don’t get to fuck me, and then ditch, and then brag, and be you in your full dick form afterwards” you rambled with a small tear running down your hot cheeks.

“Y/n” he palmed his forehead “just stop with the thinking” he kneeled forward in-front of you, touching your bare thighs with caution as you watched him with wide wild eyes. “Shh, if not going to ditch, kay?”

You gulped. What the fuck.

Rafe Cameron. The boy you’ve liked since forever. Your brothers best friend. The older boy. The in front of you boy who was offering to take your virginity.

“I guess I know you” you bit down “and your not dumb and cocky” you squinted your eyes, a beg for reassurance that he wasn’t.

He nodded agreeing solemnly “like boys your age” he grinned beneath you, his hands inching closer up your thigh.

“And I guess I like you a little” you giggled brushing a hair behind your ear.

“Definitely like you a lot back” he winked. His movements were calm and his words rolled off his tongue with no thought but his breath was shaky, matching yours.

“You do?” You smiled cheesily inching forward.

The moment you did, years of anticipation exploded into a kiss. He picked you up of the living room chair, his hands sliding from your thighs to your ass and scooping you up. His lips hungrily attacking yours and left you in a dizzy haze as you softly kissed him back. Rocking against his hips as he took the steps two at a time.

“You walked past Sarah’s familiar room and then wheezies, not veering this far down the hallway since you were young as his door was kicked open and slammed shut you gasped as he pulled away to place you on the bed, contrasting to give you his gentle side, and the furniture a more normal rafe.

He was in between your legs kissing your neck as you hummed softly, gasping as he gave you purple bruising hickeys. Damaging your heart with every swirl more than anything he could ever do your body.

His massive muscled arms were wrapped around your body holding you still as you shook with temptation and nerves.

“I’ve never showed anyone my body, I- I’m the only person who’s ever seen you know my…. Body” your voice slowly drifted into a lull as you kept talking, feeling dumb. His head was lifted to look at you and give your words attention.

“You trust me right” his head tilted softly. You nodded making eye contact from underneath him. “Kay, then don’t be embarrassed with me, or shy.” His tone was kind and his volume was low. It was seeming more appealing being connected to this boy. Physically intertwined.

You lifted up, as he backed up. You sat across from each other on the bed as your head bowed and reached for the buttons of your top, fumbling but managing. Revealing your rose budded, perky small breasts as he gulped trying to maintain eye contact, any other girl, he wouldn’t remember her face while being inside of her, but you, how you were feeling and making you comfortable was all he could think of. His eyes darted between you to your chest. He practically dived into you, laying you on your back as he kissed everywhere urgently. “So fucking pretty, fucking beautiful” was the only sound filling your ears, blocking out the sounds of your own embarrassingly loud pleasure.

“Rafe when are you going to do it” you muttered, clawing at his neck. His shirt was off and he had scratches on his back you were trying to ignore.

“You want it now pretty girl?” He whispered into your ear, unbuttoning your denim shorts, the feeling made you tingle and squeeze your eyes shut fully.

“Now” you whispered in confirmation as he pulled them down cautiously, bringing your polka dot underwear down with them. Leaving them on the end of the bed.

You watched intensely as his pants came off, followed by his underwear. A thick cock sprang out, hitting of his toned stomach and all you could do was gulp at the sight, praying you wouldn’t break in half. He reached into his drawer as the pair of you looked each other in the eye, smiling soothingly.

His hands were pressed into your hips as he finished you off in one deep thrust. Not moving till your face went back to normal from the current distortion.

“S’okay, take your time, can I put anymore in yet” his thumb was rubbing gently on your hips as you opened your eyes and stared at him.

“There’s more” you panted, before collapsing back into the pillow. “Okay, b-be slow ra…” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as more of him filled you.

He thrusted in and out intensely, he was vocal as you suppressed shudders. “You feel so fucking good around me”

You felt like you were entering another universe, seeing a purple orange haze. Giggling softly as you felt your body shake and almost levitate of the bed.

“Ride it out Baby, just feel it” he was still caressing you as you blinked away tears. Ultimate heaven. If a unicorn flew over this bed, which was actually a magic carpet, you wouldn’t be surprised.This was so epically strange. You wanted rafe to ask you to do it again, but when he got off the bed and came back with a wet towel, it was all over, all too soon. Holy macaroni.

- fee xxx

[kurishiri]

Hiiii!! I want to say how much I really appreciate and enjoy reading your translations!! I enjoy rereading them often because it helps me understand something new about the character I am interested in!! Right now it is Darius so I have been reading a lot of your translations on him and I can’t wait to read more about him on his bond levels as I really want to know more about him and how he is with Kate. I am really curious what kind of suitor do you think Darius would be and how his overall character is with Kate? Again thank you so much for your hard work and hope you have an amazing 2025!! 🫶🫶🫶 Please take care!! 💕

haaii, happy 2025! ✨✨ and ty for your kind words too. i’m so happy to hear you’ve been enjoying the translations i do – it makes it all worth it 🥹🙏

and as for darius…he’s indeed one fascinating cookie! i’m gonna put thoughts under the cut bc ,, uh it may or may not have gotten kiiinda long 😂👌

darius vogel essay ↓

HIS CHARACTER.

i feel he, as a character, is quite childlike in the sense he just does whatever strikes his fancy because that’s what he wants to do. but he’s also very calculating and subtle to not show potential weaknesses. i wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone through a lot of trauma overall, though, seeing how he seems to dissociate from himself, going so far as to think he’s “above” humans, as if he himself isn’t one (and yet, he is also very human, in an almost raw sense – his interest in kate as his “favorite” shows that he is not actually that capable of letting go of worldly attachments, and he is drawn to the idea of the “impure” in his birthday epilogue, when he smeared berry sauce on kate’s cheeks and wanted to keep his eyes on that).

interestingly, how his childlike front and calculating personality interact is something we can witness in one go when we can look at his relationship with food. he probably has had some form of food trauma (e.g. dealing with assassination attempts via poison in his food), as he seems to need to see others eat the same food first before he himself eats. but he doesn’t ask this directly, instead phrasing it like an invitation for the other to eat first. in this way, he doesn’t have to put himself in a more vulnerable state than the other. he eats with proper table manners while dining with crown “out of consideration,” but he prefers to eat messily, likely as an act of rebellion…could he have been in a very controlling environment when he was young?

this could in turn spur him on to be controlling of others in the present. i don’t think he is incapable of love like he claims, but i do think his sense of love, thanks to what could be growing up in a controlling environment, is inherently warped. i mean, if we look at dari and his relationship with ring…i don’t think it’s that darius doesn’t hold any “love” for ring — he probably thinks it’s a form of love in a way — and i think ring does need darius in the sense that darius is the one who can provide him stability and validation. when ring is hesitant to do something, he turns to darius. if darius thinks it’s alright, then ring does too. but also, darius is arguably very controlling over ring and manipulates him too. could be abuse, if we’re speaking bluntly. (one that i think, in a sense, ring can feel too.)

