#but that's not how he reacted at all: he was a man beside himself with dread and sadness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bimbosicko · 2 days ago

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GET HIM BACK ! (DEAN'S VERSION)

you're sam's girlfriend and when you find out he cheated on you, you have to get him back ۶ৎ

pairings ! dean winchester x fem! reader

warnings ! english isn't my first language, soulless sam, S6E9, aka fairy episode lol, sam cheats on you so you fuck his brother ><, but there are feelings involved, i promise. fluff! angst! sex! what more could you ask for?, creampie (wrap it before you tap it guys), 69?, cheating but at the same time no??, oral (female and male receiving) and that's it i think! :3

author's note ! dean is literally the loml (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) idk how this got so long like i literally am a sam girlie idk what happened!!! remember!! my asks are open and everything you need to know ab myself is in the pinned post in my blog, ily<33

words count ! 10k omfg, i need therapy.

sam's version (there's no connection between these two fics)

The cabin was silent when you woke up. Outside, the wind battered the windows fiercely, making the wood creak with every gust, but inside, everything was still. Too still.

You reached out almost instinctively, searching for the familiar warmth beside you, but all you found were cold sheets. And like almost every night lately, Sam wasn’t there.

You sat up slowly, blinking to adjust to the night’s darkness, and then you saw him.

Standing by the window, back to you, his silhouette rigid, his head barely tilted toward the darkness outside. The same posture you had seen every night for weeks. As if something out there made more sense than everything in here. As if he was trapped in this place with you, and not out there chasing the freedom he seemed to seek with every flicker of his gaze through the glass.

“Can’t sleep?” you murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

Sam took his time to respond. He didn’t turn to look at you—if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he hadn’t even heard you. He just stood there, unmoving, like a statue.

“I’m not tired,” he whispered after a few seconds.

The same answer as always. The same empty, lifeless phrase, with not even the slightest attempt at reassurance.

Before, Sam used to wrap you in his arms, press a kiss to your hair, and fall asleep with his breath in sync with yours against your skin. Before, his mere presence was enough to make you feel safe. Now, you barely even shared the same space.

You moved carefully, ignoring the chill of the cold floor against your feet as you approached him. Every step felt like a test, like you were trespassing into forbidden territory. Finally, you lifted a hand and placed it on his back, waiting… for something. Any sign of recognition, a glimpse of the man you once knew.

All you got was the immediate tension of his muscles under your touch.

He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t react either.

You pressed your lips together and tried to pretend that didn’t hurt more than it should.

“Sam…” you whispered, feeling the words catch in your throat. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Another silence followed. A heavy, unbearable silence that stretched for too long. Finally, Sam turned his face slightly toward you.

And his expression knocked the breath out of you.

There was no trace of the person you remembered. His eyes, once full of life and every emotion you never needed to put into words, were now an empty void. Black in the dim light, expressionless, as if he were looking at you without really seeing you. If he hadn’t proven himself to you weeks ago, you’d be convinced you were dealing with a demon, not your boyfriend.

“Nothing.” His voice was calm. Too calm. So devoid of emotion that it chilled your blood. “Things just… changed down there.”

A shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t the first time you’d talked about Hell, but never like this. Never with this cold indifference.

You swallowed hard.

“But you’re still you, right?” you asked, hating how weak your own voice sounded. Like you were afraid of the answer.

Sam tilted his head in an almost mechanical motion. As if the question confused him. As if it was ridiculous to even suggest otherwise.

Then, he smiled.

But it was an empty smile, devoid of warmth, almost soulless.

“Of course.”

Your chest tightened. You wanted to believe him, you really did. But everything in his demeanor told you otherwise.

Still, you forced yourself to smile too, even though it hurt. Slowly, you lifted a hand, trying to touch his cheek. Just a simple touch. A simple connection. Something that could bring you back to him.

But before your fingers could even reach him, Sam turned his face away. Not abruptly, not in anger. Just with that same cruel indifference, as if the idea of your touch was completely foreign to him. As if you were nothing more than a shadow in his world now.

Since he had come back, he hadn’t touched you. He hadn’t held you. He had barely even spoken when you tried to reach him.

You lowered your hand, feeling your throat burn. You didn’t say anything else. There was no point.

You just turned around and went back to bed, wrapping your arms around yourself to fill the icy emptiness in your stomach.

But no matter how much you curled under the blankets, the cold never left.

If you were being honest with yourself, pretending to be surprised when Dean called to say something was wrong with Sam was harder than expected. You had already noticed. You had felt it in every empty stare, in every touch that never came, in every silence that stretched too long.

But you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t admit that, deep down, you already knew.

“He… doesn’t have a soul.” Dean’s voice was tense, tired, carrying that unmistakable weight of someone who has seen too much and still keeps going. “We don’t know who took it. We don’t know anything.”

You bit your lip, processing the information as you overanalyzed everything you knew about the supernatural world your boyfriend and his brother were trapped in. A world where souls could be taken like objects. A world where the impossible happened far too often.

“Maybe…” you started, but Dean cut you off before you could finish.

He said your name. Not like he usually did. Not with the teasing tone he used when you argued over stupid things. Not with that slow, arrogant drawl that sometimes drove you crazy. No. This time, it was different.

Lower. Deeper. More… personal.

“No, stop doing that.” His voice was firm, frustrated. “You always defend him. And lately, more than ever.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

“I wasn’t going to defend him, I was trying to think of solutions.”

Dean scoffed, and you could almost picture him running a hand down his face, exhausted.

“There’s no solution for this.” His tone softened just a little, but when he spoke again, he said your name once more. And that was worse.

There was something in the way he said it that made you tense up. Like every letter weighed too much on his tongue. Like he was fighting himself just by saying it.

You didn’t like it. Or rather… you liked it too much.

Quickly, you tried to change the subject.

“How are Ben and Lisa?” you asked, forcing yourself to sound casual.

Dean was silent for a second. Just a second. But it was enough for you to feel a knot in your stomach.

“Don’t do that,” he finally said.

“Do what?”

You didn’t need to see him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“You know exactly what.”

You swallowed down a nervous laugh. But of course, Dean caught it.

“Are you laughing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I can hear you laughing.” His voice took on that tone he always used when he wanted to sound annoyed but really wasn’t. “I’d recognize that sound anywhere. It’s the same as Smurfette’s.”

You smiled, even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Sorry for emitting emotions, Terminator. Won’t happen again,” you said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

On the other end of the line, you heard Dean inhale sharply, like his lungs had forgotten how to function for a second.

There was a pause. Not the comfortable kind. Not the ones that felt natural. This one was heavy, loaded with something you didn’t want to name.

“Speaking of Terminator,” he finally said, and you rolled your eyes at his nickname for his brother.

He’s not just his brother. He’s your boyfriend, you reminded yourself harshly.

“He… confessed some things.”

Your stomach tightened.

“Confessed?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Dean took a second to respond. Not long enough to be suspicious, but long enough for you to notice.

“I roughed him up a little,” he admitted, and even without seeing him, you knew he was uncomfortable. “Sorry about that.”

