#and had it ripped out from under me at the last minute | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 2 days ago

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All righty, here we go, diving into more of the angsty love triangle!! *rubs hands together* 😈

However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲

But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!!

The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother. Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted." But I do want her.

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

But he didn't, he never did. And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏

(Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣

And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield. He thought it was cute.

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white. He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe."

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight. "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone. "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does. It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

#why is it a big deal?#supernatural #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #dean winchester #jensen ackles #sam winchester #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #It's Not A Big Deal #lovely mutuals #zepskies reads

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billiesbabygirleilish · 2 days ago

Note

hi baby could you do something where reader is pregnant with her and billie's kid and the birth is really traumatic, so just billie comforting her and staying by her side while the doctors are taking care of her?

Twists and Turns

an: idk how good this is bc i’ve never written anything abt pregnancy, if you’re looking for good pregnancy fics i’d recommend gracie-eilish tbh bc she’s so sweet and her writing is so cute.

╔══🦢☁️🍼*.* ⋆｡‧˚~ʚ🧸ɞ~˚‧｡⋆*.*🍼☁️🦢 ══╗

╚══ 🦢☁️🍼*.* ⋆｡‧˚~ʚ🧸ɞ~˚‧｡⋆*.*🍼☁️🦢 ══╝ The world tilted on its axis, spinning with a ferocity that threatened to send you tumbling into the void. Pain, raw and unrelenting, ripped through you, eclipsing everything else. Your grip on Billie’s hand tightened, her knuckles turning stark white beneath your frantic hold.

"It's okay, baby," Billie whispered, her voice strained but steady. "You're doing amazing. Just breathe with me, okay? In… and out…"

You tried, you really tried, to follow her instructions, to latch onto the rhythm of her calming words. But the pain was a roaring tide, pulling you under, threatening to drown you in its intensity. You squeezed your eyes shut, a whimper escaping your lips.

This wasn’t how you envisioned it. You'd pictured gentle music, soft lighting, a calm and collected you breathing through each contraction with grace. You'd pictured joy. Instead, you felt like you were being torn apart from the inside out.

The pregnancy had been relatively smooth, barring the morning sickness that clung to you like a persistent shadow in the first trimester. You and Billie had spent hours giddy with excitement, poring over baby names, decorating the nursery in a soothing palette of muted greens and greys. You had imagined holding your daughter, her tiny fingers wrapped around one of yours as Billie sang her songs to sleep.

But now – now, everything felt catastrophic.

"We're close, baby. Just a little bit further," the doctor encouraged, her voice firm but kind.

But you didn't feel close. You felt like you were miles away from the finish line, lost in a labyrinth of agony.

Another contraction seized you, more violent than the last. You gasped, your body arching against the hospital bed. You felt something tear, a sharp, searing pain that made you cry out.

Billie’s arms were around you, her presence a solid, anchoring force in the swirling chaos. "I've got you, I've got you," she murmured, her voice thick with concern. She pressed a cool cloth to your forehead, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Time seemed to warp and bend. Moments stretched into agonizing eternities, then vanished in a blink. You vaguely remembered pushing, pushing with every ounce of strength you possessed, fueled by the hope of finally holding your baby. But despite your efforts, progress seemed agonizingly slow.

Then, panic flared. The room filled with a flurry of activity, the calm atmosphere shattered by hushed but urgent voices. You heard terms you didn't understand, saw worried faces hovering above you.

"The baby's in distress," someone said, their voice tight with urgency. "We need to prepare for a C-section."

Fear clawed at your throat, choking you. A C-section? That wasn't part of the plan. You had so many hopes for a natural birth, for that immediate skin-to-skin contact. Now, those dreams were crumbling around you.

Billie's grip on your hand tightened. "Everything's going to be okay," she reassured, her voice wavering slightly. "They're going to take care of you, and they're going to take care of our baby. Just trust them."

You wanted to believe her, you desperately wanted to trust that everything would be alright. But fear was a vise around your heart, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

The next few minutes were a blur of hurried preparations. You were wheeled into the operating room, the bright lights searing your eyes. The anaesthetist spoke to you, his voice calm and professional, but you barely registered his words.

Then, darkness.

When you finally came to, everything was hazy and disoriented. Your body ached, a dull, throbbing pain that permeated every inch of you. You blinked, trying to focus on the figure beside you.

Billie. Her face was pale, etched with exhaustion and worry, but her eyes softened as she saw you stir.

"You're awake," she breathed, her voice thick with relief. She leaned down, gently brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," you mumbled, your throat dry. "What happened? The baby…?"

Billie’s smile was hesitant, bittersweet. "She's here. She's beautiful. A little fighter, just like her mama."

A wave of emotion washed over you, relief mingling with exhaustion and a profound sense of love. "Can I see her?"

"Not yet," Billie said softly. "They're still running some tests. She had a little trouble breathing at first, but she's doing much better now. They just want to keep a close eye on her for a while."

Disappointment pricked at you. You wanted to hold her, to feel her tiny body against your own. But you trusted Billie, and you trusted the doctors.

"How about you?" Billie asked, her gaze searching your face. "You lost a lot of blood. The surgery was… complicated."

Complicated. That word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken anxieties.

"I'm okay," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "Just… tired."

Billie nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached for your hand, her fingers interlacing with yours. Her skin felt warm against your own, a comforting anchor in the swirling current of your emotions.

"I was so scared," she confessed, her voice barely audible. "When things started going wrong… I didn't know what to do. I just wanted you both to be okay."

You squeezed her hand, your heart aching for her. "I know," you whispered. "But we're both here. We made it."

For the next few hours, Billie stayed by your side, a silent sentinel watching over you. She held your hand, stroked your hair, and whispered words of comfort. She told you about your daughter, describing her tiny features, her delicate eyelashes, her perfect little nose. She showed you pictures on her phone, capturing a beauty that was both fragile and fierce.

Later, when you were finally strong enough, they wheeled you down to the NICU. Seeing your daughter for the first time, tiny and helpless in her incubator, was overwhelming. Tears streamed down your face as you reached out and gently touched her hand, marveling at the miracle that had brought her into the world.

Billie stood beside you, her arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. "She's amazing, isn't she?" she whispered, her voice full of awe.

You nodded, unable to speak. You were exhausted, sore, and still reeling from the trauma of the birth. But as you gazed at your daughter, a profound sense of love and gratitude washed over you. You and Billie had faced a terrifying ordeal, but you had emerged on the other side, stronger and more united than ever. And now, you had your daughter, your beautiful, perfect daughter, waiting for you to hold her in your arms, the promise of a lifetime of love and laughter stretching out before you. The trauma had faded, and you just knew it would all be worth it.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x fem! reader #billiesbabygirleilish #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n #billie x reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fluff #billieeilish #wlw #billie eilish imagine

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loveanddeepdick · 3 months ago

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nerd!nanami halloween edition

batman & catwoman

nerd!nanami who helps you into your costume. it was supposed to be a surprise but there was so much tight latex you had no choice but to ask him for help. gojo had invited you to his annual halloween party in his penthouse and nanami reluctantly accepted the invitation.

“honey.. are you sure this thing is made for.. humans? it looks like a medieval torture method,” nanami grunts as he pulls the latex up your legs, “are you in any pain—shit! are you in any pain, dear?”

“no, no, kenny! just get it on my arms and we’re all done!”

“i might have to oil you up, dear..” he chuckles wholeheartedly before he pauses, realizing his innuendo.

“… okay ken,” you giggle, slapping his arm.

nerd!nanami who finally gets the whole costume on you after another hour while his batman costume only took a max of five minutes to pull on.

“i think i look silly, dear,” he runs his hands over his hair before putting on the black mask, his face dwarfing the spirit halloween accessory. he was just ginormous in all ways.

“you don’t look silly! i think you look very handsome,” you smile, rubbing a hand over his biceps under the black shirt. he refused to wear anything too silly, opting for a black batman shirt and black sweats along with the mask.

you two stood before your bathroom mirror as you giggle excitedly at the sight. you whipped out your phone, taking what seemed like a thousand photos of him before you two left for gojo’s halloween party.

nerd!nanami who tries his hardest to hide his boner at the party. he was a reasonable man, of course he let you go have fun and party with your friends. but that didn’t stop him from keeping a possessive eye on you.

he couldn’t believe it. his girlfriend. his catwoman. he used to pray for a day like this to come. he had to pinch himself to realize it wasn’t a dream and that you were indeed real, a goddess in his eyes.

nerd!nanami who doesn’t last for another thirty minutes seeing you in that costume, pulling you to a guest bedroom in gojo’s penthouse where you two usually stayed if you crashed there.

you gasped as he pressed you down against the bed.

“hold on, kenny i’ll just—“

you try to take off the panted pants yourself until your hear a loud stretch and a rubbery rip. you shriek, eyes widen as you look back and he’s got the spandex in two pieces, baring your thighs and pussy to him.

“please, honey.. i need you now,” nanami groaned, pushing his hand along your back to guide you back onto your stomach.

gojo’s sheets were always cotton, thank god. they’d be easy to wash after this.

nerd!nanami who has your head pushed into the pillows as he plows your pussy from the back, spanking your ass to watch them move like water.

“fffuck, baby.. you feel so good”

nanami groaned as he leaned forward, angling deeper inside you as his cock reached what seemed like you stomach.

“kennnn.. so big!”

“shh, shh i know, i know, baby, just take it,” he grunted as he felt you clench at his words, reaching down to rub your clit as he watched you drool onto the pillow.

“i-im gonna—ah! i’m gonna!”

“you’re gonna what, honey? use your words”

“i’m gonna cum, kennnn”

he was never the one to tease you or enjoy watching you like this, but something inside him snapped when he watched you stumble over your words, whining to try to find your sense of mind when you went dumb on his cock.

“cum for me, baby, c’mon, i know you”

“fffuck! ken!”

your pussy held his cock like a vice and shit, thank god he wasn’t batman cause he would never be saving the world since he has you waiting at home.

he shot thick, creamy ropes of cum deep into your pussy, warmth filling you up as you sighed contently. he pulled out, admiring you for a minute, watching as his cum spilled out. he was about to get up to clean you until he saw you subtly wiggle your hips, the sight of your plump ass, your ruined pussy, your legs only half covered in spandex, fuck it only made him hard again.

he leaned in, spreading you open, watching your gaping, twitching holes before licking a stripe over them as you shivered

“honey, how about i clean you up, hm?”

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento #kento nanami smut #rina thinking 📝

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cameronsprincess · 4 months ago

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thinking abt… slutty!frat!rafe with an oral fixation<3 my baby @rafeyscurtainbangs asked for this, sorry it took so long babe but i hope it’s good🤞🏻

CW: smut! 18+ only! frat!rafe, mention of sexting, fem receiving oral, nipple stimulation for a minute, praise and dirty talk.

rafe masterlist | daydreams

rafe cameron loved using his mouth. he had a major fixation with having any part of you in his mouth. he could suck on your nipples or fingers for hours, the action comforting him in a way. he especially loved when his mouth was on your pussy. he’d once said he could live off eating your pussy, and those words alone sealed your fate, causing you to crave him as much as he did you.

you were currently laid in his bed, waiting on him to get home from a meeting he had with his brothers. you’re scrolling through tiktok when a text message from rafe appears on your screen.

rafey: “hey babe, i’m on my way back now, sorry that took longer than it needed to.”

you smile at the text, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth before deciding to tease him a bit, snapping a picture of your dripping wet pussy and sending it to him.

you: *attached image* “s’okay, rafey. been thinkin’ bout you while you were gone:(”

he reads it instantly, the little bubbles signaling he’s typing bouncing across the bottom of the message thread.

rafey: “goddamnit, baby.. pussy’s fuckin’ soaked, can’t wait to get my mouth on her, been cravin’ your taste for days.”

you: “you ate me out last night, rafe… for 2 hours…”

his response is immediate.

rafey: “don’t fuckin’ care, been twelve hours too long. be fuckin’ ready, be there in 5.”

you giggle to yourself, locking your phone and tossing it onto his side table beside the bed. you quickly finish undressing yourself, pulling his comforter up and climbing underneath it. his bedroom door swings open a few minutes later, his eyes filled with lust as they drink you in.

“goddamn, you look so fuckin’ good in my bed. you better be naked under that blanket.”

he quickly slams the door shut, locking it before he toes off his black nikes. he pulls his t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the floor before he’s ripping the thick comforter off your body, a low, hungry growl pulled from his chest when he finds you completely naked for him.

“fuck, sweetheart. you’re such a good fuckin’ girl, always ready f’me. always doin’ what i ask.”

you smile sweetly up at him, taking in the look of adoration that covers his face. all for you.

“rafey, please? ‘m so needy, want you to do whatever you want with me.”

he slowly climbs onto the bed, hovering above you as both hands rest on either side of your head, bearing his weight. he wraps a hand underneath your head, lifting it slightly and pressing his lips to yours. the kiss is slow at first, but quickly turns fast and hungry. he slips his tongue into your mouth, taking his time in exploring your mouth, savoring the sweet taste of you.

he breaks the kiss, letting your head drop onto the mattress as he lowers himself down, his lips kissing the corner of your lips, jaw, neck all the way down to your breasts. his tongue darts out, licking one of your nipples before he repeats his actions on the other. you writhe beneath him as his lips softly latch onto one of your hardened buds, sucking at it softly before biting down on it and pulling back. he smiles down at you, loving the look of pleasure that graces your features— swollen, slightly parted lips, heavy, half-lidded eyes staring back at him, silently begging him for more.

“rafe… please? i need you.”

he quirks a brow, pressing a soft kiss to yours soft tits before slowly trailing wet, open mouthed kisses down the length of your stomach. he presses a hot kiss to your pubic bone, his large hands gripping at both your thighs and spreading them open wide.

“yeah? you need me, baby? i need you more, need to taste this sweet fuckin’ pussy on my tongue, need to hear those beautiful fuckin’ sounds you make while you fuck my face. love watchin’ you come undone f’me, only for me, right?”

you suck in a sharp breath when his lips find your inner thighs, kissing, licking and biting at the flesh, the feel of his breath fanning against your drooling entrance causing your body to shudder.

“fuck, rafe. go on, be a good boy f’me and eat my pussy, yeah? you know you want to, stop teasin’ me.”

rafe chuckles, sinking his teeth into your inner thigh once more, making you squeal from the pain and pleasure that coursed through you.

he presses a soft kiss to your puffy clit, his teeth nipping at the bundle of nerves softly before he licks a stripe from the bottom of your slit back up to your clit again. he sucks the bud into his mouth, the lewd noises that follow cause your pussy to grow wetter, needier.

he mumbles praises against your pussy, the vibrations from his mouth have your thighs tightening around his head, “fuck baby, you’re soaked. love eatin’ this fuckin’ pussy, could live off this goddamn pussy i swear.”

your hands fly into his messy hair, tugging on the locks softly. his tongue glides up and down, the muscle penetrating your sopping hole every so often. you cry out his name, gripping his hair tightly to keep his head in place. you begin grinding your hips, fucking your pussy on his face, his nose bumping at your clit deliciously with each grind of your hips.

“fuck, fuck, rafe! baby, ‘m.. ‘m so close, holy shit…”

rafe digs his fingers into your thighs, pushing his head up past the grip your hand had on him. his darkened eyes find yours as he lowers his head back down, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth. his eyes stay on yours, burning into you as he pushes you closer to your release. releasing your clit with a soft pop, he groans, licking his lips.

“come on my face, baby girl. go on, wanna fuckin’ drown in this pussy.”

he shifts himself onto his knees, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your ass up into the air. he slaps at your dripping heat with his hand, rubbing his fingers through your arousal before he dips his head back down. his tongue meets your dripping hole once more, tongue fucking into you. he glides his head up and down, licking every inch of your cunt, teeth nipping at your clit teasingly. the band in your belly grows tight, your skin burning with the need to cum.