RELATIONSHIP WITH KATE.

so if we extend from that logic, i think his relationship with kate would get a bit twisted and gnarly as time goes on, when kate starts to become more than a “favorite” that darius sorta likes to coddle over like a pet. he seems to hold some yandere tendencies fs over kate — which goes further to show his sort of controlling nature. hell, he joked abt shipping her to germany. darius calm down! we can discuss this ,,!

anw it’s probably more so a relationship where kate chooses to “fall” along with darius. stuck in this cycle of trying to prove love exists to him and whatnot. or, i think it would be cool for it to sort of be that way. i know it’s an otome game, but also i think i kind of like the idea of sort of exploring a more complicated relationship, where whether it’s really truly romantic in nature is sorta left more vague and up to interpretation.

at the moment, though, from what i can glean from these two…kate seems to want to get along with darius, yk, like she would want to do for others. she sort of wants to treat darius as an equal, even though she is a bit cautious of him, very understandably so. she doesn’t seem that afraid of approaching him as a whole, though she also expresses some dissatisfaction at him sort of treating her like a pet and whatnot. however, it feels like in the end, it’s always him who gets the last word. they also seem to be opposites in the sense that darius doesn’t believe in love, while kate believes no one can truly live without love, to which darius says to “prove” that love exists. so maybe there’s a bit of that opposites attract sorta vibe going on too?

basically, kate can either “prove” love to darius, or the “poison” darius imbues in her will act on her first. perhaps that’s a matter of time.

[mimiii-3]

I love your stupid Pizza Steve pfp and the sabateur drabbles.

I was wondering, what if at first Batsib was sabotaging Darling out getting attention out of Bruce; however, after a while, Batsib starts craving the Darling's attention?

Every time Darling gets punished, it's Batsib who comforts them. All of their attention is on Batsib. Any form of attention given is what they want. It's what they crave.

Batsib pretends to be powerless, unable to do anything to help them. Like really playing up the defenseless submissive softboy/girl/person(?). While in secret, is fully smitten with the idea of having complete control over Darling, enjoying the fact that he is needed by them, and is wanted more by Darling than the people who actually kidnapped Darling.

I can imagine the confrontation where they find out why they keep sabotaging and mentally fucking Darling, would be interesting.

Thanks!

…

Saboteur: Two Most Wanted Prequel Pt.1

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: typical yandere themes, platonic relationship between batsib and darling, I’m writing this w/ a massive headache rn

…

What if batsib realizes that Darling’s attention is all they need…

🦇 - there’s a sick sort of satisfaction you get from knowing that the family’s darling loves you

🦇 - you’re their shoulder to cry on, their only sense of reprieve, and the closest thing to a real sibling

🦇 - after being punished nonstop by Bruce for things they may or may not have done (looking at you batsib). Darling can’t help but make you their designated friend

🦇 - Darling hugs you every time you hide them in your room from Dick’s obsessive behavior

🦇 - they scribble drawings of you and them on post it notes. You purposefully leave the drawings out so that the batboys have to see

🦇 - Darling goes on long tangents about what the two of you can do once they’re free. They roll around on your polka dot rug, detailing future trips to the mall or swimming at the beach

🦇 - you tried to stay strong. Denying the warm feeling in your chest whenever Darling affectionately called you their sibling

🦇 - it wasn’t until you’re birthday that you realized you loved Darling too. Maybe even more than your brothers

…

Your birthday was a quiet one. Alfred had served you a slice of cake and presented you with a wad of cash. It was impersonal but at least he remembered.

You took the rest of the cake to your room and ate in silence. The tv played one of your comfort shows but it did nothing to ease the heartbreak. How could your father and brothers forget your birthday? After all you’ve done for them…

Your silent brooding is interrupted by an excited knock at the door. Whoever’s behind the door doesn’t wait for an answer and swings it open.

Darling peaks their head in and smiles. They enter your room and shut the door with the heel of their foot. Before you can question their presence, Darling breaks into song.

Darling sings some horrible rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ and you can’t help but laugh. Their antics lift your sour mood. Darling, pleased with their work, plops down in front of you. They’re holding a small, brown box with a yellow ribbon tied around it.

“I know it’s small but is the best I could do,” Darling chirps. You eye them curiously before opening the gift.

You feel tears well in your eyes at the contents of the box. It’s a wooden duck, no bigger than the size of your palm. No one has ever spent so much effort on you.

You look up at Darling, “Did you whittle this yourself?” You turn the duck in your hand, the detail is impressive. You wonder if one of the knives you caught them stealing was used to make it.

“Yup! I made you a duck because they symbolize family and love!” Darling grabs one of your stuffed animals and begins to play with its ears.

The guilt overpowers you. You’ve been treating them like crap but this whole time they cared about you.

You don’t say anything and lean forward to hug them. “Thank you,” you whisper. Darling hugs you back, oblivious to your previous betrayal.

You decide right then and there that you’ll make a change. They’re your new sibling. Who cares if Bruce and the batboys don’t care about you. You don’t need them anymore. You have Darling now.

…

Extra notes: my head hurts😫

Tag list:

@jjsmeowthie @shawty-a-lil-baddie @butratherbutrather @shirp-collector-of-fixations @stove-top96

[willalove75]

Alcina's New Maid Pt. 25 Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Summary: Alcina and the girls take care of business. After that, they dive head first into planning your birthday party!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI.

Tags: Just some fluff, maybe the tiniest hint of angst if you squint

Notes: Part 25! Heyyyyyy long time no see! I am SO, SO sorry it took me almost a goddamn year to update this fic!!!😭 I really didn't expect to not update this for so long. I was really only hoping to be away for a few months. For those who missed my latest life update in the notes of the last chapter, or if you forgot (lets be real that's totally what happened lmaoo) I had a baby!!! He was born in May and is truly the best thing in the entire world. Labor was ROUGH, I was in labor for 36 hours but he was perfect and healthy and a big chonk! (Almost 9lbs!) Postpartum has definitely been difficult, especially the first few months (PPD decided to BODY me four months in😅) but things are starting to finally calm down a bit and I've had the time, motivation AND energy to write lately!! WOO!!! I was NOT expecting this birthday party scene to be so damn long when I first pictured it. But it'll probably end up being about three chapters. Is it too long? Maybe. Probably. But I don't have the energy to nit-pick it to death and I'm afraid if I did, I'd think it's shit, lose all motivation, and take even longer to update this thing lmaooo Was this proofread? Kinda, but not really. Is it my favorite chapter I've ever written? Also no. But it does lay a bit of foundation for some other things later on! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it! Pls leave me a comment with your thoughts!

Click here for the rest of the series

The following evening, Alcina and the girls made their way down to the village. Alcina insisted that you didn’t wait up for them so you begrudgingly got yourself ready and fell asleep in Alcina’s massive bed, alone. What you assume was a few hours later, you awoke when the mattress dipped on Alcina’s side of the bed. Turning towards her, she smiled at you and pulled you into her chest.

“It’s done?” You asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Yes. Go back to sleep, draga.” She replied.

As you opened your mouth to ask more questions, Alcina shushed you and ran her long fingers through your hair. “Sleep.”

Knowing you weren’t going to win, coupled with your half-asleep state, you cuddled further into her and quickly fell back asleep.