A part of you wanted to be angry. But that part was small, almost insignificant. Instead, you sighed and shrugged, as if that could somehow translate through the phone.

“I’ll assume he deserved it.”

There was silence, and then Dean let out a short laugh.

“He really did.”

But the lightness didn’t last long. A second later, he sighed, and you recognized the sound of someone bracing themselves for something difficult.

Then, he said it.

“Sam confessed to cheating on you.”

The world seemed to stop.

The air in your lungs grew thick, impossible to inhale without pain. Your eyes welled up instantly, but you didn’t let the tears fall. You blinked rapidly, pressing your lips together tightly, as if that could hold back everything that was about to break inside you.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t ask why. You didn’t deny it.

You just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Are you okay?”

Dean said your name in a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. Damn it, he seemed obsessed with your stupid name. He always said it differently than anyone else. With a different weight. As if it meant more than it should.

“I’m fine, Dean.” You bit out each word, swallowing the anger, the pain, everything you couldn’t afford to let out in that moment. “Do you need me to come?”

Dean hesitated, and for a moment, you thought he’d tell you no. That it would be best if you stayed where you were, far from all of this. But instead, his voice dropped to a whisper.

“We’re fine.”

It was soft. Too soft. Like he was trying to wrap you in something he couldn’t allow himself to give you.

You scoffed, “I’m coming anyway.”

Dean didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t argue. Somehow, that made you feel worse.

Your grip on the steering wheel was so tight you could feel your nails digging into the rubber. The trembling in your hands was subtle, but enough to make your knuckles turn white under the pressure.

You kept trying to convince yourself that you were fine, that this wasn’t the end of the world, that you and Sam were going to get through this like the totally functional couple you were.

You took a breath. Then another.

Everything could be fixed. Everything.

It didn’t matter what Dean said—what the hell did he even know about this anyway?

But doubt crept into your chest like a slow poison.

He knew. Dean always knew more than he let on, and when he had called, his voice had that tone that made you want to throw the phone out the window. That tone of I know you’re lying to yourself, but I’m gonna let you figure it out on your own.

Your breathing started to turn erratic, your grip on the wheel tightening even more.

You knew Sam didn’t have a soul. You knew it. Something inside you had known all along.

But goddamn it, you couldn’t stop it from hurting.

Things were changing, and you hated it. You knew what you were signing up for when you started dating him, but… how the hell were you supposed to fight something you couldn’t even see?

The pain was diffuse, hard to pinpoint, but it was there, under your skin, in the way his eyes didn’t shine anymore, in the way his hands no longer reached for you.

You blinked, and by the time your vision focused, you had already driven past Bobby’s place.

Shit.

You slammed on the brakes so hard that the force sent your forehead crashing against the wheel. Any harder, and you would’ve left a mark.

You huffed, running a hand over your face before reversing and parking properly.

By the time you stepped out of the car, Dean was already waiting at the entrance, arms crossed, leaning against the frame like he had been standing there forever.

His expression was tense, but his eyes scanned your face quickly, analyzing every flicker of emotion you weren’t sure you could hide.

“Oh, fuck, what happened now?” It was the first thing that came out of your mouth, because if there was one thing you could still do, it was pretend you weren’t about to break.

Dean let out a sharp exhale, tilting his head like he was debating whether to tease you or let it slide.

“Well, hello to you too, princess.”

You rolled your eyes with fake impatience, like hearing him call you that didn’t make you feel things you really shouldn’t be feeling.

“Your boyfriend’s inside.”

That sentence—so simple, so casual—hit you like a punch to the gut.

Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend, who didn’t have a soul. Your boyfriend, who didn’t touch you, who didn’t look at you the way he used to, who had cheated on you and didn’t even seem to understand why that was wrong.

Your boyfriend, who felt more like a stranger with every passing day.

You swallowed hard, forcing your expression to stay neutral.

“Great.”

You took a step toward the entrance, but Dean moved before you could pass him—not exactly blocking your way, but not stepping aside either.

His eyes flickered downward.

It was only then that you realized your hands were still shaking.

The shift in his expression was almost imperceptible, but you caught it. The tension in his jaw, the way his gaze hardened for a second before he masked it with his usual attitude.

“Tell me you’re at least gonna kick his ass when you see him.”

It wasn’t a question.

You looked at him, and for a second, it was hard to remember that he was with Lisa and you were with Sam.

Dean wasn’t soft when he spoke—he never had been. But somehow, when he looked at you like that, when he said things like that in that irritated yet protective tone, the stupid tension in the air became impossible to ignore.

You shook your head, as if that could clear your thoughts. “Just tell me how bad the mess is this time.”

Dean tilted his head, his eyes still locked on you.

For a moment, you thought he was going to say something else. Something you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

But then he just huffed and shrugged.

“Nothing we can’t fix.”

You knew he had changed his mind at the last second just to make you feel better.

You appreciated the effort.

Seeing Sam sitting at the kitchen table, casually drinking a beer like nothing had happened, sent a wave of fury so intense through you that, for a moment, you had to clench your fists just to keep yourself in check.

You wanted to yell at him.

You wanted to shake him.

You wanted to make him understand what this meant to you, what he was making you feel.

But it was useless.

Because he didn’t care.

Not because he wanted to hurt you, not because he was doing this out of malice, but because… he simply couldn’t care.

And that indifference, that complete lack of emotion, was worse than any lie he could have told, worse than any excuse he could have given.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, to not let the desperation seep into your voice.

“Dean.”

Just like that, he caught the hint instantly. With one last glance between you and his brother, he turned on his heels and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place felt like a sentence being passed.

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the table, wearing that same vacant expression that was driving you insane.

His eyes skimmed over you, as if assessing how much you knew, how much you had to say to him.

He whispered your name, his voice hesitant.

“I’m guessing Dean told you.”

You let out a humorless laugh. Of course he did. Of course he fucking did.

“Yeah, he told me all about your little ‘I’m unstoppable and have no feelings’ monologue.”

Your tone was pure venom. A sharp-edged mockery, laced with more anger than you wanted to admit.

Sam blinked slowly, unfazed.

“You two are really close, huh?”

You knew it wasn’t meant as an accusation.

But it still felt like one.

Your chest tightened instantly.

You coughed, trying to shake off the embarrassment. “I… I’m disappointed.”

He nodded, as if mulling over your words, then, with the same lack of emotion as always, murmured:

“Yeah. I’d be disappointed too, honestly.”

That simply was the final blow.

No anger, no guilt, not even the bare minimum of an attempt to reassure you.

You wanted to wipe that blank expression off his face with a punch.

You let out a bitter laugh, because if you didn’t, you were going to break right there.

Both hands landed on the table as you leaned forward slightly, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“I understand your… situation. I really do,” you whispered, though the lump in your throat made it hard to speak.

And the moment the words left your mouth, you felt like an idiot for calling it that.

A situation.

Not having a soul wasn’t a situation.

It wasn’t a temporary crisis, something that could be solved with an honest conversation.

It was a void. A bottomless pit.