“‘m coming, rafe!” you whine as you grind your hips up and down, matching rafe’s movements as he eats you from behind.

he sucks on your clit softly, not letting up until you’re screaming his name, body going limp as you come undone on his face. rafe helps you ride out your high, his tongue softly licking and sucking every inch of your pussy. your body trembles, legs like jello as you fall limp onto his mattress.

rafe flips you onto your back again, a cocky smirk played on his lips. “fuck that’ll never get old, fuckin’ love when you cum on my face.”

he leans forward, claiming your lips with his before his hands grip your thighs once more, spreading you open wide for him again. you whimper, “rafe… ‘m so sensitive..”

“awww, poor baby… but i’m not done with you yet, ‘m still hungry.”

wowza i love frat rafe n i love men who eat pussy🙂‍↕️ hopefully this is to your satisfaction baby💞

tagging some moots: @rafesthroatbaby @oceandriveab @starkeysbabygirl @starkeysprincess @starkeyisthelastname @maybankslover @jjsbaby @rafeyscurtainbangs @babygorewhore @xxbimbobunnyxx @nemesyaaa

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x reader #frat!rafe #rafe smut #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron concepts

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my85volvo · 6 hours ago

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"I...didn't think you'd come," Stiles whispered to the ground.

He was still tied to the iron chair that was bolted to the floor, his wrists and ankles burning from the chafe of the tightly bound rope. The dead bodies of 3 hunters lay across the dimly lit cellar, and Derek stood over them with his claws unsheathed, soaked in blood. His eyes were glowing a deep Alpha red, brighter still against the contrast of the poorly lit room.

"Of course I came," the wolf spat out while striding toward Stiles. "Why the hell wouldn't I?"

He seemed...angry. Derek moved behind him to cut through his restraints.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, voice shakey.

When Derek came back around to face him, he was still panting from the effort of ripping the captors apart. Stiles could tell he was concentrating on pulling back his shift, because he took a few breaths to close his eyes and sheathe his claws.

Once Derek opened his eyes, they were back to the hazel green that Stiles remembered. Derek moved his hands to cup Stiles' face and rest their foreheads together.

"What the hell were you thinking? Don't ever run off on your own again. I thought--" Derek choked on his last words, choosing to gulp down the rest of his sentence rather that say it aloud.

When Stiles felt the pain in his aching muscles and raw skin start to fade, he pulled away from Derek's hands.

"I'm okay, really. You don't have to."

Derek scowled, but he stepped back to let Stiles stand on his own. He was a bit shakey at first, then managed to take a few steps with only a slight limp. What hurt more was knowing Derek came here and risked his life for someone he didn't even want to be with anymore. Stiles chastised himself since all he seemed to know how to do these days was be a burden on the wolf.

"Come on," Derek said, heading toward the door. "Stay close, there's probably more coming."

Stiles followed dutifully up the stairs, measuring his every breath, trying with all his willpower to just be good. He wanted to crack a stupid joke about being a damsel in distress or hug him so tight that Derek's stubble would imprint on his cheek. Honestly, he was so damn happy to see him that he almost forgot how much Derek must hate his rambling and clingy-ness.

Suddenly, Derek stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head to listen for something, then reached back and grabbed Stiles' hand to pull him along. The pair moved silently the rest of the way up the stairs, through the kitchen, out a sliding glass door, and into the tree line past the back yard. Derek didn't let go of his hand, and Stiles didn't speak a word until they reached the jeep parked on a dirt path 20 minutes later. Derek must have found it in town, where it was left behind when Stiles was taken.

Refusing to hand over the keys, Derek sat on the driver's side and waited for Stiles to buckle himself in before speaking.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Derek asked with a frown. "Why did you just leave?"

"I just thought that it would be easier for you, if I left. I'm sorry that I...I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here."

"Why the hell would leaving make things easier for--" Derek stilled, his knuckles going white around his clenched fists.

When he turned toward Stiles, his face was blank. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but must have thought better of it. Stiles waited, expecting more anger or annoyance or disappointment or all three. Instead, he stared at Stiles with an unreadable expression for several moments before finally speaking again.

"I understand," replied Derek.

He started the jeep and slowly made his way down the dirt path, eventually hitting a narrow, paved road a few minutes later. It was a 3 hour drive back to Beacon Hills, and they rode the entire way in silence. Derek would flex his hands and occasionally growl under his breath, but otherwise kept his eyes on the road. Stiles let quiet tears fall while he looked out the window, grateful that Derek didn't comment it.

Derek drove extra carefully, seemingly unconcerned that they would be followed, and ended up taking just over 3 and a half hours before pulling in front of the loft. When they were parked, Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt but made no move to get out. Derek just sat there, staring straight ahead, frozen with a clenched jaw and rigid back.

"Just tell me what you want," said Derek.

"What?"

"Do you not feel safe with me? Do you need more space? I won't climb in your window anymore, if you want. I can also get you an apartment--something that's just yours, without me or your dad. I'll hire a coven to ward it, too. We can even install mountain ash frames if you need them." Derek turned toward him, his stern eyes transformed into ones of hipe and longing.

"No, Derek, that's not--"

"Were you afraid to talk to me? Did you think I would get violent? Because I would never, Stiles. I would never hurt you, no matter how angry I got." Derek reached out to grab Stiles' hand, but withdrew before the touched. "I can go to therapy, or we could go together if that would help. I know I have a hard time talking, but I'll be better. I can learn, I can be better for you."

"Derek, you're fine. You don't have to keep trying. It's okay, really."

"Maybe it's okay for you, but it's not okay for me. Please, Stiles. Just tell me. Tell me what I have to do to get you to stay."

Stiles didn't want Derek to stay with him out of pity or obligation.

"Derek, you..." he started, unsure of how to continue without breaking down into sobs. "You deserve happiness. You don't have to stay with me because you think it's the right thing to do."

"...the right thing to do?"

"Look, I won't run off on my own again, okay? I really wasn't going after those hunters, I just needed to get away for a while, and I guess one of them recognized me and thought they could score some points with the Argents. So, if you want to be with someone else... I won't let it affect the pack. I just needed a bit of time to, you know, adjust to the idea."

"Stiles, what the hell are you talking about? I don't want to see anyone else. I want you, and not out of obligation. Because I--I love you."

They had only been together for a few months, and Derek never said he liked him. Never said anything close to that, really. They just sort of...fell into bed together, and when Derek kept sticking around, Stiles thought they could be something more. But then the phone call, and the date, and...it made more sense that Derek would find someone better.

So, when Stiles heard those 3 little words come out of Derek's mouth, his heart felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest. He made a noise somewhere between a gasp and sob, and then the tears came. Derek dove across the bench seat and held him, pressing his face into the crook of Stiles' neck.

"I'm sorry," Derek said. "I'm sorry if that was too much, we don't have to be anything you don't want us to be. Just stay, Stiles. Please. I'll be whatever you want me to be."

"B--but," Stiles stuttered between sobs. "You s--said I was t--too much, and--and that woman, she--you looked so happy with her."

"What woman?" Derek pulled back to look Stiles in the eyes. "I never said you were too much, why would I ever say you were too much?"

Stiles wiped his eyes and looked at Derek. He seemed so vulnerable, so broken, and Stiles was only just beginning to realize that it was his fault. He was so, so wrong.

"I heard you on the phone talking about me. You said, 'He's too much, all the time, and I don't know what to do with him,' remember? Then I saw you on a date, smiling at some woman... you barely smile at me, so it just seemed like... you were happy with her."

Derek sighed and rubbed his forehead, letting out a light chuckle.

"The thing that was 'too much' wasn't you. It was my instincts every time you left. Did you know I had to stop myself from following you home every time you walked out my door? Obviously I kept failing, because I was at your window every other night."

Derek lightly clutched his hands and looked straight into his eyes. Stiles listened in disbelief and tried to tamp down the constant flutter in his chest.

"And the woman? She was a party planner. I don't know how to... I wanted to do something nice for your birthday. Something you would really love. So she asked me to tell her about you. Our meeting was supposed to be 30 minutes, but I spent nearly an hour just talking about everything you like and how amazing you are."

"I'm sorry," Stiles threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his back and clutching onto the leather jacket as tightly as he could. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry--I love you, I love you so much, and I thought you didn't want me anymore, and I didn't want to be a burden, and I was so miserable since I left, and I couldn't find a decent burger anywhere in that stupid little town, and I just thought of you the whole time and how I missed your cooking and the smell of your loft and how you liked to lick my--"

Derek stopped his rambling with a kiss so desperate that it had Stikes reeling. It wasn't gentle by any means, but it still felt like he was pouring every single ounce of love and want and need into his lips. Stiles melted under him, letting his mouth go lax as Derek held onto his jaw and guided his tongue where he pleased.

When he finally pulled away, they were both a little out of breath.

"If you ever thought I didn't want you, then that's my fault. One I will remedy immediately. And frequently," Derek said as he slid back to the driver's side and opened the door.

The slam was a bit excessive, but Stiles had no time to dwell on it because Derek actually leaped over the hood to open the door for him, then grabbed him around the waist and headed him over his shoulder.

There were many playful protests on the way up to the loft, but Derek didn't set him down until they were in the bathroom. He stripped him, somewhat rudely, and herded him into the shower. Derek removed his own clothes to join him, and he spent the next 20 minutes scrubbing every single inch of Stiles' skin. When Stiles made a move to turn their shower time into something much sexier, Derek pushed his hand away and continued to clean like he was on a mission, despite the very obvious growing situation between his legs.

Derek barely let him take a step the rest of the night. He got him dried and dressed, then bundled up and fed, then tucked into bed. If Stiles had any doubt about Derek's desire for him, it was squashed that night. The wolf spent hours worshipping his body with kneading touches and licks. He marked his pale skin with little bites and bruises covering his neck and shoulders. When they finally, finally made love, Stiles cried

I love misunderstanding fics.

Teen Wolf Sterek Prompt:

Stiles and Derek are in an established relationship. Stiles then overhears Derek on the phone, saying something like “I don’t know what to do about him.” Stiles assumes Derek is talking about him, and decides to surprise Derek during his lunch break and change his behavior because he assumes Derek is getting sick of him, when he sees Derek laughing with some girl.

Stiles assumes Derek has been trying to break up with him/was cheating on him, and so he leaves Beacon Hills to go to Europe for a while, leaving just a note for Derek that says something like “Be happy.”

Derek is freaking out, not understanding what is going on, (because he wasn’t cheating and wasn’t talking about Stiles on the phone)

Nobody can get in contact with Stiles, but finally someone finds out where he went and Derek goes after him.

There are a few just misses of almost running into each other. Maybe Stiles is practicing his magic or research skills with the packs he is running into or something.

Then they meet. Maybe Derek saves Stiles’ life, and its super confusing what Stiles is talking about while they are still fighting the monster, before Derek figures out what happened, somebody kills the dang monster, and then there is lots of comfort and fluff and better communication all around.

#sterek #stiles x derek #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic #sterek prompt

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dark-and-kawaii · 2 months ago

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Candy Cane Kisses

Summary: You had one special request for Santa this year- a creamy, fat creampie xoxo~ ❄︎ ♡

The following stroke, just as brutal as the first, followed after a cruel ten second pause, “Oh, baby, ya like that, don't ya?" he growls, his voice deep as he thrust into your tight little cunt under the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

Your cute whines only encouraged him further, his fingers tangling in your hair as he drives the tip of his cock right up against that squishy sweet spot deep within you, the one that makes your thighs quiver and your belly tighten. The scent of pine and sex wafts thick in the air, mingling with the warm aroma of sugar cookies, hot cocoa and freshly roasted chestnuts.

It's almost as intoxicating as the way Gojo’s muscular body is flexing over yours, the sound of his breath hitching in his throat as he continues to pound the absolute fuck out of you, his large, veiny hand wrapping around your jaw, tilting your head back, “gonna fill ya up so nicely, babygirl. Make sure my pretty elf has a belly full of me.”

The feeling of being so utterly possessed by him, the sparkly red ribbon binding your wrists above your head, the sight of him gazing down at you like you're the only thing he's ever wanted for Christmas... It's all driving you closer and closer to the edge, making your heart thud faster and your breath grow shallower.

Each thrust made your toes curl and your back arch, “Ngh~ S-Satoru~!” you gasped… to which made him give you the sweetest and most tender smile, it was the best gift he could have asked for- hearing you cry his name as his cock stretched your pretty pussy out so deliciously.

You saw how his hand reached for one of the candy canes that hung from the tree, his teeth ripping the wrapper open before holding it above your face, “Stick out your tongue, pretty baby...”

Gojo watched as your mouth hung open like the good good girl you were, the sweet, sticky flavor coating your tongue as he pressed the thick end of the candy in between your lips, letting you suckle on it for a moment. Your cheeks grew rosy, your eyes hazy, your moans muffled as you tried your best to lap at the sweet treat.

“That’s my good little elf, keep sucking,” his voice rumbled, his icy blue eyes trained on the way your lips moved, your tongue licking along the striped cane as if it were a cock, “You look so mmn’pretty like this, doll, so fuckin' good.”

His hips snapped, pushing his cock right up against your cervix, his hands moving beneath you to grip at your ass, tilting your hips upwards, letting him sink even deeper into you. His eyes closed for a moment, his head tipping back, his snowy hair falling back, exposing his handsome jaw and the pretty veins that ran along his neck.

All you wanted for Christmas was a creampie from Gojo Satoru, but you had no idea just how much of it you were about to get.

As the ornaments clinked and the snow fell softly outside the window, you came with a whimpering moan, your inner walls fluttering and squeezing around him, milking his thick cock of every last drop of cum. He was more than happy to give you everything you wished for Christmas, his hot seed spilling inside of you, his hips twitching as he continued to rut into you, his nails biting gently at your skin, his hands gripping onto your ass.

It took a few minutes for him to finally finish, but when he did, he let out a sigh, his chest rising and falling as he slowly pulled out of you. You could feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making a pretty white mess beneath you.

The candy cane had fallen out of your mouth, leaving behind a trail of sticky saliva on your cheek. He smiled, brushing a thumb across your bottom lip, “Let’s see if ya taste as good as ya look,” he murmurs, leaning forward and capturing your mouth in a sweet kiss.

The warmth and tenderness of his lips against yours made your heart swell with joy. He tasted of peppermint and chocolate. And now, he had made this holiday complete, giving you the perfect gift and making you the happiest little elf ever.

#gojo satoru #gojo #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu satoru #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you

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rowarn · 1 year ago

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HYBRID!AU PART 2

part one | part two | part three

(: anyway here's what you've all been begging for. a part 2 but it was getting so long...almost 3k words. and so....there will be a part 3.......but for now i hope this satiates you!!!

cw: hurt/comfort, aftermath of hurt???, self-deprecating thoughts, insecurities, mentions of blood and scratching, mentions of past mistreatment, petnames and headpats tho <3

The next time a human approaches you, you’re unable to stop the growls that escape your throat when you hear the pspsp as he tries to approach you. When you hiss, the man scoffs and stomps away muttering a soft ‘stupid cat’ under his breath.

No one approached you for a long while after that. The only way you knew how much time had passed was when the restaurants all threw their leftover food from their workdays. Eating out of the trash was always utterly humiliating, especially when you got caught.

Most people ignored you when they saw you sitting on the sidewalk, getting some sun since it didn’t shine into the little alleyway you hunkered in. Some people would scoff and give you disgusted looks, as if you were a stain on their shoe.

At this point, you were used to humans acting like you were scum of the Earth. After your experience with Simon, human’s behavior towards you no longer surprises you. Though it hurt, you didn’t understand why you were so unlovable.

