#as his captivating look is visible even through it

[army-in-the-stars]

Arata Mackenyu x Numero Netherlands

[holeforzenin]

Kento’s favorite position will always be fucking you in a mean mating press where he had your body forcefully folded in half by his, because there’s just something so raw and intimate about having your bodies and soft skin pressed up against each other in such a filthy manner. Both of your sweaty bodies melted into each other’s as he pounded you deeper and deeper into the soft mattress with such neediness and desperation. Every time he’d possessively thrust himself into you, it had the entire bed creaking and the mattress sinking lower and lower because of his overpowering strength and weight. It’s almost crazy how he’s practically crushing you with his muscular body. The way he’d manhandle you and bend your legs into your body was so inhuman and fucked up but obviously based on the countless times that he had wrecked your little pussy and stretched your tight walls soo widely to hug his cock in such an ideal way that was only meant for him, in that exact familiar routine of a position. You were very much used to it by now.

The way his damped, tousled blonde hair gently brushed against his chiseled face captured your attention—God he’s so beautiful, no renaissance painting could ever be compared to Kento's face. It was a literal masterpiece. God you couldn’t wait to start a family with this man because you already know you’d have the most cutest babies. He stared down at your fucked out expression that he fucking loved seeing so much, so pretty and alluring. All dumbed down and stupid just from his cock. It never fails to captivate his soul each time he's making love to you. He could stare at you for hours.

You weren’t the most flexible person but of course, Kento always managed to manipulate and manhandle your poor body effortlessly in whatever position that he desired. He’s not mean during sex but he’s definitely not the sweetest either, Especially after he returns home from a frustrating and tough day at work, his mind consumed with stress and pent-up desire and his cock twitching in his pants with heavy, thick balls filled with seed that he’s been storing up to stuff into you with, after he comes from work.

It wasn’t even a second after you greeted him, that honeyed tone in your voice humming his favorite tune, “Kentooo, you’re back!!”. Barely two minutes had passed and in the blink of an eye, you were trapped beneath his large, muscular frame with his aching, swollen length buried sooo deep between your tight walls. his mushroom tip kissing the tender, sensitive spots that made you soo mindlessly dumb, it had you forgetting about the little rule you had about no sex until he’s well fed after work because as his devoted housewife, you also labored diligently to prepare dinner for him.

What if it gets cold?!!

Well, Kento sure doesn’t give a fuck because he’s way too hungry for something else.

His black and yellow tie is loosely dangling over your face as the gentle waft of his minty cologne which you had sprayed on his chest earlier before he went to work, drifts in your nostrils, making your mind hazy and had your pussy pooling even more slick around his veiny shaft. “Good God, fuck this pussy is perfect darling, sooo perfect almost as perfect n pretty as you” his husky voice echoes with admiration, the outline of his bulging veins on his arms straining through his rolled-up sleeves, showcasing the raw strength he had as he gripped onto the sheets besides your head for sheer stability as his tired eyes—visible with exhaustion and teary, lazily stared into yours.

“Kento–“ you cried out, your nails digging into his beefy forearm as you looked up at him with pleading eyes that sent his cock throbbing embarrassingly. Fuck it took everything in him to restrain himself from not getting you pregnant with his kids right now.

“Yes, my love? Tell me what you need darling, m’here for you”. He whispered tenderly, he flashed a charming smile at you before placing a quick, affectionate kiss on your ankle that has been thumping against his huge shoulders the entire time as he ruts his hips into you animalistically.

“Missed you ken!, so so much” your heart beating with desire and love as his chest smushed your soft breasts against him. Beads of sweat glistening from his hairline, threatening to drip onto your face as you move your hands up to wrap them around his neck. A genuine smile spread across his face due to your performance of affection.

“Missed you too my love, God you were clouding my thoughts so much sweetheart, couldn’t stop thinking about you and this pretty little pussy today.” He confessed to you in his deep, sexy voice before smashing his soft lips onto yours. Your nails violently dug into his clothed back that was fortunately shielding him from the nasty, red marks you were plotting to leave. Both of you groaned into the kiss, your spit and saliva mincing together lewdly to the point where it was steeping out of your mouth. His swollen lips feverishly melded against yours, making it practically impossible for you to breathe but you didn’t mind one bit. It all just felt so delicious. His glossy, pink tip skillfully pokes against your sensitive g-spot, making your toes curl in your socks at how good he’s making you feel. God, he was so perfect. His huffs of golden, blond pubic hair tantalizingly grazed against your sticky clit— rubbing it unintentionally, making your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head as he assaulted your lips. your tongues now entwining and swirling together disgustingly. The kiss was so sweet and affectionate, it made your heart fluttered.

His grunts and moans filled the room like a symphony. it was nothing but music to your ears. Kento was perfect in every single way possible. He was such a man, not just any man. He's a gentleman, his masculine presence would be overwhelming for any soul that has never experienced what it'd be like to encounter a real man.

You’d do anything for him, you loved Kento in a particular way where it would be so fucking offensive to the person who founded feminism.

[sailoryuns]

TEACHER’S PET ─── SJY

summary: it’s all fun and games making your professor get all flustered by your actions, until he actually does something about it and reminds you who’s the real one in charge.

genre. sim jaeyun x f!reader | college au, teacher x student

warnings. smut, age gap (9 year difference), daddy/sir kink, hand kink (i love jake’s hands what can i say), fingering, oral (m. rec), unprotected s*x (whoopsies), hitting from the back, spanking, breeding, light degradation, use of pet names (kitten, baby, doll, etc), slight possessive!jake?? if you blink wc -> 2.8k

you knew exactly what you were doing trying to provoke your professor the other day. it’s a little game you like to play with him, watching him get all hot and bothered in public places knowing he couldn’t do a single thing about it. that’s why you wore the tiniest, micro skirt you could find in your closet— which barely covered anything, you’ll flash someone if you bent over even the slightest.

during class when mr. sim asked everyone to come and grab their test result papers from his desk, he called your name out trying his best not to make it so painfully obvious that he was staring at your body. you drove him insane the first day he laid his eyes on you, fully obsessed and captivated by your ethereal beauty. he almost moaned out loud when he saw you bend down to pick the test paper up, “accidentally” dropping it when you turned around, giving him the view of a fucking lifetime.

he was so going to make you pay for that next time he saw you. as much as he wanted to just say fuck it and ruin you straight after class was over, he had some important matters to take care of. fortunately for him when he sees you again he’ll have much more time on his precious hands. more time to have his way with you and punish you for all the sins you were about to make him commit.

he thought all the little tricks you had up your sleeve were finished, but not just yet. thinking you couldn’t get any more bold than wearing that tight, short skirt, you came to class wearing a plain white button up top, but it had some alterations to it. you tied the ends into a knot, making it into a cute crop top, also leaving most of the top buttons undone and the collar flared out. the outline of the hot pink bra you wore underneath could be visibly seen with lace detail peeking out from the opening of the shirt. he also noticed something… you changed your belly jewelry. the one you had before was a simple silver barbell with a heart gemstone, but the one you wore today had a diamond playboy bunny dangling at the end.

this game of yours isn’t funny anymore, it’s pure torture at this point. your presence was enough to take his mind into unthinkable places, doing everything in his power to get through this hour lecture without stuttering or faltering his words. even some of the students were noticing his sudden change in behavior, usually he spoke in a sophisticated, eloquent manner but today he was acting noticeably different.

“what’s up with mr. sim? he’s talking super fast and not as calm and collected as usual.” your classmate aria voices her concerns next to you, not knowing a single clue that you were the cause of it. you were making it extra hard on him too, staring at his beautifully crafted face while seductively sucking on a cherry lollipop.

every time he’d look over at you you’d make sure to twirl your tongue around it, foreshadowing what you’ll be doing to him later on. thank god the room was dark besides the projector, he would’ve been extremely embarrassed had someone seen the massive boner he was sporting under his slacks. you were getting such a kick out of making him a flustered mess, not caring of the repercussions that’ll come with it later, you’ll end up enjoying it anyway.

it’s absolutely unfair that he couldn’t wrap his hands around your pretty neck, push you up against the wall and fuck you senseless like the dirty slut you are. he will in due time though, it’ll all be worth the wait in the end..

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

once class was over, as usual there’d be a line of girls waiting to speak with mr. sim. most of their questions didn’t even pertain to the actual lecture, they just wanted to say they had a conversation with him. he was quite the ladies man and very popular among campus, he was mostly known for just being that really hot english professor everyone wanted to fuck though.

“awww, i was hoping you’d stay a little longer so we could talk more!” an annoyingly cheerful female student says to him, trying to act all cute and nonchalant by twirling her hair around but failing miserably.

“me too! i need some help on starting my thesis mr. sim, could you maybe give me a private session on how i should go about writing it?” another hopeless girl chimes in to ask, her voice was so nasally you wanted to cover your ears with both hands. these girls will throw themselves at him like it’s a brothel but you didn’t need to do any of that, he was waiting specifically for you and no one else.

“sorry girls but i’ve got other important plans after this that needs my immediate attention. i’ll see you all next class but please get going, it’s getting late!” his eyes never left yours as he said that, no one in this room mattered to him besides you.

you could tell the female students gathered around him were devastated, most of them pouting and trudging away in sheer defeat. it was laughable how they still try making advances all just to get politely rejected. you wouldn’t say it inherently makes you jealous, but their obnoxiously tone deaf behavior was enough to turn your mood sour.

you head towards the exit but his voice halts your movement any further, clearing his throat before gaining your attention, “ahem, excuse me miss.”

it didn’t take much for you to realize he was calling after you, who else would he be talking to? some of the others girls turned around to see if he was addressing them but he shooed them away to leave. he went feral the minute your gaze landed in his direction, subtly licking his lips while looking down at your perfect cleavage.

if he doesn’t fuck you and dump all his cum in you sooner or later he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.. once he could see that everyone’s left, he wasted absolutely no time doing what he’s been fantasizing about for days. an ominous smirk forming across his lips as he backs you up against the door, fully shutting it with both of your body weight combined.

“mr. sim what’re you doing—” “shut up.”

before you could even get another word out his large hand is wrapped around your throat, crashing his lips into yours without any warning. he kisses with so much force and energy, stroking the left side of your face with his free hand. the placement around your neck disappears once he travels down to your chest, roughly cupping one of your breasts, kneading it through your shirt. pulling away for a moment, a long string of saliva connecting both your lips from his wet, sloppy kissing.

“fuck.. been waiting to do this shit again for so long… also what did i say about you speaking formally to me outside of class? i’m only jaeyun, daddy, or sir when no one’s around.” the strict tone of his voice instills an inexplicable sense of fear within you, having little to no idea what he’s capable of or what he’s even thinking on doing next.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

jaeyun had the most gorgeous hands you’d ever seen, the visible veins showing and his beautifully tanned skin was enough to make you go crazy. he noticed you staring at them too, viciously smiling at himself once an idea struck his mind, “open.” you didn’t hesitate to obey his order, mouth inviting two of his fingers to take in, eagerly sucking on them as you look into his eyes. he would never tell you this but watching you do this alone could simply make him combust, he doesn’t have to ask twice for you to do anything, you’re his perfect little sub.

“fuck, keep going.” jaeyun’s low groans make you even wetter as you continue sucking on his long, veiny fingers, staring at him all innocently knowing damn well you’re about to get fucked like no tomorrow. a slight moan slips out as you bob your head up and down, making his cock twitch from the vibrations going up his spine.

“you like my fingers, baby?” his head tilts to the side in amusement, loving the obscene view in front of him.

“mhmm,” you nod with your mouth stuffed full of his digits, taking them in deeper as you would his cock.

“everything you do is so fucking hot… how are you even real.” he husks, biting his lip at your filthy actions. your saliva coats his fingers deliciously when he detaches from your mouth, loving the way your chin is covered is glistening with drool.

he drags his hands down lower to reach the hem of the pleated skirt you were wearing, hiking it up to gain further access. your heart almost stops when you feel him slide your panties to the side, letting out a high- pitched sound when he sinks those same two digits from your mouth into your soaking cunt.

“nngghh, daddy,” your voice becomes shaky as his fingers slide into your wet folds, hearing the sweet sounds your arousal makes. your hips involuntarily grind against his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he feverishly rubs your clit while fingering you.

“i want you to suck my cock so i can cum all over that pretty face of yours, if do that for me i’ll make sure you get straight A’s the rest of this semester. sound like a deal my sweet kitten?” he already knew you were going to agree, you needed to pass this class in order to graduate and what better way to get an easy A than to fuck for it? you were willing to do just about anything it took to please jaeyun.

“y-yes sir.” you comply right away, whining from the sudden emptiness as he pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips as he sucks off the juices.

“mmm.. tastes like heaven.” he will truly never get enough of you, ever.

you quickly drop to your knees to undo his belt and unbutton his pants, greedily licking your lips as you finally get to suck him off. jaeyun instantly fell in love with you when you gave him head for the first time, he’s never wanted any other woman to touch him since. you were the only one who’s ever been able to get him to cum just from sucking his cock alone. as you slide his briefs down his member springs out with a small bead of pre-cum leaking out. your lips kiss his pinkish-red tip, dipping your tongue out to lick it up.

his cock flinched at any little slight stimulation, he didn’t jerk off or anything since that day he saw you in that tight mini skirt, wanting to save all of it just for you. opening your mouth wider to take his full length, your eyes begin watering when the end of his shaft hits the back of your throat.

“already taking it all so well like the good little whore you are. look so fucking hot like that with your mouth full of my cock.” his hands grab fistful of your hair, pulling hard as he forces more of himself down your throat.

you gag and choke a bit from his hips rutting into you, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking his cock as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do on earth. giving all your efforts to please him, looking up with bright, big eyes while you deepthroat. your pussy was uncomfortably wet, you could feel your slick leaking past your thighs. moaning as you continue bobbing your head up and down, feeling him throbbing in your warm mouth from the sensations.

“yeah baby… just like that keep going.. fuck…” jaeyun swung his head back in pleasure, pulling your hair tighter as he feels himself getting close.

you could sense he was close too by his erratic movements, and you know exactly how to get him to cum. you collect more saliva as much as you could to make it even messier and sloppier, some of it almost dripping from the corners of your mouth as you kept going. he felt like the end was nearing for him, seeing flashes of white as he grunts loudly, bucking his hips up in a frenzy.

“you’re gonna make me cum… better swallow of all of it like a good fucking girl.” you nod, feeling him pulsate even more in your mouth, hallowing your cheeks around the base as you send him to a higher state of pleasure. the back of your throat gets hit with shots of hot cum, milking every last bit of him until you know for sure he’s done.

“you truly have no idea what you do to me y/n, do you?” he pants while trying to catch his breath, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created.

“i swallowed it all daddy, look.” you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue to show him it was all empty.

“did such a good job for me, you deserve a reward.” jaeyun couldn’t wait to finally have his cock inside of you, it’s been long overdue..

“bend over,” jaeyun orders you again, doing as you’re told, you get up from your knees towards the desk with your face down and ass up in the air.

“fucking love this ass so much.. god, you’re so fucking perfect.” he grunts, tightly gripping onto your hips and squeezing your ass, he couldn’t stop biting his lip at how sexy your body was. your body jerks involuntarily when you feel a harsh slap to your right butt cheek, hard enough to leave a handprint on your delicate flesh. you’d usually cry out but you’ve gotten so used to it, you’re so unbearably wet that you can’t wait for him to ruin you with his huge cock.

“ahhh! daddy…” you whimper once he slides his length inside, not even bothering with going slow he slams his hips right into you. keeping both hands steady on the desk you do your best not to scream, you were still in a public classroom and other people could hear if you were being too loud.

“fuckkk…” jaeyun’s mind drew blank as he buried himself fully into your cunt, ramming his cock into you with brash movements. his pace rough and fast, slapping your ass some more as his strokes get deeper. a moaned so loud at one point you thought someone definitely heard that, jaeyun was pissed. if word ever got out that he was fucking a student he’d lose his job in a heartbeat, he forcefully covers your mouth with his hand, muffling all your moans as he fucks you harder.

“you want me to get caught because your dumbass wanted to scream out like a slut? be fucking quiet or i’ll punish you even harder than i’m already doing.” his degrading words made you feel so inferior, so small compared to him, but he was right, you needed to shut the fuck up or else your little secret will get out.

your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning up from the inside as he slides half his length out and pushes it back in. he repeats this actions a few more times then fully buries it inside you again, making you do nothing but clench around him.

“mmpphh, think i’m gonna cum again doll,” jaeyun’s hands slip from your mouth to play with your clit, “where do you want me to cum, baby?” he already knows your answer, he just loves to hear you say it.

“inside sir… need you inside..” you shamelessly beg, throwing your ass back against him to match his movements.

“your belly’s gonna be so full of my cum, gonna drain every last drop of it into this pretty little cunt… you belong to me and me only.” all you did was nod your head ferociously at his dirty talk, hoping for the love of god that he’ll give you exactly what need.

his movement staggered when you fluttered around him, feeling a knot untie in his stomach that made him unleash everything. he was so far gone, nothing mattered to him besides spilling his release in you, and once he hit a certain spot it was over him. his motion stilled as he finally reaches his climax, mouth hanging agape while pumping all of his hot cum into you. you came quickly after, panting and breathing heavily from how good he just fucked you. jaeyun was happy with the results as he pulled out, watching the cream seeping out of your used and abused hole. you were so undeniably sexy and it made him even more obsessed with you.

“baby.. you’re going to be the death of me one day, i’m sure of it.” he whispers sweetly, body collapsing on top of yours from pure exhaustion.

- 完 ♡︎

[astars-things]

happy wiggles

Dad!Lando Norris x Mom!Reader

Lando had been gone for three days, and while Y/N missed him terribly, she knew their one-year-old daughter, Isla, missed him even more. Every morning, Isla would crawl around their bedroom, searching for him, babbling, "Dada?" with a confused pout on her little face. It broke Y/N’s heart every time.

Tonight, as she settled Isla into her high chair for dinner, her phone buzzed on the counter. Lando’s name popped up on the screen, and Y/N smiled, quickly swiping to answer the FaceTime call.

“Hey, love,” Lando’s face appeared, slightly tired but still bright with excitement. He was in his hotel room, fresh out of a debrief, his McLaren hoodie slightly rumpled.