“That’s why I thought of coming to an agreement.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.

“You did?”

You nodded.

“An open relationship.”

The very idea of it made your stomach turn.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to say these words.

But you didn’t have another choice.

For the first time in this entire conversation, Sam actually looked confused.

“What?”

He didn’t ask the question as if he was in shock. He didn’t say it because he was hurt, or because this was affecting him.

He just… didn’t get it.

Like the idea seemed unnecessary to him.

Like he had already accepted what he was doing anyway.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to smile.

“I don’t want you to keep cheating on me,” you said firmly. “And I know you’re going to do whatever the hell you want anyway, so I’m giving you full permission to fuck around.”

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Sam tilted his head slightly, watching you. Analyzing.

“And you… are you in this open relationship too?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, tell me, Sam, who the hell am I supposed to be sleeping with?”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Just asking.”

He stood up with that same unbothered calm, as if this conversation hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

Your whole body tensed when he walked past you to grab another beer from the fridge.

The fact that he didn’t notice…

The fact that he didn’t even realize…

It made you want to break something.

The clink of glass against wood as he set the bottle down pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Dean and I have a case coming up. Some missing people in Indiana.”

You knew the only reason he was telling you was because Dean would mention it if he didn’t.

The anger inside you burned hotter.

“I’m going with you.”

Sam turned his head, his expression showing just how much he hated that idea.

“If you come, you’re just gonna slow everything dow—”

You cut him off instantly.

“Sam, you are in no position to tell me shit.”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

That seemed to shut him up.

You stepped outside, desperate for air.

Not that the air in Bobby’s scrapyard was particularly fresh. It always carried the scent of rusted metal, motor oil, and damp earth—a suffocating mix that clung to your throat. But even that was better than staying inside.

Better than being in the same room as him.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your throat burned, your chest tightened, and there was this unbearable pressure, this sensation that you were about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

You leaned against the wall of the garage, bending forward slightly, hands gripping your knees as you tried to breathe.

Don’t cry. Don’t scream.

Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Get a grip,” you whispered under your breath. “You have to get a fucking grip.”

The door behind you slammed shut.

You flinched at the sound, your body tensing instinctively.

Dean.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was him.

His presence was unmistakable—the way he moved, the weight he carried like the world rested on his shoulders, and yet he still walked with that unshakable confidence, like he’d fight the whole damn universe and somehow win.

He followed you outside, stopping a few steps away, watching.

Then, without warning, his hand settled on your shoulder.

You jolted as if you’d been electrocuted.

“Jesus Christ!” you yelped, clutching your chest. “Are you insane?”

Dean raised both hands in defense, giving you that classic ‘what the hell is your problem?’ look.

“Relax. I was just checking if you were alive.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Oh, I’m perfect, Dean. Just freaking fantastic.”

Your tone dripped with venom, but Dean didn’t take the bait. He just stood there, watching you with that damn patience of his, the kind that somehow managed to be both frustrating and grounding at the same time.

His eyes flicked over you, scanning, assessing—seeing more than you wanted him to.

Then he exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“I broke up with Lisa.” His voice was calm, almost casual. “Haven’t seen her in months.”

Your breath hitched.

“…What?”

The word came out louder than you intended, and as soon as it did, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cursing yourself for reacting so strongly.

“I—Sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine.”

And there it was.

Subtle, nearly hidden beneath the shadow of his usual exasperation.

A smirk.

Dean Winchester was enjoying your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What happened?”

Your voice softened without you realizing it—less biting, more curious. And that was when it clicked.

The bastard had done it on purpose.

He was distracting you. With his problems.

And the worst part? It was working.

Dean didn’t answer right away. He just held your gaze, his expression shifting, growing heavier.

“…It just didn’t feel right.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking into your chest.

Because you understood exactly what he meant.

Because you knew what that felt like.

Because you were standing here, feeling the same way about his brother.

Your teeth sank into the inside of your cheek as you nodded slowly.

Dean smiled at that—just a small, fleeting thing. And then, for the briefest moment, his eyes flickered down to your lips.

Your stomach clenched.

The moment was so quick, so subtle, you could’ve imagined it.

But the air between you thickened, charged with something neither of you had the right to feel.

Then, as if snapping out of it, Dean cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare, almost awkward gesture coming from him.

He coughed, looking away immediately, like he’d just realized what he’d done.

“Yeah, well… whatever,” he muttered, standing up and dusting off his jeans. “Tell your boyfriend to get his ass in gear. We’re leaving.”

The word hit harder than it should have.

Boyfriend.

It almost felt like a cruel joke.

But you didn’t let it show.

“No need,” you said evenly, standing up as well, though something inside you twisted violently. “I’m coming with you.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, one eyebrow arching.

“You’ve been real eager to tag along lately.”

You shrugged, your expression unreadable.

“What, afraid I’ll slit your throat in your sleep?”

He let out a dry chuckle, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. But his eyes—his eyes—they never left yours.

Studying.

And for the first time in this entire conversation, you realized…

He was crossing a line, too.

“If you wanted to kill me, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dropping just slightly, “you’d have tried already.”

The drive was uncomfortable.

Like, parents-on-the-verge-of-divorce-while-their-kid-sits-in-the-backseat-clueless level of uncomfortable.

Except in this case, Dean was the kid, he had full control of the car, and he was very aware of absolutely everything that was going on.

Sam had spoken exactly two words the entire trip. And as if the tension wasn’t thick enough, the second you arrived at the motel, he left you in the room without a second glance and grabbed his brother by the arm, dragging him along to do interviews.

He didn’t even give you the chance to fix Dean’s crooked tie.

Twenty minutes later, you had two missed calls from Dean.

You sighed, already knowing that if you didn’t call him back, the idiot would just keep ringing until he drove you insane.

As soon as he picked up, he didn’t even let you breathe before snapping.

“You didn’t answer.”

His tone was irritated, impatient.

You rolled your eyes on instinct.

“I was doing this thing called showering. You should try it sometime. Even cats do it.”

You heard him exhale sharply, like he was debating whether it was worth it to argue with you.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can’t stand Sam anymore.”

That made you raise an eyebrow. Fast topic change.

“He’s really wearing you down, huh?” you murmured, a trace of amusement in your voice.

“He doesn’t care. Not even enough to pretend he does,” Dean practically growled.

The frustration in his voice was so thick you could almost see him gripping the wheel too hard, his jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“Dean—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he snapped.

“I wasn’t going to.” Your voice softened just a little. “I was gonna offer you a massage when you get back.”

Silence.

One second. Two.

Your heart pounded so hard you felt it in your ears.

“…Oh.”

Dean’s voice dropped lower, quieter.

“That… uh. That actually sounds nice.”

Nice? That was all he had to say? Because suddenly, you were regretting offering at all.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

“I figured it would,” you said, keeping your tone light, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “So… should I wait for you?”

“I’m checking out the crop circles. Sam’s with the missing guy’s father.”

“Alrighty,” you said, standing up. “I’ll get dressed and head out to find a grocery store or something.”

Silence.