Neither Alcina or the girls gave you details of what happened but they did tell you that the one child in the house was left unharmed and dropped at the doorstep of a neighbors house. For the rest of the occupants, only a few were brought back to the castle and taken straight into the dungeon. The rest never made it out. It was the one and only time that night was discussed, which frankly was fine with you. Guilt still ate at you, but you understood why things had to happen the way they did. Even if a small part of you still believed they should have been left alone.

After that night, the girls put all of their energy towards your birthday party. Once Alcina realized how out of hand things were getting she ended up taking over the majority of the planning - just as Cassandra had predicted.

It was decided that the party would be a black tie affair and the ballroom would be decorated with white and gold accents. Alcina asked you to come up with a list of guests you would want invited, even though the majority of the village would be invited anyway. It didn’t take you long to give her your list since you didn’t have many friends in the village. Your list consisted of your aunt, uncle, and cousins, a few acquaintances, and your best friend, Alexi.

“And who is this Alexi?” Alcina asked as she looked over your list.

“Oh, he’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend?” She asks, crinkling her nose at the fact that your best friend was a guy. “And why have you never spoken of him before?”

“I don’t know,” you replied with a shrug. “I guess it just never came up.”

“And I presume there’s no swaying you into not inviting this man-thing?”

“No! Alcina he has to be there, he’s my best friend!” She grumbles something about how many men will be in attendance, clearly unhappy with it given her usual “no men in the castle” rule that was lifted for the party.

“So how long have you been friends with this man-thing for, then?”

“Since we were little kids, I met him before my parents died. We basically grew up together. We even made a pact that if we were both single by the time we were 30 we would just marry each other.” You say with a laugh.

Alcina however, did not find your pact with Alexi nearly as amusing as you did if the clenching of her jaw was any indication. You immediately picked up on her reaction and raised your eyebrows at her.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She says with a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I just find it quite interesting you bargained to marry a man.”

Her suddenly cold attitude caught you off guard and was confusing until a thought dawned on you.

“Oh my god, Alcina, are you jealous?” You say with a smile growing on your face.

Her eyes flash with something akin to anger and they narrow at you as she scoffs. “Hah! Jealous? Of a stupid man-thing? Please, don’t offend me.”

Alcina turns her attention back towards the list. You can see how tight her jaw still is and the vein in her neck pulse like it does when she gets worked up.

“You’re so jealous!”

“I am not. I just don’t enjoy the thought of you marrying a man.” The tension in her body was palpable. Alcina would never admit that she was jealous. Possessive? Sure. But jealousy? That was a hideous trait, but Alcina couldn’t help but feel horribly jealous deep down.

Sensing her change in demeanor, you stood up and walked around her desk and crawled into her lap. Alcina sat back in her chair and looked down at you, a slight furrow in her brows still visible.

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, or be jealous of. I promise. Alexi is just a friend, never anything more.” Alcina’s hands slide to your hips with a firm grip. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours.”

A low purr erupts from deep in her chest as you play to her possessiveness. Her pupils dilate and she leans down into your space, just barely brushing her lips against yours.

“Mine.” She growls.

“Yours. Forever.”

 Alcina’s grip on you tightens as she surges forward, crashing her lips into yours with a growl. Her tongue pries your lips open and she claims your mouth, making you whimper in response. One of her hands leaves your hips and tightly grips the hair on the back of your head and her other hand digs into your hip, no doubt leaving bruises behind. As you pull back to take a breath, Alcina nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it before letting it snap back into place.

Your half-lidded eyes meet hers, a smoldering gold, and she guides your lips back to hers. Just as your lips touch once more, the shrill ring of the telephone snaps you out of the lust-filled moment. Alcina growls against your lips, clearly unhappy with the sudden interruption, and releases the grip in your hair to pick up the receiver.

“Yes?” She all but growls. Her eyes roll as she lets out a huff through her nose. You can tell that this is probably an important business call she’s going to have to take, instead of telling them to call back later so the two of you can continue what you’ve started - which is likely what she would prefer to do right now. “Ah, Mr. Botezatu, I’ve been expecting your call. No, this isn’t a bad time at all.” She says practically through her teeth.

Alcina looks down at you and pulls away the hand she’s been mindlessly caressing your hip with to cover the end of the receiver. 

“I’m sorry.” She mouths before leaning into your ear. “I must take this, draga mea. But we shall continue this later. Understood?” She nips at your neck, catching you by surprise as you try to silence the small squeal you let out. Alcina’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as she pulls away and turns her attention back to the phone call.

Giving her a nod, you climb off of her lap and just before you’re out of reach, Alcina lands a firm smack to your behind. You turn to give her a playful glare and all you receive back is a wink and a smirk before you turn and leave her office.

The rest of the day was spent with the girls going over more plans for the party. They did their best to keep as much of it a secret as they could, but they caved and let you in on some of the ideas they had. There was also plenty of complaining about how Alcina ended up taking over the majority of the planning. They batted their eyelashes at you, hoping to sway you in convincing Alcina to let them back in on the bigger plans; but even you knew that once Alcina had a vision, nothing you could do would get her to relent.

Dinner came and went and Alcina was still cooped up in her office. You decided to bring her a bottle of wine and her favorite glass so she would at least have something to eat.

“Enter.” She said after you knocked on the door.

When you walked into the room, Alcina looked up and her demeanor brightened significantly.

“One moment.” She mouthed, holding up a finger, turning her attention back to the phone. “Yes, thank you. Yes, the next batch is set to ship next week and the following will ship early spring. Excellent. Have a wonderful evening.”

She returns the phone to its cradle and lets out a sigh before shifting her gaze back to you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, draga?” She says, resting her chin in her hand.

“You missed dinner, so I figured I’d bring you something to drink while you were working.”

Alcina looks over at the clock and exhales as she reads the time. Her eyes flick back to you, with an apologetic look.

“I am sorry, draga. I’ve been so wrapped up with work I didn’t even realize the time.”

“It’s alright. The girls and I understand.” You say as you place the wine and glass on her desk.

“Thank you, my sweet.” She says as she leans down and pecks your lips. The phone rings and Alcina rolls her eyes. “One moment, draga.” She says before picking up the phone. “House Dimi- Ugh. Karl. Yes?” She says with an even more exaggerated eye roll. “Well, it’s about time you gave me your RSVP. They were due over a week ago! Although I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not like a mutt like you can read.”

You hear Karl yell something over the phone and Alcina pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales.

“Of course you were the last one to respond!” She says. “Yes, even Moreau responded, on time.” Alcina looks at you and shakes her head at whatever Karl says. “Yes, Mother Miranda was the very first person to respond - of course she is attending!” She yells.

Your eyes widen and you freeze in place. Why it had never occurred to you that Mother Miranda would also be invited and possibly attend was beyond you, but the thought of being in the same room again as her scares you and your fingers absent-mindedly trace the light scar on your chest from her claws.

Alcina notices your thousand yard stare and rushes Karl off of the phone.

“Draga?” She says, cupping your cheek. “Are you alright?”

Snapping out of your daze, you meet her eyes. “Yeah, I just didn’t think about the fact that Mother Miranda will be there.”