But then one evening, when the sun was just beginning to set and the temperature was steadily dropping, you were huddled up in what little bit of sun-warmth you could get until it became dark. Your arms were wrapped around your body as you shivered, trying to ignore the way your tummy growled from being empty – the store employees had chased you off before you could steal anything from the dumpster.

A large shadow cast over you and when you looked up, you saw a slender, athletic man. His presence immediately set you on edge and you felt a growl bubbling up in your chest.

“Hey now,” he chided softly, pretty brown eyes crinkled as he squatted in front of you, “None of that, little kitty.”

You scowled up at him. Even crouched down the way he was, he was larger than you.

“Do you have a name?” he asks kindly.

You pause at that. Soap had given you a name. But did it really count as one if your previous owner hadn’t even agreed to it? Still, it was the only thing you really had left of your former companion.

You softly mutter the name you’d been given and the man nods before holding out his large hand, “Kyle. Would you like to come home with me?”

That sends off alarm bells in your head and before you know it, your claws are ripping into his hand and you’re scurrying into the alleyway to cower in the corner.

You hear the man faintly sigh before he stands, knees cracking as he does. You don’t hear anything from him for a few minutes before his heavy boots walk past the alleyway and fade.

You don’t even understand your own reaction. Of course you wanted a home to call your own. But you don’t think you would be able to handle it if he turned out to be the same as Simon. You wouldn’t be able to get attached to a human only to be abandoned on the streets like you were last night's trash. Perhaps it was just easier to reject all human companionship than risk being heartbroken all over again. You had only recently stopped crying yourself to sleep over the memory of your home.

You think that will be the last time you see the man, surely he wouldn’t want anything to do with a cat-hybrid who was mean, but just a couple days later, he’s back. He stands beside you, one bandaged hand gripping a shopping bag. You feel a pang of guilt at the sight of his bandaged wound. He slowly places it beside you, staring at you expectantly.

“This is for you,” he says awkwardly after a second of you staring blankly at him, “It’s some food and water.”

Your stomach growls at the mention of food and as much as you want to peek in the bag, you can’t bring yourself to admit defeat like that. He might think you’re accepting him as your owner if you accept his gift!

But you’re not! You refuse to end up hurt and sad like you had been with Simon! You would rather just live on the street than go through that hurt all over again. You couldn’t stand to give your trust only to be betrayed and mistreated again.

You only wanted someone to love you but apparently that wasn’t in the deck for you and that was okay, you told yourself. No matter how much it hurts to admit.

The man, Kyle, sighs softly when you simply ignore him, the sound almost melancholy. It makes your heart ache in your chest. He casts you one last glance but you keep your gaze down before he walks away, disappearing out of sight at the end of the street.

With his piercing gaze off of you, you turn to the bag and begin rooting inside it.

A couple bottles of water and some hybrid-safe packaged food. Nothing that needed refrigeration but also much better quality and variety than what you had been given by Simon.

You remember how it felt to watch Soap eat delicious meats and fruits and veggies while you got bland, colorless slop. Sure, it was healthy for hybrids but everyone knew it was disgusting. Clearly Simon didn’t care – he was just feeding you so you didn’t inconvenience him by starving to death in his house.

And though Soap would sometimes share his food with you, it wasn’t the same.

This food was yours. Kyle had gotten it for you.

You pull out one of the packages, a neatly wrapped sandwich with all the organic ingredients listed in bright colors. It makes your heart ache just a little bit as you take your first bite, all alone on the sidewalk, quietly wishing Soap was there for you to share it with as payment for all the food he had shared with you.

Kyle makes it a habit to visit you day after day, sometimes bringing food, sometimes just bringing himself. Most of the time, you ignore him but he doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest, only quietly promising to visit you again soon when he bids you goodbye.

It starts to become lonely when he leaves.

You don’t know when it begins, but you find yourself waiting for him. You sit out in the open, mindlessly combing your tail, where he can see you if he approaches. You find yourself thinking about him and if he’ll bring something for you to snack on – he found these delicious fish flavored chips that you were practically addicted to. Though, you didn’t say anything about your liking of them, he kept bringing them so you think he knows.

Some days, Kyle’s visits were quick and fleeting and other times he sat there for a while. He had given up trying to talk to you much since you made it a point to ignore him but you were happy that he hadn’t given up yet.

You know you would have given up by now. But the fact he persists leaves you with a warm, soft feeling in your chest. You’ve never had someone try so hard for you before, Simon certainly never cared to try.

Kyle wasn’t so bad after all, you found yourself deciding. He was quiet but not standoffish. He didn’t try to touch you after you had swiped at him one time when he went to pat your head. He was kind, always complimenting you with ‘pretty kitty’ and ‘sweet kitty’. And best of all, he didn’t ignore your existence like you had grown used to when living with Simon.

Waiting for Kyle to show up became the most grueling part of your day. Minutes felt like hours and any tall man who passed by had you perking up to see if it was Kyle. The urge to get closer to him grew day by day, you wanted him to pet you, you wanted to talk to him.

Maybe living with him wouldn’t be so bad after all. Just the thought of a happy life made you purr to yourself.

You vowed that you would talk to him today, maybe see if you could take him up on that offer he had made that first day you met.

But he never came. As the sun dips behind the horizon, you find your hopes getting squashed. He always came before dark.

With a heavy heart, you curled up in the little cardboard box you had been calling your shelter. It was easy to tell yourself that the ache in your heart was because you wanted to see him and not because you were scared he had given up on you.

The next day, the same thing. You waited all day only for him to not show up. Then the next day. And the next.

A week passed with no sign of him and you tried your best to pretend like it didn’t hurt like hell.

Maybe he really had gotten sick of waiting for you and decided to find a hybrid who would actually talk to him. You couldn’t blame him, you suppose. But it still made that heavy pain settle in your heart like when you had been thrown out by Simon.

One morning, you were awoken by a loud voice shouting down the alleyway, “Alright, come on out, cat.”

The sound of the voice had you sitting up, eyes wide as you looked around. At the entrance, a man stood with his hands on his hips, a hefty utility belt around his waist.

He sighed when he saw you staring blankly at him before he came over, hoisting you up by the arm.

Your growled and hissed, ears pinned back as you fought against his grip. He dragged you out, taking you towards a big black van that had the words ‘hybrid-control’ printed on the side.

You swiped at the man with your free hand, sharp nails slicing into his skin. He cried out in pain but didn’t relent in his hold.

“Stupid fucking cat,” he snapped, “Fuckin’ hate havin’ to pick shits like you up.”

“Excuse me,” a sudden, frantic voice called out, “What are you doing?”

The man holding you turned to look at Kyle, an annoyed look on his face, “Got a complaint about a stray hybrid livin’ around here. Came to pick it up.”

“Oh that’s not necessary,” Kyle said, reaching out to pull you from the man’s grasp, handling you much softer than the stranger, “This hybrid is mine.”

The man looked like he wanted to argue but glanced down at his bleeding arm and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, man. Your funeral. Just get it off the street.”

When the van drove off, Kyle turned to look at you apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t want to claim ownership over you like that but–”

“Where were you this week?” you find yourself pouting, crossing your arms over your chest petulantly.

Kyle looks shocked before he smiles kindly, “I was away for work. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you.”

Your pout only deepens, “It’s not like I missed you or anything…”

“Of course not,” he laughs but you both know he doesn’t believe you, “How about I show you my home, hm? It’s not too far from here.”

You agree without complaint, letting Kyle lead the way down the busy streets until it grows quieter and quieter.

The neighborhood is startlingly familiar as he escorts you to his home. It doesn’t take long for you to realize it’s the same neighborhood Simon and Soap live in.

You weren’t exactly sure how far their home was but you couldn’t stop yourself from frowning at the memories.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, “Don’t like it? I know it’s a little boring here but it’s near the base so what can you do?”

“It’s not that,” you quickly said, considering telling Kyle what was on your mind but you instead settled for, “I-It’s nothing.”

You were worried if you told him about your previous home, he might think there was something wrong with you. You didn’t want him to think you were undesirable and put you out on the streets all over again. You silently wondered when you became so insecure.

He hummed and opened the front door for you, “There’s a room at the end of the hall that’s an office right now but it’s all yours once I get it set up with a bed and everything.”

“My own room?” you ask softly, fluffy ears perked up.

“Of course,” he smiles, “This is your home now.”

You feel tears prick your eyes but you quickly look away before Kyle can see them. It felt so nice that he actually considered it your home too and not just his. Simon always made you feel like you were barely welcome and only there because he put up with you until he couldn’t stand you anymore.

“Oh before I forget,” he said, grabbing a box off of the table, “I got you this.”

He showed you the contents, a cute, dainty collar with a metal tag in the shape of a fish with your name engraved on it.

“Why do you have a collar?” you asked, tilting your chin up so he could fasten it around your neck.

“I had hopes that you would let me take you home one of these days,” he laughed, a boyish, kind sound that made a smile grow on your own face, “I wasn’t going to give up until you were safe and sound with me, love. I knew this was going to be your home one way or another.”

You spend the whole day wandering around the house and exploring, nudging against every surface to spread your scent on it. You hadn’t done that much in Simon’s house, too scared you’d get reprimanded for dirtying up the furniture or something.

But Kyle didn’t care in the slightest. He simply smiled when he saw you nuzzling the pillows. He even trimmed your nails so they weren’t nearly as sharp anymore.

It was nice living with him.You quickly realized how different your life felt with Kyle than how it felt with Simon.

Kyle was kind and friendly, calling you by your name and petnames and not just ‘hey you’ or ‘cat’. The affection in his tone was palpable and just hearing how sweetly he spoke to you made you purr uncontrollably.

And he didn’t once raise his voice at you or chase you off the couch when you were napping. He gave you the softest pats on the head and let you snooze on his lap without a single complaint.

He never forgot to feed you and always gave you the most delicious things he could find. He ate at the table with you and told you all about his day, making an effort to talk to you and learn about the things you liked to do while he was at work.

You were happy to finally have a home to call your own. But deep down, you missed Soap. You missed his energetic happiness and how affectionate he was with you in a way that only hybrids could be. He was the only true companion you had ever had and he had left his mark on you. You wondered about him every day, especially when you heard the front door open and you half expected him to come running in with a thrilled grin on his face, ready to regale you with tales of outside.

You passed their house one day while on a walk with Kyle, something he took to doing as an activity with you (he didn’t want you to get bored or stagnant just sitting inside all day), trying your best to act like seeing the home you used to call your own didn’t make your heart ache painfully in your chest.

“There’s a hybrid that lives here, you might like him. His name’s Soap,” Kyle said when he saw you pausing in front of their home, “Owner is Simon Riley. I work with him, kind of a standoffish guy, you should probably steer clear if you run into him. He’s not the most friendly.”

“Yeah…” you found yourself mumbling, barely even registering anything Kyle had said, a frown etched on your lips before you looked at Kyle, “Can we go home?”

“Of course. Let’s get you some food, pretty kitty,” Kyle cooed affectionately, patting your head before leading you back home.

You casted a glance at the home you used to call your own, you were startled to see Soap standing in the window, eyes wide, brows furrowed, and hurt written all over his face. The sight alone made your own eyes sting. He had never looked at you like that before. He looked so heartbroken.

Kyle cooed softly to get your attention again, leading you down the sidewalk and away from the house. Soap’s figure in the window faded from view and you felt your head spinning.

Soap and Simon’s scent faded the further you got away from it. But once you entered your home with Kyle, your scent and his mixed together in a way that it never did with Simon’s. You couldn’t help but purr, the pain and anxiety in your heart fading.

But still, your mind lingered on the distraught face of the best friend you left behind.

do not modify or repost to third party sites. reblogs appreciated!

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz x reader #cod x reader

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thinkinonsense · 4 months ago

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WICKED

old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: cheating, heavy flirting, smut, kinda dark

authors note: i have no idea what came over me and i cannot explain it. also! gif credit to the amazing n talented @silverskyeline <333

he never should've gone to the bar. never should've let you run your pretty mouth. most definitely never should've bought you that martini. every weekend he watches you seduce the men at the bar until one of them falls into your trap.

logan would scoff, mumbling something under his breath about how stupid that bastard must be. despite the fact that the only thing holding him back from your advances was the thick gold band on his finger, reminding him of where his loyalty should be.

"lovely seeing you here again, logan."

he loathed your wicked smile and how your voice sounded like rain fall. trying his best to avoid staring into the eye of the storm but your presence demanded to be seen. practically ripping his hazel gaze off the wooden table and over to that tiny dress you were wearing. dark navy tight against your skin in a way that could make any man sin.

"missed ya' last weekend." you purr. "where were you at?"

"home." he states, gruffly.

"that's boring. why were you at home?"

"wedding anniversary."

the words made your tummy flip with excitement. you didn’t know much about logan outside of his favorite brands of alcohol, but you did know that he had a wife at home. he never mentioned her by name. sometimes, she would call the bar if it was “too late” for him to be out but other than that, she was a ghost.

“cute. you should bring her here one weekend.” you propose, almost making logan choke on his whisky. “bet she would love to see where you run and hide at night.”

“it’s not her kinda scene.” he responds.

“aw, i’m sure we would be friends.”

“doubtful.”

“and why’s that?” you fake pout.

logan leans in close before whispering, “don’t think she would appreciate you beggin’ for her husband to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom every weekend.”

“i didn’t say we would stay friends.” you giggle, making his cock stir in his work pants. “also, the invite is still open if you miss fuckin’ someone younger.”

the second you are out of sight, off in the pool room next door annoying some other asshole, he groans under his breath. logan hated how well you read him. you knew he wanted you but you were smart enough to make him come crawling to you if he wanted to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him.

after a couple minutes, a few men left the room and logan got up to take their place. when he walked inside he saw it was empty except for you sitting in one of the chairs on your phone.

“glad you decided to join me.” you smile up at him.

logan ignores you instead going over to get a stick and start playing. you finish your martini and join him as he sets up the balls. catching you off guard, he tosses you a stick too.

“if i win, you leave me alone for good.” he huffs in your face.

“sure but what do i get when i win?” you smirk.

logan ignores your question and growls, “ladies first.”

it's dead silent as you bend over the pool table to line your stick up to the diamond. logan's far too busy staring at the wet spot on your light blue panties. he never admit it, even if you knew for sure that's where his eyes were. it wasn't until he lost sight of the spot that he realized you already took your shot.

"your turn, old man." you tease, moving out of his way.

the two of you go back and forth for a bit but you were growing tired of this game. instead you decided to make things even more interesting.

"so when i win, are you going to finally fuck me?" your bluntness always left logan speechless.

"you already know the answer to that, sweetheart." he replies, trying to focus before shooting.

"sure, blah, blah, blah, something wife." you mock with an eye roll that almost made logan chuckle. "but seriously? when was the last time you two had sex? you probably got cobwebs in there."

that got a small smirk out of him. one that you count as a win.

"it's just a band. it comes off, see?" you lean over and take the ring off of his finger, placing it on the table.

logan stared at it for too long. feeling the distance of his commitments. you turn his head towards you with a light hook on his grey bearded chin. the lust in his eyes told you that you had won.

"you know what else comes off that easily?" you whisper, lips inches from his. "my panties."

a good man would've walked away. a good man would've returned home to his wife. but logan wasn't a good man. never had been and never would be.

an animalistic urge fell over him, grabbing you with the ease of a rag doll and bending you over the pool table. the wedding band was inches from your parted lips, moaning prettily as logan spread you open with his thumbs and licked a wide strip up your cunt, burying his face in your arousal and letting it coat his beard until he could only taste you.

"f-fuck me." logan groans, pulling back to catch his breath. "taste better than i imagined."