“Dada!” Isla squealed, her chubby hands smacking against the tray of her high chair. The moment she saw him, her whole body erupted in excitement—tiny legs kicking, arms flapping, and the most adorable happy wiggles shaking through her little frame.

Lando’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with awe. “Oh my gosh—look at her! Is she—Y/N, is she doing a happy dance?” he laughed, pure joy spilling from his voice.

Y/N chuckled, shifting the phone closer so Lando could see Isla’s excited wiggling. “She’s so happy to see you,” she said, her heart melting at the way Isla was grinning, showing off her two tiny bottom teeth.

“Baby, you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lando cooed, his eyes soft and full of love. “You miss Dada, huh?”

Isla responded with a delighted squeal, her tiny fists opening and closing as if she was trying to reach for him through the screen.

Y/N turned the camera slightly so Lando could see Isla’s little dinner—mashed sweet potatoes and tiny bits of chicken. “We’re just having dinner, but someone got distracted,” she teased.

Lando chuckled. “I don’t blame her. I’d drop everything to see that face too.” His voice softened as he watched Isla continue her happy wiggles. “I can’t believe how big she’s getting. Look at those chubby cheeks.”

Y/N sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “She’s growing so fast, Lando. Every day she does something new. Yesterday, she tried to say ‘love you.’ It came out like ‘wuv woo,’ but still…”

Lando visibly melted. “No way. My heart can’t take this. Isla, baby, can you say ‘love you’ for Dada?”

Isla babbled something incoherent, still wiggling in pure excitement, and Lando laughed, shaking his head. “That’s close enough. I love you so much, Isla.”

Y/N smiled, watching the way Lando was utterly captivated by their daughter, even through a screen. “We both love you,” she said softly.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls. “I wish I could be there, cuddle up with you both.”

“You’ll be home soon,” Y/N reminded him. “And she’ll be doing her happy wiggles in your arms instead of at a screen.”

Lando smiled, his gaze full of love. “I can’t wait.”

[meleeyz]

୭ 𝗜𝗡 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘 ˚. ᵎᵎ 

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled.

୨୧ I love that you love dad!Ekko as much as I do, I have like three or four drafts on this and I'm not going to stop now.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The Firelights hideout was never quiet, not truly. Even at night, the creak of wood, the faint buzz of firefly, and the occasional murmur of voices filtered through the air. Yet tonight, the sounds grated on you more than usual. You sat alone in the main room, slumped in a chair, your legs stretched out, and your head resting against the backrest. Your body was still, but your mind raced.

The meeting earlier had drained you. Every face in the crowd, every raised voice, every plea, every challenge—they were all into your memory. There were no easy answers when it came to survival. Staying in the hideout offered safety, but at what cost? Heading into battle was madness, and yet you had found yourself standing at the front of the room, advocating for just that.

Jayce Talis had begged.

The thought still lingered, making your stomach churn. The golden man of Piltover, the symbol of everything Zaun despised, had been desperate enough to cross the divide and plead for help. It was absurd. It was dangerous. And it was necessary.

You looked over at Wyeth’s crib, just a few feet away. He was still awake, his tiny fingers caressing the mobile Ekko had built for him. Little Firelight models swayed lazily above it, glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. His giggles broke the heavy silence from time to time, a sound that filled you with warmth.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. You were exhausted, but sleep felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford. For your people. For your baby. For the memory of the man you loved.

Ekko.

The name still made your chest ache. Some nights, you let yourself believe he’d be back, that he’d walk through the door like nothing had happened, his grin as bright as ever. Other nights, you couldn’t even say his name. Not out loud. It hurt too much.

A sudden commotion outside jolted you upright. Voices—louder than usual—echoed through the hideout. The door slammed open, and Roux burst in, her curls wild and her chest heaving as if she’d run the whole way.

You shot her a sharp look, raising a hand to signal for quiet, but Wyeth didn’t so much as flinch. He was still captivated by the spinning fireflies above him, his tiny hand outstretched.

“Roux,” you said, your voice low and steady despite the tension knotting your muscles. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. She stood frozen, her dark eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and relief. And then, she smiled—a wide, genuine smile that lit up her whole face.

She didn’t say a word, just nodded at you, her expression speaking volumes.

Your heart lurched in your chest. No, it couldn’t be—

You shot to your feet, crossing the room in three strides to scoop Wyeth into your arms. He let out a surprised coo, his hands grabbing at the edge of your shirt. You didn’t have time to comfort him, your feet already moving toward the stairs.

The shelter was alive with movement. Firelights crowded the central area, their voices a buzzing cacophony. They were clustered together, their faces turned toward the center where a figure stood, just barely visible through the sea of bodies.

You pushed your way forward, your grip on Wyeth tightening with each step. Your breath came faster, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Please, let it be him.

The Firelights parted as you approached, one by one stepping aside as if they could sense the urgency in your movements. And then you saw him.

Ekko.

He stood there, his hair disheveled, his clothes dirty and torn, but his smile was as radiant as ever. His eyes locked onto yours, and in that instant, it was as if time itself had rewound.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the crowd.

Your heart tightened, a wave of relief and disbelief crashing over you. You barely registered the people around you as you stepped closer, Wyeth squirming in your arms, reaching out toward the man who looked just like him.

And then—

You woke with a start, your chest heaving, your heart pounding like a drum. The room was dark, the faint hum of the hideout returning to your ears.

For a moment, you sat there, frozen, the vivid memory of Ekko’s face lingering like a phantom. Then, reality set in. You were still in the main room, slouched in the same chair as before.

But something was wrong.

Wyeth.

The crib was empty.

Panic shot through you like lightning as you scrambled to your feet, your eyes darting around the room. The hanging firefly mobile swayed gently, untouched.

“Wyeth?” you called, your voice breaking.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The air was suffocating, panic pounding in your chest as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Where was Wyeth? Your fists clenched, your pulse racing as the dark corners seemed to stretch endlessly.

You stepped forward, instinctively grabbing the nearest object you could find—Ekko’s hammer. The weight of it was familiar, grounding you for just a moment. Your knuckles whitened around its handle as you heard the faintest sound behind you, the scrape of a boot against the floorboards.

Someone was there.

Without thinking, you spun around, raising the hammer high, ready to strike—but a hand caught your wrist mid-swing, strong and firm. The hammer slipped from your grip, clattering to the ground.

The dim light caught the edges of his face first—the familiar curve of his jawline, the wild twists of his hair—and then his eyes. Those unmistakable, tear-filled eyes.

“Ekko?”

He stood there, smiling softly, as if you hadn’t just tried to bash his skull in.

“Aren’t you going to say hello to me?” His voice cracked at the edges, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. Your mind raced to catch up with your heart, which was already soaring, even as doubt clung to the edges of your thoughts. Was this another dream? A cruel trick?

Your knees nearly buckled. You’d been sleeping, and somehow, while you were lost in restless dreams, he had come back.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t wait for an answer. In an instant, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with all the strength he had. You collapsed against his chest, your hands clutching his shirt as the floodgates opened. Tears poured down your face, sobs wracking your body as weeks of fear, anger, and loneliness spilled out all at once.

His hand cradled the back of your head, his other arm locked tightly around your waist as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, his words barely audible through his own tears. “I’m so sorry for being gone so long.”

You couldn’t respond, your voice lost to the ache in your chest. Instead, you buried your face in his shoulder, breathing him in, letting his presence ground you. He was here. He was real.

As you clung to him, your eyes drifted over his shoulder to the crib on the other side of the adjoining room. Wyeth was there, fast asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Relief coursed through you like a tidal wave. He was safe.

Ekko’s voice pulled you back to him.

“I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you with all my heart. I love you in every universe.”

The last sentence made you pause. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your brows furrowing.

“What does that mean?”

His smile wavered, his hand brushing a tear from your cheek.

“I’ll explain everything,” he said softly. “But not tonight.”

You hesitated, but the exhaustion in his eyes—the weariness that mirrored your own—stilled your questions. Whatever it was, it could wait. For now, all that mattered was that he was here.

You melted back into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat steady against your own.

The night stretched on, the war outside the hideout forgotten for the time being.

Ekko hadn’t let go of you for hours, and you didn’t want him to. You sat together on the small bed in your shared room, Wyeth nestled between the two of you. He stirred occasionally.

Ekko watched him with an expression you couldn’t quite name—equal parts wonder and guilt.

“He’s gotten so big,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing the soft curls on Wyeth’s head.

“You should have seen him a month ago,” you said, your voice light but tinged with lingering sadness. “He couldn’t stop rolling over. Drove me crazy.”

Ekko chuckled softly, his gaze flickering to yours.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

You shook your head, brushing off the compliment, but he caught your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ve held everything together while I was gone. Our son, the Firelights, the shelter—you did all of it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but you bit them back.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Ekko leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry I made you do it alone. I should’ve been here.”

“Then don’t leave again,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I won’t,” he said, the conviction in his tone wrapping around your heart like a promise. “Never again.”

For the first time in months, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. There were still so many questions, so many battles ahead, but for now, none of it mattered. Ekko was home.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The morning sun filtered through the hideout’s windows, despite the warmth of the new day, there was a heaviness in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the battle yet to come. People moved through the corridors in hushed tones, preparing for what was ahead, stealing fleeting moments of connection with those they held dear.

Ekko stood in the tiny kitchen, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of morning. The space was simple but functional—weathered counters, mismatched cabinets, and a small table barely big enough for two. Wyeth sat snug in his father’s arms, his tiny hands grasping at the bottle Ekko held steady.

Ekko had a way of moving that was both fluid and deliberate, like he carried the weight of the world with practiced ease. This morning, however, there was something different about him. His usually sharp eyes were softer, fixed on his son with a mix of love and wonder.

You stood just outside the doorway, your hand resting on the frame as you paused. You hadn’t intended to linger, but the sound of Ekko’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t speaking to you—or anyone else for that matter. He was talking to Wyeth, his tone gentle, the words almost a lullaby.

“You know,” Ekko began, adjusting the bottle in Wyeth’s tiny hands, “where I was, everything was… different. Almost perfect, I guess.” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if still trying to believe it himself. “Zaun wasn’t like this. No war. No infected trees. No fighting just to survive.”

Your brow furrowed as you leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was saying. What did he mean by different?

Ekko continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much in too little time.

“It was wild, kiddo. My friends were alive. My family. Everyone I lost… they were all there. And Zaun?” He smiled wistfully. “Zaun was alive. Really alive. It was a city of light, not smoke. People thrived there, not just got by and your grandpa Benzo still had his shop, believe it or not,” he chuckled softly, though there was a sadness in it. “And I didn’t have to carry so much. No fight, no death.”

Your breath hitched as he spoke. Whatever he had experienced while he was gone, it had left its mark on him. You clenched your fists against the doorway, torn between wanting to step inside and wanting to hear more.

“But you know what I liked most about it?” Ekko asked, his smile softening as Wyeth gurgled in response. “Your mommy.”

Ekko’s gaze dropped to his son, his thumb brushing against the soft curls on Wyeth’s head.

“I loved her there, just like I love her here. Only difference is, in that world…” His voice trailed off for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes. “We were married.”

You froze, a sudden heat rising to your cheeks. Married?

“She was just as stubborn, though,” Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Still had that fire in her. Still drove me crazy, but in the best way.”

Married. You had never thought much about marriage—there hadn’t been time to. Survival always came first. But the way he spoke about it, the way he described you and him together in that other world…

Ekko shifted Wyeth in his arms, his expression growing fonder with every word.

“We had so much fun, you know? Playing with your other version. You were bigger there, running around and getting into all kinds of trouble. And you had a little sister.”

The revelation sent another jolt through you. A sister?

“Yep,” Ekko went on, his voice full of warmth. “Your mommy and I didn’t waste any time.” He let out a soft laugh, his grin mischievous. “And from the looks of it, we were about to get another little firefly. Your dad’s not the type to keep his hands off your mom, you know?”

Your face burned as you pressed yourself against the wall, your fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe. He couldn’t possibly mean… You shook your head as you tried to process his words.

Ekko’s voice turned playful, his tone carrying a knowing edge.

“It’s rude to spy, you know.”

Your breath caught, and you felt your stomach drop as he turned his head. His grin widened, as though he’d known you were there the whole time.

Caught red-handed, you straightened and pushed the door open fully, stepping into the room with your arms crossed.

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice laced with feigned annoyance.

Ekko turned, still cradling Wyeth in one arm. His eyes roamed over you, as though seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a softness in his expression, but also something deeper.

“You don’t believe me?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Not a word.”

But there was something in his eyes, something intense and unyielding, that silenced the playful edge in your voice. He set the bottle down on the counter and held your gaze, his expression suddenly serious.

“You’re a lot like her, you know,” he said quietly. “But you’re not the same. You’re better.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you hesitated, feeling suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze.

Then you straightened, fixing Ekko with a skeptical look.

“So, what? You just decided to leave this magical, perfect dimension where everything was great and come back here?”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah,” he said simply.

You blinked.

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t home,” he said, his voice steady, certain. “You and Wyeth—you’re my home.”

Ekko shifted Wyeth to one arm, freeing his other hand to reach out for you. You stepped closer, your heart racing as you looked at him—really looked at him. Despite the time apart, despite everything he had endured, he was still all yours.

“I’m here now,” he said, his voice steady. “And when we get through this, because I’m going to win the damn war if that means see this little guy growing again…” He paused, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m going to marry you.”

The air left your lungs, the weight of his words crashing into you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, you reached out, brushing your fingers against the hand that held Wyeth, grounding yourself in the warmth of your family.

“Say something,” Ekko murmured, his lips curving into a small smile.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

“You’re serious?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been.”

No matter how many worlds existed, no matter how different things might have been elsewhere, this was the one he chose.

This was his family.

And for Ekko, that was enough.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

tags: @serena6728 @theyluvkghanya @night-fall-moon @chaeisbroke

[apricot-blossomss]

☛ the moment they realize they are in love with f! reader [apollo, eros, hermes, ares x reader]

☀️ APOLLO falls for you when he hears you sing

☛ there was nothing you would rather do on a sunday afternoon than have an exhausted god resting on your lap and running your fingers through his hair. right after coming home from his godly duties, apollo had swept you away to this remote flower field in the mortal realm. a glistening stream splashed lightly in your ears as you watched apollo, the way the sun kissed his cheeks and showed his freckles, the way he seemed to glow with a golden hue. his divinity on full display, and at the same time, the visible tiredness made him look more human.

subconsciously, you started humming a tune. a lullaby for your sleeping god as your fingers drew small circles on his scalp. in his slumber, a little huff left his lips that fanned your wrist and you smiled affectionately. it was almost too natural, the way your tune turned into a melody and the way that your humming turned into words, but you couldn't help a grin when you serrated to sing in a low voice. "here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo, here comes the sun..."

when apollo was around, poets got inspired, artists creative and people couldn't get catchy melodies out of their heads. wherever he went, he often left the mortals singing and dancing. if he did not say so himself, his voice was ethereal, the most beautiful tune one's ear could ever be blessed with, captivating, divine, amazing. he used to think his was and would always be the most perfect voice in the world, but the one filling his ears as he slowly regained consciousness shook him to his very core.

it only took him a few seconds to realize he was listening to you, singing to him. though a little hushed, your voice was stunning to him, the most ethereal tune and he was definitely not biased. you were ethereal. feeling your soft fingers in his hair, listening to your melodic voice, it was heaven to him. when he carefully cracked his eyes open, you were hovering over him with your adoring eyes and beautiful smile.

as soon as he opened his eyes though, you fell silent and averted your eyes. unfortunately, you misinterpreted his frown for judgement of your very much imperfect vocal abilities and your embarrassment worsened even further. to sing in the presence of the god of music- what had you been thinking? "sorry," you chuckled and looked away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"why'd you stop?" surprised, you looked down at the god and swallowed, seeing his clear green eyes. wondering how to convey the obvious, that being your mediocre singing abilities, you big your lip and looked away, when you heard him hum. his voice was a soft, melodic whisper until he started to gently continue the tune. "little darlin', it's been a long, cold, lonely winter. little darlin', it feels like years since it's been here" his voice stunned you. it was beyond beautiful, beyond pleasing. when you began to well up at it's perfection, you felt silly, but your heart clenched and fluttered hearing him sing.

but he didn't continue, looking at you expectantly, like he was waiting for you to do something. correctly interpreting his body language, you gasped. "no-"

"yes!" he cut you off, sounding delighted and a little deranged. with one fluid motion, he sat up and reached for your clasping hands.

"you should be ashamed of yourself, that you want me to embarrass myself like that," you snorted and looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. "truly, you are cruel."

"embarrass yourself?" he asked, and again with those furrowed brows. "darling, that was beautiful."

light, warm fingers came up to trace your features gently and you saw no lie in his eyes. "you are biased," you accused him and pushed against his chest because him being so near made you unable to think straight. like a strong parfume, sweet but messing with all other senses.

"maybe," apollo smiled. he was resting on his back once more and he hadn't once enjoyed being pushed into a flower field like right now. "but that's how I hear it. and, last time i checked, i'm still the god if music so i would say i have some authority in the matter." his finger came up to trace your lips and his gaze got so heavy and so ... heated that blood shot like hot water into your cheeks. "sing with me?"

well, how could you possibly refuse him when he was looking at you like that? "i- but only a little," you said, feeling shy. "and if you make fun of me I swear, I will never sing again!"

"what a loss for the world and, more importantly, for me that would be," the sun god smiled and his eyes trailed down to your lips. "well, then.. sing, lover"

and when you gave up your resolve and sang the refrain with him, his heart burst with giddiness and he knew; he was head over heels in love with you.

💘EROS falls for you when you give him valentine chocolates

☛ valentine's day was the busiest day of the year for eros, so it was no surprise that he arrived late to your date when he usually was the first of you two at everything. after he spammed your phone with a thousand apology texts about how he was a horrible date and offering to drown himself in tartarus for eternity if you asked for it, he did manage to get his job done for the day and was now sprinting towards you, nearly trampling a satyr waiter of the cafe you a made a reservation at.

at least the view of him toppling over and trying not to destroy the valentine decorations with his wings was easing your nerves a little. you had been fawning over the god for a while now and when he asked you out two days ago, you nearly combusted with excitement. at the same time, though, eros had the tendency to make you very flustered. even though you had known him for years, your breath still got shaky and your hands sweaty whenever he so much as smiled at you.

like right now, when he spotted you from across the room and sent a bashful smirk your way. Under the table, your hands tightened around the heart-shaped box of valentine chocolates and you beamed back, unable to contain the happiness you felt.