“…Get dressed?”

Dean’s voice dropped lower, rougher.

“…Are you naked?”

You blinked.

And then you smirked.

“I told you I had just showered.”

“You never said—!”

You rolled your eyes, amused.

“Sorry, Dean, bad signal, you’re breaking up, bye-bye.”

And you hung up before he could say anything else.

As soon as you put the phone down, you exhaled sharply, realizing how fast your heart was beating.

This wasn’t right.

None of this was right.

And yet…

For some reason, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

It had been hours since you first walked into the grocery store.

But somehow, you were still standing in the candle aisle, completely hypnotized.

You absentmindedly picked up a pack of red candles, turning them over in your hands. Would that be too much? Would it make the massage feel… whore-ish?

You chewed the inside of your cheek, debating.

Then, with a sigh, you tossed them into the cart anyway.

After all, you had plenty of time to set things up. Dean hadn’t called yet, which meant he was still out there, handling whatever the hell had happened with the case.

And if he hadn’t called, it also meant that he hadn’t even thought about you.

That shouldn’t sting.

But it did.

Shaking the thought away, you finally pushed your cart toward the registers, scanning the near-empty store. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and industrial floor cleaner, the kind of artificial sterility that only existed in convenience stores.

The cashier barely looked up as she started ringing up your items, her hands moving automatically over the scanner.

You glanced at her wrist, catching sight of her watch.

And then you frowned.

“Hey… what time is it?”

She glanced at you, then down at her watch. “Four in the morning, miss.”

You froze.

That—

That wasn’t possible.

You had only been here for a few hours.

Dean would’ve called by now.

Hell, if you disappeared for too long without telling him, he usually lost his mind.

“…Are you sure?” You let out a nervous chuckle, suddenly uneasy. “Isn’t the store supposed to be closed by now?”

“It’s a 24-hour store.” She smiled politely.

“Oh.”

You blinked.

Oh.

Your stomach twisted.

He forgot, didn’t he?

Of course, he did.

You felt stupid for even entertaining the idea that he wouldn’t.

There were more important things to do—things that had nothing to do with you.

Sam had already made it clear, hadn’t he? You were a burden.

So, really, what kind of idiot offers to give a massage to a man whose brother lost his soul?

No wonder Dean hadn’t called. You had probably embarrassed him so much that he just decided to ignore you completely.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral.

But before the weight of that thought could settle—

“Miss, your phone is ringing.”

The cashier’s voice pulled you out of your spiral, and you barely had time to register that she was scanning a pie—one you’d grabbed for Dean—before you glanced down at your phone. ��

Dean.

You picked up instantly.

“Need you back at the motel. Now.”

His voice was low. Steady.

And yet…

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“Where are you?”

“In the field.”

Your brows furrowed. “Still?”

“It hasn’t been that long. Just—” He exhaled sharply. “Meet me at the motel.”

You frowned.

“What do you mean it hasn’t been that long? Dean, it’s literally—”

“Can’t hear you,” he cut in quickly, voice suddenly light, teasing. “You’re breaking up… See you at the motel.”

And just like that, he hung up.

You stared at your phone in disbelief.

Then, before you could stop yourself—

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.

Asshole.

The walk back to the motel was quick, the cold air biting at your skin as you hurried down the street. You spotted Dean just as he was about to cross, his broad frame illuminated under the flickering streetlights.

A familiar warmth spread through your chest at the sight of him.

You barely registered the exhaustion on his face before you picked up your pace, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Hey,” you called, shifting the grocery bags in your hands. “What was so urgent that I had to rush back?”

Dean turned, his own grin surfacing when he saw you.

“Oh, you’re not gonna believe it—” He cut himself off mid-sentence, reaching out automatically. “Here, let me get those.”

Your breath hitched.

It was a small thing. Simple.

But the way he said it—so natural, like it was second nature for him to take care of you—sent a quiet ache through your chest.

You handed him a few of the heavier bags, shaking off whatever that feeling was.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “Okay, so… the field?”

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah, the field. So, I was out there, minding my own damn business, when suddenly—”

He pushed open the motel room door, stepping aside to let you in first.

Only—

The second he did, his smile faltered.

And yours vanished completely.

Your hands slackened, the grocery bags slipping from your grip as your brain registered what—who—you were looking at.

“Dean!”

Sam’s voice was sharp, filled with something dangerously close to surprise.

Your stomach dropped.

“What the hell?”

You slapped a hand over your eyes instinctively.

Because, standing right there, half-undressed on your boyfriend’s bed, was some random hippie chick.

“Oh! That’s Dean?” The girl’s voice was way too chipper for the situation. “Sam, they brought your brother back!”

You let out a slow exhale, keeping your eyes covered, because if you didn’t, there was a very real chance you would absolutely murder someone.

Preferably the soulless bastard in the room.

Dean, meanwhile, looked seconds away from strangling Sam himself.

“Okay. It’s all right, Sam,” the girl continued, completely unfazed. “I so totally understand that you need time as a family. But it’s just—what were they like?”

Dean let out a sharp huff, eyes flickering toward yours.

“They were grabby, incandescent douchebags,” he said flatly. “Goodnight.”

You almost smiled at that.

Almost.

“Too soon?” The girl hesitated before shrugging, completely unbothered. “Okay.”

Then, finally, her attention shifted to you.

“Hey! We haven’t met yet.” She reached for her shirt, slipping it back over her head. “Who are you?”

Dean turned his head slightly at that. You felt his gaze on you, heavy, expectant.

You forced a smile. The kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Sam’s girlfriend.”

Silence.

“Oh,” she said slowly, blinking. “I… didn’t know—”

“It’s an open relationship!” you blurted out before she could finish whatever sentence would’ve absolutely ruined your night.

Dean coughed.

The girl perked up instantly. “Oh! Cool! Since when?”

You swallowed.

“…This morning.”

Dean let out a strangled noise beside you.

The girl laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. You guys really adjust fast.”

And with that, she grabbed the rest of her things and strolled right past you, completely unaware of the tension crackling in the room.

The second the door clicked shut behind her, you dropped your hand from your face and turned on your heel, fully prepared to rip Sam a new one—

But before you could even look at him, Dean was already moving.

Fast.

One second, he was by the door. The next, he was grabbing your wrist, his fingers curling just enough to make you stop.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Dean didn’t say anything right away.

He just stood there, eyes flickering between yours, his grip firm but careful, like he wasn’t sure if he should let go or pull you closer.

The tension was thick.

Too thick.

Because for a second—a stupid, fleeting second—you forgot all about Sam.

Forgot about the girl.

Forgot everything.

And all you could think about was the way Dean’s hand felt against your skin.

“Hey.” His voice was low, steady. The kind of tone that made your stomach clench. “You good?”

You forced yourself to breathe.

Then, with a practiced ease you weren’t even sure was real anymore, you pulled your wrist free.

Flashed him a smile.

“Never better.”

And then you walked away.

Because if you didn’t—

You weren’t sure what would happen.