"knew you wanted me." you smirk, feeling his middle finger circle your entrance before pushing in. a loud moan is pulled from your throat as he hits that spongey spot with ease.

"weren't lying 'bout being tight." logan marvels, watching the way you suck in his finger.

he attempts to push in his ring finger as well and you wish you could've seen his face while he struggle to get it in. quickly, you reach for the wedding ring next to you then grab his hand from inside you. fumbling to get the ring back on him before he questions you.

"what are you—"

"go on." you coax, looking back at him with dark eyes. "try it now."

logan shouldn't have been so turned on from the image of his wedding ring coated in your slick; but here he was watching it disappear and reappear inside of you.

"right—fuck! r-right there..." you pant, arching farther back to meet his thrusts.

"does it turn you on being a homewreaker?" logan asks, back up on his feet and nibbling at your ear. "knowing that you have a old married man fucking you with his wedding band on?"

"mhm..." you mumble against the table. he takes the opportunity to pick up his pace, feeling you clench down. "d-don't stop..."

within seconds, your gushing around his fingers and dripping down his hand. right when he pulled out of you, you turn around and push him back into one of the plush chairs to undo his belt. falling to your knees, you begin to stroke him, tracing his veins with your tongue and tapping the tip on it.

"always knew you had quite the mouth on ya', princess." he grunts with a fist full of your hair.

you smile, taking him all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat and the hairs at his base tickled your nose. logan was finding it harder and harder to control his animalistic urge while your gagging and drooling all over his lap. quickly, you release him with a pop and stand up to straddle him, lining him up to your entrance and sinking down slowly.

"shit, you're so fucking tight." he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"only for you, logan." you whine, grinding down on him, rocking back and forth.

roughly, logan pulls the rest of your dress off of you, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind you. large hands touching you all over in ways you've only dreamt of. meanwhile, your attacking his neck like a madwoman. biting and marking him up like he's yours.

desperately, logan fucks up into you, needing more. his tip nudges that sweet spot within you, making you moan loudly in his ear, encouraging him to go faster. so focused on the squealing of your soaked pussy. he captures your lips, kissing you tenderly. you can feel his high approaching, twitching inside of you, and you needed to do one last thing before it hit him.

carefully you pull away, gripping his chin and pulling him face to face with you. his eyes are blown out with desire as he stares at you.

"tell me your mine, lo." you whisper against his lips.

logan can feel you clench tightly around him, waiting for him to give into you completely. he presses his thumb down on your button, moving in fast circles to get you there with him.

"f-fuck, i'm yours, baby." he moans, coating your walls with spurts of his release. "i'm yours."

"t-that's right." you moan, kissing him roughly as your high washes over you.

"you look so pretty like this." he coos, watching the pleasure run over you.

for a moment the two of you sit still, trying to catch your breath. logan's mind races, not meaning to cum inside of you but it's far too late now.

"lets keep this a secret between the two of us, huh?" he says while you play with his hand, mischievously. before he can notice, you pocket the ring.

"sure thing, baby." you reply. "i'll gladly be your little secret but have fun explaining those marks to the old ball and chain."

logan looks down at you and that wicked smile of yours, only to realize just how fucked he is.

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rafesangelita · 7 months ago

Note

rafe jerking off to one of kook!sweetheart!reader’s pictures and making a mess out of himself? 😵‍💫

warnings: reader sends pics, male masturbation, suggestive ending

[10:56 PM] sweetheart <3: 1 attached image

[10:56 PM] sweetheart <3: i just got this sample in for my next collection, what do you think?

rafe stared at his phone, utterly speechless at the sight. how was it that he was the one to receive a picture of you in the skimpiest lingerie he’s ever seen?

he swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he inspected every detail, every curve of your body in the photo. you were obviously in bed, the thought of him barging into your room and ripping every last piece of lace off of you before fucking you into oblivion was, without a doubt, something he was seriously considering doing right now.

mind scrambling to write a reply, rafe cursed under his breath as another picture lit up his screen.

[11:00 PM] sweetheart <3: 1 attached image

[11:00 PM] sweetheart <3: cute little detail, right?

if rafe thought he was losing his mind at the first photo, he was definitely losing it now. there, in the middle of your bra, hung a small gold pendant with the letter ‘R’, the damned thing glinting underneath the dim lighting of your room.

rafe was already a jealous hothead, so to see you put his own little mark on you willingly? oh, he was going to show you his appreciation. with his phone long forgotten next to him, rafe stroked his already hard cock, wishing his hand was your own as he brushed the tip with his thumb.

everything you did drove this man insane. the little glances at his lips whenever you two would be flirting, the way you rested your pretty hand on his thigh when he’d make you laugh, all of it— rafe felt it all boiling down to one thing. and he needed it bad.

“s-shit,” rafe shuddered, his eyes screwing shut as he imagined you on top of him, that pendent with his initial swinging in his face as you rode him like there was no tomorrow. he would bet all of his daddy’s money and tanneyhill, that you’d feel like heaven wrapped around him.

it was embarrassing to rafe how fast he felt himself approaching his high. his mouth fell open, a throaty moan falling from his lips as his hips bucked into his fist. he wondered if you’d let him cum or make him work for it, just like everything else.

the first time he tried to talk to you, you ignored him until you saw for yourself that he wasn’t in any other girls ear. everything, whether it was a peck on his cheek, or simply letting him take you out to lunch, you made his actions determine whether or not he was going to get what he wanted.

“holy fuck!” he whispered, his chest now rising and falling as the band in his stomach threatened to snap. never in his life had he wished he was somewhere else right now, that ‘somewhere’ being between your thighs, hearing your sweet cries of pleasure. rafe couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck his cum inside of you or paint your face, but after this? he figured he’d do both.

“oh, my g-” rafe’s words were cut short when his orgasm hit him, his jaw falling slack as his eyebrows knitted together. spilling his load into his hand, rafe groaned as his cock twitched in his boxers, a hiss sounding from his lips as he continued to move his hand languidly over his length.

by this point, it’d been well over thirty minutes since rafe had left you on seen, your ego a little hurt that he hadn’t responded to any of your texts after you dolled yourself up just for him. just as you were about to call it a night, your phone dinged with a message from none other than the man himself.

[11:33 PM] ray <3: made a mess. i’m getting in the shower and then i’m making my way over there. be ready for me, doll.

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hoshigray · 6 months ago

Text

It’s been almost a year, and I still can’t get ex-husband! Toji out of my head…

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: Toji x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - anal - backshots/doggy style position - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - [un]protected sex - creampie - pet names (baby, mama, sweet thing) - Toji loving on your body, even though he shouldn't be - mention of excess cum.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doin’?”

Tsumiki and Megumi weren’t at the house yet — the children were still busy at school with extracurricular activities. Ex-husband! Toji, the dutiful and responsible adult he is, swore to pick his kids up once the hour hand reaches the sixth hour and the minutes nearly touch the thirtieth number. In the meantime, he stays at your home, where you call up a pizza dinner order for the children to eat after a long day before returning home with their father. However, while the youngsters are away, the black-haired man takes the time to do what he does best: pester you with his company.

“Like you’re about to stick your dick in my ass.”

“And if I am?” He sneers, teeth peaking under the deft scar of his lips. “Y’re the one that said y’r pussy’s off-limits.”

You lift your brow as your ex-spouse spreads your legs, sitting with his knees atop your bed in your room in your abode. Do you really want to be doing this, letting this brawny man strip you off your bottoms and unzip his jeans to free the erection poking under his boxers? You have to bite your lip to conceal the smirk you share with him, watching him rip the wrapper he pulls out from a pocket and screen his cock with a rubber.

“And why are we doing this again?” Forest green eyes flick from your lower region to your face, having to suck in the gasp creeping into your neck.

He scoffs, “Because we’re killin’ time.” Wrong: You were already killing time by reading and replying to emails on your bed, under the impression that this grown man before you could spend his leisure time watching sports highlights or something in your living room. Clearly, Toji had a different proposition. “What, can’t spend a few minutes with ya while the kids are away?”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Last time you tried to spend a few minutes with me—“ A cold sensation near your entrance has you pucker involuntarily, Toji pushing the covered glans of his cock. “We missed Tsumiki’s soccer game by thirty minutes.”

“Still made it, didn’t we?”

Had to fight rolling your eyes the second time. “Only one time.” You hit him on the back with your foot when he grins. “One time. And don’t—Mmmph!” Finally, the cockhead is inserted into your hole, stretching it with his girth as he pushes it inch by inch carefully. “…Make a mess, either.”

And you know he heard you perfectly well, a curt nod and a whisper before seizing your lips with his, “Yes, mama.” Sure, he can be a bit of a hard-headed dickhead, but his attentiveness is as strong as a titanium. Therefore, you can instantly trust him — an ex-lover you would depend on and rely on if it could come to it, and of course, you’d do the same for him and his kids.

…But not as strong as his playful stubbornness as the man drills his raw cock inside your ass.

“Dahhh!! Ahhh, fuck…God, this ass…!”

“Nnnmm! T-Toji, I said ONE time!!”

You should’ve known it would end up like this — the two of you were already glued to each other from the excess amount of come that coated his dick, burrowing to and fro from the innards of your rear channel. His firm hands grab hold of the flesh of your butt, and you can only grip the sheets beneath you while your face is smooshed to your pillow.

God, you had a feeling this would happen, knowing that your ex-husband is the type to get all riled up like this and steer off course. Would’ve been best had you put your foot down when you had the chance; however, it’s too late now that you’re mewling under his bow, all desperate from his balls smacking onto your skin.

“Good God, baby,” he exhales with a smile, massaging your butt in loving kneads, observing how his girth disappears inside you. Fuck, you looked too good, making his whole body itch with want. “Can never get over this sweet ass of y’rs.”

“Tojiiii…!!” His name leaves with shrills; you sense him bending down to your ear, and the added weight of him from behind makes you feel caged and submissive. “Shtoop it, we can’t…! Gotta st—Ooop!”

“Y’don’t want me doin’ that, sweet thing,” he murmurs to your ear, breath hot to your cold helix and lobe. “Can tell ya want this just as much as I do with—shit—how twitchy y’re bein’ right now…And, maybe here…Heh, thought so,” his chuckle, so close to you, has you moan with flat lips after he sneaks a hand in between your thighs to palm your vulva, fingertips teasing the lips of your vagina and feeling it pulse at the touch. “Can tell how excited y’ are fr’ me. Y’re twitchin’ so much, baby.”

“—Mmmff, b-because, you’re making—Hnnmm!!” You nearly wobble at his fingertips swirling circles around your clit, trembles forcing you to quake as he gently pinches and swipes the pearl. While Toji drives his length slowly yet precise, the tip grazing your wall so much you howl cutely. “F-Fuuuck, so good, Toji…right there, right thereee…!”

Toji coos, “Shhh, relax, baby,” kissing your ear as his fingers glide to your folds; you can’t stop spasming, so many senses putting you through an overload! “Right here, sweetheart? Ya want me here?” The tip of his forefinger taunts the opening of your cunt, and you can’t take it anymore!

“Oh fuck, yesss,” you turn over your shoulder to plead. “Please, stick them innn, g-gonna cum, wanna cum on your fingers!!”

Oh, that dialed Toji’s excitement more than expected, slipping his digit into your slick, and you scream aloud. “There you go, mama…” A free hand grabs your chin so he can claim your lips. You pepper him with kisses enthusiastically, your mouth agape for him to shove his tongue to dance with yours. All the while, his thick finger scrapes around to scratch your texture, and the pace of his pelvis grows staggering.

With every rushed push and grind is another wiggle inside your chasm, struggling to hold your balance on your palms as the shocks become irresistible with more clamps of your asshole. You release, your body shackling with the wave of pleasure and your nerves keen to the highest point. You can’t stop whimpering, so overstimulated almost to the brink of tears.

And Toji is right there with you, feeling you squeeze him with your holes and whining as he sucks on your tongue and nibbles on it with sportive intent. You felt too good to him, clenching onto him like you could never let go, so it’s no wonder he’s seconds away from climaxing alongside you. Hot groans fill your space, passionate saliva keeping you both stuck as he pumps his load into your fluttering anus once again.

Tense bodies fall into tranquility as the seconds go by, and the trembles subside, smacking lips with each other as if lost in desire. Until you remove away from his scarred mouth with a hum, shamrock eyes hooded like yours before a fit of laughter is shared.

“You done now?” You inquire as noses brush up.

Toji lifts a brow and looks to the side, faux pondering before smacking a rut to your butt again. “Mm, not really.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Toji!” You move to push him off you, yet you underestimate how easily he can maneuver you to your back. “Go pick the kids up so they can eat and go home!”

“They’re grown enough to wait on me,” he snickers and cages your hands above your head. “As fr’ me, I don’t got another two weeks to wait.”

No bothering hiding your annoyance in your eyes, even if you permit him to kiss you again. “Hopeless as ever.”

He chortles. “Y’re one to talk.”

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles

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sexy-monster-fucker · 6 months ago

Text

Tattered

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!Reader

Summary: Reader, Wade, and Logan decide to go out in the nearby woods to do some casual training. Once Logan and the Reader get to fight, things get heated and escalate. (Reader has a regenerative power as well)

CW: fighting, stabbing, blood, jealous!Logan, Wade being Wade, choking, biting, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie,