"i am so unspeakably sorry i'm late," he panted upon arriving at the table. checking his reflection in the nearby mirror subtly, he ran his hand through his bronze locks and flashed you a seductive grin, though he still seemed a little out of breath. "tell me how to make it up to you."

"you're only ten minutes late," you smiled as your insides fluttered. his damn smile made your stomach do cartwheels.

"ten minutes i didn't get to spend with you," he argued and only now let his gaze wonder over the parts of your body visible. "love, you look beautiful. can't believe i've missed out on this sight"

damn charmer.

"speaking of beautiful," he continued and reached down to pull a giant flower bouquet out of nowhere, in your favorite color. "though it doesn't come close to your beauty, it reminded me of you."

by now you were just as red as the rose decorations. shyly, you stretched your arms out over the table to take the bouquet. "busy day?" you asked, placing it beside you and picking out a particularly colorful flower to put behind your ear.

"you would not believe how many arrows i shot today," he said, reaching over to take your hand over the table. "apparently, everyone is just as head over heels for a wonderful person in their life as I am"

you didn't know what in the world to answer with. a love declaration? just smiling? saying thank you? you opted instead to reach under the table and pull out the valentines chocolates. it was a pink box, you picked it specifically because it had a little cupid drawing on top. "i hope you like chocolates."

"oh, i love-" eros gaze dropped to the heart shaped box and suddenly, his heart seized. as if he had just been shot by his own arrow. you had given him valentine chocolates. cute. he couldn't explain why his tummy exploded with butterflies at the simple action but he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. he had to remember to breathe and when he did, he breathed out "-you."

🪽HERMES falls for you when you kiss him on the cheek

☛ "when are you finished?" hermes whined for the fifth time in the last minute and pulled his lips into a pout. the only acknowledgment coming from you was a deadpan stare over the edge of your book. not only had he come by unannounced and without a reason, now he was annoying you in your scheduled reading time. and as if that wasn't bad enough, he also looked so cute doing it you felt the urge to kick his face that currently invaded your private zone by burying itself in your tummy.

"come back in half an hour and maybe i'll be finished then," you murmured, already invested in your book again.

"half an hour?!" hermes cried dramatically and sneaked his arms around your waist. "but I'm busy!"

"hm, is that right?" you sighed and nudged his shoulder. "get back to work and leave me alone, then."

"come on," he said and a sly smile took over his face. "dont'cha want to come with me? fly over a few countries, live in the flash for a day... it would be far more exciting than your book!"

"my book is very exciting," you mumbled, already caught up in the story again. not for long, though, as hermes began to complain under his breath, muffled by your belly that still served as his pillow. you peaked past your book and couldn't help but find the sight utterly endearing. when he looked up, you quickly hid behind your book again and heard him laugh.

your face burned up when the affectionate god sat up, only to prop himself down next to you and lean his head on your shoulder. "do you know for how long you have been reading this one page? ten minutes,"

"oh, and why might that be?" you grinned, though his teasing tone tinted your cheeks pink. "maybe because this pain-in-the-ass of a god won't leave me alone."

"admit it, you have fallen for me," he retorted, poking your side with his deft fingers. "and you will miss me dearly when i am gone, impatiently awaiting my return so i can whisk you away as i do in your daydreams."

"well, you are quite the dreamer," you mused and put your book down. "let's make a deal. today i read this book, tomorrow i am all yours. 'mkay?" and to silence any further protests, you pressed a kiss to his cheek and pushed him off the bed.

you expected a retort, another teasing comment, anything, which was why you were confused by the following silence. looking over the edge of your bed, you found him sitting there, looking up at you dumb-struck and with very rosy cheeks. the spot where you had kissed him tingled and hermes head was wiped clean of any funny reply, just full of you, you, you and the feeling of your lips on his cheek.

"i- okay," he finally managed to say and walked over to your windows with weak knees. falling for him my ass. he was head over heels in love with you.

🗡️ARES falls for you when you slap someone

☛ your smile was so tight your cheekbones were aching, but you kept your calm. if ares, who would yell at a pigeon staring at him in the park and almost give your mom a heart attack when he started a fight at the last family get-together you invited him to, could restrain himself right now, you could as well. firsthand, you knew how protective ares was of his friends and family, you belonging to the former. for him to not remodel the face of your ex whom your mom had invited to her birthday party and who had cheated on you twice, it had to take a lot of meditation and begging from you.

but now it looked like you were about to violate your own principles. by violating the absolute train wreck of a bad person that was your ex. luckily, ares was in some other corner of the room, having a stare-down with your dad, but you felt like you could mess this man up real good even without his help. you were really not one for violence -ignoring the odd choice of plus one- but right now you felt rage burn inside you as this pathetic excuse of a man tried to rile you up to boost his ego.

"listen, i think i'm going to go grab me a drink now," you said, overplaying your anger with a stiff politeness this piece of trash didn't deserve. "nice talk."

"yeah, whatever," the guy drawled. "back to that hunk of a date you brought, huh? i see your going for the looks now. not that you ever cared about anything else, you girls are all the same."

"if i was going off of looks i would have never dated you," you bit back and turned around to leave when his sweaty hand closed around your wrist tightly. "hey, let go!" you hissed but he didn't budge, only stepping closer so all you could smell was his excessive deodorant.

"what, does he fuck better than me?" he snarled and lowered his voice. the hand that wasn't holding your wrist hostage wandered down your back where you definitely didn't want it. "wanna give it a second try?"

SMACK

before you yourself knew it, you had struck him across the face with your free hand, resulting in a sound that made the room fall silent, all eyes in you two. as your ex stumbled back, he let go of your wrist and you locked eyes with ares, expecting him to jump at the opportunity for a fight. but instead, you only saw him looking at you, with a sort of awe-struck expression that really didn't suit the occasion.

you lifted your chin, shouldered your purse and brushed past ares as you hastily walked towards the exit. ares had to collect himself before following you. your anger, that fire in your eyes, the way you had struck this pathetic mortal man- it was more than hot. oh he definitely was in love with you. he would deal with this piece of crap later. now, all he wanted was to follow you to his car, follow you anywhere, as long as it was with you.

[okasuka]

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

Summary: You’ve practically been living at Wayne Manor, acting as Damian’s secondary Oracle and part-time medic when Alfred isn’t available. After a mission, you’re patching up a flustered Damian when he suddenly tells you he needs you to fake date him at school—because some girl won’t leave him alone.

The Batcave was quiet, save for the occasional dripping of water and the steady rhythm of your movements as you patched up Damian’s arm. He was perched on the med bay cot, scowling at the gauze in your hands like it had personally offended him.

“You’re lucky this isn’t deep,” you muttered, pressing the bandage against his bicep. “A little higher, and you’d have needed stitches.”

“Tt. I would have handled it.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpanned, securing the bandage before reaching for the antiseptic. “Hold still.”

Damian shifted slightly, his shoulders rigid as you dabbed at the shallow cut near his collarbone. You were close—closer than usual—and you could see the way his jaw tensed. He wasn’t making eye contact, which was strange. Damian was always direct, always unwavering.

“You okay?” you asked, raising a brow.

His expression flickered, something uncertain passing over his face before he abruptly muttered, “I need you to do something for me.”

You blinked. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

There was a pause. Damian exhaled through his nose, as if bracing himself.

“I need you to pretend to be my significant other.”

Your brain short-circuited.

“You—what?”

His ears were pink. Actually pink. Damian avoided your gaze, eyes fixated on some invisible point in the distance.

“There is a girl at school,” he said stiffly, as if it physically pained him to say it. “She refuses to leave me alone despite my clear disinterest. I have concluded that the most effective way to rid myself of her is to make her believe I am already involved in a relationship.”

You stared at him. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

“Damian.” You placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You could just tell her ‘no.’ Like, verbally. With words.”

“I have.” His scowl deepened. “She does not seem to comprehend the meaning of rejection.”

“So you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He looked at you then, expression composed but the tips of his ears still betraying him. “Yes. Just until she ceases her pursuit.”

Your lips twitched. “And you thought asking me while I was literally sewing you back together was a good time?”

“You are a captive audience,” he said, as if that explained everything.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But if I have to fake date you, we’re doing it right.”

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means hand-holding, flirting, maybe even a pet name.” You grinned at the immediate horror on his face. “Oh, relax. It’s called commitment to the bit, Damian.”

“Tt. This was a mistake,” he muttered, but he didn’t take it back.

You tied off the bandage, patting his arm with a smirk. “Too late. You just got yourself a girlfriend.”

Damian sighed. This was going to be unbearable.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Two)

The second you stepped into Gotham Academy the next morning, you knew this was going to be fun.

Damian walked beside you, his usual composed self—shoulders squared, uniform immaculate, that constant look of disinterest plastered across his face. The only difference today? You were his fake girlfriend. And, judging by the way some students were already glancing in your direction, the news was spreading fast.

“Alright, beloved,” you teased, nudging his arm as you walked through the front gates. “How are we playing this?”

Damian visibly flinched at the pet name. “Do not call me that.”

You grinned. “What? It’s a classic. Do you prefer babe? Sweetheart? Dami-bear?”

He shot you a look so sharp it could cut through steel. “Tt. You are enjoying this too much.”

“You knew what you were getting into,” you said lightly, looping your arm through his, just to mess with him.

His whole body went rigid.

“You have to act natural,” you reminded him, biting back a laugh. “If you act like I just stabbed you in the ribs every time I touch you, no one’s gonna believe we’re dating.”

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn’t pull away. Progress.

You continued walking, scanning the halls for any sign of her—the girl who was apparently harassing Damian to the point where fake dating was his only option. It didn’t take long to find her.

Near his locker stood a girl with perfectly curled hair and an expensive-looking manicure, whispering with her friends while occasionally sneaking glances your way. The moment she made eye contact with Damian, her face lit up.

You had never seen Damian look more unamused.

“Here we go,” you murmured, tightening your grip on his arm. “Ready, love?”

“If you do not cease with the pet names—”

“Damian!” the girl interrupted, striding up to him with a dazzling smile. She completely ignored your existence. “Good morning! I was just thinking—”

And that’s when you really committed to the bit.

Before she could finish whatever sentence was about to ruin Damian’s day, you turned toward him, placed a hand on his chest, and, in the sweetest, most obnoxiously affectionate voice you could muster, said:

“Baby, you didn’t tell me you were this popular!”

Damian tensed under your touch, but—bless him—he didn’t pull away. Instead, he placed a hand on your waist (awkwardly, stiffly, like he had never touched a human before), and gave the girl a blank look.

“I am spoken for,” he said simply.

The girl’s expression faltered. She glanced between the two of you, disbelief evident in her eyes. “Wait, you’re dating him?”

You beamed. “Mhm! Isn’t he just the cutest?”

Damian closed his eyes, probably regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

The girl frowned. “But you’re always just… around. Like, you’re not even—”

“Around?” you interrupted with a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, I practically live at Wayne Manor. Didn’t you know?”

The girl’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Damian, to his credit, took the opportunity to put an end to the conversation. “If you are finished, we have matters to attend to.”

And with that, he steered you away, leaving the girl gaping after you.

The second you were out of earshot, you burst into laughter. “I am spoken for?” you mimicked, grinning up at him. “Dami, you sound like a medieval prince rejecting a marriage proposal.”

Damian scowled. “It was effective, was it not?”

“Extremely,” you admitted. “But man, you are so bad at this.”

He huffed. “Tt. This was a mistake.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you teased, nudging him again. “But hey, boyfriend, you’re stuck with me now.”

Damian sighed, long and suffering. “I am going to regret this, aren’t I?”

You just smirked.

“More than you know.”

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Three)

You and Damian barely made it to his locker before a group of guys—some of Damian’s more tolerable classmates—descended on you like a pack of hyenas.

“Okaaaay, hold up.” Colin Wilkes, one of the few people Damian actually acknowledged at school, squinted between the two of you. “Did I hear that right? You two are dating?”

You leaned against the lockers, smiling sweetly. “Yup.”

“Like… real dating?” added Maps Mizoguchi’s older brother, Kyle, who was watching the interaction like it was a live episode of Gotham’s trashiest reality show.

Damian crossed his arms. “Tt. Would I lie?”

Colin raised a brow. “You tell me, dude.”

“Wait, wait, wait—since when?” another guy, Elliot, chimed in. “You two have been best friends forever, and you expect us to believe you’re suddenly a thing?”

You shrugged. “It just happened. Right, babe?”

Damian twitched at the pet name but nodded. “Yes. It was… inevitable.”

Kyle snorted. “What, like fate?”

“Precisely.”

Colin squinted. “So you’re telling me the Damian Wayne—the same guy who once told a girl in math class that ‘romantic advances are an evolutionary weakness’—is dating?”

Damian looked unimpressed. “That statement remains true.”

“Okay, but why?” Elliot pressed. “Like, no offense, dude, but you don’t exactly scream ‘boyfriend material.’ How did this happen?”

You grinned. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Colin blinked. “Are you into emotionally constipated guys?”

“I am standing right here,” Damian deadpanned.

Kyle ignored him. “Okay, so since you two are so in love, I gotta ask…” He smirked. “How’d you confess?”

You opened your mouth—

“It was mutual,” Damian cut in before you could spin something ridiculous. “We reached the conclusion that our relationship had evolved beyond friendship and decided to act accordingly.”

The group stared.

“You decided to date?” Elliot repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like it was a business transaction?”

Damian frowned. “Would you rather I describe it as a primal urge?”

Colin choked on his water.

Kyle cackled. “Bro, you suck at this.”

Damian looked seconds away from murder. “Tt. This is absurd.”

Elliot ignored him. “Y/N, what was your perspective?”

“Oh, it was totally romantic,” you said dramatically, sighing. “One night, while I was patching him up, he just looked at me with those big green eyes and said, ‘Beloved, my heart belongs to you.’”

Damian visibly flinched. “I did not say that.”

“Shhh, let me paint the scene.” You leaned into his space, smirking as he stiffened. “He cupped my face, stared deep into my soul, and whispered—”

“Enough,” Damian snapped, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the group before you could say something even worse.

Behind you, the guys burst into laughter.

“Love you too, sweetheart!” you called over your shoulder, just to mess with him.

Damian muttered something in Arabic under his breath, face burning.

You grinned. This was gonna be fun.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Four)

Damian did not appreciate how much fun you were having with this.

It had been a grand total of four hours since the ruse started, and you had already called him babe, sweetheart, love, and—Gotham forgive him—Dami-bear. His reputation was in shambles.

And worst of all? It wasn’t working.

The girl—Annabelle, or She Who Must Be Vanquished, as Damian had mentally renamed her—was still trying to get his attention. She was persistent, he’d give her that. But you? You were determined.

Which is how he found himself in his current predicament: pressed against the lockers with you standing far too close, eyes sparkling with mischief as Annabelle watched from a few feet away.

“She’s still looking,” you whispered, resting a hand on his chest.

Damian scowled. “This is ridiculous. Why will she not simply accept reality?”

“Because she thinks you’re just saying we’re together to get rid of her.” You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “I think we need to be a little more… convincing.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “No.”

You grinned. “Yes.”

And before he could stop you, you grabbed the front of his blazer and pulled him into a kiss.

Damian short-circuited.

It was quick, just a soft press of lips, but he was not prepared. His brain flatlined, his entire body tensed, and for a solid three seconds, he forgot how to function. His hands hovered awkwardly by his sides, and oh, Gotham, why was his heart racing?

You pulled back with a smirk, watching his dazed expression like it was the best thing you’d ever seen. “You okay there, boyfriend?”

Damian’s face was on fire.

“Tt. You are insufferable,” he muttered, averting his gaze in a pathetic attempt to regain his dignity.

But it didn’t matter. Because when he snuck a glance toward Annabelle—who was now standing slack-jawed in utter defeat—he knew you had won.

She scoffed, flipping her hair before stalking off, grumbling something about “psycho couples” under her breath.

You grinned. “Mission accomplished.”

Damian exhaled slowly, willing his heartbeat to calm down already. “I despise you.”

“You kissed me back,” you pointed out.

“I did not!”

“You totally did.”

Damian scowled. “Tt. Let us leave before I am forced to endure more of your foolishness.”

You just smiled, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked down the hall.

And Damian, despite himself, didn’t let go.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Five)

A few days had passed since The Kiss, and things were… weird.

At school, Damian was as composed as ever—standing by your side, playing the role of the devoted boyfriend when necessary. But the second you left campus, something shifted.

He became distant, avoiding you at the Manor, cutting conversations short, barely even looking at you when you spoke. It was like he had slammed a wall between you overnight, and the worst part? You had no idea why.

It wasn’t until after patrol one night that you finally snapped.

You were in the Batcave, patching up a shallow cut on Damian’s hand while he sat rigidly on the med bay cot, eyes locked on the floor. The silence between you was thick, heavy with words unsaid, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright,” you said, pressing the gauze against his knuckles a little too forcefully. “What’s your deal?”

Damian stiffened. “Tt. I do not know what you mean.”

You scoffed. “Really? You’ve been acting weird since Monday, Damian. Distant. Cold. And I know it’s not just ‘brooding’ because I know you.” You softened slightly, glancing up at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

His jaw clenched. “No.”

“Then talk to me,” you urged, placing a hand over his. “Whatever it is, you can—”

“Stop.”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the cave like a blade. You flinched.

Damian exhaled harshly, pulling his hand from your grasp like your touch burned him. “I do not need your concern, nor your pity,” he bit out. “This arrangement was a means to an end. Nothing more.”

You stared at him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The words settled between you, cold and cruel, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something crack inside you.

“Right,” you said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You stepped back, your hands curling into fists as you fought to keep your expression blank. “Got it.”

Then, before he could say another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the Batcave, heading straight for your room.

Damian sat there, unmoving, the weight of his own words crashing down on him like a collapsing building.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, he wished he could take something back.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Six)

The next morning, Damian was heading toward the car, adjusting his school bag, when Alfred stopped him with a simple, “Miss Y/N will not be attending with you today, Master Damian.”

Damian paused mid-step, his brows furrowing. “What?”

Alfred, ever composed, merely handed him his lunch. “She is unwell.”

Something in Damian’s chest tightened.

“Unwell?” he echoed, gripping the strap of his bag.