Alcina takes the hand you’re tracing the scar with and places a kiss across your knuckles.

“Fret not, draga mea. She won’t harm you again. I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“Yes, draga, I’m sure.”

Alcina cups your cheek and pulls you in for a soft yet passionate kiss. You feel the tension melt away at the touch of her lips and your shoulders relax.

 “Are you almost finished?”

“Nearly. I just have one more call I have to make.”

Alcina glares at the phone, ready to be done for the day and you bite back a giggle.

“Is it an important call?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s important but it does have to be done today. Although I am anticipating it to be boring, it will likely be a short call, thank the Black God.”

“Well, I can keep you company if you’d like.”

“I’d always like your company, draga.” She says with a smile as she goes to pour herself a glass of wine.

Alcina drinks half the glass before refilling it and picking up the phone once more to dial the number. She motions for you to come closer and scoops you up into one of her arms and you settle onto her lap. Curling into her, you rest your head on her chest and she keeps a protective arm around you as the person on the other end of the line answers.

Her fingers dance mindlessly across the tops of your thighs while she speaks to whoever it is on the other end of the line. She only removes her hand once in a while to write in her ledger laid out on the desk in front of her or to take a sip of her wine.

The conversation only lasts about half an hour before Alcina finally hangs up. As soon as she returns the phone to its cradle, Alcina stands with you in her arms and whisks you out of the office, towards her chambers. After ducking through the door to her chambers, she kicks it closed behind her and lays you down on her bed. Without saying a word she captures your lips in a passionate kiss and strips you bare.

“Now,” she says as she looks up and down your naked form. “Where were we earlier?”

A faint blush covers your chest, neck, and face and Alcina picks up right where the two of you left off earlier in the day, making sure there are no interruptions this time as she takes you over and over again.

The party grows closer and closer, with deliveries arriving nearly every day, even Donna stops by and takes your measurements for a custom dress. The two of you talk about what you want the dress to look like and settle on a design and what fabric to use. You also got to finally meet The Duke when he visited the castle and Donna placed an order with him for the fabric. Whatever you expected the Duke to look like, you were not expecting him to look like that. The aura he gave off was mildly unsettling, but he also seemed incredibly cheerful. Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you thought of the large man, but you decided not to think too much into it for your sanity. He seemed like he was the kind of person that was nearly impossible to figure out.

Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra grow more and more excited each day, especially since it’s starting to grow colder at night and their time outside is limited to the afternoons. They continue to pester you about what you want for your birthday, even though you insist that they don’t have to get you any presents. They, like their mother, are as stubborn as they come.

As much stress this party is causing the staff, you notice that as the party gets closer, they also grow more excited. Aside from the dedicated servers, most of the staff will be allowed to enjoy the party at their leisure, something you insisted Alcina allowed, and you can feel the anticipation in the air. Zina seems eager for the event as well, even though she will be manning the serving team. You can almost hear the excitement in her voice when she talks about it.

Finally, the morning of the party arrives and the castle is buzzing with excitement. Maids are scurrying around with last minute preparations and the girls can hardly contain themselves. So much so that the three of them are actually ready early - hours early at that. Alcina’s already building anxiety nearly skyrockets when they show up to her study nearly three hours before the start time dressed and ready. The girls have never been able to keep themselves presentable for more than an hour at most, but they promise up and down that they won’t ruin their dresses or hair and makeup before the party.

She sends them out with a wave of her hand as she goes back to finish the little bit of paperwork she has left for the day.

Meanwhile, you try to help with final preparations but every time you try, Zina or one of the maids shoo you away. Apparently it’s frowned upon to help to set up for your own party so you decide to distract yourself with a new book in the library.

Luckily, the new book sucks you in and before you know it, Daniela flies into the library.

“Dani, you look so pretty!” You say after you look up from your book and take in the girl before you.

“Thank you! Aunt Donna made my dress and Cass and Bela helped me with my hair and makeup!”

Daniela is in a form fitting floor length emerald green dress with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. Her red hair, as usual, is shaved on one side but the other side has near-perfect beachy waves. Her makeup isn’t subtle, but not heavy either and her eyeshadow beautifully accents her golden eyes.

“Come on!” She says as she grabs your hand. “We have to get you ready!”

“I thought Zina was gonna help me get ready?” You assumed since she helped you get ready for your date with Alcina a few weeks ago that she would also be the one helping you get ready tonight.

“Nope! She’s super busy making sure everything is perfect, so mother asked us to help you.”

“Oh,” it’s not that you don’t trust the girls to help you, but you know how chaotic they can get, especially if they start fighting and you don’t want to end up looking insane because all three of them wanted to do something different. “Alright.”

“Don’t worry, we already promised mother we wouldn’t fight and you get the final say on everything!” She says, as if she read your mind.

“If you say so.” You say with a playful chuckle.

Daniela takes you to Bela’s room where Bela and Cassandra are already waiting to help you get ready. Both girls look absolutely stunning. Bela is in a strapless a-line burgundy dress with her hair half up-half down. The parts of her hair that are half up are braided beautifully across the back of her head and the rest hangs down in pretty waves. Her makeup is minimal and she looks like a natural beauty. Cassandra is in a floor length metallic gold dress with a slit up the side, a straight neckline and thin straps. Unlike Bela, her makeup is heavier with dark eyes, winged eyeliner, and a bold lip. But she still looks just as gorgeous as her sisters. Her thick black hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail.

You take a moment to engrain the way all three girls look into your memory. Not only is it so special to you that they would get all dressed up for your party, but this is the first and probably last time that you’ll see all three of them dressed so nicely without a hair out of place or blood splatter anywhere. They all look truly gorgeous and it warms your heart to see them like this.

“Ready?” Daniela asks, practically vibrating with excitement.

Sensing the excitement in the girls brings a smile to your face, you’re really looking forward to spending this time with them.

“You bet! Let’s do this!”

The three of you discuss what you want to do with your hair and makeup and once a plan is set in place, the girls get to work.

Cassandra paints your nails as Daniela does your makeup and Bela does your hair. You’ve never been pampered like this before and as unusual as the feeling is, you’re truly enjoying yourself. As you look at the mirror while the girls work on you, your eyes travel down to the light scar on your chest and the much more noticeable one on your neck.

“Hey Dani, are you able to cover these up at all?” You ask quietly as your free hand runs over the scars.

The chatter amongst the girls stops and they try not to look at you with pity in their eyes. Daniela takes a look at them with sad eyes and meets your gaze.

“I can definitely cover the ones on your chest.” She says, dabbing concealer onto your skin. “But this one,” she says, gesturing to your neck scar. “I can put some makeup on it to make it less noticeable but I don’t think I’ll be able to completely cover it.”

Meeting her gaze, you see the sadness in her eyes. Looking back into the mirror, you see Bela focusing herself on your hair and Cassandra is staring at your nails as if they personally offended her. It’s always so interesting to see how differently the girls react to that day. Daniela wears her heart on her sleeve, Bela will almost always focus on something else so she doesn’t have to think about it, and Cassandra is still angry about what happened. Even though she’s forgiven Alcina, she still harbors some resentment about the whole thing.