a/n: this is my first time writing for Logan. I am hella excited. Reader has a regenerative power along with super strength and nails that turn into razor sharp claws. Also sorry I don’t proof read, so grammar mistakes I’m sure

~~~

“Fuck— I don’t remember you being this strong!” Wade Wilson, a close friend and teammate of yours, coughed out. You had decided to do some casual training in the nearby woods, giving you all full access to throw down to your full abilities. You pinned him down with your hips, pulling a small knife from your holster. Hovering it above his groin. “Say uncle or you’re gonna be growing Wade Jr. back,” you grinned.

Wade gasped, “Baby Knife? You wouldn’t—“

You began pressing your knife into his pants, breaking the fabric as you inched closer to his favorite asset. “Okay- Okay! Jesus Christ and Mary— UNCLE! There I said it,” Wade held his hands up in between you showing mercy.

A deep chuckle was heard behind you.

Logan Howlett, The Wolverine, stood behind leaned against a tree. Watching as you and Wade fought back and forth for the last thirty minutes. You had taken a liking to Wade’s new roommate. Gruff and stubborn in nature, distant and aloof, but somehow still alluring.

You rolled off Wade, standing and wiping the dirt off your clothes. “When I said I wanted you in my pants, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” Wade stood up behind you. You threw the knife into his thigh, pulling a disapproving groan of agony from him. Silent curse words pouring from his mouth as he pulled the knife out, “I’m keeping this.”

“If you two are done flirting, I think it’s my turn to fight,” Logan smirked at you. He was incredibly handsome. Ever since Wade had came back from the Void with Logan, you had been infatuated. His dark hair, deep voice, everything about him was admirable. Especially right now as you watched him remove his flannel, sporting a white tank top underneath. The veins on his arms popped against the strong muscle. You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Aren’t you a little old to be fighting someone?” You teased as the new 200-year-old from another universe stood before you.

“Oh no, no, no. Me and this guy went at it all night the first time we met,” Wade chimed in. Logan gritted his teeth at him, warning him to watch what he says next.

“All night you say? Sounds like my kind of party,” you stretched your body, preparing to face off with the new guy. You watched Logan roll and pop his neck, stretching out his arms. Admiring his muscular physique.

“He’s got the stamina of a college freshman wired on Redbull and pure sex drive,” Wade patted Logan on the shoulder. Logan held up a fist to Wade’s face, claws extending mere inches from his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. You had your chance to fight, now leave,” he growled at Wade. Wade stomped his foot like a toddler, whining as he spoke, “Whaaaat!? No fair! You got to watch me fight Sexy Mutant Mamma, why don’t I get to watch the two hottest people in our building go at it!” You chuckled at his minor temper tantrum.

“Because you make everything weird! Now get outta here,” Logan held his claws under Wade’s chin pulling a small drop of blood from him. Wade spun on his heal, fists bundled up at his sides as he stomped away into the woods. Grumbling the entire way, “Not fucking fair. Wanted to see their clothes ripped off. Fucking fuck…”

You placed your hands on your hips, standing straight and firm before Logan. “So are we gonna do this or—“ Logan lunged forward at you, catching you off guard slightly. “Holy shit—“ you jumped before he could tackle you to the ground with his first attack. He dug his claws into the ground as he spun around to face where you were now. You opted out of grabbing one of your weapons. Deciding to go in with brute strength instead. You ran towards Logan, fist pulled back preparing to punch him. He grabbed your hand mid punch, twisting your arm. You kicked a leg up hitting him in the ribs. Logan’s claws extended, stabbing you in forearm. You widened your eyes at the three blades puncturing your skin, glaring up at him. You scratched up at him with your razor sharp nails, gashing his tank top and skin. He chuckled out, looking at his blood momentarily. You pushed him away, pulling his blades from your arm.

Your jaw hung open as you stared at him. A shit eating grin on his face. “Wade may be scared of you, but I’m not. I will kick your geriatric ASS,” you dove toward him, cutting at his legs with your hands. Ripping and tearing his jeans as you slashed at his flesh. Logan growled in pain before stabbing you in the back and picking you up over his head. Throwing you onto the ground. You were quick to hop back up to your feet. You caught your breath shaking off the pain you felt. Writhing slightly.

You darted back over to him, kicking at his leg causing him to fall to his knee. You then jumped and kicked him with both feet, throwing him onto his back. “Fuck!” He cursed at you. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as you began punching him. You watched as his nose broke just to heal right in front of you. A cocky grin written on your face as Logan’s eyes stared into yours. Almost as if he was enjoying you on top of him. His arm flexed as he stabbed his claws into your thigh. You bared your teeth at him screaming in pain, “Motherfucker!” He lifted his other fist, releasing the claws right in front of your nose. “I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours, doll,” he teased. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Unable to deny how quickly his pet name went to your core. He slashed his claws down your chest, ripping your shirt.

You crawled off him, attempting to get away. “If you wanted to see my boobs that bad you could’ve just asked!” you playfully called back to him. He chased after you on all fours. You threw one of your small knives into his shoulder attempting to slow him down. He grabbed you by the ankle. Falling forward and smashing your jaw into the dirt. You tussled with him, kicking and swatting with claws. Cutting up his arms and shoulders as he tried to pull you back. Bruising strength as his fingers dug into your skin. His eyes were black as he stared at you, a lustful grin on his lips. He jumped forward pinning your body underneath his.

You shared in your panting. His claws dug into the dirt beside your head, the necklace he wore dangling in your face. Sweat beamed on both your bodies. Both of you bearing your teeth at each other. Your panting mouth slowly morphing into a grin, throwing your head back against the dirt stretching out your neck with a sigh. He cocked an eyebrow at you, your eyes darting back to meet his. He leaned down planting a feverish kiss on your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you deepened it. He pulled his claws from the dirt, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling your fronts flush. Sloppy kisses being exchanged between you, teeth clanking together.

Logan leaned back on his knees, holding you in his arms. “You sure do know how to fight, doll,” he cooed as his eyes stared at your chest. “Yeah? You ain’t too bad for a 200-year-old geezer,” you smirked. Logan grinned, raising an eyebrow at your mockery. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing at it as pushed you back slightly, “You and Wade sure do have one thing in common. Never knowing how to shut your fucking mouths.” You gasped with his hand on your jugular, smiling widely at him. “I definitely like your mouth a lot better,” he leaned in planting a kiss on your lips. Releasing his grip and pushing your hair out of your face. You caught your breath, hooded eyes staring into his hazel ones. His fingers petted through your hair, “Couldn’t stand to see you on top of him like that. Him having his little fucking hands on you.”

You had no idea Logan had felt this way about you. Sure there was flirting, but that was in your nature. You flirted with everyone, you assumed Logan was playing along. Catching him staring at you from time to time. Him lingering in your doorway before you headed into your apartment. Occasional pet names.

“Ooo, Mr. Jealousy,” you teased. He smirked above you. Leaning down and pressing his lips to your throat, sharp canines grazing as he lapped and sucked your skin. You tangled one of your hands in his hair, holding his head in place as he kissed your skin. Gentle moans falling from your lips. His lips trailed to your ear, “Sounds so pretty.” He pulled your lobe between his teeth. He had marked up your entire neck with hickeys and bite marks.

“Gotta make sure when we get back, Fucko knows to keep his hands off you,” Logan purred in your ear. Every inch of your skin was red hot. Arousal decorating your senses as you stared at the man before you. His hardening cock pressing into you through his jeans. You ran your hands down his chest, pulling a softness from him you had not yet seen. Hooking your fingers under his tattered shirt, lifting it over his head and leaving his chest exposed. Glistening torso with some of the firmest abs you had ever seen, hair on every inch. Admiring his body, fingers dancing delicately on the hair on him. Trailing down to his v-line, fingertips finding the cold metal of his large belt buckle.

Logan pulled your lips to his, kissing you like a touch starved man. Hunger painting his movements, teeth grazing your lip. His fingers tangled in your hair holding you so that your lips would not leave his. One hand ghosting down your side, going up under your shirt. Loving how your soft skin contrasted his corse fingers. Finding their place on your breasts, massaging them with his large hands. Pinching at the thin material of your bra, feeling your hardening nipples. You moaned into his mouth with his touch.

Your lips moved down to his neck, nipping at his flesh. Pulling a deep chuckle from him. A soft moan fell from his lips as yours worked down to his clavicle. His hand guided your chin upward, pulling your lips back to his. Fingers finding the button on your pants, undoing them and placing his hand down the front. Fingers massaging your lips, feeling your arousal glisten on his fingers. “Mmm, you’re so wet, baby doll,” he grinned widely. Your body rutted when he dipped his fingers into you. His name a moan from your throat. Thick fingers curled and massaged your insides, his thumb circling your clit.

You dug your fingers into his back as he continued edging you closer and closer. The tips of your claws penetrating his skin, a wince falling from him. “Easy, sweetheart,” Logan cooed. You mumbled sorry, focusing to retract your claws. One of your hands found its way to his bulge. Palming at his hard cock. Logan moaned at your touch, eyes black with lust as his heavy brow stared at you. You smirked, still a complete mess with his fingers inside you. You tugged at the waist of his pants. Pulling a smile from him.

“You wanna see my cock that bad?”

Electricity flooded every inch of your body with his words. “If I say yes will you fuck me?” You smirked at him. A wide grin painted his face. Raising an eyebrow with your words, leaning in to plant a kiss on you. “Mouth,” he jokingly called you between kisses.

Abruptly pulling his hand from your core and pushing you onto your back. You huffed when you hit the hard dirt. Eyes widening at him. Large hands finding the waist of your pants, pulling them down your legs. Ripping your panties off with them leaving your soaked core bare to the air. Legs shaking with anticipation for him. Logan stared at your core, tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight. Unable to control himself, delving down and immediately flattening his tongue against your core. You arched your back at the sudden sensation. Grinding your hips against his tongue. Lapping at your entrance like it was his last meal.

Climax building its way through every inch of you as his tongue pressed into you. Heavy fingers digging into your thighs. Deep hazel eyes looking up at you from your hips. The look of him pushing you over the edge. Orgasm washing over you. Your body convulsing and heaving as waves of ecstasy engulfed you. Shouting Logan’s name to the sky.

“There ya go, good girl,” Logan encouraged pulling away from your sensitive opening. You leaned your head back, squinting your eyes shut as waves of aftershock washed over you. The sound of a belt buckle hitting the ground pulling your attention back to him. And what a sight it was. Logan’s large cock curved upward right in front of you. A large vein popping out on the underside, the tip swollen and red and leaking with pre-cum, a bundle of hair decorating the area around it. A mouth watering image.

Logan snickered seeing you slack jawed staring at him. Fucking him with your eyes. Hands finding their place on the ground next to either side of your head, cock pressing at your entrance. All that was left of his clothes was that damn necklace. Chain dangling in your face as you admired the handsome, sweat soaked man.

Large hand positioning himself at your entrance, head delving into your walls slightly. Pulling a moan from you. Swirling the tip around causing your body to quiver, pussy still sensitive from your prior orgasm. Even just the tip stretched you as he pressed into you slowly. Soft groans falling from you.

“C‘Mon, I know you can take it,” Logan purred easing himself into you. You squinted your eyes as his cock begged to pry you open. The girth making you fear he’d rip you open. Fully sheathing himself inside your tight walls. His face contorting in absolute pleasure. Adjusting around his girth, thick cock stretching you perfectly. Logan eased his way back before thrusting back in. With each snap of his hips you moaned. Finding a fast pace in you, panting heavy above you.

You leaned forward placing your lips back to his. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Exchanging spit as you licked into each other. Teeth hitting as you deepened the kiss. Hands exploring up his chest, dancing up his toned body. Resting on his cheeks. Lust filled eyes staring into each other as he continued inside you. Slack jawed and breathing heavy.

“Perfect pussy,” Logan growled above you. Thumbs caressing his cheeks. A knot building up inside you that begged to come undone around his large cock. Feeling your walls constrict around him as he thrusted. Each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. Gonna be so full of me,” Logan panted into your ear. His back straightened as one of his hands found its place on your throat. A minor squeeze of flesh between rough fingers. Eyes rolling back into your head as you felt yourself preparing to finish. Thrusts grew sloppy and harsh, sounds of skin smacking together filled the air. Balls smacking into you with each heavy movement. His name spilled from you as you climaxed around him. Logan moaned loudly feeling how you squeezed him. Milking his cum from him. Shooting hot ropes of himself inside you. Hips rutting as he filled you full of his seed.

He remained inside you, feeling the way your pussy still wrapped around him. Occasional squeeze of walls from aftershock. Feeling him go soft inside you. Both of you wincing at the loss of sensation when he pulled out. Catching your breath as Logan helped with your pants. You sat up, admiring him as he got dressed. Logan looked over his shoulder, grinning as he caught you staring. Extending a hand to you and helping you to your feet, pulling you flush against his chest. Hand petting your hair as he leaned in and gave you a kiss. Silently smiling back and forth.

“So who won?” You joked. Logan rolled his eyes, “Don’t push your luck, doll.” You giggled at his response. Logan wrapped an arm around you as you both headed out of the woods. Loving the warmth of his body next to yours.

“Next time I won’t be leaving,” Wade’s cocky grin met you between the trees. Logan gritted his teeth. He stood with both hands on his hips watching the two of you walk toward him in your ripped and blood stained clothes. “Sounded like you guys were really going at it on the ground there. Sounded just like when I’d catch mommy and daddy having their weekly wrestling matches,” Wade raised his eyebrows. Your eyes darted up at his. Wade caught sight of the purple marks on your neck, laughing. “I didn’t know X-Men training gave you bruises on your neck too!” Wade cackled to himself. Wiping a fake tear from his eye as he sucked in a breath. “When’s it my turn for that kind of training, Y/N?”

You both ignored him, walking past him. You gave a good punch to his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Wade hunched over coughing. Logan leaned down whispering in Wade’s ear, “Jealousy looks good on you, bub.” Dropping a heavy elbow onto his head knocking him to the ground.

Logan hurried his steps to catch up with you, walking beside you as you headed out of the forest. Exchanging smiles as you walked home together.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I really love the response people had to the idea of this Fic so I’m more than happy to write it! If anyone has requests for Logan or any other characters, send them my way! If you are interested in being tagged in any future Fics, let me know! //

[tags]

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @megangovier ~ @darklover06 ~ @castle-of-ruin ~ @akumazwrld ~ @ravenn-darkholme ~ @laweona510 ~ @ivyinthesun ~ @eddiesguitarskills ~ @amandarobertsboyce ~ @urmom02 ~ @ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs ~ @yesi22 ~ @orangehairedbrat ~ @l0sercat ~ @introvertreader20 ~ @shoxji ~ @gingerplague ~ @porflenet

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #mcu #marvel #x men #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics

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fulloflambing · 3 months ago

Text

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: ❝ HEAVEN CAN WAIT. ❞

pairing: kinich x afab!reader (uses she/her) synopsis: during the invasion of the abyss, the bond between you and kinich is put to the test when you're both lost in the chaos searching for eachother, as he fulfills his sacred duty as one of the heroes of Natlan. warnings: spoilers of the 5.1 archon quests! lots of bodily injury + descriptions of gore, the war ingame is described in a darker way here, cursing, many mentions of death. wordcount: 5.4k cho’s notes: PLS SRSLY LISTEN TO THE INJURY WARNING!! i might be a little dramatic but theres an injury here that made me geek when i was writing it idk. this is basically 5.4k words of me pretending to understand the mechanics of the ode of resurrection 😭 i was inspired to write this after playing the 5.1 aq! hope u guys enjoy this, happy reads <3

taglist: @sillywinnertidalwave

Today marked the exact moment the people of Natlan realized that the abyss weren’t just these noisy hilichurls you see camping in the meadows or the occasional mages you’d encounter in the caves; The Abyss was a ruthless cult of monsters with their uniform goal of bringing humanity to its demise.

‘It was never supposed to get this bad.’ was the only thought racing through Kinich's mind as he swung from cliffs to trees as fast as he could, the muscles in his arms feeling like they could rip apart if he swung one more time, his head slightly burning with exhaustion and heart racing with overwhelming pressure.

People were getting massacred on the ground underneath him, as numerous warriors and guards pushed themselves beyond their limit to fend off the neverending wave of rifthounds and hilichurls coming from the illuminating pylons—and he couldn’t do anything about it. Not when everyone and everything needed his aid, all at once.

But Kinich had someone to come home to, and it was you.

The last moment of peace the both of you had together was just earlier today; Sipping coffee and eating fruit together, discussing light subjects to try and distract each other from the rising attacks of the abyss, totally oblivious to the fact that Natlan would be dragged into war by them hours later.