Alfred gave him a pointed look. “Unwell,” he repeated. “As in, she has taken the day off to rest. Now, if you do not wish to be late, I suggest you get in the car.”

Damian hesitated, his fingers twitching, but nodded stiffly and left for school.

But he couldn’t focus.

All day, his mind drifted back to you—wondering if you were actually sick or if you had just wanted to avoid him. And if it was the latter…

He deserved it.

The weight of his own words from last night sat heavy on his chest. He had hurt you, pushed you away, all because he was too much of a coward to deal with his own feelings.

He had been distant because—Gotham help him—he wished it was real.

He wanted you to call him ridiculous pet names. He wanted to hold your hand like it was second nature. And that kiss? He hadn’t meant to kiss you back—but he had. Because deep down, he wanted nothing more than for you to be his.

And instead of confronting that, he had lashed out.

The second the final bell rang, he was out the door, barely waiting for the car to stop before heading straight to your room.

He knocked once.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Sighing, he took a breath and opened the door.

You were curled up on your bed, staring at the ceiling, bundled under a blanket. You didn’t even bother looking at him. “Go away, Damian.”

He swallowed. “No.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Of course.”

Damian stepped further into the room, his usual confidence replaced by something… uncertain.

“I…” He hesitated, fists clenching at his sides. “I was an ass.”

You snorted. “No kidding.”

He exhaled sharply. “Tt. I am trying to apologize, Y/N.”

Silence.

You finally turned to look at him, eyes tired. “Why, though?”

He tensed. “Because I regret it.”

You sat up slightly, arms wrapping around yourself. “You regret it?”

He shut his eyes for a moment, then met your gaze.

“No. Not it. I regret… lying.” He clenched his jaw, his voice quieter now. “I was distant because… I wish it were real.”

You blinked, breath hitching. “What?”

“I want it to be real,” he admitted, his hands gripping the fabric of his blazer. “I want you.”

A beat of silence.

Then, before he could say anything else, you were in front of him, eyes wet with unshed tears as you grabbed his face and kissed him.

This time, he kissed back immediately. No hesitation.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, warm and sure, and when you finally pulled away, breathless, you were smiling through your tears.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered.

He huffed out a small laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. “Shut up.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

So he kissed you again.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Final Part)

The next morning, when Damian arrived at school with you by his side, something was different.

For one, he looked happy.

Not his usual smug, I’m-better-than-you smirk, but a genuine, real smile—the kind that softened his sharp edges, made his eyes brighter. And more importantly? He was being blatantly affectionate.

Which, for Damian Wayne, was unheard of.

You had barely stepped into the building before he casually pulled you against his side, an arm draped around your waist like it belonged there. And if that wasn’t enough to make people gawk, the way he looked at you—soft, like you had personally placed the stars in the sky—was definitely causing a scene.

“Okay, what the hell,” Colin muttered as you both approached the lockers, watching as Damian adjusted your bag strap for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Since when are you all… clingy?”

Damian merely raised a brow, unimpressed. “Since when is it your concern, Wilkes?”

Colin pointed aggressively. “See?! That! You’re, like, content. That is not normal.”

Kyle Mizoguchi strolled up beside him, nodding. “Yeah, you smiled earlier. A real one. I almost called the paramedics.”

Elliot scoffed. “I knew the fake-dating thing was sus. You guys totally liked each other this whole time.”

You grinned, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Guilty.”

Colin stared between you. “Wait. So this is, like, real now?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Clearly.”

“Okay, but how?” Kyle pressed, crossing his arms. “Because last time I checked, Damian sucked at emotions.”

“He still does,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “But he’s learning.”

Damian huffed, but his arm around you tightened slightly. “Tt. I despise all of you.”

“Sure you do, lover boy.”

Before Damian could threaten bodily harm, Annabelle—the same girl who had been pestering him for weeks—walked past, glancing at you both.

She paused for a moment, observing the way Damian was practically wrapped around you, before rolling her eyes and walking away without a word.

You smirked. “Mission successfully accomplished.”

Damian hummed, watching her disappear down the hall before turning to you, eyes warm. “Indeed.”

Then, in front of everyone, he kissed your forehead.

Audible gasps.

Elliot looked like he was about to faint.

Colin smacked Kyle’s arm. “Dude.”

Kyle shook his head, defeated. “I have to text Maps.”

Damian ignored them, pressing his lips briefly to your temple before pulling you closer, satisfied.

You just laughed, heart full.

And as the school buzzed with whispers about Damian Wayne and his girlfriend, you simply held onto him, knowing that—for once—none of it was an act.

[toxicanonymity]

The Stitch

PAIR: THOMAS HEWITT X READER

WORD COUNT: 3.6k | THE SPREAD UNIVERSE one shot

SUMMARY: A stranger tries to get into the shed. You help Tommy when he's hurt and... hungry, then sit in his lap.

WARNINGS: 18+ Smut*, stockholm syndrome, violence off screen, blood, giving stitches, hand kink, light angst & dark fluff. *oral, squirting, captivity dubcon, unsafe cockwarming-adjacent piv, creampie. Feral/soft Tommy, leather muzzle.

SIZE KINK: Tommy is a strong, hefty 6'5", reader much smaller.

Ty for your enthusiasm for this fic! Ty @dark-scape for title help and @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the ⛓️ divider. 🖤

It was dusk when you spotted a man prowling around, then you ducked away from the shed’s clouded window and pretended not to see. Time crawled by–-you didn’t know how much–-as you sat frozen, afraid of making any noise at all. The wind howled, and twigs snapped in the woods behind the shed. You would’ve felt safer with Tommy nearby, but he must have been dead asleep after his family worked him hard all day.

You finally let yourself relax enough to fall asleep, only for chains to rattle on the outside of the shed. 

“C’mon,” the stranger pleaded to himself, then whisper-shouted into the distance, “hurry up, Ronnie!” followed by a startled “oh shit.”

You recognized Tommy's footsteps as he lumbered across the yard.

Huddled in the corner of the shed, you held your breath and listened to the ruckus just outside. You were pulling for your captor. He had committed violent acts, but he didn't seem like a violent man at heart. You felt sure he wouldn’t hurt you… even though he already had. 

Arms wrapped around your knees, you pulled your hands into your oversized sleeves and gripped the fabric with your fists.

“Get outta here, freak!” the man yelled. 

Tommy grunted. 

“Ronnie!” the man pleaded to his friend who was nowhere in sight. Then he warned Tommy, “Don’t do it man. My buddy’s got a gun.” 

Tommy’s grunt sounded almost like a laugh. 

“There’s more of us too,” the trespasser claimed, then muttered, “shit.” 

Shoes scraped against dirt. The shed door shook with an impact, and chains rattled. The man coughed and tried to vocalize. His shoes thumped and slid against the wood, with his feet unable to reach the ground. Tommy held him by the neck with just one hand. The struggle continued. 

The man went quiet, and Tommy grumbled indistinctly. 

Dead weight hit the ground. 

There was shuffling, dragging, and a few seconds later, the wet thwack of sharp metal through bone.  

-

Tommy caught his breath, then came around toward your window. His massive shadow was just visible enough in the dark to make his presence known. He tapped the glass with one knuckle, then you approached and lifted the curtain. 

He had an ax slung over his shoulder.

He braced his other hand on the shed, to the side of the window. Then, he stopped down to rest his forehead gently against the glass. Below his half-muzzle, his breath fogged the window and his chest heaved. The glass was cloudy, but you still felt his eye contact. You looked at each other, then he pulled back, leaving a smear high on the glass where his forehead had been. He gave you a nod that felt like a promise—he’d come back.

When you peeked out the window again, Tommy was walking toward the main house with the man’s body slung over his shoulder. The head and arms hung limply over Tommy’s back. The guy’s head was dripping into the dirt. In Tommy’s other hand, he held his ax, letting it hang by his side in a loose grip. He was unbothered by the prospect of another man to fight. 

You sat in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, trying to calm yourself enough to get to sleep. Eventually, you heard Tommy on his way back. 

After unlocking the shed and ducking inside, he lit a lantern. The warm light flickered on, just bright enough to see dark splatter on his shirt and neck. His hair was matted dark. A thick path of blood oozed down the side of his face. He looked you over and took a seat against the adjacent wall.

For a minute, he simply breathed and watched you. 

You watched him, too. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded. The trickle down his face hadn’t stopped. It must have been his own blood. 

“You’re bleeding,” you observed.

You started to move toward him, but he lunged forward before you could get up. Even on his knees, he was a looming presence.

“Can I see?” You asked, and brought a hand out of the blanket, squinting to find the source of the blood. 

Before you could touch him, he scooped you up in his arms for a swift exit, shaking the shed with each step. After ducking through the door, you expected him to put you in the wheelbarrow. Instead, he stood up and adjusted your weight so you were held flush against him, hugging his apron. He made sure you were covered by the blanket. You couldn't wrap your legs around him–he was too big, but you trusted him not to drop you. The soft padding of his torso was warm and comforting as he took long strides toward the house.

Tommy’s footsteps clopped under you in the garage. He slowed down, then stopped in front of a piece of furniture and leaned forward. He took a hand off your back. You tightened your limbs around him as best you could while he pushed some things out of the way, clearing a space for you. Then he sat you down on a smooth wood surface and uncovered your head. He reached up toward the ceiling and pulled a chain. A dim light buzzed on. You were seated on a desk, with all sorts of scraps and junk scattered around. 

Tommy took off his apron and he sat down in a chair, facing you. He reached across the desk and slid a tin box toward himself.  When he opened the tin, it looked like sewing supplies. His fingers were so enormous, you couldn't imagine how he sewed anything, but he handled the box with care and familiarity. 

It was his. This was his place. His craft. 

He turned the tin toward you so you could get what you needed. Meanwhile, he reached for an old glass bottle with an inch of clear liquid in it, and he used every drop to wet a rag. He held the cloth to his head. 

Okay, not his first time. 

You held up a needle. “It’s dirty.”

Tommy shook his head no. Okay, it didn’t look dirty, but it sure wasn’t sterile, and for some reason, you wanted him to be okay. 

“It could get infected.” 

His eyes shifted around in thought, then he looked back to you for the answer. 

“Do you have any matches? Fire?”

He placed his thick, wide hands on your thighs as he stood up. He squeezed them lightly and checked your face for whether you might run. Then he went over to a workbench that was against the wall. 

As he rummaged around, your eyes wandered. The space was cluttered and stuck in another era. There were doll parts strewn around. A softball-sized, hollow head with no hair and  a painted-on face chipping off.  There were tools. So many tools. Cleavers and saws hanging from the ceiling by chains. Too high for anyone but Tommy to reach them. 

He returned with a rusted zippo lighter and flicked it open as he sat down. You held the needle to the flame and he held the lighter steady for you, with the casual intimacy of a stranger lighting your cigarette. In the glow of the flame, he watched your face. 

When the needle was ready, you looked at the thread. You unwound the spool long enough to reach some unexposed thread.

Tommy watched patiently, never making you feel rushed or scrutinized. 

With the needle threaded, you announced, “okay. It’ll hurt, but not too bad.” 

He gave a short nod with a squint that bore the hint of a smile. 

-

"Little closer," you whispered, never speaking at full volume with him. 

He spread your knees, making your heart skip a beat. He settled in between them, leaned forward, and his elbows bracketed your thighs.

His face was close. His eyes were blue with lines of gray darting out from the pupils. His eyelashes were dark and thick.  Your heart skipped a beat as his face moved closer, thinking for a split second that he might kiss you, but he dipped his head to offer you his injury. 

"Good," you encouraged him.   

His sweat wafted into your nostrils, and just as you felt heat rising to your face, his hands curved around your bottom. Arousal buzzed in your gut, so loud you had to pause and compose yourself. “Ready?”

He nodded his head forward. 

You needed to adjust the angle of his head so you could comfortably work on it, and when your fingers grazed the side of his muzzle he flinched. 

Your hand pulled back, but then he held it. As he placed your hand back on his cheek, the sight of his giant paw holding yours made a butterfly float through your chest. 

You wet your lips, then bit your lip and saw him glance toward your mouth.  

Bracing one palm to the side of the wound, you held the skin shut. You rested the needle point against his skin, then pushed and dragged the thread through it. He didn’t react. He watched your face in silence as you patched him up, thread by thread. Not a single puncture made him move his head.

You could feel his appreciation in the way his hands gently cradled you. He looked at you with a soft fascination.

Was this the first time someone helped him like this? It was easy to imagine why, but somewhere in this monster, there was a little boy. Did anyone ever take care of that boy? Tuck him in? Walk him to the bus stop for school? No, surely not. He hadn’t ever said a word to you, but he told you so much. His eyes told you. The way he moved. The way he never spoke, and hung his head as the others barked orders at him.

—

When you were about halfway done stitching him up, he began to sniff the air, and it made you realize how turned on you were. With your legs spread and no panties under the shirt-dress, you had to be leaking onto the desk. 

Tommy sniffed and growled, and maybe his primal sounds shouldn't have hit the way they always did, but your core tingled. You felt exposed with your legs spread around him. He sniffed again, and your face was hot with why. 

–

You tied off the threas and whispered, “Good, Tommy." You blotted the area with the wet rag.

Tommy reached for his face to touch the stitches, and your hand stopped his: “no."

Your hand lingered, with your fingers wrapped around the heel of his palm. You wanted to hug him, have your body against his again, which made your mind jump back to the way he carried you there. In that moment, something clicked, and your throat tightened. No one but him had ever handled you in that particular way—big arms wrapped around you like you were too precious to lose. He did his best to make you comfortable. So what if you were his possession? It felt like you were his world. Maybe no one ever cared as much as Tommy Hewitt cared about keeping you. 

Your vision got cloudy, and Tommy’s eyes narrowed. Once you blinked, a fat tear pushed through your lashes. Before it could run down your cheek, his thumb was there to collect it. Then he put your tear just below his eye. It slid down to his muzzle in a tiny trickle that left a clean path through the grime. 

You smiled and whispered, “It’s okay.” 

His gaze fell down your body, and his eyes darkened. The corners of his mouth glistened in the shadow of his muzzle. He took your chin in his hand and took a deep breath. 

-

Tommy reached behind you and urgently cleared the whole desk. Then he put his hand on your chest and pushed you down flat on your back.  Your feet dangled off the edge, but not for long. He bent forward, lifted your knees, and soon had your legs over his shoulders with your ass in the air, held up by his massive hands. With your sex exposed so close to his face, Tommy growled. Your upper back remained flat on the surface. 

With his elbows braced on the desk, he held you with your cunt at his mouth. His breath was warm. With his mouth ever closer, he began to drool. His breath was heavy and full of desire.  

You let out a little moan, and with that, he attacked you like his first meal in ages. Holding you like a juicy burger, he fed himself your cunt. There was no ceremony in the first touch, he simply dug in, licking right up the center, then sucking at the apex. He ate you with a hunger that was felt in every push of his lips and heard in every breath through his nose. He used his face to spread your lower lips apart, wedging his mouth into your heat like it belonged there. 

He ate with abandon, licking and planting his lips and sucking. Collecting every drop he could from each secret little ruffle of your body, scavenging each surface for more to consume. The firmness of his lips, the rhythmic suction, and the strong lap of his tongue had pleasure building in your gut.  His hands continued to hold up your hips, thumbs digging into your asscheeks. His grip kept you firmly at his mouth with your thighs hugging his cheeks. With his mouth latched fully onto you, it was a vision you could never forget. God, it felt good. 

He couldn’t have known it, but he’d found the perfect angle, bridging your hips for you, with his elbows planted on the desk. He feasted selfishly, and his ravenous work had your body churning out more and more arousal for him to slurp up. 

He refused to come up for air, his nose instead taking ragged breaths. He paused only to adjust the muzzle, nudging it against you thigh. Then, the smooth leather nudged your slick clit as his tongue plunged into you. His eyes closed as he licked upward, massaging your front wall with his hunger. Your eyes fluttered closed. His tongue was so strong and thick, he really fucked you with it, filled your wet little hole with it.

Each slide of his tongue against your spongy spot made you lose a little more control. Soon, it felt like you were going to pee. 

“Tommy,” you warned him. 

He only fucked you harder with his tongue. 

“Tommy,” you whined, “I’m gonna—please—I—Ohhh” 

Tommy’s response was to growl and pull you closer, harder against his mouth.

At least there were no bedsheets, no decorum, and no expectations from him. He nudged that spot again, you let go. Your release began, pulsing through you, and he moaned as it filled his mouth. His mouth was so large, and he was so thirsty, there was barely any overflow. You rode that high and he drank every drop. You sighed when you were finished. His pace slowed, and his eyelids drooped. 

-

Satisfied with his meal, he let your ass back down on the table and ducked out from under your legs. He turned his head to fix his muzzle in case his feeding frenzy had exposed the center of his face. When he turned toward you again, you sat up on your elbows. 

Tommy's eyes panned over you as he palmed himself under the desk. His muzzle was shiny with you, and so were his lips. His pupils were dilated. He caught you watching the motion of his arm, and his face blotched pinker.

"It's normal," you reassured him. "It's normal to get hard from doing that." 

What were you saying?

What were you asking for?

A swell of shame washed through your chest, but it didn’t change what you wanted. 

Tommy looked at you, unsure. 

You nodded. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

–

He grabbed you by your (his) shirt and pulled you upright. Then he ripped the shirt open, sending two buttons flying. 

When you looked down, your chest expanded with desire at the sight of the massive log straining his pants. He squeezed the outline and you nodded reassuringly. A wet spot was growing.

Your mouth hung slightly open as you looked at the gift in his pants. Your thighs were still spread wide. Tommy looked between your legs, then down at himself. Then in a flurry he unbuttoned and shoved his pants down, reaching into his underwear at the same time to help free his massive cock. Your knees twitched with the urge to sit on it. 

And sure enough, he grabbed your ass, pulling you off the edge of the desk and into his lap in one swift motion, which made his stiff cock slap heavily against your pussy. He quickly jostled it into place at your entrance and moaned when your wet heat covered the tip of his cock. Between his precum, your slick, and his slobber all over your cunt, the stiff log prodding at your hole was well-lubed. 

Tommy wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down, making his girth divide your soft, warm walls. His cock claimed every inch of your cunt and then more, as your body relaxed and opened with arousal. He was impossibly stiff. It must have been painfully hard in his pants. Slowed by his girth and stopped by his length, you came to a rest as far down his shaft as you could, far enough to meet the cushion of his bush.  His swollen shaft throbbed, and he let out a contented sigh.