“That’s fine, whatever you can do. Thanks Dani.” You say with a smile.

Daniela smiles and continues working on your makeup. After a few minutes, the chatter picks back up and the four of you go back to laughing and poking fun at each other.

Finally, your hair, makeup, and nails are done. The four of you decided on leaving your hair down in curls, pinning one side back and allowing the rest to fall down your back and a little over your other shoulder. It also helps to hide what the makeup couldn’t of the scar on your neck. For makeup, you settled on a natural, but not minimal, look with a red lip to match the red Cassandra painted your nails with.

“Now for the dress!” Daniela says as she flies to Bela’s wardrobe and pulls out the garment bag. 

Daniela unzips it and reveals the dress you and Donna spent hours discussing. It’s the first time any of you have seen it and you are stunned at her work. The black sequins sparkle beautifully in the light and you can’t wait to try it on.

You can hear the girls flies buzzing in excitement as you change into the dress and when you step out from behind the dressing screen, the three of them let out an audible gasp. Turning to look in the mirror, the biggest smile pulls across your face.

“You look beautiful.” Bela says as she stands next to you and fixes a stray hair.

Looking over, you can see Daniela covering her mouth with tears in her eyes and you pull her in for a hug.

“Oh, bug! Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your makeup.” You say with a laugh.

Daniela pulls herself together and wraps her arms around you, giving you too tight of a squeeze before letting go.

“It’s a shame really,” Cassandra begins to say and Bela immediately stares daggers at her. “It’s such a pretty dress and there’s no way mom isn’t literally tearing it off of you later tonight.” She says almost too casually.

“Cassandra!” You say as your face turns bright red.

“Tell me I’m wrong?” She deadpans.

“Cass! Gross!” Daniela whines.

“Alright, enough!” Bela says. “You look absolutely stunning and mother is going to be beside herself when she sees you.”

“Thank you so much, girls. I really, really appreciate you guys helping me get ready tonight.”

“Of course!” Bela says.

“I can’t wait for your entrance! You’re gonna knock everyone dead!” Daniela exclaims and you feel your face drop.

“My… entrance? What do you mean?”

“Your entrance! You know, when you enter the party in front of everyone?” Daniela says.

“I - I don’t get it. Are we not just greeting people as they come in?” You ask nervously.

“What?! No!” Daniela says.

“All of the guests are currently arriving. We’re supposed to let Zina know when you’re ready so they can prepare for your entrance.” Bela explains.

“So everyone is going to be looking at me?”

“Duh, it's your party.” Cassandra says.

“Oh god, I don’t want to do that! Why didn’t Alcina tell me about this?”

“Probably because she didn’t want you to freak yourself out too much beforehand.” Daniela says with a shrug.

You start pacing as your nerves skyrocket.

“Oh god, I - I can’t do that! I’m gonna fall down the stairs or something and completely embarrass myself! I don’t want to be the center of attention like that in front of the entire village!”

“You’ll be fine! Just breathe.” Bela says as she tries, and fails, to comfort you.

“Hey!” Cassandra yells, snapping you out of your near meltdown and grabs your shoulders. “You’re going to go out there and woo the shit out of everyone, our mother included. You look hot as shit and you won’t make an ass of yourself. Don’t worry, you got this.”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

Taking a deep breath, just barely settling your nerves, you give Cassandra a nod and Daniela flies out of the room to tell Zina you’re ready.

A few moments later, Zina knocks on the door and walks in. Your jaw drops when you first see her. You’ve never seen her in anything other than her uniform before, no less all dressed up. She’s wearing a long sleeve black dress with her salt and pepper hair tied up into a perfect bun at the back of her neck. She’s wearing minimal makeup, but more than she wears on an average day. She looks so pretty and you can’t help but smile.

“Zina, you look beautiful!” You say.

“Oh, this old thing? Thank you. You look absolutely beautiful yourself, dear.” She says with a warm smile.

“Thank you.”

“Alright girls, your mother is waiting for you. Off you go!” She says as she waves the girls away. They give you each one last “you got this” before flying out of the room.

“Ready?” Zina asks.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting to have to do a whole entrance.” You say nervously.

“Don’t worry, the Countess will be right there. Just focus on her and all will be fine.” She says.

“Alright, if you say so.”

“Let's get going, we don’t want to miss your cue.”

In the main hall most of the guests are gathered and the last of them make their way in. Some have already gone into the ballroom where the party will be hosted, the rest wait in the hall to watch your entrance. Zina stops you before you turn the corner and has you wait as she goes to tell Alcina you’re ready to go.

Alcina nods and bends through the doorway and heads to the stairs. The guests all applaud as she makes her way down, stopping at the landing to address the crowd.

“Thank you all so very much for accepting the invitation to Castle Dimitrescu for this wonderful event.” She says and the audience applauds. “This is the first time in decades that House Dimitrescu has opened its doors for such an event, and I am proud and honored to be your host this evening.” As she begins to descend down the stairs, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela appear at the top and make their way down, meeting their mother at the foot of the stairs.

She cups each of their faces as they pass her and tells them how absolutely beautiful they all are.

Zina leads you around the corner to the door Alcina stepped through and makes you wait before sending you through.

“And now, our guest of honor, Y/N.” Alcina says.

Zina gives you a little nudge and you freeze in place. Nearly the entire village is waiting at the bottom of those stairs to see you. Mother Miranda will be in that crowd and that thought alone is nearly enough to have you turn and run away.

Noticing the panic surging in your eyes, Zina takes hold of your hand and you snap out of your spiral. Your eyes meet her kind, blue eyes and she smiles at you.

“Go on, dear. You will be fine. Just look at the Lady, you’ll be great.”

With the ounce of confidence she gave you, you take a step through the door before it vanishes. As you step towards the stairs, gasps fill the room as the crowd sees you for the first time and applause fills the air. Your eyes nervously scan the faces, desperately looking for a familiar one. Unfortunately, the first person you see is Mother Miranda and her eyes are locked onto you with a cold gaze. Your heartbeat begins to pick up and you grip the bannister harder trying to steady yourself at the top of the stairs. It seems almost impossible to take your eyes off of hers until you feel another set on you. Looking down, you see Alcina at the bottom of the stairs and you immediately relax.

The look of shock on her face melts into pure happiness as her smile grows wide and you start making your way down the stairs towards her. Even if you tried, even if you wanted to, there was no way you would ever be able to take your eyes off of her. The eggplant gown she’s wearing compliments her complexion beautifully. It’s almost impossible to pull your eyes away from the deep v cut of her dress but your eyes travel down lower and you’re enamored by how perfectly the fabric clings to every one of her curves.

By some miracle, you make it to the landing without tripping or making a fool of yourself and Alcina reaches her hand out for you to take hold of. It takes all of your self control to not throw yourself into her arms and kiss her in front of everyone, but you find the strength to keep your composure. After walking down a few more steps, you take her hand in yours and once you're close enough she leans in.

“You look absolutely stunning, draga mea.” Alcina whispers to you.

“So do you, Alci.” You whisper back.

The applause fades and Alcina turns her attention back to the crowd, your hand still in hers.