He felt like it was just a minute ago when you sat in front of him, and glowed under the sunlight, slicing apples intricately as your lips spilled words. ‘How could this happen?’ he thought.

The image of you smiling, your face full of faith pulsed in his mind, making his stomach twist when his eyes landed on the village of the Scions of the Canopy; it was on the brink of ruin.

Caravans and carts were being ripped open with the goods spilling onto the ground only to be squashed, children getting dragged by desperate parents, greedy businessmen clawing at their money hoping it would save them, and the scattered limp bodies of innocent natlanese. The sky loomed over everyone’s heads in an eerie color, only amplifying the hopelessness he rarely felt in his chest. The scent of blood and burning ash filled his nostrils the second he violently landed onto the oversized canopy, mildly hurting his ankles in the process.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called out among the frenzy, his eyes darting to every face he could spot. He got on his heel and started running— desperate that you wouldn’t appear as one of the bodies that were left to rot on the ground.

He raced to your house, and tried to push the door open with no luck. He had no time to care for it, and just slashed through it with his bulky claymore and bursted into the room, his eyebrows knitted together, pupils dilated, cold sweat on his nape. His eyes don’t spot you in your usual leisure spot of your common room, making his heart drop. He checked all other rooms, and finally opened your bedroom:

You weren’t there.

You weren’t anywhere.

His heart hurt with every beat, and he desperately clawed at his chest trying to get back his calm composure he was always known for. But what for?

“Just give it up, that peasant probably turned into abyss food long before you even got here. Stop wasting your time, my time!” Ajaw suddenly hissed out, his words filling kinich’s mind with poison.

Imaginations of your body growing limp and cold, face turning blue, and blood oozing out from some part of your body as rifthounds dug through your flesh flashed through his head. And he tried to stop it. But with the spinning of his head and the lifelessness of your house that was once so full with your laughter, it just kept getting worse.

He stood with a lowered head, his hand gripping his claymore so tight his knuckles turned white. He fought back tears as his mind danced like a kaleidoscope. To him, there would be no use in saving Natlan, if you weren’t in the picture.

He was supposed to not let his will in defeating the abyss sway at all, you wouldn’t want that. No one would want that. He doesn’t either. But now faced with the odds that you might not be able to experience a Natlan that is finally free from centuries of prejudice, after you’ve been by his side telling him to have faith that the day will come, and the dreams you want to accomplish when everything is finally okay— It seemed unfair. SO unfair.

He whispers to himself, or rather to anything who was willing to listen, with a shaky voice: “If only one wish of mine can be granted for my whole lifetime, please.. Keep her safe. That’s all I ask.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The clashing of weapons against the shelled skin of the abyss monsters zipped through the air, as you swiftly dodged the claws of a relentless rifthound; you’ve been doing this for hours now.

You were helping your tribe, the Scions of the Canopy, strengthen its defenses before the outbreak until you were called by a messenger to help strengthen defenses of an adventurer’s base southeast of the village as it was being easily overwhelmed by the enemies. As the head of preparing defenses from the village, you happily obliged.

But now you were almost hours into battle, with your body aching in all different spots, as you tried your best to continue evading the insistent attacks of numerous monsters. You couldn’t find the energy to swing your sword with maximum strength anymore, so all you could muster up was to dodge them.

“Fuck! Will you ever quit!?” you yell, before pushing yourself beyond your limits again, attacking with frustration. You slashed through the tough skin of the rifthound with your dendro-infused blade, making it dissipate into purple smoke with a screeching growl before fading into the air.

You had a second for a breather and took a deep breath, which you regretted immediately. “ugh!” you cried, falling to your knees, grabbing your side. You recall the moment you heard something snap when a hilichurl swung its wooden baton at your side when you were busy confronting a different monster. You broke your rib, and it was now piercing your lung.

You stared into the dirt, forehead collecting sweat. You took your hand off of your side, seeing blood paint your palm a deep scarlet. You touched your forehead, and brought your hand back to your eyes— You were bleeding. everywhere.

Your eyes sting with tears, the reality of the situation slowly setting into your head— The chances of you leaving this battlefield alive was slim. Your teeth press against your bottom lip tightly, the pain being incomparable to the injuries you’ve sustained.

‘I’m sorry kinich.’ echoed in your mind. Kinich had been training you recently, for you to be ready in case of an invasion and he wasn’t there to protect you. But here you are, head-first onto the ground, realizing you’ll probably die in the next few minutes.

‘I’m sorry kinich.. I’m not built for this.’ you whimpered, tears slowly trickling down your face. You felt so heavy with hopelessness, you felt like you could start sinking into the solid dirt beneath your body.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. You were only supposed to continue helping people fend off the abyss for a few more days, until the Pyro Archon solved the crisis. And after she did, you would’ve explored places outside of Natlan with Kinich. Sumeru was the first region you both agreed to visit; It was always a dream that you shared together to travel all of Teyvat one day. Hell, you even had a hunch he’d propose to you somewhere down the line of your voyage.

So why are you kneeling on the floor, bleeding from every possible corner of your body, accepting your demise as your comrades slowly thin in number?

‘How long do I have to keep this up? I feel like if I swing my sword one more time, my arms will come flying off. I can’t do it anymore. This is something only strong people can do. Strong people like kinich. I can’t. I just can’t. I ca-’

Woosh!, Your ears picked up the sound and you jumped to your feet, barely escaping the blade of an enormous mitachurl that almost claimed your head.

You tumbled lightly onto the ground, before you hold your sword up again with both your hands, your limbs trembling hopelessly in the gaze of the towering monster over you with demonic horns. You almost drop your blade and just let it kill you right then and there.

But kinich appeared in your thoughts.

The mitachurl was standing the way the dummy kinich built for you was. Kinich’s voice instructing you rippled in your thoughts: “swing your sword down to the left, diagonal to the body. Then, slice up to the right, also diagonally. For the final blow, strike straight down the crown of its head, taking force from your shoulders. ”

You listen to kinich on repeat a few times, drawing imaginary lines on the body of the scowling mitachurl that stomped closer to you. You gulped the lump in your throat, before you did exactly what kinich taught you.

You twist your body with your edge in the air, taking a (painful) deep breath before swinging your blade to the left in a declining path. The mitachurl stumbles back at your sudden strike making an mmgh! sound, breaking down some of its armor. You quickly slice back up in the opposite direction before it could react any further. Your shoulder burned with every twist, but you had to keep going.

As it stumbled one more time, You bring your weapon above your head, and ignite it with dendro, causing a deep green aura to emit from your person. You meet eyes with the monster; It looked horrified. You stood there ready to take its life, appearing like a monster yourself with the blood that dripped down your head, your eyes seething with revenge.

You spare no more time before completely slicing straight down its head with maximum precision. A loud growl slowly faded with the noise, just as its body did, turning into a dark smoke.

“If my life is going to end with this battle, then please grant my final wish—” You whispered, looking at your blood-stained hands, hoping the heavenly principles could hear your wish among the deafening sound of war:

“—Please.. Keep kinich safe for me.”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The people seeking refuge in a temporary hideout turn their heads at the noise of their beloved heroes walking into the space. ‘Baraka’ Xilonen, ‘Umoja’ Mualani, ‘Uwezo’ Iansan, ‘Bidii’ Ororon, and ‘Vuka’ Chasca. There was only one more hero missing.. ‘Malipo’ Kinich.

Kinich had just rounded up civilians he saved from the village, and brought them there for safety. His gaze met with his friends, before he carefully placed a baby he was protecting into the arms of its mother— The baby had your eyes, which gravitated him into holding it just a little longer. He walked over to them with heavy steps, still trying to keep his composure despite the pain weaving his insides; just like them.

“It’s the final phase of mavuika’s plan. We have to get back to the stadium, and help her with the Ode of Resurrection.” Xilonen says. “Can you do it?”

It’s not like he had any other choice so he just nodded, not being able to muster up the strength to talk.

“Kinich.. Did something happen?” Mualani asked, taking notice of his silence as she placed her hand on his shoulder in support. It was clear she was just as broken down as he was, covered in bruises and scratches. But she continued to stay strong and pulled an empathetic look for him, trying to get his lowered eyes to meet hers.

“I.. couldn’t find y/n.” Kinich barely mumbled, the dread he felt earlier coming back to him, feeling like it only got worse verbalizing it. His eyes stuck to the ground, refusing to peel away.

The five heroes suddenly feel the air grow thick, a gasp leaving Iansan and Mualani's lips. This reaction only made the feeling worse, his fingertips digging into his palm. ‘Why does it have to turn out like this? I don’t fucking get it. It’s unfair. Not fair. Not fair to me, to her.’

The five struggled to find words to say, but ajaw quickly filled the space, spitting out: “Fear not lowly humans! For when Kinich finally slips in this final fight and accidentally ends up kicking the bucket, I, the almighty dragonlord, k’uhul ajaw! Will reign over this world once more! And the abyss will no longer be the biggest threat Natlan has faced!” The 8-bit monster laughed proudly with its jagged voice.

Kinich suddenly snapped at the puny dragon: “Zip it ajaw. Let’s go.” before stepping out of the hideout. The heroes gave each other glances, before silently following after him. They weren’t scared of kinich releasing ajaw, they knew kinich would never do that to them. But it was him they were worried about.

Kinich never handled loss well. It often resulted in.. Accidents. Towards himself.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You continued to fight your way to survival, the dendro vision hanging by your hip flashing every few seconds. You shifted your focus to destroy nearby pylons. Your hands had bruised, and slowly became callused and firm. The amount of blood loss you’ve endured has slowly started affecting you too, as your actions started getting sloppier, following your sight getting hazy from time to time.

‘Ching!’ You sliced through the last mitachurl around— atleast, last one before another one spawns—and fell to your battered knees. You sat there, gasping, your body begging for air.

“Y/n!” a fellow comrade called out, rushing to your side. You can hear him mumbling something to you, but it’s incoherent. You looked at your dirty, bloodied hands, ‘what an ugly sight.’

“Just.. keep pushing on y/n.” his words sound muffled to you and almost accompanied with sand; he’s losing hope too.

Without warning, a bright beam of light suddenly shot up into the air, emerging from somewhere in the distance.

‘Huh?’ You look up.

The ray of light exploded into a star, making you wince at the glare. The explosion was so grand, you felt the earth tremble all around you, and even felt a slight radiance of heat reach your skin, even when it was suspended so close to the stars.

The warriors and monsters’ brawl comes to a pause, all beings turning their heads to the magic unfolding above their heads.

You look back up once more. It’s the Pyro Archon.

“In the name of the Pyro Archon, Haborym,” the transcendent voice sends chills down your spine.

“I declare the Night Warden Wars underway—”

“—The Ode of Resurrection will guard all life, until the war is over!”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich might’ve lost his mind.

With the Ode of Resurrection, there was nothing in his way to contain the blood rushing through his veins anymore, the flame pumping his drive. There was no limit to the blood he could pour, no limit to the bones he could snap, no limit to the wounds he could take; There was no more life that kept him from death, and no death to threaten him to life.

He shot himself through the trees and cliffs and plunged into the ground, slashing right into an abyssal pylon, immediately shattering it into pieces. The abyss that caught sight of his unhinged eyes, became the last thing they saw. He swung his blade relentlessly, calculated with maximum precision embedded into every strike. Every blow he landed would end a life point-blank, not wasting a single movement. No monster could keep up with the speed of his assault, their death delivered to them in a blur.

A hilichurl had taken an open opportunity to stab him right through the heart from behind. He felt the flame inside him flicker for a second.

‘Again.’

He ripped the double sided polearm right out of his chest, before skewering the same hilichurl right through its chest with the same weapon. A cryo mage quickly sent icicles to penetrate through his limbs and vital organs. He felt the coldness pierce into his insides, feeling the flame inside him flicker for a second time.

‘Again.’

He swiftly turned around, and spun his claymore right into the mage, beheading it in the process. The mage had evaporated to its death, as his claymore spun right back into his palm, snug as a glove. A hilichurl decided to charge into his tall figure and stab him with a dagger, puncturing his abdomen. His flame flickered for the third time.

‘Again.’

He sliced down on the hilichurl, making it dissipate into the air with a groan. He pulled out the dagger from his body and carelessly threw it onto the ground. Noticing the area was clear, he flung himself back into the air, swinging himself through the thick trees and long branches. They would momentarily graze his skin, cutting and wounding him but it was nothing to him, not anymore.

His void eyes scanned through the rocky terrain underneath his feet, searching for your figure. ‘You have to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere.’ His thoughts of you distracted him from an incoming tree, before flying straight into its tree branch, his body getting skewered in the process. He let out a loud cry of agony— “aaghh!”—, hearing static ringing in his ears. His bewildered eyes landed at exactly where he got impaled before feeling his head go fuzzy, his eyes slowly losing light, and his body going limp. He feels his flame flickering once more.

‘Again.’

Life is shot right back into him as he braced himself again, taking a deep breath, and pulling himself off of the tree branch. His injury immediately punished him, making him wince. He took one last look at the tree branch covered in his gore before swinging himself again. He looked at the gaping hole in his abdominal cavity slowly patch and fill itself again, and for a moment he’s completely mesmerized by the power of the ode of resurrection.

In his mind, he punished himself for not being by your side, for not protecting you. And his mode of punishment would be feeling your misery over and over again. The sensation of burning pain ending up to his death just to wake up again completely alive again all in a split second was intoxicating. He was preserving life, as he toyed with his own.

In his mind, he would rather die a million deaths than find out he’d be alive without you around.

“Listen to me bastard! I’m starting to appreciate this new thing you got going on, you know, like actually following your master, me, Almighty dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw! and using your vision for something exhilarating like ending lives. But I HATE! how i’m getting excited to take your body everytime you go floppy, but you just wake back up! It’s so ANNOYING!! So just keep it up until the fire-head woman turns the ode of what-ever-you-call-it off, and you stay dead. Alright!?”

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Mavuika looked longingly onto her people fighting for their nation underneath her feet, as she levitated in the dark sky. It was a surreal simulation to her; It was her that was the catalyst for their dreams and hopes. It left a deep impression of justice, duty and pressure on her.

Mavuika took a deep breath, before feeling a surging power slither all throughout her body.

‘This has to end, now.’

She collected all the dreams her people have relayed to her, the hopes for a future guided with justice and equality, their ancestors and their prayers for Natlan, the lives of her beloved followers who had been sacrificed and martyred, into her fist and made it into her strength.

Her hair ignited into its flamed form, as she shot out all the might and glory of Natlan into a beam of radiance, targeting the abyssal body that was the sole cause of terror over her nation.

The Celestial body forms a temporary glowing shield to stand its ground, until it doesn’t.

It slowly starts shattering like thin glass, making her attack on it only more powerful. Her thrash breaks through until it exploded into a dark fume, her light piercing right through it and into the distant sky. The sky carries the sound of the thundering explosion, shaking nature all around.

The black cloud slowly starts fading, revealing the eradication of the Abyss.

The black sky lifts off of Natlan, revealing the blue once more. You choked out the blood that’s been pouring in your mouth for the longest time as you finally finish off the last creature in sight. The Abyss had been eliminated by the Pyro Archon, and no more would spawn. Dulled and scratched swords, torn bows, and unfortunate martyrs polluted the grassy field around. The noise of battle could still be heard somewhere distant but not around you anymore.

You spat and coughed out blood onto your palm, your other hand clawing and digging into your chest trying to calm your rampaging heartbeat. You heard your remaining comrades cry and yell out of grief and solace. The words they yelled were incoherent, only being able to hear ringing.

But you could almost make out what they're saying, somewhere along the lines of: ‘It’s over.’

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich’s eyelids slowly peel open, feeling the heat of the sun greet his eyes immediately making him wince. He sits up and tries to gain back his senses, letting out a sore groan.

Ajaw perches up at the sound, and starts roaring in his ear: “You were supposed to be dead! I was so thrilled to finally take over your cold body, finally thinking of the horrors I'd run to this land, just to find our contract not working! Just bite the dust already you useless asparagus! Curse the archons!”