He held your waist, and you were prepared to be used as a fucksleeve, but he hesitated. Instead of jerking himself off with you, his hands loosened and slid under your open dress shirt. His two palms rested warmly on your back, together covering a significant portion of your skin. You closed your eyes and bent forward, curving your torso snugly against the swell of his midsection. As you laid your head on his chest, your hips shifted and his throat rumbled with a twitch of his dick.  His heart thumped against your cheek. 

You moved your hips again, and his chest expanded with a deep breath. Another twitch of his cock made your walls spasm, and you let out a little moan. He pulled you closer and inhaled the scent of your hair, then lifted you ever so slightly against him before  sinking fully into your tight, wet cunt again. 

He shifted you in small motions, letting out lazy grunts and shuddering when you squeezed him in just the right way. This was perfect for how tired he was. 

You rolled your hips cautiously, curious how long he could wait before ravishing you.  He seemed to enjoy this new way of experiencing you. And God did you love it, too — stuffed full of his cock, with your tits and tummy pressed against him. 

“This is nice,” you whispered.

His lap lifted, and you sighed, “God, Tommy.” 

His breathing stuttered. His fingers twitched, pressing against your back. His dick throbbed and seemed to occupy even more of you.

His breathing sped up. You just barely rocked yourself, and observed his quiet loss of control until he groaned and throbbed so powerfully it made your whole body tighten. He held his breath as his balls spasmed, then he sighed with his hot load throbbing into you. With his seed pumping into you, he used a hand on your ass to pull you even tighter against him.

The pressure of his heft against your front sent you to the stars. You turned your head with your mouth against his chest and whined into his shirt as you came on his cock, making him shudder. While you came, he held your head to his chest. His stomach heaved under you, as you both finished your release.  

–-

You stayed impaled on him, and after a minute, you felt him tense. You lifted your head to look at him, and could see he was self-conscious. 

With his hands on your waist, he lifted you off his dick. Your pussy tried to hang on, but the last of his dick slid out, leaving you empty as he put you down on the desk, leaking his cum onto the wood. 

He stood up and turned away for a moment to put his dick back in his pants. 

He looked you over, and held both sides of your unbuttoned shirt-dress. He ran a thumb over the threads where he had ripped the buttons, and he grumbled quietly in dissatisfaction. He retrieved the sewing tin, scooting it closer again, then he pushed the shirt off your shoulders. He wrapped you in the blanket, then sat back down. 

He pulled you into his lap, having you sit on his thigh to make space on the desk. You sat in his lap while he went to work. He got out a needle and thread, and began to select a button, then paused. He looked at you, then back at the buttons, and slid the tin toward you with a nod. You picked out two different shades of blue. 

He reached his arms around you to work on the shirt, and you watched his hands as he sewed them on. It was amazing to see how nimble his fat fingers could be. How studious he was with his work, and how well he sewed them on. 

When he was finished, he scooted the chair back and you stood up off his lap. He gently took the blanket off you and dressed you in the shirt again. He admired the way you looked in his shirt, then picked you up to carry you back to the shed. Before he covered you with the blanket, you looked at his wound. 

“You have to keep that clean, okay?” 

He nodded once. 

“Do you have a shower? Bath?” you asked.

He grunted with a nod. You thought you’d smelled soap on him before and wondered what he'd look like fresh and clean.

-

Back in the shed, he tucked you in and sat next to you as you grew sleepier. It was easier to fall asleep with him by your side. 

-

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Thank you for reading, and I really appreciate all your comments and reblogs on the first two. 🖤 Your enthusiasm goes a long way.

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[rafecameronssl4t]

All yours || nfl player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

Summary: You wearing Rafe’s initials on your necklace during a Cowboy’s game and people speculating 🤭

Warnings: swearing, other than nothing rlly??

Word count: 1,028

A/n: IM SO GLAD YOU GUYS LOVED THUNDERSTRUCK AS MUCH I DID 😆😆😆 If you’ve watched the dcc documentary, who was ur fav??? ALSO send me more nfl!rafe x dcc!reader requests cuz I’m itching to do more even tho I have a few to finish in my drafts lol

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Isn’t this a bit risky?” you manage to say in between heated kisses, feeling his hands grip the flesh of your thigh wrapped around his hip. Rafe’s smirk is palpable against your neck. “That’s kinda the whole point, babe,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, making you shiver as your own lips curl into a smile. Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, and reality hits you.

“Fuck, we gotta go. I can’t be late, and neither can you,” you say hurriedly, pushing yourself off from Rafe. You rush to the mirror, frantically fixing your hair and touching up your makeup. Rafe’s presence is suddenly behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist as his face nestles into your shoulder, inhaling the addictive scent of your perfume.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that right?” he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. You feel your cheeks heat up at his words. “Like, so so pretty. No wonder they put you front and center. You catch everyone’s attention,” he continues, his arm draped over your shoulder as he gazes at your reflection in the mirror. Both of you, side by side, in your uniforms. You had to admit, the two of you looked hot together.

“Is that why you gave me this necklace? So people know?” you chuckle, your fingers toying with the necklace adorned with his initials. “Mhm, maybe,” he smirks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, they’ll see it for sure. We’re not supposed to wear any jewelry, so it’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” you chuckle as Rafe leans down to press a kiss on your lips. “Good. I want all those guys crushing on you to know you’re mine,” he says against your lips, and you can’t help but smile. “All yours,” you reply before smashing your lips back onto his, losing yourself in the moment one last time.

~

As Thunderstruck reverberated around AT&T Stadium, the energy of the crowd was electric. Rafe, standing on the sidelines, couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on the big screen, his gaze unwavering. Throughout the entire performance, he caught glimpses of your necklace multiple times, glinting under the bright stadium lights. If he saw it, that meant everyone else could too.

You moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned performer, every step and twirl executed flawlessly. The crowd’s roar grew louder as you and the other cheerleaders took center stage, but Rafe’s focus was solely on you. The way you danced had him utterly captivated; each sway of your hips, each leap, and every spin had his heart pounding harder than any game.

And then, the moment that nearly made him lose it—you threw your head back (pls tell me u guys know what move of the dance I’m talking abt if u saw the documentary😭 like the part where they hit their Pom Poms on the ground and then do the hair flip?), your eyes locking with the camera, giving a sultry, confident gaze. The big screen captured the perfect shot of you, your radiant smile and the necklace with Rafe’s initials prominently displayed on your chest. It was a declaration, a bold statement that you were his.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he felt a rush of pride and desire flood through him. His initials on your necklace weren’t just an accessory; they were a symbol of his claim, a visible marker for everyone to see. The sight of it sent a jolt of possessive excitement through him, making his blood run hot.

As the music reached its crescendo, you finished the routine with a flourish, and the crowd erupted in applause. Rafe’s teammates nudged him, laughing and making comments about his obvious distraction, but he didn’t care. His eyes remained locked on you, taking in every detail, every shimmer of the necklace that told everyone you were his.

When the performance ended, and you made your way off the field, Rafe couldn’t wait for the game to be over. The anticipation of seeing you, holding you, and showing you just how much he appreciated you was almost too much to bear.

~

“Really, kiddo?” Your dad, the Dallas Cowboys coach, gives you a disapproving nod, his presence commanding even in casual moments as he leans against your car. “What?” you respond innocently, unlocking the car and tossing your bag into the backseat, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you. You meet his gaze, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you know exactly where this conversation is heading.

You’ve been on the team long enough to know the uniform policies. Hell, I’m not even on the cheerleading squad, and I know you aren’t supposed to wear any jewelry with your uniform,” your dad continues, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance was something you’d usually see when he’s lecturing his team, not his daughter.

You let out a sigh, mirroring his stance as you cross your arms too. “It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. It’s just a necklace.” “Just a necklace?” he repeats, incredulous. “Kiddo, you know the rules are there for a reason. It’s about professionalism and safety. What if it gets caught on something?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling a mix of irritation and guilt. “Shouldn’t Kelli be telling me this? Not you?” Your dad chuckles, a rare moment of humor breaking through his stern demeanor. “You’d be glad it’s me talking to you and not her. You know how strict she can be about the rules.”

You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. Kelli had a reputation for being strict but fair, and you didn’t want to risk your place on the team. “Okay, fine. I get it,” you concede, your voice softening as the weight of his words sinks in.

~

Later that night, you sink into the comfort of your bed, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, deciding to unwind by catching up on messages and social media. A few notifications catch your eye—messages from your close friends on the team.

Curious, you open the first message, which contains a Twitter link. Your fingers tap the screen, and the app loads quickly. Your eyes widen slightly as you see your name and Rafe’s name trending all over social media.

You click on another link, leading to a video clip from the game earlier. The footage shows you performing, the camera zooming in just as you throw your head back and lock eyes with the lens, your necklace with Rafe’s initials gleaming under the stadium lights.

The next day, Kelli was furious, to say the least. Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and frustration as she called you into her office. “Y/n, this is unacceptable,” she said sternly. “You know the rules, and you deliberately broke them.”

“This is your official warning,” she continued, her tone unyielding. “The PR team had to work overtime to manage the situation. They even went as far as photoshopping the necklace out of the official pictures taken of you.”

You spent the rest of the day practicing with renewed determination, vowing to stay focused and follow the rules. During a break, you checked your phone and saw more messages from friends and fans. Despite the reprimand from Kelli, the support from your friends and the fans’ enthusiasm about your relationship with Rafe was heartwarming.

“Hey,” you jump slightly, feeling a pair of hands wrap around your waist. “Jesus, Rafe. Don’t come up behind me like that!” you chuckle, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses kisses against your jaw.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Rafe murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Seriously, guys?” You pull away quickly as Kelcey walks into the room, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Sorry,” you awkwardly chuckle, your cheeks flushing as Kelcey shakes her head, brushing it off with a smile.

“It’s fine. Just didn’t expect to walk into a lovefest,” Kelcey teases. “Okay, go away now,” you jokingly shoo Rafe out of the room, but before he leaves, he presses a quick kiss on your lips, making you let out a little giggle.

As Rafe exits, Kelcey crosses her arms, a playful smile on her face. “You guys are cute, and apparently the whole internet thinks so too,” she says with a wink. You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, I saw. It’s a bit overwhelming, honestly.” Kelcey laughs. “Overwhelming? Try trending. You two are practically the new royal couple of Dallas.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s wild. I never expected this much attention.” Kelcey nods, her expression softening. “Just enjoy it. It’s not every day you get to be part of a fairytale romance that everyone’s rooting for. Plus, it’s clear Rafe’s crazy about you.” You smile, warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah, he is. And I’m crazy about him too.”

[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “distraction ”.

| summary | Haechan was paying attention to everything but what was coming out of your mouth now. | cw | fluff, talkative reader. | a/n | so... is it the same ship or not?

“And you know what else?” you looked at him with raised brows, your eyes glowing with excitement, happiness, and curiosity. “The Ship of Theseus.”

“The Ship of Theseus?” he repeated, a small smile dancing on his lips as he watched you.

He’d been sitting there on the couch for a while now, elbow resting on the backrest, cheek nestled in the palm of his hand, just listening to you ramble with a kind of captivated patience. In the past hour alone, he’d learned that octopuses have three hearts (each with a different function), that you shouldn’t boil water in the microwave, and that there’s a post office underwater in the Bahamas. That, and a dozen other strange little facts you’d gathered from the corners of the internet or your own imagination.

And now, somehow, you’d segued into philosophical thought experiments and “what if” hypotheticals—What if the internet shut down globally? What if black holes contained entire civilizations? What if you and he were enemies in an alternate reality? What if the person who invented ice cream… hadn’t?

No matter the topic, he loved hearing you talk. Even when you drifted into “If I were a zombie, I’d eat your brains first” territory, it was always entertaining. Time moved differently around you—faster, lighter. Especially when you were on one of your rolls, your brain and mouth fully activated, like you could talk forever.

“So here’s the thing,” you continued, eyes bright. “Theseus’s ship has thirty planks. As he travels, the planks start to rot, so he replaces them, one by one, until eventually, none of the original planks remain. So… is it still Theseus’s ship? Or is it a completely different ship?”

“Hmm, interesting question,” he hummed, pretending to ponder deeply for a few seconds before adding, “What do you think?” That was the magical sentence.

“Glad you asked!” your eyes lit up instantly, as if you’d just been waiting for the invitation to dive deeper. “We have to ask ourselves: what actually makes Theseus’s ship his ship? If we say it isn’t the same ship after replacing all the planks, then how many planks need to be changed before it becomes something else? Like, where’s the line?”

Your hands moved as you spoke, passion flooding your tone. “And think about us. Our body cells change every day. Some die, others regenerate. Does that mean we’re a completely different person over time? Or are we still ‘us’ even after all that change?”

“Hmm, difficult question,” he nodded thoughtfully, watching as you nodded back with enthusiastic agreement. “So this ties back to what you said about what makes a thing that thing, right?”

“Exactly! I’m getting there,” you giggled, visibly delighted. “So, some philosophers say that…”

He stayed quiet, listening as you rambled on, occasionally nodding or humming to show he was still with you. And he was—just not exactly in the way you'd think.

At some point during your monologue, he stopped focusing on your words and started focusing on you.

The way your brows furrowed at each contradiction, the way your smile bloomed when you hit on an idea you found satisfying, the way your hands waved through the air in wide, expressive gestures, it all captivated him. But more than that, what really got him was how free you looked. How natural. How completely yourself you were around him.

It wasn’t just about the random facts or philosophical tangents. It was the way you trusted him with every thought that passed through your mind—like you wanted to let him in on the world inside your head.

And god, he loved it.

He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you got excited, how your voice picked up speed like it couldn't wait to catch up to your thoughts. He loved the little creases that formed between your brows when you were deep in explanation, and how you'd pause only to grin when you realized he was still watching you, really watching you.

“—and that’s why some argue identity is more about continuity of function than physical components,” you continued, eyes bright, hands still moving, completely immersed in your train of thought. “But that was only one of the theories. There’s another one that…”

You trailed off when your eyes met his again.

There it was, that warm, soft gaze, like he was looking at the most precious thing in the whole world. His eyes almost pulsed, like hearts of their own, and his lips curled into an enamored smile that made your chest flutter… but also…

Yeah. That was definitely the look of someone who hadn’t heard a single word you’d said in the last five minutes.

“Hyuck… you’re not listening to me, are you?” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you started to sulk.

He laughed, not even trying to deny it. “Yeah, I’m not.”

“At least you’re honest,” you muttered, eyebrows knitting together, a pout already forming on your lips.

“I was too distracted,” he added, and that soft tone again, like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

“You could’ve just said you weren’t interested,” you said, eyes dropping to the side, voice quiet and maybe even little wounded.

Another chuckle escaped him, even softer this time, as he scooted closer. Gently, he cupped your face, coaxing you to meet his gaze again.

"I am interested," he said, voice lower now, more sincere. "Just... more in you than in what you were saying.”

God, how he loved looking at you up close like this, close enough to take in every single detail of your pretty face, from the curve of your lips to the spark in your eyes.

“Plus, you can’t really be mad at me,” he added with a playful grin, pinching your cheeks lightly before gently squishing them between his hands. “I did listen to everything you said, up until a few minutes ago.”

He tilted his head, eyes softening again.

“I don’t know about Theseus’s ship,” he murmured, “but I do know you’ll be mine forever… no matter what parts change.”

You blinked a few times at the sudden declaration. If he was trying to make you less mad with such a ridiculous statement… well, damn it—it was working.

“That was so cheesy, oh my God,” you said, your tone lighter, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your best efforts. You didn’t look mad anymore. As stupid and over-the-top as it was, your heart was doing those annoying, giddy flips that you pretended not to notice.

He laughed, clearly pleased with himself, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “What? I’m just showing you that I love you,” he said, the smirk on his face growing as he pressed another kiss, this time to your cheek.

You tried your best to hold a straight face, but the warmth of his words (and those sweet kisses) were melting away your sulk faster than you'd ever admit.

“You’re so annoying,” you muttered, a small smile betraying your attempt to sound irritated.

“And yet,” he said, stealing one more kiss, this time right on your lips, “you love me anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t pull away. “Yeah, yeah… lucky you.”

His grin only grew wider, because yeah, he was.

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea.

[sacr1ficialang3l]

I can handle me a dangerous man˚୨୧⋆｡ (no really I can)

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER (based on this)

SUMMARY: Mid 40s Dean is trying really hard to resist the temptation that you are, but you're making it really hard. 3.7k

WARNINGS smut (MDNI). oral f receiving. age gap. implied penetration.

NOTES: He is here! I am not very used to writing smut, so I tried my best. Can you tell that dilfs telling stories about their life is so hot to me? anyway, this was incredibly self-indulgent. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

It’s another night of you walking around the bunker in a tiny, white lace dress. Long legs visible, looking even longer because of the slight heel of your boots. There is a necklace resting softly against the hollow of your throat, and your cheeks are rosy, lips glossy and full. Dean doesn’t know if it is makeup or if you simply look like that, but it is killing him. 

You started hunting with Dean and Sam a few months ago after they found you trying to kill a whole werewolf den by yourself. You were young –too young– and didn’t have anyone else. You were alone in this world. It was almost instinct that the brothers took you under their wing. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, just until you gained a little more experience and could go on your own, or until they find you a hunting partner. 

But you never really left. Weeks started going by, and you stayed by their side. 

At first, Dean was annoyed. He was in his 40s, he was too old to be babysitting. He had to admit you were a damn good hunter, but you were too impulsive. Too ready to jump to action, too ready to put yourself in the line of fire. That was his job. But Sam wanted to make sure you would be safe after you got hurt in the werewolf incident, so he let you into the backseat of his car and drove you to the bunker. 

As annoyed as he was, he had to admit, you were gorgeous. Soft hair, pouty lips, shiny eyes. You had a halo of light around you, an innocence to you that was captivating. Not to Dean, of course. He couldn’t. Because the longer the time he spent with you, the more you dug your way into his heart. Your soft giggles echoing through the otherwise gloomy bunker, the sweet smell of cookies when you decided to bake, the gentle touches of your hands as you patched him up after an especially awful hunt (he hadn’t been touched so gently in… ever, actually), the adorable smile you gave him after he begrudgingly compliments your improving hunting abilities. 