You heard Dean yelling, but the words barely registered. His voice was raw, edged with frustration. You didn’t even try to process half of what he was saying. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Not really.

Eventually, his voice lowered, the edges of his words smoothing out. That meant he and Sam were actually talking now—probably about whatever the hell he was trying to tell you before you walked in on that hippie disaster.

You sat on the curb, pulling your lighter from the pocket of your jacket. It was simple, worn at the edges, your initials etched into the metal. A birthday gift from Dean back when you were just Sam’s girlfriend. Back when he only knew you as the girl who lasted longer than the others.

You flipped it open, flicking it alight. Then off. Then on again.

A small flame danced at your fingertips, hypnotizing in its simplicity. A quiet distraction.

The motel door creaked open behind you. You didn’t turn.

“Come on,” he said, voice softer now, exhaustion slipping into his tone. “I’ll get you another room. Away from that idiot.”

You smiled, barely, eyes still fixed on the flame.

“It’s almost morning,” you murmured. “Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Dean sighed, then sat beside you, close enough that his thigh brushed against yours. He held out his hand, palm up. Without thinking, you handed him the lighter.

He turned it over in his palm, rubbing a thumb over the engraved initials, studying it the same way you had.

“I miss when things were easier,” he admitted, voice quiet, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say it out loud.

“You and everyone,” you muttered.

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose. “I’m sorry. For all this.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You used to have a normal life. Friends, a job, y'know.” His voice was rough, like he hated acknowledging it.

You shrugged, letting your shoulders drop as the exhaustion hit you all at once. “Doesn’t even sound like me anymore.”

Dean said your name.

For the first time since he’d sat down, you looked at him.

His eyes were glassy, his jaw tight.

Your stomach twisted.

Dean Winchester did not cry.

And yet—

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he broke eye contact.

“I really am sorry,” he murmured. “Told Sam you were a bad idea.”

If you didn’t know him so well, you might have been insulted. But instead, you just leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You should’ve tried harder,” you whispered.

Dean huffed a soft, almost humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

The two of you sat there, the silence heavy but not unbearable. The kind of silence that held years of things left unsaid.

Then, slowly, you moved your hand toward his.

Your fingers brushed his knuckles.

Dean didn’t pull away.

So you intertwined them, heart hammering in your chest like a teenager with a school crush. You took his hand properly, feeling the rough calluses against your skin.

“At least we have each other,” you said quietly.

Dean let out a breath, shifting slightly like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His grip in your hand tightening.

“At this point,” he admitted, “I think you’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped you.

Dean released your hand, only to push himself up. “I’ll go get you a room.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you admitted, voice quieter than before. “Will you stay?”

Dean’s expression softened. He didn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He just looked at you for a long moment, then nodded.

A few minutes later, he returned with a new key. He held out his other hand, silently offering to help you up.

You took it.

Once on your feet, you dusted off your jeans, hyper-aware of the way Dean watched you.

Every movement. Every shift.

His eyes traced your hands, the way your fingers brushed against your thighs, the way you adjusted your shirt.

When you finally looked up, he didn’t look away. Didn’t even try to hide it.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You could feel it. The weight of everything between you.

You swallowed, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Dean inhaled sharply, as if trying to convince himself not to do something.

Then, before you could second-guess anything—

“If I’m wrong about this,” he said, voice low, deep, “you can slap me.”

You frowned. “Wrong about wha—”

Dean kissed you.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of tension. Of almosts. Of stolen glances and lingering touches and things neither of you ever dared to say.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him, like he’d been holding back for too long and finally—finally—let himself have you.

Dean’s hands were firm, rough fingers cradling your jaw, tilting your head just right as he devoured you.

You gasped against his mouth, barely managing to process the sheer intensity of it before he was pulling you closer. He kissed you deeper, tilting his head, his lips parting against yours as he swallowed the quiet gasp you let out.

Your fingers tangled in his jacket, fisting the fabric desperately as heat coiled in your stomach.

He needed this.

You could feel it.

The way he kissed you like he was making up for lost time, like he’d been starving for this and didn’t know how to slow down.

You were dizzy. Burning.

You met him with equal force, matching every movement, every press of his lips, every quiet sound he made against you.

Dean groaned, and the sound alone sent a shiver down your spine.

Then—his hands.

One sliding to your waist, gripping you like he was scared you’d disappear. The other curling into your hair, tilting your head back just enough to deepen the kiss.

The heat of his body, the scent of leather and gunpowder and Dean surrounding you—

It was overwhelming.

And you didn’t care.

Didn’t think.

Didn’t breathe.

Just him.

Just this.

Finally.

After years of pretending.

After everything.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing hard, foreheads touching.

Dean swallowed thickly, green eyes flickering between yours.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, lips tingling from the kiss.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you needed to.

Because whatever this was—

There was no coming back from it.

Your breathing was erratic, your chest rising and falling as you tried to process everything. Your eyes slowly dropped to the keys in his hand.

“Room?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean nodded, his gaze locked on yours—dark, intense, filled with something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Room.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

The kiss was desperate, raw, almost clumsy in its urgency. Dean pressed you against the door, his body firm against yours, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips claimed yours like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

Your fingers fumbled with the lock, somehow managing to turn the key. With one hand gripping the doorknob and the other still tangled in Dean’s hair, you pushed the door open without breaking the kiss.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked between ragged breaths, his lips brushing against your skin.

“Uh… college?” you said, breathless and unsure.

Dean chuckled against your neck, the sound vibrating through you.

“You’re gonna have to teach me that.”

“Relax, tiger, we’ve got time.”

The words had barely left your lips before you felt the sharp graze of his teeth—a soft bite, enough to send a jolt of heat straight to your core.

The door shut behind you with a dull thud, and before you could process anything else, Dean was pushing you toward the bed.

He hovered over you, his weight barely there, the heat of his body making your skin burn. His hands traced the curve of your waist, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, trailing lower with each breath.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice thick with something almost reverent.

You tried to focus enough to respond.

“Let me guess… the first Thanksgiving we spent together?” you teased, remembering the turkey you had made just for the three of you.

Dean shook his head, his lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“Nope… my second birthday with you.”

You frowned slightly, tilting your head.

“What? What was so special about that birthday?”

Dean smirked against your skin before lifting his head, eyes locking onto yours.

“I remember watching you spend the whole afternoon making a pie just for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was just food, Dean. I don’t see the connection.”

Dean chuckled. “It wasn’t about the food. It was the fact that, after all that, you stayed up just to sing me happy birthday at exactly midnight. Because you said it made it more special.”

Your face flushed.

“Well… it does make it more special.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You woke me up.”

“Are we gonna argue, or are you gonna kiss me?”

You didn’t wait for a response.

You pulled him down, crashing your lips into his with a hunger that rivaled his own. His hands moved quickly to the buttons of your shirt, fumbling slightly in his impatience before finally undoing them.

When his eyes raked over the newly exposed skin, his jaw tensed, pupils blown wide.

“Jesus Christ, you look fucking perfect.”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it, raw and unfiltered.