“Wh-what happened?” Kinich croaked, his throat stinging him in the process. Completely ignoring ajaw’s tantrum, he looks at the nature around him; There were dismantled weapons, a few dead bodies scattered meters apart, and an awful lot of silence.

“The fire-head woman destroyed the abyss in the sky, and the magical thing happening to your body that stopped you from dying stopped, and you just crashed into the mountain side and passed out onto the ground. Your head should’ve caved in! Fucking imbecile!”

Kinich stares at the state of his body; It was a disaster. His jacket was torn with all sorts of holes, his arms full of scars and dried blood and smeared dirt, his gloved hands having numerous rips and tears. All of his digits were present, but a huge scar trailed over the joints of his thumb. ‘So I lost a finger huh?’ he guessed to himself. He looks at his headband dangling around his neck, and feels his face with his hand. He felt a few scars and winces at a cut he had, realizing he had a gaping wound that was actively bleeding out.

Body intact, clothes and weapon secured, with his heart beating in his chest cavity.

But something was still missing. Something was out of place.

He feels his heart drop to the ground, mumbling: “Y/n.”

He hurriedly turns around and tries to run on his feet, a sharp pain kicking into his legs making him fall back onto the soil. He curls into a ball, suddenly feeling all his muscles tormenting his body at once. He groans in pain, feeling parts of his body ache and burn under his skin.

“Yes! Perish!” Ajaw shrieks, making kinich swat at him. He takes a cramped breath— almost like the capacity of his lungs had shrunk— before digging his hands into the sharp blades of grass, dragging his body through the earth.

Each pull of his body made him wish he wasn’t human, pain electrocuting each living cell in his body. Grunts slipped through his teeth, as he tried not to notice the torture he had been enduring for what has felt like forever. He despised the pain he could feel as he crawled not because it hurt him, but because it was proof he was alive and could use his senses. That would remind him that you might not be, only making the weight of his chest heavier.

Red from his wound dripped down his head and slipped onto his lip, making him spit it out bitterly.

The silvery of blood was inferior to the bitterness in his mouth if he felt your body without its heart beating against his own. Ajaw slowly follows him in the air a meter away, and is almost horrified. Ajaw that day, saw humanity in its most desperate state.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Let me go!” You yelled, trying to break free from the arms of the other scions of the canopy. They had tried convincing you to go to the village and get your injuries treated, but they mentioned kinich was missing. You heard glass shattering in your ears, almost reality to your eyes breaking just the same. You escaped their captive and tried to find kinich, but they had caught up to you easily.

“You don’t understand! You might die out of blood loss before you even find him!” Said one of the nurses, gripping your wrist tightly. “I have to try!” You snapped, shoving and kicking at the men trying to get a holding of your legs.

“And what if kinich is dead y/n!?” A man retorted, making you freeze in your spot. Words got stuck in your throat, as your eyes blurred for a second. “Kinich would never.. be..” you feel your tongue stiffen, your knees slowly sinking back onto the grass. The men among the helpers quietly argue behind you, scolding each other with ‘don’t say that!’ as your thoughts slowly dim your spirit.

‘Kinich? Dead?’ the thought of kinich dying seemed so far and impossible to you. It was always kinich who seemed to prevent harm from going your way, and knew how to deal with injuries or how to get out of risky situations. But not even the strongest warriors of Natan's ancient tales survived against the toughest attacks of the abyss. You feel like vomiting, the imagination of kinich mangled body suddenly tormenting your thoughts. ‘I still have to try’, you interrupted yourself, reminiscing the oath you took between the both of you to never abandon his side, dead or alive.

You quickly try to pounce off of them, but they're quicker into getting ahold of you again. You try your hardest to tear through their grasp, feeling your skin ache as they tighten their hand around you.

“Please! Just let me try!” you cry out, almost freeing yourself. They object in volumes, a series of ‘No!’s and ‘You need to rest!’ leaving their mouths. You almost feel helpless, but the group of five freeze all together, out of nowhere.

Their eyes are wide, dilated. Their mouths agape, skin draining of color.

You turn your eyes the same direction as theirs, and a sudden chill waves all throughout your body.

It’s kinich.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Kinich locks eyes with you, his breath hitching. Almost terrified you’ll disappear in front of his eyes, he doesn’t waste another second and sprints towards you on his feet, ignoring the sharp pain afflicted to his ligaments. The tribespeople quickly free you from their clutches, stepping back as your aching bodies collided into an embrace.

Everyone else disappears from his world as he takes you into his dirtied arms. His body melt into yours, leaving no space for the opportunity of separation between both of you ever again. He feels you trembling underneath his touch making him hold you tighter. “I’m home.” He whispers into your ear, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders, like bulky armor sliding off of his battered frame— He had died a hundred times to tell you those words.

He can hear you; you're crying into his shoulder, salty tears reviving the scent of the dried blood on his clothes. All he can do is hold you, and take refuge back into your arms after leaving them for what seemed like an eternity. His heart is communicating with yours, beating back and forth at each other. “I was looking for you.” You mumbled against his skin, lips quivering. Your voice is hesitant, as you pull away and look into his tired dark-golden eyes.

“You never lost me in the first place.” He whispers, planting a delicate kiss to your cheek, placing your nimble hand on the left side of his chest to feel evidence of his return. His arms felt lighter, his bones seemed to unbreak, and his wounds were no longer burning. His eyes slowly stickled with tears, burying his face into your hair to let out his shy tears before you had the chance to notice.

His body grew vulnerable under your touch as your tears slowly undid the knot of grief residing in his chest. He almost feels himself shrink back to when he was a lonely child as your mere presence invited the fragile parts of him to be loved again.

His soul yearns for moment like this, where your love is presented raw; It was never about just the beauty. He thawed under your touch even when his clothes and body was drab and scarred. It was never about just the mora, his wallet was no longer weighing in his pocket and he knew that he didn't have to worry about it. It was never about just the distance, it didn't matter if he had to crawl from mondstadt, he still would've tried to come home even if he knew he would die along the way. and it was never about the festivity. he didn't need a festival to celebrate in a way of holding you like he is now. It was always about the bond between both of you and how much joy his heart is beating out just because he can count the beats of yours.

To him, his soul is bound with yours. No matter how far his heroship takes him, he’ll always return to you. For him, that was enough of a reason to come crawling home.

Kinich escaped heaven a hundred times to come home to you. For you, he would’ve gladly left a hundred times more.

🎕 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You relish his embrace with tears sticking your lashes together when your mind slowly floats you away to a distant memory, one you feel like you should have forgotten by now.

It was so long ago.. 7 years ago or so?

It happened somewhere.. Here?

With someone.. Kinich.

You were younger teenagers with kinich that time. You had tripped down a short rocky fall while traversing grassy terrain with kinich. A wince squeaks through your gritted teeth, as he poured water onto the gash you scored on your stumbling. “I’ve always told you to stay sharp when we go out on a walk, but you never listen.” He grumbles, wiping off the dirt that trailed down your calf. “..And everytime you trip, it’s always me who has to clean you up, bandage you, and carry you home.” He treated your wound as you sat on a rock, awkwardly playing with your fingertips.

You can tell he was just worried about you, you always managed to injure yourself when he took his eyes off of you. He was already pressured on finding a way home, but you just had to go get your knee busted. “Sorry.” you mumble, heat rising to your skin out of embarrassment. “If you really were sorry, you would actually look before you land your feet.” he said bitterly, undoing his bandana, and wrapping it around your knee tightly. As he tightened the knot, he said: “You know I won't always be around to protect you right?”

“Yeah..” you shuffle your feet around. “But I-i swear I looked before I stepped okay! But the dip was.. was hiding under all the grass.” You attempt to defend yourself, looking at him with guilt written all over your face.

“Can you just promise me you’ll make heaven wait when I'm not around?” He sighs, before helping you get back on your feet, his arm snaking around your waist, as he scooped your shoulder over his shoulder. “Only if you promise too!” you scoff. He rolls his eyes, “As if I'll ever die before you. Seriously, one day I might just be running a commission and bump into you just bleeding to death from your knee.” you grimace under the thought. “Don’t say such horrible things!”

“Then promise me.” “..I promise.”

#▸ ✧ ˚ services #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact kinich #kinich x reader #kinich malipo #kinich x you #kinich fanfic #kinich imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

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evieolo · 11 months ago

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Shaky

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Contains: SMUT!/softdom!matt/fem!receiving/overstimulation/stomach bulging/size kink/squirting/fingering/p in v

A/N: THANK YOU @lustfulslxt for proof reading me you’re the best!!!

"Strip," Matt demands. You've been concealed behind the walls of his room for seconds, and his mood has drastically changed from what it'd been minutes ago when he was joking around with Chris and Nick.

"What?" Your voice is small, wondering partially if you'd heard Matt right, but the logical side of you knows your brain wouldn’t make up these types of words from him.

"I said strip," Matt deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest like a disappointed soccer mom. His voice has dropped to a dangerously low octave, causing your stomach to be sent into a frenzy.

"Matt. Chris and Nick will hear," you press, looking up to his furrowed expression. He pulls you in by your hips, with his palms on your ass giving no support to your spine. Your back arches as you stumble forward into him, pressing your chest into his.

Your lips are so close together. Fuck. You're practically kissing, this upturns your need for him, skyrocketing from a one to a ten in a matter of seconds. You attempt pressing your thighs together to alleviate the burning tension of your heat, but Matt stops this action, kneeing his thigh between your two legs, only increasing the throbbing sensation of your core.

"Matt…"

"Strip and I’ll make you feel good, baby," he mumbles, speaking against your neck as he nips at your skin, biting and leaving marks while his hands roam your body, feeling at the skin under your tank top.

While Matt makes art of your neck, your hands make quick work of your jeans, skillfully unbuttoning them and wriggling them off your hips in a solid motion. Your panties follow, too slowly for Matt who rips them down your thighs and pushes you to step out of them, effortlessly closing the gap between the two of you and his bed.

You fall back, thighs hanging over the bed's edge with Matt hovering above you.

"M’gonna eat you out, sweet girl," he mumbles, kneeling at the foot of the bed and propping your thighs over his shoulder. Matt sucks his cheeks, gathering spit in his mouth before harshly spitting a jewel of it directly on your slick. This sends a shiver up your spine, added with the need to be touched.

"Please Matt - I need your tongue."

Matt silently obliges, pressing a kiss to your clit before sucking it lightly. The stimulation causes your hips to jolt up, and your slit bumps Matt’s nose. He makes a ‘tut’ sound twice with his lips, snaking his hands around your thighs and pressing your hips down into the mattress. Then he starts eating you out, lapping your wetness like a man starved.

"Matt! Matt!" You nearly chant, the unwavering need to jolt your hips up denied by the force he puts on them. The heat building in your stomach threatens to snap remarkably fast, the lewd sound of Matt's mouth against your slit shooting straight to your core.

Matt removes a hand from your shaking hip, using his free hand to stimulate your clit. This sets you off the edge, the band in your stomach immediately snapping, waves of euphoria washing over you. Rubbing a palm over your clammy cheek, Matt admires you like a piece of art, "Fucked you dumb after one orgasm?" He scoffs, pushing you roughly further onto the bed.

"N-no," you stammer.

Matt breathes out a "good," ridding his hard-on of the clothing concealing it. "Ready?" He asks, his voice showing care for the first time that night. You nod weakly, and Matt pushes closer to you, rubbing his dick against your slit. You let out an open-mouthed moan when you feel him against you. "Shut up," Matt grunts. The last thing he needed was a noise complaint from his brothers. He aligns his tip with your hole, momentarily pausing so you can brace for the stretch, and pushes in slowly.

You’d had sex before, yet nothing ever braced you for Matt's stretch. He was big, pushing into your heat agonizingly inch-by-inch until he bottomed out with a guttural moan.

"Fuck, this pussy’s gonna milk me dry," Matt curses, pushing your thighs up, readying you for a mating press, and pressing his lips to yours harshly.

He envelops you in the kiss, his lips moving harshly against yours proving his dominance, though, with your hazy state of mind, he doesn’t need to. Subconsciously you grind your hips against his, needing more friction.

Matt notices this, moaning at your movement before pulling out to his tip, pressing your thighs back, and stretching your quads in a burning mating press. He leans forward, pressing his chest against yours, and slams himself into you, his cock head easily hitting your cervix. You nearly scream at his rough antics as he sets a rapid thrusting pace, instantaneously bringing back the knot in your stomach. Your moans raise in volume, letting out yelps, whimpers, and chants of his names until he’s tired of hushing you and clamps a hand over your mouth.

"You want the whole neighborhood to hear how good I fuck you, baby?" Matt grunts.

You struggle to form an answer, unsure if it's the rate of how he’s fucking you or his hand over your mouth, but give up on the protest once you realize you won't be choking a single word out. “Gonna cum, baby?” Matt coos. You nod from under his hand, and he removes his palm. “Open,” he demands.

You oblige, too fucked out, too focused on his cock hitting all the right spots to realize what he’s doing. You open your jaw, and a jewel of his spit falls into your mouth. You barely fathom what's happening before he’s telling you to swallow. “Be a good girl for me, gonna be a good girl and swallow?” He moans. Your brain is hardly functioning, you moan out a “yeah,” remembering the simplest of bodily functions, and swallow his spit.

To Matt, this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He watches you roll your head back, and your legs start shaking, almost enough to set him off course. “M’cumming,” you whimper, the words barely getting past your throat before you're enveloped in a trail of moans.

As you orgasm around Matt’s cock, he doesn’t slow down, if anything, he speeds up. Not leaving a second for you to come down from your high, only elongating the pleasure.

"M-Matt, s-slow down, t-too sensitive," you wreathe. All he does is fold your thighs further against your torso, still fucking into you relentlessly when he sees a bulge in your stomach.

This inflates his ego to the max before he speaks up, and you realize what he’s referencing. “Can you feel me up here, baby?” He coos, pressing into your lower stomach. The feeling of overstimulation, Matt fucking into your cervix, topped with the pressure of his palm, tightening the grip of your walls around him becomes too much.

You whimper, trying to squirm away from his touch, but you're under him, trapped in his tight mating press. “M-Matt, don’t do that,” you stammer out in a wave of moans.

Matt grits his teeth and presses harder on your stomach, still hammering his cock inside of you. Your legs start to shake, vision partially blanking at your upcoming orgasm. “F-feels different, Matty,” you cry out.

Matt doesn’t stop, keeping the pressure on your stomach persistent. “Just let go, baby,” he ushers, chasing his own orgasm.

“Matt, I-“

You’re cut off by your orgasm, squirting all over his cock.

Matt is amazed by the sight, he practically cums on the spot when he feels you spasming around him, releasing inside of you and thrusting two more times to fuck his seed into you before pulling out and lying down next to you on the bed.

You nestle yourself into his chest as you come down from your orgasm, taking heavy gulps of air to alleviate the dizziness in your head. Matt strokes your temple, brushing your hair off of your clammy forehead with the pads of his thumbs.

When you speak up, it's a question, “Matt, what-“

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss to your lips and looks at you with admiration. “You squirted, baby, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. Your cheeks flush at the realization of what just happened, and you bring your hands up to cover your face.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Matt teases with amusement.

“That’s so embarrassing!” You squeak.

Matt laughs and pries your hands off your face, pressing a reassuring kiss to your temple. “It was hot,” he repeats.

You sit in silence for a minute while you both ground yourselves, until Matt props himself up on his elbows. “Shower?” he suggests, tilting his head in your direction.

Your hair is tangled from moving frictionally against the mess of blankets, there’s spit on your chin (he doesn’t know if it's yours or his), and your legs are still shaking. Matt chuckles, bringing your attention back to him. “What’s so funny?” You pout, Matt smirks. “I fucked you so good your legs are still shaking.”

You cross your arms. “That’s not funny.”

“Shower?” Matt says, repeating his ask.

“Bath,” you correct, “M’too sore.”

A/N PT2: I finally finally got my “writing groove back” so hopefully I’ll be coming out with a lot this and next week. ALSO we’re going to ignore the fact that men literally don’t last as long as Matt did in this fic and pretend Matts just chill like dat for dramatic effect. Ok, perfect, yay! Love you guys 💋💋💋

🏷️ @cheriematt @sturnzsblog

Taglist

#matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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oceantornadoo · 19 days ago

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ch7 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: oral sex both ways