You were too naive, too pure, too… good. 

So Dean kept his distance. Or he tried.

Because what Dean didn’t know is that you were anything but naive. You knew from the moment your eyes met his, that you wanted him. He was tall, and broad, and his hair was long, falling a little over those piercing green eyes. He was rugged in the ways you liked, and soft in the ways that mattered. But it was the wrinkles around his eyes, the ones that reveal a history of laughter and playfulness even as he glared at you, that charmed you. 

So you flirted with him, insatiably. Directly and indirectly. You ran your hand up and down his arm as you cleaned his wounds, squeezing his bicep tentatively. You complimented him in the worst possible moments, when he was concentrated in research or had just finished off a monster. You ran your fingers across his shoulders when you walked past him and you took any opportunity to press yourself to his huge frame. But you also flirted in other ways, wearing your shortest mini-skirts around the bunker, accidentally bending over to pick up a book in the library when you knew he was watching. You sucked on a lollipop as he tried to explain a case to you, and you blinked your big eyes at him, eyelashes fluttering and lips parting. 

But every time, you got the same response. For a single moment, Dean would lean in. He would stare down at your lips, or he would take a step closer, hand hovering over your waist, and then he would look away. He would tell you he is too old for you, that he can’t take advantage of you. That he is too broken, too damaged, that you deserved better, someone your age that could give you a normal life. He would tell you that you have no idea what you’re asking for, but you know what you need.  

So you walk into the kitchen late at night, past midnight, to get a snack after parading yourself around the bunker all day in your flimsy clothes while Dean did some work in the garage and tried not to lose his mind. You loved the way his eyes darkened when he saw you, the way his hands almost shook with the need to take you. His self-control was slowly crumbling, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

But this meeting is accidental. You are actually just looking for something to eat, not expecting Dean to be sitting at the dining table with a half-empty whiskey bottle and clouded eyes. You stop for a moment while he is lost in thought, not noticing you. He looks a little sad, and it is one of those few moments when the tough guy facade fell and you could witness the weight of the years on his shoulders. The years of hunting, of losing people, of nothing but fighting. As much as you desire Dean, you are also very much in love with him, and you didn’t like when he hurt like this, alone and drowning his thoughts with booze. So you clear your throat, making him turn to you.

“It’s drinking night and you didn’t tell me?” You joke, walking behind the kitchen island to grab a bag of chips from one of the cabinets. 

“I thought you were asleep.” He murmurs, voice even deeper than it already usually is. You turn to look at him, meeting his eyes. Dean is good at keeping his emotions in check, at controlling his expressions, but you are good at reading people. Especially him. And there is this glint in his eyes, the one that tells you he doesn’t want to be alone.

So you grab a beer from the fridge and walk towards the dinner table, sitting down across from him. You had always preferred sweet, fruity drinks, but thanks to the Winchesters you had learned to appreciate beer. Whiskey was a hard no, though. Dean stares at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, before lowering his eyes to his glass and letting out a low chuckle. 

“What were you brooding about?” You take a sip of your beer, opening your bag of chips and offering Dean some. He shakes his head, taking a swig of his whiskey instead. 

“Nothing, really. I don’t want to bore you with my old man stories.” He laughs, and some tension leaves his shoulders. 

You bite your lip. Oh, if he only knew how much you loved it when he went all old man on you. When he reminisced about the past, when he tried to give you advice, showing you how experienced he was in so many different things, and how much it made you want to find out exactly how experienced he really was.

“I like your stories.” You offer softly, a small smile on your lips. “Come on, tell me a good one.”

He looks up at you over the rim of his glass, and you give him your best puppy eyes.

He crumbles immediately. 

“Once, when I was twenty-three and Sammy was in college.” He starts, and he doesn’t stop.

You spend what feels like hours but also seconds sitting there, drinking beer after beer, listening to him. He tells you about this weird religious cult slash mental control witch he found once when hunting on his own. He tells you about the time he hooked up with some girl at a bar, and she ended up being an Amazon. He laughs at some of the memories and you laugh along. His expression gets somber when talking about certain people, the people he lost, and you give him a few seconds to wallow in it before you make a lighthearted comment that makes him smile again and move to another story. He talks about the times he died, the times he almost did. Sometimes, unconsciously, he rubs his hand over a part of his body as he tells a story, presumably where a scar marred his skin. All while you stare at him with shiny, attentive eyes, like he is the only person in the world that matters.

By the time you finish your third beer, Dean is already a tiny bit… not drunk, but definitely less guarded.

Still, he had such a high alcohol resistance. It was so hot.

“That case was crazy. I still wonder how the siblings are doing. I hope they’re okay.” There it is, the look on his eyes. The way they unfocus slightly as he absentmindedly traces the edge of his glass with his finger. It was in those moments that you can truly look at him, take in every small detail of his face. Every wrinkle, every scar, every evidence of every battle. The living proof of his resilience, of his experience, of his survival. You press your thighs together, trying to ground yourself.

You fantasize for a moment about sliding under the table, taking Dean into your mouth. Make his nostalgia turn into pleasure, make him feel good, remind him of the good old days.

“When was that?” You ask, gently coaxing him out of whatever place he got lost in his mind. He blinks at you, taking in your soft smile and sweet voice before replying.

“Right after Sammy started hunting again, so I was like… twenty-seven?” 

You quickly do the math in your head, calculating how old you were back then. Fuck. You were still a kid when Dean was already killing wendigos and vampires and shifters. Oh, there must be something really wrong with you, because that makes something on your lower stomach burn.

“So, you were quite the ladies man, huh?” You tease him, trying to shake away the desire building inside of you. You watch him chuckle and drop his head forward.

You already knew that, because he still is. You have to watch women throw themselves at him in every hunt and every bar. It was infuriating.

“You could say that.” He replies nonchalantly, but there’s a smirk on his lips as he down the rest of his whiskey. 

“Can you imagine me meeting you in your mid-twenties?” I giggle, and it causes Dean to snort and shake his head amusedly, refilling his glass. You lean forward on the table, your hand laying next to his. So close. “I can. I can imagine us meeting at a bar, or a diner.” You smirk. “Maybe even a concert! Can you imagine us meeting in a rock festival’s pit?”

Dean snorts again, eyes still down on his glass. He presses his tongue to his cheek, like he is trying to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, but they end up escaping him anyway.

“I was very different back then, sweetheart. I wouldn’t trust my younger self around a girl like you.”

And there it was. 

The comment makes your breath get stuck in the back of your throat, and you look up at Dean with wide eyes. 

I wouldn’t trust my younger self around a girl like you.

A girl like you.

Dean returns your heated gaze for a moment, his eyes sharp and deep in the way they only got after you teased him too much. 

“But you trust yourself with me now?” You ask with the most innocent voice you can utter, batting your long eyelashes at him. You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, swallowing harshly.

“Barely.” He whispers, looking down at your lips when you lick them and then back at your eyes. 

Shitshitshit.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Dean looks at you slightly confused, and you lean further forward before whispering. “Control yourself, I mean. You don’t have to.”

There is a second in which you think Dean will lunge himself at you, finally. His eyes are darker than you have ever seen them, because they weren’t dark with anger, they were full of pure, raw hunger.

His hand twitches, and then he pulls away. 

He gets up from the table, downing back the whole glass of whiskey before setting it down on the table with a little too much force. He starts to walk away, and you don’t know if it’s the beers you had or the desperation that had been accumulating for months, but this time you try to stop him.

You get up from the table too, quickly moving until you are blocking his way out of the kitchen.

He says your name in reproach, eyes glued to the floor. “We can’t-”

“Yes, we can.” You interrupt him, waking a step closer until your chests are almost pressed together. You grab his arm, making him look at you. “Please, Dean. I want it, you want it. Come on.”

Dean still shakes his head, deep frown on his face. “I’ve told you, I’m not good for you, you-”

You groan, rolling your eyes and stomping your foot on the floor. It didn’t help make you look any more mature, but you didn’t care.

“Yeah, I know. I’m too young, you’re too old. You’re broken and dangerous and all of that.” You say sarcastically, making him raise his eyebrows. “When are you going to stop lying to yourself, Dean?”

That makes him scoff, and he shakes his head while looking away again. “It is true. You deserve better than some guy old enough to be your father.” He grimaces at his own words, rubbing a hand over his face.

But you double down, pressing your body completely against his. You push forward and Dean lets you guide him backwards, and you know he’s letting you because you could not make him move an inch if he didn’t want you to. He ends up pressed against the kitchen island, hand still covering his eyes. You use your hand on his arm to pull it down, forcing him to look at you again.

“Dean, I want you.” You look deep into his eyes, and he almost looks pained by it. “I know you think I don’t know what’s best for me, but I do. I know what I need, and I need you.” You squeeze his bicep before your hand moves to the back of his neck, fingers tangling with the hairs there. 

He says your name again, almost as a plea.

He was breaking. He was caving in. 

“Please, Dean.” You whisper as your lips brush his, looking into those green eyes that consumed your every waking thought. “We both know I need a real man.”

And that seems to do the trick. He lets out something akin to a growl, and his hands are finally on you. One moves to your waist, grip bruising. The other one goes to your hair, fingers intertwining with the long locks and pulling your head back, hard, exposing the delicate curve of your throat. It makes you whimper. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Dean leans in closer, but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he lets the tip of his nose brush against your skin, from the apple of your cheek to your jaw and down your neck. “I’m no prince charming.”

“I want you, Dean.” You whine when his lips brush against the sensitive surface of your throat. You use the hand that is still tangled on his hair to pull him up, make him meet your eyes. “Ruin me.”

His lips are on you in less than a second. The kiss is bruising, violent with months of repressed want. He pulls you even closer, his beard a little scratchy against the soft skin of your face. You love it.

He pushes your lips apart with his tongue and you let him in, whining at the way he bites your lip before licking behind your teeth. You weren’t inexperienced like Dean thought, you had hooked up with people once or twice, but nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing could compare to the way Dean’s experienced tongue explored your mouth, or the way he spins you two around until you are pressed against the kitchen island, callused hands running down your sides until they’re gripping the sensitive skin of your thighs, lifting you up until you are sitting on top of the counter.

You gasp at the sudden movement, but you part your legs and let Dean slide in between them, shuddering as his fingers run up and down your legs. 

“You’re so fucking sensitive.” Dean grunts, lips moving down to kiss your neck. He bites the skin softly, and then a bit harder, making you moan. 

You pull his hair harshly, and it is his turn to moan, a sound you wanted to hear every day of your life. You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him closer, until his clothed cock presses against your core over your dress. You two groan at the same time, and you pull Dean into another kiss.

“Come on, Dean. Show me how a real man fucks, teach me what real pleasure is.” You whisper against his lips, and he seems to go a little insane at that. 

In seconds, his hands have already pulled the tiny white dress off your body, leaving you only in your lacy black underwear. He grunts again at the sight, hands running over all the new skin visible.

“You’re so sweet, so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, almost adoring, as his fingers brush over the curve of your breasts and down to your stomach. You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of his rough hands on your smooth skin. It is hot, to be only in your underwear while Dean is completely clothed, but you want to see him too.

So you pull his shirt off him before he can say anything, and your mouth waters. He is all lean muscle and tanned skin. There is the tattoo on his chest you’ve fantasized so many times about licking, and you decide to go for it. You first bite softly over his collarbone, trying to subtly suck a hickey there. Judging by Dean’s chuckle, you’re not very subtle. You make your way down, trace his tattoo with your tongue, bite down on the flesh of his pectoral. You kiss over every scar you find, licking over the larger ones. It makes Dean shiver every time, and the way he holds you turns a little softer. 

Then you press your hand over his bulge, and his breath hitches. It makes you feel proud that he is this affected by your touch. You rub him over his jeans for a moment, just basking in the feeling of it cupped in your hand and the fact that this was actually happening. You use both hands to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. You pull them down along with his underwear, and Dean takes a step back to be able to step out of them. And that is when you finally see all of him. 

You have to bite your lip before doing something too crazy. Dean was big. Curved up against his stomach and flushed. And so fucking hard. 

I did that, you think deliriously as you feel yourself getting wetter.

You lick your lips, craving to feel the weight of him on your tongue, but you need Dean to touch you right now.

Another time.

“One day I will suck you off until you pass out.” You breathe out, and it makes Dean groan. He presses back against you, kissing you harshly.

“You’ll be the death of me, baby.” He whispers against your lips before undoing your bra with just one hand, sliding it off your body. He pushes you backwards until your back touches the cold surface of the counter. It makes you shiver, but it is all forgotten when Dean takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

He sucks softly, and then a little harder. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention until your nipples are wet and flushed and hard. You are a whining mess by this point. He continues to make his way down your body with his mouth, lips brushing against your inner thighs and leaving dark purple marks on them. Because you were his now.

He takes off your boots and leaves your socked feet resting against the edge of the counter. The position leaves your legs wide open, and your chest rises and falls more rapidly the closer Dean’s face gets to your clothed pussy. 

“Dean.” You whimper when he presses his face to your mound over your panties.

“Have any of those little boyfriends of yours ever eaten you out, or are they too much of a coward to do it?” You don’t respond, because your head is spinning and your vision is hazy. “It doesn’t matter, because I will show you how it is done.”

And he does. He pulls your panties off and devours you. He has you whining and moaning in seconds, hands pulling on his hair for dear life. He sucks on your clit and runs his tongue through your folds like a starved man. You come on his tongue once, and then again. You basically have to peel him away from you before you lose your mind when he keeps going, keeps sucking until you’re twitching with oversensitivity. 

“Please, I need you inside.”

And how could he ever say not to that.

It is almost morning by the time you two are laying under the covers of Dean’s bed. He had fucked you there on the kitchen island (Sam can never know), and then he had fucked you again on his bed. You were both exhausted as you laid on his chest, drawing figures with your fingernails across his skin. You chuckle and look up at him, only to find him already staring at you. His eyes are softer than you have ever seen them as he seems to bask in the sight of you all fucked out and soft. It makes you blush.

“You might have actually ruined me for anyone else.” You joke, biting your lip. But it was true, you were sure that your body would reject anyone who wasn’t Dean Winchester from now on. 

The joke makes some heat come back to Dean’s eyes, but also something else, something softer. Something so warm and delicate and absolutely terrifying. 

“Good.” he rasps out. “Because you won’t need anyone else.”

NOTES: I can't believe all of this came out of a half-asleep horny thought that I had. Anyway, thank you so much for the overwhelming support, you are all the best.

Older Dean MAY come back because I am too obsessed with him, only if college doesn't kill me first.

TAGS: @h8aaz <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[bbywriter]

amateur | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: back in LA, nick and chris, your long distance boyfriend, stumble upon a silly little vlog you left them from boston.

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: just some cutesy fluff

notes: ahh hi everyone this is my first ever fic! i’m kinda nervous but also really excited, pls let me know what u think <3

word count: 800

—

It’s late Thursday night, and Nick is buried in editing their upcoming Friday vlog. This week’s video compiles the boys’ most recent trip back home to Boston. While scrubbing through the raw footage, he stumbles upon an unexpected clip—one clearly not meant for the final cut.

The video begins with you holding the camera, your voice uncertain as you fiddle with the buttons. “Uh… I don’t even know if this is recording properly,” you say, the shot capturing nothing but your slightly out-of-focus bedroom. The camera wobbles a little before the clip abruptly ends. Nick smiles, calling over his brother. “Chris, come look at this.”

Chris gets up from his seat at the dining table, curiosity pulling him towards his brother in the living room. He settles beside Nick on the couch before the next clip plays. This time, your face appears on the screen as you hold the camera an arms length away. “Good morning guys—Oh my god this quality is insane I can see every single one of my pores,” you mutter, leaning in closer to examine your skin on the tiny viewfinder. After a second, you abruptly flash a peace sign and pucker your lips, before laughing at yourself. “Ew, Nick please leave this out.”

Chris can’t help but smile, his chest tightening with an overwhelming fondness at the sight of you. The soft Boston sunrise filters through the open blinds, washing your room in a warm, golden light. Sunbeams stream gently from behind you, casting a soft halo around your face. You’ve clearly just woken up—your voice is still heavy with sleep, your hair tousled, and your eyes half-closed. But even through the screen, despite it all, you have Chris completely captivated.

The video continues into your makeshift vlog, where you update the camera on your plans for the day—attending a 10am lecture followed by a three-hour lab that starts at 1pm. Halfway through, you get sidetracked by a story from last week’s lab, laughing as you recount how your friend accidentally burnt her eyelash extensions from holding the Bunsen burner too close to her face.

Chris already heard this story the day it initially happened, but he could listen to you tell it a hundred times again. Watching the way your eyes literally smile before the rest of your face follows, and hearing the sweetest sound of your laughter—he could never get tired of it.

The clip stretches on for nearly six minutes as you get distracted by all the little things you suddenly remember you want to share. Finally, you circle back to the reason you’re filming in the first place—explaining how you found the camera in your purse while searching for your wallet to put in your backpack.

“Chris, you must have forgotten it in my purse when you dropped me off yesterday, but I’ll just give it to you guys when I see you later. But yeah… how was your guys’ day?” you ask, fully leaning into the content creator persona. It takes a second of realization before you cringe, your nose scrunching with visible embarrassment as you cover your eyes with your free hand. “I’m literally talking to this camera like it’s gonna answer me. This is so weird, I don’t know how you guys do this.”

Chris lets out a soft laugh, finding your awkward struggle for something that’s second nature to him so endearing.

You sigh softly and glance off-screen. “God I really hope that all recor—oh shit, ‘battery low, please connect to power’,” you read off the viewfinder. “Oh I think it’s gonna die soon. Okay, bye guys! Chris, bye baby! Love you, please text me if you saw this!”

You obnoxiously pucker your lips, leaning in to kiss the lens with a dramatic smooching sound, but just before it lands, the camera cuts off as the battery gives out. Chris stares at the screen, his heart swelling so big in his chest it feels like it would explode.

Nick nudges him, giggling. “Dude, she’s so bad at this.”

“Shut up,” Chris says, biting back a smile. “Send me those.”

Nick glances at his brother as he airdrops him the clips and teases. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face, you look like an idiot.”

But Chris doesn’t hear him. Instead he immediately screenshots the last frame—a blurry but perfect shot of your goofy kiss. Without hesitation, he sets the photo as his new wallpaper, then finds your contact.