“It is truly an honor to reopen my home to celebrate one of the very finest women this village has to offer. Ever since Y/N walked through these castle doors she has brought nothing but light to our once dark home. To show my appreciation for her, I have a gift that very few have had the honor of receiving in House Dimitrescu.” On command, a maid steps forward with a black box in her hand and gives it to Alcina. Alcina lets go of your hand to take the box and faces you once more. “My gift to you, draga mea, will not only offer you protection everywhere you go, but it is also a token of my love and my appreciation for you and I truly hope you will love it.”

Looking into Alcina’s eyes, you see a hint of nervousness and your stomach churns, unsure of why she’s nervous. Alcina opens the box and a sparkle immediately catches your eye. Sitting on pristine black velvet is an absolutely stunning silver and diamond choker necklace. In the center sits the Dimitrescu crest, a beautiful rose with two swords crossed through it. Your jaw drops at the sight of it and you can’t help but cover your mouth with your hands.

“Alcina,” you say. “This is absolutely beautiful.”

Your eyes begin to mist and you look up to meet hers, only to notice hers have begun to water as well.

“Do you really like it?” She whispers.

“I love it. I love it so much. Thank you.” You say.

Without even thinking the both of you lean in and your lips meet in a loving kiss. You can hear a few gasps from the crowd but the both of you ignore it as you pull apart.

“May I?” She asks, gesturing to the necklace.

“Of course.”

Alcina removes the necklace from the box and you turn around and move your hair to allow her to put the necklace on you. The jewelry is ice cold against your skin but quickly warms as she fastens it effortlessly despite the size of her fingers. You trace the crest with your fingers as you turn back around and Alcina looks at you with so much love it takes everything in you not to grab her face and kiss her again.

“Perfect. Absolutely beautiful.” She says.

The two of you stare into each other's eyes for another moment before she addresses the crowd once more.

“Let the celebration commence!”

Right on cue, the music starts up and the serving staff begins to weave in and out of the crowd with trays full of champagne. Alcina guides you down the rest of the stairs and the girls gush over the necklace. The sound of tiny footsteps takes your attention away and you turn around just in time for Elena to jump into your arms, squealing your name.

“Hi my sweet girl!” You say with excitement. “Look at you!” You say as you pull back to look at her. “You look so beautiful!”

“Mommy picked out my dress!” She says as she kicks her feet.

“She picked out such a beautiful one! You must be one of the prettiest girls at the party.”

“Not prettier than you!”

“Somehow I doubt that.” You say as you nuzzle your nose against hers.

Anna and Crina walk up to you, each of them holding onto one of the boys hands, with huge smiles on their faces. You hug and kiss each of them with one arm as Elena continues to cling to you before you greet your aunt and uncle.

Both of them seem wildly uncomfortable and your aunt tries and fails to hide the look of displeasure on her face when she looks at you and Alcina. Your uncle doesn’t even try to hide his scowl.

“Elena, come here please.” Your aunt says, taking the girl from your arms. She stares at the choker necklace Alcina gifted you and glares at you.

The look she gives you takes you aback and you unconsciously step backwards into Alcina. Alcina’s large hand settles on your shoulder and grounds you.

“I do hope the trip from the village this evening was pleasant.” Alcina says, feigning politeness.

“It was.” Your aunt says.

Your uncle steps up to you and leans in to get a better look at your necklace. He lets out a scoff and looks you in the eyes.

“I never thought you would be one to whore yourself out.” He says quietly enough so the kids can’t hear him. “And to this monster? You are a disgrace. It’s a good thing your parents are dead. Because this would surely kill them.”

Your heart sinks into your chest and the grip Alcina has on your shoulder tightens. A low growl erupts from deep in her chest and your uncle looks up to glare at her. He’s only able to hold her stare for a couple of seconds before the death glare she’s sending his way is too much for him to bear and he walks away. The girls’ flies buzz angrily as they seethe, all three of them staring up at their mother waiting for her to give them permission to tear him limb from limb. Alcina raises her hand to silence them. They open their mouths to protest but one look from Alcina stops them.

The sound of someone clearing their throats takes your attention away and you look over to see Mother Miranda standing next to the group. She’s sporting a smile yet the icy blue of her eyes is as frightening as ever. Her eyes drift over towards your aunt and Elena and your aunt bows your head.

“Mother Miranda. It is an honor.” She says as her voice shakes.

Mother Miranda nods at your aunt and doesn’t take her eyes away from her or Elena. The look she gives them makes your stomach twist and Alcina can feel the nerves rippling off of you.

“I hope you enjoy the party.” She says to your aunt with a smile that doesn’t even begin to reach her eyes.

Your aunt nods, taking that as her exit and quickly gathers the kids, beelining it out of the main hall after your uncle.

Mother Miranda’s cold eyes meet yours and she gives you a sickly sweet smile.

“Happy birthday, my child.”

“Thank you, Mother Miranda.” You say as you bow your head.

“Mother Miranda, thank you for gracing us with your presence this evening.” Alcina says, mustering up as much sincerity as possible.

“And miss such a noteworthy event?” Miranda responds. “I see you were gifted the Dimitrescu crest.” She says as she looks at your necklace. “Very rarely is something so valuable gifted to others. You indeed must be quite special to my daughter.”

You swallow and take in a shaky breath.

“I am honored to have been gifted something so meaningful. It is something I will cherish for the rest of my life.” You say as you try to keep your voice steady.

“As you should.” Miranda says. “Enjoy your party. Alcina.” She says, nodding at Alcina who returns the gesture before disappearing into the crowd.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and Alcina turns you around to face her.

“Are you alright?” She asks as she cups your face.

“Yeah. It’s just - that was a lot.”

“I know. I’m so sorry that this is how your night started, draga mea. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just need a moment.”

“Take all the time you need, iubirea mea.”

Alcina caresses your cheek before pulling her hand away. Zina walks up to Alcina and whispers something and Alcina nods at her.

“There’s something that needs my attention, will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Don’t let them spoil your evening my love. You deserve the world, go have fun.”

Alcina and Zina walk away and you take a minute to calm your nerves before weaving through the crowd of people. A few villagers nod at you, some wish you a happy birthday, others try to hide the look of disgust on their faces. It’s truly a mixed bag of faces and reactions.

After a few minutes of wandering around you hear a voice behind you.

“Oh my God! Who’s that hot piece of ass in the black dress?!”

Quickly turning around, you see Alexi with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Alexi!” You squeal as you run towards him and jump into his arms.

He hugs you tight and spins you around before setting you back down on the ground.

“Holy shit look at you!” He says as he eyes you up and down. “You look amazing!” His eyes move back to your face and they soften. “I can’t believe you’re real, that you’re here! Alive!” 

Tears prick at his eyes as he pulls you in for another bone-crushing hug. You hug him back just as tightly.

“When I heard what happened I thought the worst was gonna happen. I thought you were - I never thought I’d see you again.” He says into your shoulder. Tears start to well in your eyes, just before they fall he says “Fuck! You even smell good!” and you begin to laugh.

“I missed you so much.” You say as you part.

“Why didn’t you write?! I saw Anna and she told me she saw you a few months ago and said that you were happy and safe but I didn’t believe it!”