Dean didn’t give you time to react. His mouth was back on yours, slower this time, more deliberate. Like he was savoring every second. His hands moved along your sides, fingers skimming your bare skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

His lips traveled lower, down your throat, over your collarbone, and lower still, each kiss softer than the last, teasing, torturous.

You were dizzy, overwhelmed, every nerve in your body attuned to his touch.

His hand reached for the button of your jeans, unbuttoning it quickly.

His fingers opened you with ease. You saw him lick his lips in a movement so fast that if you had blinked you wouldn't have noticed.

He slowly, carefully inserted a finger into you. All his movements were filled with affection and love that made you melt under his touch.

Your head tilted back against the pillow, a sharp gasp escaping before you could stop it.

Dean groaned, his movements fastening slightly.

“Yeah,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with want. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Dean,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a breath, needy and desperate. “Please—I want it now.”

Dean smirked, the kind of cocky, infuriating smirk that made your stomach tighten. He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, teasing.

“A little desperate, are we?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’d like to call it eager,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dean chuckled, his fingers grazing over your hip, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. “Smart ass.”

“You love my a—”

The words died in your throat the second you felt Dean slide another finger inside you. Your breath hitched, your back arching slightly, heat pooling in your core.

Dean’s eyes darkened, his gaze fixed on your face as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“You feel so damn good, baby,” he murmured, his voice husky, thick with something possessive. “You’re sucking my fingers in like it’s my cock.”

A sharp gasp escaped you, your fingers tightening around the sheets.

“It could be your—”

Dean shot you a look, a warning, the kind that made your stomach flip. Automatically, you clamped your mouth shut.

His lips curled into a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

Without warning, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you could even protest, he was on you again, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth, desperate and unrestrained.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his hands mapping out every inch of you like he was memorizing the way you felt.

His hands moved, grabbing the hem of his shirt and discarding it across the motel floor. Your hands roamed over his back, nails digging in slightly as you pulled him closer, needing more, needing everything.

"Dean," you whispered, and that was all it took.

His breath caught, his pupils blown wide with something dark and hungry. His hands moved to his belt, fingers working the buckle open with urgency.

But before he could go any further, your hands covered his, stopping him.

His eyes snapped up to yours, concern flickering across his face. "What?" His voice was rough, husky. "You okay?"

You swallowed, your heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs. You weren't hesitating—you knew exactly what you wanted. Your gaze softened, lips curling into a small, teasing smile.

"Can I suck your dick?" you asked, bluntly.

Dean blinked.

"You what?"

"Can I... suck your dick?" This time, your voice was quieter, almost uncertain, but the intent in your eyes was clear.

Dean’s mouth parted slightly, like his brain had short-circuited.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before covering his mouth for a second, as if trying to get a grip. “Of course you can, pretty girl. Only if you let me do the same.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression.

"Like... at the same time?"

Dean smirked. "I suppose you're familiar with the number sixty-nine."

You burst out laughing, your forehead falling against his shoulder as your whole body shook with amusement. Dean laughed with you, the moment light yet still buzzing with heat.

When you finally lifted your head, he was looking at you with that damn smirk, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Come here,” he murmured, cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips.

Then he kissed you, and this time there was no hesitation, no teasing.

It was deep, consuming, the kind of kiss that stole the breath from your lungs and left you dizzy. His hands explored, memorizing the curves of your body, tracing fire along your skin. He pulled you onto his lap, pressing you down against the hardness of him, making you gasp into his mouth.

"You feel that, sweetheart?" he whispered against your lips. "That's what you do to me."

You whimpered, grinding down slightly, and Dean let out a strangled groan, his fingers gripping your hips like he was barely holding on.

"Fuck, you're gonna kill me," he muttered, before flipping you onto your back, his lips trailing down your neck, your collarbone, lower—

And then he was gone, shifting down the bed, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your stomach.

His hands moved to your thighs, parting them with ease.

"You still sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough, edged with restraint.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer.

"Dean," you breathed. "Shut up and get to work."

Dean chuckled darkly, his grip tightening.

"Yes, ma’am."

And then he did exactly that.

Dean shifted his body, leaving his crotch above your face.

“Damn”

“Thank you” he said, you laughed again.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you slowly lowered the fabric of his boxers, freeing him completely. His cock was long, thick, and already aching for you. The sight alone sent a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly.

Before you could react, you felt the first hesitant stroke of Dean’s tongue against your cunt—tentative at first, almost testing the waters. The sensation sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your spine, making you groan softly.

"Just like that," you murmured, voice dripping with approval before you finally wrapped your lips around his cock.

A deep, guttural moan escaped Dean's throat, a sound that vibrated straight into your core. His whole body tensed beneath you, his fingers digging into your thighs as if he was trying to ground himself.

Your spit coated his length, dripping down as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His cock throbbed against your tongue, and a part of you—some sinful, smug part—loved knowing you had this effect on him.

Dean’s response was immediate. His hands gripped your thighs tighter as his tongue pushed deeper, licking into you with new urgency. It was messy, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough. He buried his face between your legs, his nose pressing against your clit, groaning as if he was drunk on you.

Everywhere, he was surrounded by you. He could taste you on his tongue, smell you, feel the way your legs trembled under his touch. It was intoxicating, overwhelming—like being worshipped just for existing.

The more you moved, the more he lost himself in you. His tongue flicked over your clit in tandem with the bob of your head over his cock, and he let out a muffled curse against your cunt, his hips jerking up slightly.

"Shit—" he groaned, voice wrecked. "You're gonna kill me, sweetheart."

You hummed around him, sending vibrations through his cock, and Dean choked out a curse, his grip tightening even more.

Your rhythm quickened, lips gliding over him with purpose, and Dean matched your pace, his mouth working you open with relentless hunger. His hands spread your thighs wider, keeping you right where he wanted you, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you pulling away.

The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure—his groans, your whimpers, the wet, filthy noises of tongues and lips working in tandem. The tension that had been brewing between you for years was finally unraveling, raw and unfiltered.

Dean’s breath turned ragged, his movements becoming erratic. You could tell he was close—his thighs tensing beneath your hands, his moans turning desperate.

"Fuck, baby, if you keep going like that—" His warning was cut off by a deep, shuddering groan as you took him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat.

His body trembled beneath you, and you knew he was about to fall apart. It was okay, because so were you.

"I'm about to—" Dean's voice came out strained, ragged with pleasure.

You nodded, your lips still wrapped around him, determined to take everything he had to give. A deep, guttural groan tore from his chest as thick, hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. At the exact same moment, his mouth latched onto you even harder, and the sheer sensation sent you over the edge. Your body trembled as your release coated his tongue, making him groan into you.

The pleasure was dizzying, all-consuming. Your moans mixed with his, lost in the heavy, humid air of the motel room. Every nerve in your body was buzzing, oversensitive, barely able to handle the aftermath of everything you'd just felt.

Dean pulled away first, his breath uneven, his hands still gripping your thighs like he needed something solid to hold onto. Slowly, he shifted, moving up to hover over you, his emerald eyes dark and heavy-lidded. His lips were swollen, wet, glistening with the taste of you.