Baby: You should start a channel baby

Baby: Gotta teach you more about the camera though haha this vid was a little ridiculous

He sends the screenshot he took.

Baby: This was cute though

Baby: You’re beautiful

Baby: Love you❤️

Baby: Miss you

He sends the last message, knowing you’re back in Boston and likely asleep by now. Still, he can’t help but smile at his phone, already counting down the days until he can see you again. 

—

a/n: hi guyss :) this was just something quick i thought of, inspired by a clip from the boys’ vlog i came across the other day where madi was randomly filming their dining table or something lol. pls let me know what u think ahhh this was so fun!!!

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖮𝗇𝖾)

Rafe Cameron x Reader | Pt. 2

a/n: hi my lovelies! I wrote this based on one of my favorite songs! Emergency Contact by Pierce The Veil. It ended up being really long so I decided to chop it up into three parts! Not sure if I'll write more for it but I'm just happy to get out of my writer's block and post something new. I hope you enjoy! Feedback welcome and encouraged :)

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: slight angst

wc: 3.1k+

Rafe wasn’t used to girls like you. Sweet, kind, and angelic. His experience with women had mostly consisted of those who were after his money or his drugs, their intentions shallow and self-serving. But you were different. You didn’t want anything from him—not his wealth, not his reputation, not his vices. Your every interaction with him felt genuine, and it threw him off balance. You made him feel things he couldn’t quite name, emotions foreign and unsettling in their depth.

The first time Sarah brought you home was about three years ago. You had recently moved to the Outer Banks and met Sarah at a party at the Boneyard. You hit it off immediately, your laughter and warmth cutting through the chaos of the night. Sarah had invited you to dinner with her family, and you accepted, not knowing how much that evening would change everything.

You wore a white sundress that night, the fabric brushing against your sun-kissed skin. Your hair fell in soft waves past your shoulders, and you carried yourself with effortless grace. You looked like the picture-perfect Kook, someone destined to fit seamlessly into their world. Sarah had assured you her family would love you—and they did. But no one was more captivated than her brother, Rafe.

“Rafe, this is Y/n,” Sarah introduced as you stepped into the dining room.

“So nice to meet you!” you said warmly, your smile lighting up the space.

Sarah had expected Rafe to scoff or brush you off like he usually did with her friends. Instead, he stood there, visibly flustered. His blue eyes darted from you to the floor as he scratched the back of his head, his hair falling slightly into his face.

“I-uh-you too,” he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Sarah smirked, barely holding back a laugh. It was rare to see Rafe like this, vulnerable and unsure. Throughout dinner, he was unrecognizable—quiet, attentive, and completely entranced by you. He didn’t crack a single sarcastic remark or roll his eyes like he usually did. Instead, he listened intently as you chatted with Rose and Ward about your background, your studies, and your dreams. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed, the sound stirring something deep inside him.

Later that night, as you and Sarah changed into pajamas in her room, she couldn’t help but tease you.

“Rafe likes you,” she said, a sly grin spreading across her face.

You blinked in surprise. “Really? He seems… shy.”

Sarah snorted. “Oh, he’s far from shy. At least, not with most people. I’ve never seen him clam up like that before.”

You bit your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The thought of Rafe Cameron—the same Rafe who intimidated just about everyone—getting nervous around you sent a flutter through your chest.

Over the months, you became a fixture in the Camerons’ lives. You grew close to Sarah, sharing secrets and adventures like lifelong friends. But it was your bond with Rafe that surprised everyone—including yourself. Around you, he was different. The sharp edges of his personality softened, his temper cooled. He was kinder, calmer, and, for the first time in years, genuinely happy.

Sarah noticed the change immediately. She even started to enjoy spending time with her brother—something she’d never thought possible. Whenever you were around, Rafe seemed lighter, his dark moods kept at bay by your presence.

And while you’d never admit it out loud, you’d started to feel something too. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke your name—it all made your heart race in a way you couldn’t ignore. You knew it was risky, falling for your best friend’s brother. But with Rafe, it felt inevitable.

Today was an exciting day. You and Sarah were helping Rafe move into his new house, a milestone he’d worked tirelessly to achieve. It wasn’t as grand as Tanneyhill, lacking the opulence and legacy of the Cameron estate, but it was something entirely his. A charming seaside home, bathed in sunlight and kissed by the ocean breeze, a place where he could finally carve out a life of his own. With Sarah already living with John B, you knew Rafe had felt out of place staying at home at 24. Now, this house was his fresh start.

“This is gorgeous!” you called out, your voice carrying across the open space as you stepped onto the balcony off the living room. The view was breathtaking: the endless stretch of ocean meeting the horizon, waves rolling in with rhythmic grace. The sun warmed your skin, and the salty air filled your lungs, making your heart feel light and free.

Rafe followed you outside, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I thought you’d like it,” he said, his voice tinged with pride. But while the sea and sky formed a masterpiece before him, his gaze lingered on you instead, captivated by the way the sunlight danced in your hair and the way your eyes sparkled with joy.

“I mean, look at this view!” you exclaimed, leaning against the railing and spreading your arms wide as if to embrace the entire ocean. “I could look at this forever!”

Rafe’s eyes never left you. “Me too,” he murmured, so softly it was almost a whisper. His words weren’t meant for the horizon or the waves, but for you—the only view that truly mattered to him in that moment.

You turned to look at him, a grin lighting up your face. “I brought champagne! To celebrate!” you announced, practically bouncing on your feet before darting back through the house and out to your car to grab the bottles you’d picked up. Returning triumphantly, you popped one open, the cork flying with a soft “pop” and a few fizzy streams spilling onto the hardwood floor. You laughed it off, quickly pouring everyone a glass.

“To new beginnings!” you declared, raising your glass high, your eyes sparkling as they met Rafe’s.

“To new beginnings,” Rafe echoed, his voice soft but steady as he clinked his glass against yours, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of activity. John B and Rafe tackled the heavy lifting, moving boxes and furniture, while you and Sarah set to work unpacking and arranging. The kitchen was priority number one, ensuring Rafe would at least have a functional space to cook while settling in. Between trips to Tanneyhill and the furniture store, laughter filled the air, making the hard work feel less like a chore and more like an adventure.

By the time evening rolled around, the four of you collapsed onto the couch, surrounded by a sea of half-opened boxes. You leaned back, exhaustion mingling with the lingering buzz of champagne.

“How do you have so much stuff?” Sarah groaned, shooting Rafe an incredulous look.

Rafe smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Please, I seem to remember a few boatloads of crap when we moved you to Poguelandia.”

“He’s not wrong,” John B chimed in, raising an eyebrow at Sarah. “Our room is mostly your stuff. I have, like, one drawer.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sarah laughed, playfully slapping her boyfriend on the shoulder. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “Speaking of our room,” she said through another yawn, “I’m ready for bed.”

You giggled as John B helped her up from the couch, the champagne’s bubbly warmth making you feel light and carefree.

“Thanks for the help,” Rafe said, walking them to the door. You listened as the Twinkie’s engine roared to life, fading into the distance as Rafe closed the door and returned to the couch.

“Rafeyyyy,” you whined playfully, stretching out the nickname as you leaned into the cushions. “I think I might’ve had a little too much champagne.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips curving into an easy smile as he settled beside you. He loved the way your nickname for him rolled off your tongue, soft and endearing. “That’s okay. You can stay here tonight. Take the bed; I’ll crash out here.”

“What? No!” you protested, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s your first night in your new home! I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you’re not ruining anything.”

“I don’t even have a change of clothes,” you pouted, crossing your arms for dramatic effect.

Rafe’s laugh was soft, a sound that made your chest feel lighter. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Go shower. I’ll make the bed and find you something to wear.”

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, but you nodded, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you said, hopping up and darting toward the bathroom.

You were grateful you and Sarah had spent time unpacking the essentials in the master suite. Grabbing a towel, you locked the door behind you and turned on the shower. Steam quickly filled the space, cocooning you in its warmth. As the water cascaded over your skin, washing away the day’s sweat and exhaustion, you let yourself relax, the events of the day swirling in your mind. Rafe’s soft smiles and gentle touches lingered in your thoughts, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite shake.

You tried to push the thoughts from your mind. You and Rafe were close friends—nothing more. You couldn’t justify having feelings for your best friend’s older brother. Besides, Sarah had set you up on a date with JJ Maybank for tomorrow. The blonde Pogue was someone you’d grown to know well. He was carefree and fun, always ready to brighten everyone’s day with his infectious energy.

You were genuinely excited for your date with JJ. Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t see you as anything more than a friend. Sure, he’d had a small crush on you when you first met, but that had been ages ago. He’d never made a move, so you assumed those feelings had long since faded. You shook off the intrusive thoughts and focused on finishing your shower, letting the warm water wash away any lingering doubts.

Meanwhile, Rafe moved with quiet purpose. He carefully made the bed, choosing the softest sheets he could find and fluffing the pillows with meticulous care. On the edge of the bed, he laid out one of his favorite T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you. Comfort was his priority. It always was when it came to you. He wanted you to feel at ease, to be happy. Deep down, he was completely and hopelessly in love with you, though he’d never admit it. The thought of saying it out loud felt terrifying—what if it changed everything?

Hearing the shower turn off, Rafe quickly exited the room, retreating to the couch. He pressed play on a random movie, letting the screen light up with familiar scenes as a distraction. Ten minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his oversized clothes, your damp hair framing your face.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft.

You sank onto the couch beside him. “Better. Sleepy,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thank you,” you added, gesturing to the clothes you wore.

“No problem,” he replied, fiddling with his earlobe, his gaze flickering nervously between you and the TV.

“What are you watching?” you asked, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

“Uh, just some old movie,” he said with a shrug. “Put it on for background noise.”

You squinted at the screen, quickly recognizing the iconic characters. A playful grin spread across your face. “Rafe Cameron, are you watching Titanic?”

Rafe glanced at the TV, his cheeks flushing. He hadn’t even realized what he’d put on. “Oh, I… I guess so,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed softly, turning to him. There was a shy look in his eyes, but it wasn’t about the movie. It was something else, something deeper. He looked like he wanted to say something, the words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But before he could speak, he clamped his mouth shut, redirecting his attention to the screen.

“You wanna watch it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, leaning back into the couch. The comfort of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but the champagne and the long day had drained you. Before you knew it, you were slumped against Rafe, your head resting on his lap as soft snores escaped your lips.

Rafe’s heart swelled as he looked down at you, a tender smile spreading across his face. He gently played with the ends of your hair, his fingers brushing against the silky strands. As the movie reached its emotional climax, he found himself tearing up—not just at the tragic ending but at the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. You looked so peaceful, so angelic, and he felt an ache in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

Carefully, he shifted, lifting your head to slide out from under you. Scooping you up into his strong arms, he carried you to the bedroom, mindful not to disturb your slumber. He pulled back the covers and tucked you in, making sure you were snug before clicking off the light. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment to take in your serene beauty. With a reluctant sigh, he made his way back to the couch.

Sleep didn’t come easily for Rafe that night. He tossed and turned, his thoughts consumed by you. He’d tried to bury his feelings, tried to convince himself that friendship was enough. But the more he tried, the stronger those feelings grew. In the quiet of the night, he allowed himself to daydream—a cozy little house by the sea, a dog, maybe even kids. A life with you. But reality crept in, reminding him that to you, he was just a friend. Nothing more.

The next morning, the savory aroma of eggs and bacon wafted through the air, stirring you from sleep. You rubbed the remnants of slumber from your eyes and glanced around, the unfamiliar surroundings reminding you where you were. Rafe’s new house. His king-sized bed cradled you in luxurious comfort, but the empty space beside you felt oddly hollow. For a fleeting moment, you’d hoped to find Rafe still asleep there. The thought made you frown, though you quickly reminded yourself that he’d slept on the couch—because of course, Rafe was a gentleman like that.

You padded softly toward the kitchen, following the sound of sizzling. “Smells good,” you said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Rafe jumped slightly but turned to you with a soft smile. “Oh, hey! You’re up! I made breakfast.”

“Thanks, Rafey,” you replied with a grin, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen island. Then guilt crept into your tone. “Sorry I got all drunk and stole your bed.”

He shook his head dismissively, turning back to the stove. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad you got some rest after yesterday.” He plated eggs and bacon, setting it before you. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby,” you chuckled, picking up a crisp strip of bacon.

“Good,” he replied, his voice warm as he resumed cooking. “So, any big plans today? Wanna help me unpack more of this mess?”

You paused mid-bite, your mind flickering to the evening ahead. “I can help for a bit, but I have a date tonight, so I’ll need to head home early to get ready.”

The words hung in the air, slicing through the calm. Rafe’s hand stilled, his grip tightening on the spatula. He didn’t turn to look at you, knowing his face might betray the knot tightening in his chest. In all the time he’d known you, he’d never heard you talk about a real date. Sure, you danced with guys at parties or flirted harmlessly, but this—this was different. His heart twisted painfully, the kind of ache he couldn’t ignore.

“A date?” he asked, forcing his tone to sound casual, though the words felt like sandpaper against his throat. “With who?”

You hesitated before answering, as if bracing yourself. “JJ,” you said quietly. “Sarah set it up. I haven’t been on a date in a long time, so I’m not really sure what to expect.”

Rafe’s mind reeled. JJ Maybank. Of all people. Why would Sarah do this—when she knew how he felt about you? He plastered on a tight smile, masking his turmoil as he finally turned to face you. “It’ll be great,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“You think so?” you asked, chewing your lip nervously. “I’m kind of... nervous.”

He swallowed hard, shoving his feelings down where they couldn’t escape. “Yeah,” he said, the words tasting bitter. “You’re a catch. He’d be a total idiot not to like you.”

Your lips curved into a warm smile, and for a moment, your gaze locked with his. Those ocean-blue eyes of his held something unspoken, something tender. “Thanks, Rafe,” you said softly, your voice full of gratitude.

He forced a grin, though it felt hollow. “Of course,” he replied. “Tell you what—don’t worry about the unpacking. Go home and get ready for your big date. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You beamed, finishing the last bites of breakfast. “You’re the best,” you said, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. “Thanks for letting me crash! I’ll get your clothes back to you tomorrow!”

Rafe watched as you hurried to the door, his heart aching with every step you took away from him. He raised a hand in a mock salute, a forced smile still glued to his face. “Have fun,” he said, his voice hollow.

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the house felt suffocatingly empty. Rafe stood in silence, staring at the spot where you’d just been, your laughter still echoing faintly in his ears. He let out a sharp breath, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the nearest glass off the counter and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, much like the hope he’d been quietly holding onto.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. She’s gone, he thought bitterly. She was never mine to lose, but somehow, I lost her anyway.

For years, he’d found comfort in being the one you turned to—when you were too drunk at a party, overwhelmed by a panic attack, or even just bored on a lazy afternoon. You’d always come to him. But now, you were running toward someone else. JJ fucking Maybank.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! :)

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001 @seojunandsoju @niktwazny303

[shuenkio]

HIS DARK SIDE | ❤️‍🔥

Paring: Dom!Hoon X m!reader

Genre:Heavy Smut. [MDNI 18+]

CW: Gym sex, sweatpants, belly bulge, friends with benefits, cumming inside, nsfw.

Summary: Your eyes are stuck on Sunghoon grey sweatpants.

A/N: This was my first time writing explicit scenes so please bare with me >< (update note on 080824)

Sunghoon being a college student who also engages in skating as a hobby, and takes great pride in his job, asks you to come along and support him at competitions. Despite your lack of direct contribution, your presence is more than enough for him.

On a regular day, Sunghoon requests your presence at the gym, where he has rented the entire facility just for the two of you. The fact that he is wealthy and somewhat famous contributes to this arrangement.

As you open the door to your dorm room, Sunghoon stands before you, towering over you in his gym attire and a gym bag hanging from his shoulder. He appears particularly appealing in his gray sweatpants, immediately catching your attention. Embarrassed and feeling your face heat up, you can't help but silently gulp, anticipating the inevitable outcome of this sight. Sunghoon, noticing your stunned silence, inquires about your reaction.

When Sunghoon questions your silence, wondering if his outfit is unattractive, you quickly reassure him that it's not the case. He explains that he sent a message the night before, but you didn't see it. He then shows you the message as proof. Despite your busy college schedule and reliance on a computer for work, Sunghoon offers you $50 for attending the gym with him.

"Take it or not" hearing the word money, you agree without hesitation and rush to change into your gym clothes.

As you enter the rented gym alongside Sunghoon, he begins his workout routine, leaving you to explore on your own. Being new to the gym experience, you looking for a relatively less strenuous activity like a treadmill and low-weight dumbbells.

Initially, it proves challenging, but eventually, you find yourself adjusting to the routine and breaking a sweat. Wearing a black top, you're fortunate that it doesn't reveal the sweat as much. Meanwhile, Sunghoon efficiently goes through half the gym's equipment, revealing his toned biceps and visible veins. Despite his slim build, his unique physique captivates your attention.

You take a break from your workout, feeling exhausted and with sweat soaking your head. You approach Sunghoon, who's lifting weights in a lying position. The sight of his muscles flexing under his tight compression tank top captivates you. However, feeling self-conscious about being a "creep," you try to look away. Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon is well aware of your gaze, even with his headphones on, making your attempt to look away a bit pointless.

Watching Sunghoon exercise, you noticed his crotch area becoming more obvious under the tight grey sweatpants.

His growing erection strained against the fabric, clearly visible as he lifted weights.

The sight stirred feelings of excitement and nervousness within you.

"Did he get... Hard by just lifting weights?" You couldn't believe it, but the evidence was right in front of you.

His erection strained against the tight fabric, causing a throbbing sensation within your own body.

Despite the discomfort, you knew this was a rare opportunity - something his fans would kill for. So, you sat still and endured the pain, determined not to miss a single second of the show.

Once Sunghoon completed his workout, you attempted to nonchalantly divert your gaze, feigning that you hadn't been intently observing him the entire time. He took off his headphones, catching his breath as he chugged down the water.

"Enjoy the view?" A smirk played on his lips, indicating that he knew exactly what had caught your attention.

"Shut up", you protested half-heartedly, folding your arms across your chest. It was just once!

"Just admit it, you want me" he murmured seductively into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he is leaning down. Not only was his body radiating heat, but the raw sexual energy he exuded made you dizzy with desire.