masterlist | next

John Price thrives on routine. His days are filled with meetings and bloodshed, negotiations and betrayal. Routine keeps him sane.

Unfortunately, that resolution crumbled the moment he gained a wife. It’s getting harder and harder to leave in the morning, to ignore the fluttering of your eyelashes as you feign sleep. That’s what he blames for this break in routine.

The morning after, he stays for ten minutes instead of five. Counts the ticks of the old clock in the corner of his room as he memorizes the scent of your skin. You always end up with your head in the crook of his neck, legs tangled around his torso. He’s never been much of a back sleeper, but now it’s the last thing he cares about. It’s the sound of your breathing, the plushness of your skin, the brush of your chest against his. When he eventually gets up, he doesn’t look at the bed until he’s ready. If he glanced back at your eyes in half-slits, shifting closer to his pillow to soak up the remaining warmth he left in the bed, he would never leave the room.

At night, though, he succumbs to his weakness. He creates a new routine.

It’s the start of a new week after the getting-off confession. John had business in Glasgow over the weekend, lonely and cold in his hotel bed, but now he’s back.

“So Laswell sent me the contract. I definitely have enough to pay in full, but I’m thinking of paying half and then doing installments for the rest so I can have enough for immediate repairs. What do you-John?” John’s nodding along to your rant, disappearing under the covers to the place he’s been thinking about all weekend. The blanket’s a bit heavy, limiting his breathing, but it’s worth it for the sight of your clothed cunt, waiting for him.

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.” Instead of following his orders, you peel back the cover until his head peeks out. “What are you doing?” He rubs circles into your thighs, reveling in their softness. John moves upwards, teasing the fabric of your pajama shorts. “You miss me this weekend?” He murmurs, not sure if he’s talking to his wife or her cunt. Both seem happy to see him, if that’s any consolation.

“No, I actually got the best sleep of my- hey!” He shoves his face into the triangle of your lap, sniffing with wonder. “Fuck, I missed ya.” You’re silent at his admission, but your hand finds a hold in his hair. “You did?” It’s soft and unsure, forcing him to rip his focus away from your pussy. “I did.” You bite your lip adorably. You tug him forward, gripping his scalp hard, until his face is in front of yours.

“Maybe next time, you take me with you.” Absolutely not. He was meeting with a new prospective manufacturer, shady and dangerous. He was not putting you in any sort of danger. John shakes his head, heart clenching as your face falls. “Not the kind of place fer you, baby. Gonna let me eat you out now?” You nod, but your face is still hard with repressed emotion. He kisses your forehead, trailing down to your cheek, then nose. “Give us a kiss then.” It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed him first, the notion sending blood straight to his cock. The kiss is short and sweet. Can’t believe how quickly you’ve gotten him under your spell. Two bloody weeks. He pulls away, a final kiss laid to your jaw. “Keep talkin’. Don’t mind me.”

The new routine continues for weeks. He gets you off a different way every night, from fingers to tongue to plain old grinding. And then he goes to sleep with you tucked to his side, taking care of himself in the morning. John needs you to be the one to ask to fuck, to reciprocate. The alternative leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Plus, every time he gets you off, you fall asleep immediately, like it’s the only way you’ll go to bed. It’s terribly endearing.

A month in, he starts noticing changes. The furniture in the sitting room, for one. They used to be 18th century relics, designed to make sure a guest didn’t overstay their welcome. Except now they’re eclectic, blue and green against the cream walls. The couches look comfortable, like you could spend a whole day there. The paintings change as well, from Rembrandt to Monet and Picasso. The impressionist works, blues and greens and yellows, work well with the new furniture, making his flat seem like a home. When he asks you, all you do is shrug and say something smart about updating his old man apartment. He leaves bite marks on your thighs that night.

It’s a beautiful Friday night when John gets home early, around 9. He usually gets text updates from Terrance, your commandeered security guard that Price assigned to you full time, about your movements. You’ll usually get home at 7, but nothing yet. Two hours late. He calls Terrance and gets his voicemail. Highly unusual. Calmly, he presses on your contact's name, and it goes to voicemail. Three times.

Fingers shaking, he calls Kyle.

“Sir?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“My fuckin’ wife, Garrick.”

“Isn’t she with Terrance?” “No one’s answerin’ their goddamn phone.” Gaz sighs on the other end, like this is an inconvenience and not his wife they’re talking about. Keys click, then a mouse, before Gaz answers. “They’re at the bookstore. Been there since this mornin’, sir.” John drags a hand down his face, then grabs the keys to the car he barely uses.

“Garrick, this is the last time you take more than three seconds t’ know where she is. I want a full team on ‘er at all times. I won’t hesitate t’ assign someone else as my Head of Security, someone who isn’t lettin’ their judgement take over their goddamn job. Copy?” He hasn’t dressed down one of his men, especially Kyle, but he’s tired of the man’s judgement on this marriage. What’s done is done. “Yessir.” John hangs up, too miffed to say goodbye. He’s got a wife to find.

Your bookstore is coming along well. It’s been over a month since you’ve been married, a month of John’s fingers and tongue loosening you in more ways than one. You swear you’ve developed stronger thigh muscles, simply from the orgasms he coaxes from you night after night. And then he just goes to sleep. You’ve felt his cock in fleeting touches, brushing against your thigh or hard in his lap as you grind on him. He never takes it out, never drags your hand in that grueling way men do with shady eyes and slimy smirks. Every night, he asks you if you hate him, and every night, your lie convinces him less and less.

And every night, you think of how adamant he was against you joining him. His insistence that it “wasn’t the kind of place for you.” Your old problem with him has faded, a mess of childhood fears rolled into new ones. In its place are your insecurities, the word bastard floating through your head every time you think of his rejection. The clause in the marriage contract. It rolls together into a simple thought: he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s barely let you in on his business, content to stick with late night chats and orgasms. It should be fine, it should be what you wanted, but instead you feel a hollow hole in your heart where the word ‘friends’ lives. Even friends should share their secrets.

But back to the bookstore. Your new baby. This first month was full of cleaning, dusting out odd corners and greasing creaky door hinges. You listed a hiring notice on online job boards, looking for an assistant to help with the grunt work. Which landed you Phil, a wonderful addition to the team. He was around your age, an American with sandy blond hair. Handsome in a basic way, something you noted and never thought of again. Terrance ran a background check on him, something you gladly consented to, and insisted on helping you interview him. It took a week of recon, but he was officially your new assistant as of two weeks ago. An amazing help around the store, handy with tools. You’d told Phil that you were the daughter of a lord, a minor lie to explain the bodyguard. He shrugged it off, the ex-pat seemingly used to the oddities of London.

Now that the space had been cleared, it was finally time to paint. Terrance insisted that he couldn’t help too much, his main duty too important, but with the help of Phil, you convinced him to paint the walls with you. You all left your phones in the half-fixed office, donning plastic sheets to protect from paint splatter. Your business plan, formed from your downtime during the day and shaped by your late-night conversations with John, was to have a store section and a community section. The community section would be at the front, with a beautiful light blue accent wall, perfect for book influencers. It would be surrounded by comfy couches and warm lighting, complete with a cafe space you intended to build out. Your idea reminded you of the library waiting hours away, with its own fireplace and furniture. You decided to recreate that cozy feeling and bring it to the public.

Farther into the building there would be bigger shelves for rows and rows of books, organized by type. The color scheme was influenced by the one in your home, as you decided to hand paint metal shelves light blues, greens, and yellows. Most would be bought, but you were planning a book drive far out for people to donate old books and get discounts on new ones. It’s an idea you had wanted to do in Manchester but never got around to.

Now that the front of the store was cleared out and bare, it was time to paint. The hours fly by as you paint the light blue wall while Phil and Terrance work on a cream wall on the other side. When you blink, the sun is already down, and your watch is flashing 10PM at you.

“Guys it’s almost ten! I think we ought to lay down the brushes for tonight.” Phil opened his mouth to respond but is cut off by a harsh pounding at the locked front door. It was supposed to be clear, but there was newspaper on all of your windows to prevent the glass from getting paint on it. Frowning, you moved to open the door, but Terrance stopped you with his arm out, his other hand reaching for his gun. “Go into the office, ma’am.” You followed his command reluctantly, Phil following on your heels as you went into the back office. It didn’t have any windows, so it was a space you did not want to be in for a while. Phil looked nervous, running his hand through his hair and tapping his foot on the ground.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Phil. Probably one of the neighbors complaining about our music.” You insisted on a jam session as you painted, blasting music from a speaker you stole from the Castle. “Shady things happen in London no matter what time, boss.” You shrug, picking up your phone to quell your nerves. A glance at your notifications explains everything.

Oh no.

You burst from the office, phone already returning one of your many missed calls. That’s when you ran into your husband, face hitting his hard chest with a harsh oof. “Christ, sweetheart, gave me a near heart attack.” John steadied your shoulders with his large hands, anchoring you in his grip. His brow was furrowed, eyes crinkling in worry as he scanned you up and down like he was looking for injuries. “You didn’t answer-” “Everything good out here?” Fuck. Phil.

“Who are you?” It was a tone you’d never heard come out of John’s mouth. You imagined it was his mafia man voice, gruff and short like he had a better place to be. John shoves you behind him, reaching for his gun. You rolled your eyes, hand covering his to stop a potential shoot-out.

“John, he’s my-” “Assistant, sir. Good to put a name to the face, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You could practically hear Phil winking, laying on the Southern charm. You wrestled out of John’s grip, stepping out from behind his back. Phil’s hand was out for a handshake, but John hadn’t taken it, scanning the man up and down with suspicious eyes. “Funny, ‘cause I’ve never heard about you.” John tore his gaze away to catch yours, eyes slanted in anger. “I don’t have to tell you everything, John. I’ve got my own life, you know.” He looked almost hurt at your words, which couldn’t be true. Sure, you were fucking, but it’s not like this was a normal marriage. You knew he wouldn’t have wanted Phil working with you, just on the basis of him being a man. You didn’t want to be micromanaged by your own husband, so you simply hadn’t got around to telling him.

“C’mere.” John tugged you towards the office, his grip hard. You could hear Terrance telling Phil to go home and wait for an update. Probably for the best. You imagined Terrance following him out, then debriefing with John’s driver about how much of an asshole their boss was.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” John asked, arms crossed and face red. He’d shut the office door but remained standing since there wasn’t any furniture yet. “Because I knew you’d get like this.” You spit out, crossing your arms to mirror his. “Fuckin’ concerned fer the security of my wife? Tha’s a bad reaction?” You took a step back from him, crossing your arms tighter so you could pinch your waist, a reminder to stay strong.

“Controlling and caveman. This is my place of work, John, and you’ve embarrassed me in front of my coworker.” He doesn’t meet your eye, staring at the door so hard it might burst into flames. He looks like a predator ready to pounce, muscles trembling from restraint. “Ya don’t realize how many enemies I have. Every person needs t’ be checked.” Did he think you were stupid? “I had Terrance check him out. I know you don’t want me around your work, but I’m not an idiot, John.”

His rejection of your offer to travel with him weeks ago had stung more than you cared to admit. He clearly didn’t trust you, only seeing you as someone to fuck around with. You didn’t realize how far that lack of trust went.

“He should’ve reported it to Gaz.” John mutters. “He did. I know that for a fact.” John ran a hand through his hair, then dipped down to tug at his tie. “He didn’t fuckin’ tell me. Christ, he’s worse than I thought.” You wanted to ask what that meant, but you bit your lip instead. He obviously didn’t want to tell you.

“Look, I know I’m a bastard and you had that goddamn clause in the contract, but you can trust me. I’m not running around behind your back.” That got John’s gaze to snap back to you, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Tha’s wha’ ya think this is about?” You nod, suddenly unsure. “Sweetheart, that was Gaz’s idea. T’ see if you’d argue. I intended for you to ask fer another cheatin’ clause fer me, but ya didn’t so I let it go. ‘S nothin’ like tha’. Plus, I didn’t know ya then. I know ya now.” Oh.

“So you trust me?” What about the trip? You wanted to ask, but you figure that would show your hand too much. John nods slowly, uncrossing his hands to put them on his hips. “Don’t care tha’ yer a bastard. ‘M not fuckin’ anyone else, either. I’m just concerned fer yer safety.” He takes a few steps towards you, gauging your reaction to see if you step back. You don’t, uncrossing your arms and praying they don’t shake. He grabs your hands in his own, blue eyes swimming with openness. There are so many things you want to ask him about: your childhood, his father, the future. They all fall to the wayside when he leans down to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “If I didn’t trust ya, ya wouldn’t sleep in my bed.” He kisses your forehead, then cheek, before pulling back. “I need ya t’ believe me.” He demands it seriously. A sudden rush of affection hits your heart. He looks so truthful, so concerned, and you want to show him that same care back.

You lower to your knees. John steps back, unsure. “Sweetheart, ya don’t have to.” You shake your head, beckoning him to come near. “I want to.”

John tugs off the blazer he’s wearing, folding it into a light pillow. He squats down on his haunches, eyes on yours. A warm hand brushes your knees, urging you up so he can slip the blazer under them. He then stands; blue eyes dark as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Go’on, baby. Take whatever you want.”

You reach for his black belt, unfastening it with trembling hands. It unclips with ease, and John’s hands, hairy and veiny and strong, cloud your vision as he unfurls it from his belt loops. You continue downwards, undoing the midnight black of his button. You unzip slowly, licking your lips in anticipation. His fingers brush back the creases on your forehead, trailing down to brush the shell of your ear. “Feel ok?” You nod at his question, cupping him through his boxers. John releases a sharp exhale, a heady sense of power coming over you. You work the pants down fully to give you room, petting him this way and that.

Finally, you peel down the dark fabric of his boxers. He’s hairy but well-maintained, similar to his fuzzy torso you’ve felt in bed. His cock is thick and heavy, wet with precum as it slaps against his upper thigh. You tuck his boxers down to give you room, then start exploring. Kitten licks to the base of him, his hair tickling your nose. Your hand joins you to squeeze his balls, eliciting a sharp groan. John tugs on your hair, more out of instinct than control. “You feel ok?” You throw his words back at him, a cheshire smile growing as he moans again.

“Christ, those fuckin’ hands.” He responds. You move to start stroking, licking him from base to tip. He tastes like salt and musk, but clean with the scent of pine. It’s the most addicting scent on earth. After he’s wet and leaking, you steady yourself with a hand on his upper thigh and the other on your husband’s cock.

You finally take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his tip. You hum and his grip on your hair tightens. “‘M gonna fuck yer mouth sometime.” You let go of him with a pop, leaning backwards. “Not tonight?” He shakes his head, reaching down to pump his cock in your absence. “I’m a few strokes from cummin’, sweetheart. You look too goddamn good on yer knees.” That earns a grin from you and a renewed sense of vigor.

You suck him hard this time, your hand making up the length you can’t cover. You work yourself into an easy rhythm, up and down as he cradles your face. It’s much softer than you’ve ever experienced from a man, careful and protective. He wasn’t kidding about how close he is, harsh pants emitting faster and faster from his chest. “Where d’ya want me, baby?” You don’t respond, keeping him in your mouth. All you do is blink sweetly, willing your eyes to look bigger than usual. “Fuckin’ perfect, my wife.” That sends a jolt to your heart, and you have to stop yourself from accidentally biting down. Instead of responding, you stroke faster and faster. His abs tense, and you pull back just slightly, letting him coat your tongue and lips. It’s salty but not bitter, a marker of how fucking healthy he is. You lick your lips, swallowing thickly. His thumb brushes off a bit from your nose, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck hard, like you did the night he first fingered you. He continues cleaning you up, careful and quiet in his movements. John tucks himself back into his pants and offers you a hand to help you off the floor.

“Your knees sore?” He whispers. You shake your head, suddenly feeling exposed despite not having taken your clothes off. “C’mere.” He tugs you into his arms, tucking you under his chin. “We good?” He asks. You want to say no, want to ask him all the questions swirling around in your head, but all you do is nod and hold him closer.

In the car, John’s hand on your thigh, your phone vibrates. It’s Phil.

Everything ok?

Yep! Marital problems, all good.

Your husband is intense.

He’s a sweetheart for me, all that matters 🙂

Good to know. See you tomorrow.

His tone is odd, but you shove that thought from your mind. John squeezes your hand, and you tuck your phone away, content to focus on your husband. Phil is the farthest thought from your mind.

um. smut. now they're like friends with problems? idk enemies got boring.

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