He reached for your face, his thumb swiping at the saliva on your lower lip with a tenderness that felt almost out of place after everything you'd just done.

"You okay?" His voice was low, husky, but there was something softer beneath it—something vulnerable.

You nodded, unable to speak, still lost in the haze of pleasure. Instead, you pulled him down, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. He tasted like whiskey, like heat, like you, and for a moment, the world outside the four walls of that room ceased to exist.

Dean groaned into the kiss, deepening it, his tongue sliding against yours with unrestrained hunger. His hands roamed your body, rediscovering every curve, every dip of your skin like he was memorizing you. There was nothing hesitant anymore—no more second-guessing, no more resisting.

This was years of tension, of longing, of stolen glances and unspoken words, all unraveling in the way he pressed you down against the mattress, in the way your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

"You drive me fuckin' insane," he murmured against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. "You know that, right?"

You smirked, brushing your nails down his back, reveling in the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "I had a suspicion."

Dean chuckled, but the sound was cut off when you rolled your hips up against him, making him suck in a sharp breath.

"Jesus, sweetheart—"

"Dean," you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. "Don't stop."

And he didn’t.

He captured your mouth again, hungrier this time, as if he was afraid this would all slip away if he let go. His hands slid between your bodies, fingers teasing at the last pieces of clothing that still separated you. Finally taking what was always meant to be his.

Dean's cockhead dips between your folds, teasing your entrance with agonizing slowness. A desperate, keening moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him. You're dripping, your slick coating him, making it easier for him to push in—just the tip at first, stretching you open inch by inch.

"Fuck, sweetheart…" Dean's voice is hoarse, strained with restraint, like he's holding himself back from completely losing control.

Even with just half of him inside you, your breath is already coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in, silently begging for more. And Dean, never one to deny you, pulls back just enough before slamming forward with a deep, firm thrust.

A sharp cry rips from your throat, your fingers clawing at his shoulders. He groans at the way you take him, the way you clench around him like you're made for him.

"Goddamn, baby," he mutters, his forehead pressing against yours as he buries himself deeper, stretching you until the burn melts into pleasure. "You feel so fuckin’ good."

His thrusts are precise, each one landing with an intensity that has you seeing stars. Every movement sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

You're already shaking, the pleasure mounting too fast, too strong. Your hips roll against his, chasing more, needing more.

"Dean," you whimper, your voice wrecked, hands grasping at the sheets beneath you.

He tightens his grip on your hips, shifting the angle just enough to push even deeper, dragging another cry from you.

"That’s it," he breathes, his voice thick with lust. "Take it, sweetheart. Let me hear you."

You can barely speak, reduced to moans and gasps, your body wound tight like a string about to snap. Your legs tense, your muscles locking up as the coil in your stomach tightens, tighter, until—

"Dean!" you sob, your back arching as pleasure consumes you, your release hitting so hard it steals the air from your lungs.

Dean groans at the feeling of you pulsing around him, and that’s all it takes for him to follow. His thrusts turn erratic, desperate, before he buries himself to the hilt, spilling into you with a deep, shuddering moan.

He collapses onto his forearms, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. His breath fans against your skin as he presses his forehead against yours, grounding himself in you.

"That's it," he murmurs, kissing your temple. "You did so good. God, you should see yourself right now… you're so goddamn beautiful."

You can’t help but smile, the exhaustion settling into your limbs as the warmth of his words wraps around you like a blanket.

"Thank you, Dean," you whisper, curling into him. You know better than to overthink this—to question what it means. Because the man lying beside you? He doesn’t do confessions, doesn’t do mornings-after. And if this is all you get, you’ll take it.

Dean presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, so tender it makes your chest tighten. Your eyes sting, emotion creeping in where you least expect it.

He looks like he wants to say something, his mouth parting, his brows drawing together in that way he does when he's struggling with something real, something serious. But before he can get the words out—

"What the hell—" He suddenly stiffens, eyes snapping toward the corner of the room.

You blink, barely able to keep yourself from slipping into sleep. "What?"

Dean's jaw drops slightly, his expression shifting from post-orgasmic bliss to sheer disbelief.

"Is that a goddamn fairy?"

"You look oddly happy," Sam commented as he walked past.

"Okay, asshole move," you shot back, rolling your eyes. "Am I not allowed to be happy that we found a way to get your soul back?"

"Oh, I get it—you just want your boyfriend back," he said, smirking.

The word boyfriend made your stomach twist uncomfortably. If Sam actually got his soul back and everything went back to how it was before… things were going to be awkward. Really awkward. Considering you had just fucked his brother.

Sam walked into the motel room, searching for something you didn’t really care about. Your mind had been thoroughly occupied with someone else since the hippie incident.

Speaking of Rome…

Dean walked in, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, carrying himself with that same cocky ease that could knock down even the strongest walls. His presence alone felt like a gravitational pull, one you had no business indulging in—but damn, was it tempting.

He gave you a small nod in greeting, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

"How'd you sleep in jail?" you asked, biting back a grin.

Dean smirked. "Had better nights."

The words hit deeper than they should have, sending heat creeping up your neck. The memory of two nights ago burned behind your eyes—his hands on your hips, his breath against your skin, the way you whispered his name like a prayer. You forced yourself to swallow it down.

Sam walked back out, his own duffel bag in hand, completely oblivious to the tension crackling between you and Dean.

You slid into the backseat of the Impala, letting out a small yawn.

"Still don’t get why you woke up so early," Dean muttered as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

"To gloat," you teased, stretching your arms behind your head.

"Uh-huh. And you’re just gonna pass out again in a couple of hours."

You opened your mouth to argue—but damn it, he was right.

Dean caught your expression in the rearview mirror and smirked, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. His fingers tapped lazily against the steering wheel before he spoke, his voice casual—too casual.

"Guess I’ll have to find another way to keep you awake, huh?"

The words were innocent enough. Sam didn’t react, didn’t even seem to register them. But the way Dean said it, the way his eyes flicked up to meet yours in the mirror—

Yeah. You weren’t done with him.

And worse? He knew it.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester angst

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luvashli · 4 hours ago

Text

ESCAPISM PART 3

SYNOPSIS -> You left to find yourself—now they’re the ones chasing. Changed and desperate, Heeseung and Ni-ki want you back, but this time, you make the rules.

PAIRING -> non!idol!ni-ki x fem!reader x non!idol!heeseung

GENRE -> oneshot, smut, romance, drama, love triangle, mature

WARNING -> SMUT (p in v), threesome, unprotected sex, spit, dom!reader, sub!ni-ki, sub!heeseung, powerplay, oral (f), oral (m)…

STARTED -> 2/15/2025

STATUS -> completed

WC -> 11.5k

Note: Not only is this the longest chapter/ story i have ever written but it’s also the very first full smut I’ve ever written, let me know what you think… :)

click here for part 1 & part 2

Masterlist

Change isn’t easy.