"But..." you hesitated, unsure how to respond to this new side of Sunghoon. You always thought of him as a friendly guy who occasionally asked for favors and invited you to his skating competitions. Yet here he was, dominating and undeniably horny.

"Explore as you please m/n or I'll make you instead" Sunghoon urged with a mischievous smile

Taking advantage of the situation, you hesitantly reached out and felt his size through his pants. The shape of his impressive length sent a thrill coursing through your fingers. He responded with a soft moan, evidently relishing your touch. As you continued stroking him, he couldn't hold back any longer and lowered his pants, revealing his long, pale cock - already wet with pre-cum. Watching it stand tall ignited an intense desire within you to push him over the edge completely. Without warning, Sunghoon's darker side surfaced suddenly.

Unable to resist any longer, Sunghoon picked you up and placed you on his abs, wrapping your legs around his waist while holding onto his shoulder. In a flash, he asked for permission to enter you. His eyes were half lidded and needy, revealing just how much he desired you. You nodded enthusiastically in agreement.He grinned wickedly and lowered you onto his hardness, causing your body to shake as soon as the tip touched you. Both of you found yourselves lost in the moment - not in a private room but among the gym's equipment.

With a casual smirk, Sunghoon began thrusting into you with increasing force, mimicking the rhythm of his workout. The combination of exercise and sex proved to be exhilarating, belly bulge on you. You cried out in ecstasy as he continued to drive himself deeper inside you, while Sunghoon threw his head back, thoroughly enjoying every moment.

As Sunghoon continued to thrust into you with increasing pushing, the sensation of his hardness filling you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Shi-shit i feel it coming m/n"

The sound of skin meeting skin echoed throughout the gym. His grip on your hips tightened as he drove himself deeper inside you, eliciting soft gasps from your lips that mingled with his own ragged breaths. You could feel every inch of him within you, stretching and claiming you in equal measure.

You were too embarrassed to say anything, all you do was moaning and cried in this sensitive moment. Your nails digging on his back, your dick began to feel the sensation, feeling like soon to be coming.

"It's coming m/n l- let's cum together oo?"

As the climax approached, Sunghoon felt a surge of pleasure coursing through their veins, his cock grow hard as a rock. With one final push, both of you released the intense orgasm together.

He trembled slightly, as Sunghoon filled you with warmth and intimacy. Breathing heavily like puppies. Your hole is now stretching wide open, then he pull his throbbing out of you.

"It's feel like heaven like they said m/n,i- i want more!"

Usually man's glans get very sensitive after cumming but Sunghoon didn't care. His tip is still dripping with orgasm, however he drive inside you once again!

"FUCK NO! MY HOLE"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to dividers!

🗣️ I KNOW THIS IS NOT HOW SH ACT BUT IMAGINE HE'S WILD LIKE THIS?

[watermelonlovershigh]

can we have some smut that sort of focuses on the bulge 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 like y/n sort of admiring it clothed and just being so into that

5 Times You've Obsessed Over Harry's Bulge (SMUT)

AN: I had too many ideas for this concept so i decided to turn this into one of my numbered fics. where i give several different scenarios. hope that's alright. don't forget to leave me your feedback and enjoy. xoxo

This contains: implications of sex, dirty talk, fluff, mild angst, jealousy, dry humping

{ husband!harry - softrry - au!harry (aka not famous in this) }

word count- 1,989

Five different scenarios where you admire and love on Harry's bulge.

There is an undeniable attraction to Harry's bulge that captivates your attention. Regardless of whether he's dressed in jeans, sweatpants, shorts, or underwear, his bulge is striking and turns you on. It's not solely the moments when his hard dick is evident beneath his clothing that draw you in; even in a relaxed state, he's so big that a subtle outline is noticeable between his legs if one chooses to observe. But note that your admiration for Harry's bulge is entirely positive and respectful. Being married, you appreciate how much he enjoys your liking to that part of him, and it brings him joy to know that you cherish something in which he exclusively shares with you.

Here's some of the instances when you gawk and drool over Harry's bulge (hard or not hard):

1.) Harry has just stepped out of the shower, and you're in bed, patiently waiting for him to join you for the night. You can hear him moving around in the bathroom, likely drying off and brushing his teeth. Moments later, he swings the bathroom door open in only his briefs, letting out a rush of humid air, and makes his way into the bedroom after turning the bathroom lights off.

Before he can walk to his side of the bed, you mutter, "Nu-hu."

Harry stops to look at you suspiciously. "What?"

You gesture for him to approach you with your index finger, and Harry complies. He walks up to your side of the bed, per your request. At this point, his lower body aligns with the height of the bed, bringing his bulge almost directly in front of you. You can tell he isn't hard just from recognizing what his relaxed appendage looks like. However, the considerable size of him creates a pronounced outline in his boxer briefs.

You look down between his legs and shift closer to the edge of the bed, leaning in to place a gentle kiss directly on his bulge. Harry lets out a soft moan. "Baby, mhm. What'r you doin'?"

Smiling up at your husband, you reply, "Giving little Harry a kiss goodnight."

Harry tilts his head back and laughs heartily. "Oh, little Harry is gonna offer you much more than just a goodnight kiss in return." He climbs onto the bed, positioning himself over your body, and it's evident that the soft bulge that was previously concealed in his underwear has become firm and is now nestled between your legs.

2.) As you're lounging on the couch, Harry burst through the door, breathless and slick with sweat from his morning run around the neighborhood. You can't help but to drool over his appearance. His hair is secured in a small claw clip on the top of his head, and his skin is shimmering with a sun-kissed hue. He has a way of looking exceptionally good after a workout. Especially when his bare, yet tattooed chest is visible. As well as the defined bulge between his legs that's quite eye-catching.

Standing up from the sofa, you make your way over to where Harry's kicking his running shoes off and wrap your arms around him in a hug. Giggling, Harry speaks, "Baby, m' all sweaty and probably stink."

Still latched on to him in a hug, you reply, "Don't care. You're so hot after a run."

Harry now becomes cocky, loving the way you're speaking about him. "Yeah? Does it turn you on?"

You give a slight nod and let one of your hands glide down, carefully cupping his bulge through his tight running shorts. Harry almost falls, his knees nearly collapsing. Fortunately, you're there to steady him in your hold.

As you feel his bulge begin to grow in your hand, you kneel and carefully pull down his shorts, offering him a blowjob right in the foyer of your house. The slight taste of sweat introduces an additional flavor, but you proceed with the same eagerness as always.

Harry feels honored to have a wife who finds him so appealing that you'll engage in such activities after his exercise, a sentiment not many people would consider doing.

3.) You're on a short road trip. Harry has arranged a delightful surprise: a weekend escape to a charming Airbnb cabin located in the woods. As he drives, you sit comfortably in the passenger seat, with the soothing sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing gently in the background.

With the windy roads and calm scenery, Harry can't help but let his mind wander to you and how much he loves you. How special you are to him. How he can't wait to make love to you in front of the cozy fireplace at the cabin that awaits you both.

Deep in his thoughts, it takes Harry a few minutes to realize his cock was hardening up in his jeans. He didn't mean to get hard while driving, it just sort of happened. But that's what tends to happen anytime he starts daydreaming about you. He chalks it up to being a love boner.

For a while, Harry sits in his seat uncomfortably, occasionally shifting to adjust himself. After the tenth time of moving in his seat, you begin to notice and question, "You alright, babe? Gotta pee or something?"

Trying to play it off, Harry lies, "Nope, m' fine. All good." That's when you take a closer look and notice the bulge between his legs.

"Harry, you're hard. What's got you so worked up while you're driving?"

Embarrassed, he admits, "Fine, was thinkin' about you and how much I love you and all the things I wanna do to you at the cabin. Didn't mean to get hard."

With a softer tone, you reply, "Yeah, that's so sweet of you, baby." Harry thinks the moment is over, but he's caught off guard when he feels your hand move across the center console to grasp him over his jeans. He tilts his head back, moaning softly, as you continue to rub your palm over his bulge, aiming to make him jizz in his pants. Ultimately, he finds it necessary to pull over, as his foot on the gas pedal begins to tremble, and he wishes to avoid any danger of crashing.

4.) It was the middle of July when you and Harry decide to enjoy a day at the beach. You're wearing your black bikini, and Harry's sporting his tight yellow swim trunks. You spend most of your time lying on your beach towel, attempting to tan, while Harry lays next to you for a short period before opting to take a swim.

He instructs you to sit up and watch him, reminiscent of a young child, and you find it quite endearing. Harry ventures a few feet into the water as the waves collide with his tattooed chest, and you notice him waving at you with his sun-kissed arms.

Moments later, Harry emerges from the salty sea, and you observe closely as he approaches your designated area on the beach. You notice several beachgoers directing their attention towards him, and you even hear a man whistle as your husband walks by. This fires up a hint of jealousy within you, yet you find solace in the fact that he'll be in your bed tonight, not theirs.

As Harry stands before you, water cascading down his body, the reason for the attention he's receiving becomes evident. While it's a known fact that he's generally considered an attractive man, it's the unmistakable outline of his cock that's visible through his wet swim shorts that's captured the gaze of onlookers. You're aware that Harry usually exhibited some form of a bulge, but the thin fabric of his swimwear, now soaked, leaves little to the imagination.

While you admire the view, you're less than pleased that everyone else on the beach is enjoying the same sight. You tug at Harry's hand, urging him to take a seat beside you on his towel. "Ouch! What was that for?"

Turning your head to face him, you whisper, "Your swim trunks, Harry."

Confused, Harry asks, "What about them?"

With a sigh of frustration, you express, "You can see everything in those shorts. They fit snugly around your hips and they're thin and wet. The outline of your dick is clearly visible. Your bulge is very defined right now."

"Thought you liked my bulge?" Harry speaks with a cheeky smile.

"Harry, you know I do but I don't want the whole beach to see it too."

With a more serious tone, Harry conveys, "M'love, I could be fully unclothed, wanderin' this beach, and let me assure you: you are the only one who has the right to touch my body. You're the only one who truly sees me, both outwardly and inwardly. Not anyone else."

Smiling back, you retort, "So, does that mean I could walk around naked too and....."

Before you even get a chance to finish, Harry cuts you off. "Nope, absolutely not. Not a chance I'll let anyone see you naked. That's for my eyes only."

5.) What started out as a cozy cuddle on the couch while watching a movie, quickly develops into a heated make-out session. The idea that making out is only for teenagers and not for married couples is fundamentally incorrect. You and Harry love making out with one another.

You're situated over Harry, who's lying along the length of the sofa. He's wearing only his underwear, as the plan was to head to bed right after the movie. You, in contrast, are dressed in just a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt.

As the kisses get more and more heated, the more you can feel Harry growing between your legs. Your cunt is aligned directly over his erect cock, resulting in fabulous pressure against your clothed clit. So what do you choose to do? You begin to grind down over the prominent bulge in his briefs.

"Oh, fuck, baby!" Harry groans between kisses.

Lowering your mouth along the scruffy surface of his face, you notice your breathing becoming more intense. "Feels so good, Harry. Your bulge is so big and hard between my legs." You continue to move your hips, appreciating the way his clothed cock presses against your clit as you continue to dry hump his bulge. Your wet patch now seeping through your panties and onto the front of his own underwear.

At first, Harry considers stopping you, thinking to suggest that you just pull him out of his briefs and actually fuck yourself on his dick. However, he becomes captivated with the way you're lost in your own pleasure, moving against him so freely. Therefore, he opts to relax and let you take the lead, letting you do as you please.

After about three minutes of dry humping his enlarged bulge, you pant out in his warm neck, "I'm gonna come, H."

"Shh, it's okay, baby. Come f'me. Come over m'cock. Know it feels so good on your little clit doesn't it?" He strokes your back in a soothing manner and starts to elevate his hips in rhythm with your movements, which have slightly faltered. The extra pressure from his upward grinding pushes you to your peak. You tremble and shake over top of him.

Harry makes a sincere effort to hold back his own orgasm, intending to wait until you've finished and then allow you to get him off in a different way. He's always found the experience of coming in his underwear to be quite an unpleasant feeling, particularly due to the messy cleanup that follows. However, he ultimately can't hold back. As soon as he feels your pussy fluttering over his bulge, he succumbs to his orgasm, resulting in his cum coating the inside fabric of his briefs and pubic hair.

When you both finally calm down, you allow your body to relax over his and say, "God, do I love your bulge. Felt so good."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722

My Masterlist Masterpost

[damnfeelings09]

Animals AU - Shadow's version

A.N: Hello! Chapter 1 is finally here and I'm really proud of it. I decided to use the inspo from the video I posted days ago and this is what I got. I'm planning around 10 chapters for this one. Also RED PARTS ARE STALKER THOUGHTS, and GREEN ARE YOURS. With that I'm out and don't forget to lock your windows at night, he might be watching.

NFSW: blood, stalking, fear, weapons, fighting, bad lenguage, smut. +18

“Baby I'm preying on you tonight

Hunt you down eat you alive

Just like animals…”

“So... you got a boyfriend?” said the voice on the other side of the phone. You had no idea who you were talking to. Stupid? Probably. Exciting? Hell yes!

“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?”  you asked in the most captivating tone possible.

“Maybe…” he said, a smug, seductive smile forming on his face. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You never told me your name.”

“Why you wanna know my name?” you laughed. This conversation had been the most interesting part of your week. You had no idea who you were talking to; it was a stranger. An unknown number, written on the front page of the psychiatry book you had checked out from the library, along with a note that said, "Call here to have fun." Too tempting not to try. You were in your last year, your grades were perfect, and you had been accepted for an internship at the GUN Hospital next year. Everything was going grat, a little fun couldn’t hurt, right? Mailo had tried to convince you that it was a bad idea to call, but in the end, your curiosity won over your good judgment. The first time the call came in, you hung up after a second. Scared, your heart racing, before you could do anything else, the incoming call screen appeared. Soon, you found yourself trapped in his deep voice. Damn, anyone with that voice had to be fucking hot, and if not, you could always close your eyes and listen to his voice until you came.

“I wanna know who am I looking at” You froze, cold sweat dripping down your neck. Quickly getting up from the bed, you looked out the window. Outside, darkness reigned, only the trees and the other side of the sidewalk were barely visible. It was impossible, but when your skin tingled, you knew it was real—there was someone out there. He was out there, watching you. You heard laughter coming from the phone and immediately hung up. With your heart racing, you ran through the house, making sure all the doors and windows were shut, all alarms and lights on. Going back to your room, you locked yourself in the bathroom. This would be a long night.

The alarm woke you up, sore and with a swollen face from the bad night, you got ready for the day. You hated Mondays, but this Monday, in particular, was terrible. You hadn’t slept at all and had hidden like a coward in your bathtub. You had allowed the psycho phone man to gain power over you, and even more, secretly, you’d enjoyed it.

“Someone didn't have a good night,” said Mailo as you both were walking down the main hallway.

“I slept in the tub” you mentioned as you craned your neck to the side trying to find that sweet spot that would make your vertebrae settle or end your life, whichever came first.

“Ouch why?”

“Ah...” You couldn't tell him what had happened. You'd be branded stupid, and scolded by your best friend, it would be a humiliating “Let a friend crash last night” you lied.

“Which friend bunny? The imaginary one?” you heard as he laughed at you walking into the gym, slamming the door in your face. Stupid, sexy Shadow.

“Fuck you sombrita” You abhorred the day your paths had crossed. 2 years ago Shadow had arrived, with a glowing recommendation letter from Commander Maisland they let him enroll in any course he wanted because he would be “the salvation of the world”. Yeah right, that moron couldn't save anyone.

According to gossip, he had been on the resistance team back in Angel’s Island. Surprising to many, even to you until you met him. You were coming back from vacation, in a hurry to get to your anatomy class, you missed breakfast and had to run from the parking lot to the classroom in less than 10 minutes. When you arrived you sat next to Mailo, but during the whole class you could not pay attention, the class was too boring and your attention could not focus on the vascularization of the femur. You settled into your seat and taking advantage of the fact that the light was off, you closed your eyes, heading for dreamland. A hand wrapped around your hair pushing you, causing you to knock onto the table and woke up. You turned around, behind you was a hedgehog with jet black fur and red tips, looking at you with amusement, covering his mouth to keep from laughing.

“You have something on your forehead,” he said, letting out a laugh. You raised your hand and took your pencil; it had stuck to your forehead after the blow you had given against the table. That day you had earned a scolding, an extra job and an enemy.

Shadow was a bastard, with airs and graces. Taunting you whenever he could, pissing you off and competing with you every chance he got. It wasn't like there was much of a chance, he was the ultimate lifeform, at least that was what every professor called him. You hated the moment you found out you would be together once again. The self-defense and advanced martial arts class had run out of instructors, so they had put the two groups together and now you were forced to see him 3 times a week. “It will only be 6 months” you said to yourself as you and Mailo walked in.

Your group consisted of 12 people. 7 for self-defense L1, including you, Mailo, Grant, Susane, Alissa, Roger, and Dalia. The other 5 were supposed to be from advanced martial arts. The instructor, Agent Rios, called them to the center of the gym where the mats were. Quickly, you took off your shoes and tied your hair in a high ponytail. "Listen up, the university doesn’t have the budget to hire more instructors, so I’ll be teaching both levels. However, you’re not the only groups I have, and to make things easier for me, I’ve decided to pair one advanced person with the level 1s. I’ll call out your names and you’ll pair up with your partner on one of the mats, then I’ll tell you what we’ll do next."

"Oh hell no…," you thought. “Alissa and Rene, Roger and Rouge, Dalia and Ivana.” "Hello, God? It’s me again. I know I haven’t been very good, and I really don’t care what you think, but please, don’t let me..." You begged. You really didn’t want to be with him. Anyone but him.

“Susane and Richard, Miss Moon and Shadow, Mailo with me. Alright, that’s everyone. Now, pair up and start warming up. I’ll be back in 10 minutes."

“Excuse me, professor, is there a possibility of changing my partner?" you said, walking behind him. "It’s just that Mailo and I…” “Listen Miss Moon, I saw you last semester. You’re terrible and have no strength. That hedgehog is your best option if you want to pass the year, now if you excuse me" Agent Rios walked past you. Now you had no other choice but to try. The self-defense class was mandatory for all students, even if you weren’t planning to pursue a career in the battlefield there was no getting out of it.

“Great, now I’ll have to worry about two psychos.” You thought as you walked back to the mat where Shadow was waiting for you.