“I know, I’m so sorry. Things have been so crazy here. I should have let you know I was okay. I’m so sorry, Alexi.”

“Well, you’re a bitch for not writing, but I’m so relieved that you’re okay so I guess you’re forgiven.”

The two of you laugh and hug once more. A server comes by and offers you champagne and you each take a glass.

“Oh my god!” Alexi says as he goes to take a sip, pulling the glass away from his lips. “Okay was I hallucinating or did you and Lady D actually kiss?” You nearly spit out your drink as he continues. “I was so far back but I saw you lean in and then heard a gasp and unless you happened to fall and eat shit, you definitely kissed that giant.” Your cheeks turn bright red and Alexi’s jaw drops. “Oh my god you did! Was that the first time you’ve kissed her?! Shit, I knew you liked older women but damn.”

“I - we -”

“Oh my god that wasn’t the first time you kissed her was it?!” You continue to flounder and Alexi gets louder and more excited. “Bitch I can’t believe you didn’t write to me and tell me you kissed her! You’re unforgiven.” He says as he takes a sip of his champagne. “Fuck, this is delicious. Okay, so how many times have you kissed her? Have you done more than just kiss? Did you two hook up?”

You get more flustered and cover your burning face with your hands and Alexi’s jaw hits the floor.

“Oh my god.” He says more quietly. “Have you two like,” he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers.

“Alexi!” You yell and smack his arm. Mortified, you look around to see if anyone else has their eyes on the two of you.

“OH MY GOD!” Alexi yells, gaining the attention of guests in your immediate vicinity and you slap your hand over his mouth and shush him.

“Shut up!” You say as you pull him to a secluded corner of the main hall. “Come here.”

When you finally get away from most of the crowd you pull your hand away from his mouth and it hangs open.

“Oh my god you two totally fucked!” The gears in his brain turn and you see a lightbulb go off. “She took your virginity?!” He says a little too loudly and your skin burns with embarrassment as a couple villagers walking by look over at the two of you. You flash them a polite smile before you glare at your best friend.

“Will you be quiet?!”

“Sorry! Sorry. But holy shit, girl, that gigantic woman took your v-card?!” Unable to verbally answer, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head. “Oh my god, how did she not split you in half?!”

“Alexi! She’s doesn’t have a -”

“She doesn’t need to with fingers that big! God, her strap must be huge. You poor, poor girl.”

“Oh my god. We haven’t - I don’t know if she even - we haven’t gotten that far, yet.”

“What the hell have you been waiting for?!”

“Things got complicated! I’m fine, but it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows since I got here, okay?”

“And you’re gonna sit here and act like I’m not going to have you explain that further?” He says as he finishes his champagne with an eyebrow raised at you.

“I can’t get into all of that right now, okay? But I promise I will later.”

“Bitch, you better.”

“I will, I promise.” You say as you grab his hands and give them a squeeze.

“Ahem.” 

You hear someone clear their throat behind you and jump, releasing Alexi’s hand and turning around. Behind you, Alcina is standing there with a hand on her hip and her eyes narrowed at Alexi.

“Alcina! You scared me.”

“Are you enjoying your party, draga?” She asks you, yet her eyes continue to glare at Alexi.

“Yes! It’s so beautiful. Alexi and I were just catching up. Alcina, this is my best friend, Alexi. Alexi, this is Alcina.” You say, trying to diffuse the tension.

Alexi stands there, pinned by her glare and you nudge him to break him out of the spell.

“Oh, uh, it’s an honor to meet you, my Lady.” He says with a shaky voice as he gives a small bow.

Alcina purses her lips and looks down at you. Before she goes to speak, one of the stablehands steps in and addresses Alcina. He’s a bit taller than you, about the same height as Alexi with ash blonde hair and broad shoulders. You can tell by the way Alexi is looking at him that he completely forgot about you and Alcina.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt my Lady.” He says with a bow. “But may I borrow a servant or two? One of the horses stepped on one of the vineyard workers' feet and potentially broke his foot. We are having a difficult time dealing with all the horses with one less worker.”

Alcina sighs and you look over at Alexi and nudge him, nodding your head towards the stablehand.

“Oh! Uh, I - I can help!” He says almost too eagerly. Alcina looks at him and he clears his throat and gathers himself. “I mean, I tend to my fathers horses all the time. I can lend a hand, if you need.” You nudge him again. “My Lady.”

Alcina looks at you and you give her a nod and smile at Alexi.

“Well, if you have experience with horses, I don’t see why not.”

“Oh shit, really?” Alexi says and Alcina glares at him. “I - I mean, thank you my Lady.”

You smile at Alexi who introduces himself to the stablehand and they walk towards the doors together. With a laugh, you shake your head at your friend.

“That is your best friend?”

“Alcina!” You say with a laugh. “Be nice, he was nervous.”

“Mhm. Yet he still seemed quite friendly with you.” She says as her eyes stay on the two men as they exit the main hall.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You two seemed awfully touchy, when I approached.” Alcina crosses her arms across her chest and purses her lips.

“What are you - I was just holding his hands?”

“He knows you are mine. Yet he put his hands on you anyway.”

“Alcina, what’s going on?”

“I understand he is your best friend, but I do not trust those man-things. Especially around you. There is only one thing they want and they will do anything to get it.”

You stand there with your eyebrows furrowed. On one hand, you know what she means, but on the other - you realize she’s missing a key piece to the puzzle and you bark out a laugh and cover your mouth.

“Draga, this is no laughing matter.”

“Oh my god, Alcina, do you think he was hitting on me?”

“In all my years of life, men have only ever wanted one thing -”

“Alcina!” You say, abruptly ending her rant. Her eyes narrow at you as you continue to laugh. “He wasn’t hitting on me! Alcina, Alexi is gay. He’s not into women!”

Alcina opens her mouth to speak and closes it. She does this a few more times as a light blush dusts across her cheeks and you continue to laugh.

“I - I was not made aware of his preferences.”

As hard as you try to stifle your laughter, it still comes out from between your fingers as your hand is clasped over your mouth. Alcina is embarrassed as it is, you don’t want to make it any worse, but you can’t help but find this situation hysterical.

“It is not funny, draga.” Alcina says as she tries to hold back her smile. Despite her embarrassment, she too finds the situation amusing.

“Oh come on, it’s a little funny.” You say as you start to gather yourself.

Alcina shakes her head at you.

“Come, you haven’t even made it into the main event yet, draga.” 

[emotionalhottiee]

Broken 💔

Jimmy Uso/Jonathan Fatu

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

just a quick oneshot until i get over this writers block. Hope you enjoy.

Heart Broken…

Doesn’t even begin to explain how i feel. How could he do this to us?

Thoughts of frustration and brokenness ran rampant through my mind as hot tears poured down my face. After all i had been through with Jonathan how could he throw away everything we had. My mind ran back to walking into his condo, opening his bedroom door to be met with an image of some ig thot, bent over while the love of my life was behind her. My heart shattered had into a million pieces.

Now the tears I’ve been crying out, for the past 30 minutes have blurred my vision. Thinking about that day against my will. But seeing him tonight made the memory pop up. Even though i knew there was a slight chance he would be at our friends birthday party. Actual seeing him, just felt like another knife being jammed right into my heart.

“Kenzi, are you alright in there?” “You’ve been in this bathroom a long time” my friend Kiara screamed through the door.

I hadn’t even realized i had been in here that long, but i just couldn’t stop crying. Watching Jon strut up in this party with some new girl on his arm. As if the last year and a half meant so little to him, he could move on within days. LITERALLY 5 days ago i caught him in bed with another woman.

And now it’s saturday, and he bought a whole other woman with him. Damn, How many others were there? I thought to myself as i wiped the tears from my bloodshot red eyes. Trying to cover up the fact that i been in the bathroom of a mutal friend of ours,sobbing over this man. What did i ever do to make him be so cold & callous towards me?

I have to pull myself together! I tried to tell myself encouragingly, i am not going to let him see me, so vulnerable. For what? He doesn’t seem to care in the least bit. Too busy fake laughing at the girl with her ass hanging out of her shorts.

He’s knows her ass ain’t that funny.

As i finish up wiping my face, one last time. Before i could even get myself all the way out of the bathroom Kiara yanked my ass into a tight hug. She knew i needed this that’s why she my friend.

“Girl don’t let him make you sad. Fuck him, you deserve so much better.” She calmly stated to me rocking us back & forth. This is exactly what will make my ass start crying again. But i am so thankful for my friend, trying to keep me from being sad.

Against Kiara’s advice i decided to stay at this party. This was one of Jon & I’s mutal friend, I’m not gonna let him feel like he has won (Even though he totally has won).

I put on my bravest face to go back and chill, before our friends pull out a game of taboo. We had split up into two teams and of course i end up on a team with Jon & his whore of the week. It was almost as if God was punishing me for still wanting to be around him. But truth be told i was obsessed with him. I loved him more than the air i breathed.

And as much as i can possibly lie to myself, i know he loves me too.

*some time later*

The party winded down, Kiara & I were helping our friends clean up. Jon’s little girlfriend ended up leaving. I thought they would’ve rode together but i guess not. And I’m honestly kinda happy about that. He’s been staring at me all night. Now that he’s alone i know where this night will take us. Especially since i rode with Kiara.

Jon asked me if i needed a ride home, knowing damn well i don’t like driving at night. I tried to act like i had to go back with Kiara, she gave us a shrug letting us know she didn’t mind. She knew me too well. As much as she wanted me to stand up for myself, she knew where my heart was. And wanting to be there for me she wasn’t gonna fight me on it. I appreciated that. Giving her a hug goodnight she gave me eyes of pleading, but with a hint of be careful. I rubbed her arms up & down letting her know i’d be okay.

The ride back to Jon’s house was quiet at first nothing but low 90s R&B playing. But he eventually turned the music off. He grabbed my hand while holding the steering with his other and apologized for his actions within the last week. My eyes filled up to the brim before a tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t even respond. I just held onto his hand, he bought my hand up to his mouth still holding it kissing it ever so gently. This is the soft, caring Jon i feel in love with. For a quick second he looked at me our eyes staring into one another. Until he turned his eyes back to the road.

This is going to be a great night.

[bradleysass]

Liar - @black-brothers-microfic - Word Count: 752 - Starchaser

Regulus Black didn’t like surprises. He didn’t like them in the form of unexpected guests, unannounced changes to his carefully laid plans, or, worst of all, parties in his honor. The idea of a surprise party for his birthday was, in his opinion, a disaster waiting to happen. Unfortunately for him, his boyfriend James Potter wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge—especially when said challenge involved celebrating the person he loved most.

“It’ll be perfect,” James had promised Sirius that morning. They were in the middle of moving the furniture in the flat James shared with Regulus, making room for what Sirius dramatically dubbed “The Birthday Extravaganza.” Lily and Remus were already on their way with decorations and food.

“You’re playing with fire, mate,” Sirius warned, even as he hoisted the coffee table to one side. “Reg doesn’t just dislike surprises—he loathes them. Do you remember what happened last Christmas when Mum sent that impromptu ‘peace offering’ gift?”

“He set it on fire in the garden and called it cathartic,” James replied without missing a beat. “But this is different. It’s a birthday party, not a cursed letter. And I’m his boyfriend. He’ll forgive me.”

“If you say so,” Sirius said, smirking. “Just make sure he doesn’t catch on. Reg’s got that sixth sense for sniffing out lies. You’re not exactly subtle, Prongs.”

James huffed but didn’t argue. Keeping secrets from Regulus was like trying to hide something from a particularly sharp-eyed magpie. Still, he was determined to pull this off.

The first hurdle came at breakfast.

“What are you doing today?” Regulus asked, sipping his tea as he gave James a pointed look. James felt the weight of suspicion already.

“Oh, just errands,” James replied casually, stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth to avoid elaborating.

“Errands?” Regulus’s tone suggested he wasn’t buying it. “You hate errands.”

“Yes, well, sometimes you have to do things you don’t like, love.” James flashed him a dazzling smile. Regulus raised an eyebrow but let it go… for now.

The next few hours were a delicate dance of avoidance and half-truths. James tried everything to keep Regulus occupied and away from their flat. First, he suggested they take a walk in the park. Regulus agreed, though he seemed suspicious of James constantly checking his watch. Then, James pretended to be interested in a shop window display he’d never cared about before, prompting Regulus to narrow his eyes.

By lunchtime, Regulus’s patience was wearing thin. “Why are you acting so strangely?” he asked, crossing his arms as they stood outside a café.

“I’m not acting strangely,” James replied, though his voice cracked slightly. Regulus tilted his head, a predator locking onto its prey.

“You’re lying,” he said flatly.

“I’m not—”

“You are. You’ve been lying all morning. Care to explain why?”

James opened his mouth, closed it, and then blurted, “It’s for a good reason!”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed further. “I hate liars, James.”

James groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “I know, I know. But trust me, you’ll understand later.”

Regulus looked unimpressed but allowed James to drag him to another shop under the pretense of “just browsing.” James silently begged the clock to move faster.

When they finally returned to the flat, it was late afternoon. Regulus opened the door and froze. The entire living room was transformed: banners with “Happy Birthday” hung across the walls, balloons floated in the corners, and the smell of freshly baked cake filled the air. Their friends were there, grinning, and Sirius was holding a glass of champagne like he was about to toast.

Regulus turned slowly to face James, who was biting his lip nervously.

“You lied to me,” Regulus said, his voice quiet.

“I did,” James admitted. “But it was to surprise you. And look, everyone’s here! Happy birthday, love.”

For a moment, Regulus just stared at him. Then, to James’s immense relief, he sighed and shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re an idiot,” Regulus said. “But you’re my idiot.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” James asked hopefully.

“It means you’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Regulus replied, stepping inside. “But don’t think I’ll forget this anytime soon.”

Sirius clapped James on the back as the party got underway. “See? I told you he’d survive.”

“Barely,” James muttered, watching Regulus chat with Lily. But when Regulus caught his eye and gave him a genuine smile, James decided it was all worth it.