Heeseung learns this the hard way, sitting in the sterile office of his therapist, hands clenched into fists on his lap. The clock on the wall ticks endlessly, the air heavy with words he doesn’t know how to say.

“How have you been sleeping?” Dr. Jeon asks, voice gentle, as if she already knows the answer.

Heeseung huffs a humorless laugh, leaning back into the leather couch. “Does it count as sleeping if you wake up every hour?”

Dr. Jeon doesn’t react, simply jotting something down in her notebook. Heeseung wonders what she writes about him. Insomniac. Self-sabotaging. Emotionally stunted.

He already knows all that.

He runs a hand down his face, sighing. “It’s been… quiet,” he admits.

She hums. “Quiet, or lonely?”

His throat tightens.

Lonely. So lonely.

Heeseung doesn’t say it, but she sees through him anyway. He hates how easy he is to read here, in this room, under her knowing gaze. It’s nothing like before, when he could brush things off, pretend he wasn’t falling apart.

Before, there was Y/N.

Before, he had her warmth beside him at night. The sound of her voice filling his apartment, the way she’d roll her eyes at his bad jokes but still laugh anyway.

Before, he was so sure she’d never leave.

And now?

Now, he sits alone in his too-big bed, staring at his ceiling, wondering if she’s sleeping better than him. If she ever thinks about him at all. If she knows how hard he’s trying to be better.

Dr. Jeon‘s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Tell me about her.”

Heeseung swallows.

Where does he even begin?

“She was…” He hesitates, staring at the floor. “She was everything.”

The words taste like regret.

Dr. Jeon waits, watching him closely. Heeseung shifts under her gaze, fingers twitching. “I don’t think I realized how much she meant to me until she was gone.”

Dr. Jeon tilts her head. “And now?”

Now, she’s still everything.

Now, he’s trying to fix himself, but it might be too late.

Now, he can’t stop picturing the way she looked at him the last time they spoke—like he was a stranger.

“I just…” His voice cracks. He rubs at his face. “I don’t want to be the man I was before.”

It’s the closest he’ll ever get to saying I want to be the man she deserves.

Dr. Jeon offers a small nod. “That’s a good place to start.”

But even as Heeseung leaves the session, stepping into the cold evening air, he knows the truth.

But what does it matter if Y/N isn’t here to see it?

No amount of therapy will bring Y/N back if she doesn’t want him anymore.

She’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. In the faint memory of her laugh, in the spaces between his fingers where hers used to fit, in the ache in his chest whenever he reaches for his phone and stops himself from dialing her number.

He wants to tell her.

Wants to prove he’s changed.

Wants to beg for another chance.

But Y/N doesn’t owe him anything.

So he suffers in silence.

---

Ni-ki hates the silence.

Before, his nights were loud—filled with music, laughter, the sound of strangers whispering his name. Distractions. Easy. Thoughtless.

Now?

Now, the quiet is suffocating.

He stares at his phone, scrolling past old messages, old habits, old mistakes. His contact list is filled with names of people he barely remembers—numbers he could dial if he wanted company, if he wanted a warm body beside him.

But he doesn’t. Not anymore.

The hookups stopped after Y/N.

No more hookups, no more meaningless distractions. Just empty nights and a realization that nothing feels right anymore.

Not because she asked him to, not because there was ever a promise between them. But because after her, everything else felt pointless.

At first, he told himself he was fine. That Y/N was just another girl, that what they had was just fun. But then he’d see her in his mind—really see her—laughing, teasing, her lips swollen from his kisses, her body pressed against his.

And suddenly, it wasn’t fun anymore.

She wasn’t just another girl.

And now, it’s too late.

She wasn’t like the others.

She was a slow burn, a fire that built up over time, turning his skin feverish and his mind reckless. She made him feel.

And now, she’s gone.

Ni-ki grips his phone tighter, fighting the urge to text her. He won’t. He can’t. She made her choice, and he has to live with it.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks. Nowhere in particular, just away. From his empty apartment, from the ache in his chest, from the memories he can’t erase.

Maybe if he keeps walking, he’ll stop feeling like a ghost of himself.

Maybe one day, the silence won’t hurt so much.

---

The next few weeks of your life felt like a quiet but powerful rebirth. You woke up every morning with the sunrise, the soft glow of sunlight seeping through the curtains of your newly decorated apartment. It was small, yet cozy, and every item in it was carefully chosen, each piece a reminder of your growth, your independence. Your fingers ran over the warm mug of coffee in your hands, and you smiled softly to yourself as you sipped it, watching the world outside your window.

Your routine had become second nature to you now. You went to the gym every morning, pushing herself harder than ever, feeling the strength of your own body grow with every rep. Your mind, too, was growing. You had learned to embrace the quiet, the solitude, the feeling of your own company without the noise of your past relationships clouding your thoughts. You felt good. And, for the first time in a long time, you felt truly free.

As much as you had learned to embrace your independence, there was still a small part of you that couldn’t quite shake the ache left by Heeseung and Ni-ki. You had moved on, sure, but you couldn’t deny the fact that they were still in the back of your mind, lingering in the corners of your thoughts like an unfinished chapter. But you refused to let that stop you. You were thriving, you she knew that even though they might always be a part of you, they would never define you again.

Today, as you walked through the door of your favorite café, you felt the warmth of familiarity wrap around you like a comfort blanket. You greeted the barista with a smile before sitting at your usual spot by the window. The place was bustling with the hum of quiet chatter, the clinking of coffee cups, and the soft background music. You pulled out your laptop, opening it to get some work done. It was the kind of life you had always wanted – peaceful, centered, and full of small moments that felt meaningful.

You didn’t let yourself linger too long on thoughts of the past. Your focus was on the present. You had a new project in the works, one you were excited about, something that would push your creative boundaries. The glow of productivity filled you, and you quickly immersed yourself in the work. Time flew by without noticing, and soon the afternoon sun was dipping low in the sky.

As the evening approached, you received a text from one of your friends. They had been planning a party at a trendy downtown club for the past few days, and it was finally happening tonight.

“Tonight’s the night, Y/N! Come out and celebrate with us!” the message read. “You need a night out!”

You hesitated for a moment. You hadn’t been out in a while, not like this. But something about the invitation felt right. You deserved a night of fun, of letting loose. The truth was, you was excited. It had been too long since you had felt the heat of a crowded dance floor, the rush of music pulsing through your veins. The last few months had been full of healing and self-reflection, but now, it was time to feel something different—something wild.

So you quickly texted back, “I’m in.”

---

Standing in front of your closet, a deep sigh escaping your lips as you examined the options. The room around was filled with the quiet hum of anticipation. It had been a while since you’d put this much thought into what to wear, but tonight felt different. Tonight wasn’t just another party—it was a step forward, a declaration of how far you’d come.

Your fingers traced over the fabric of a tight black dress, one that accentuated every curve, its simple elegance radiating confidence. Almost feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on you already—on your body, on your energy. You smirked at the reflection. The girl staring back at you wasn’t the same as the one from months ago. This version of yourself was fierce. Self-assured. Powerful. And tonight, she was going to own the room.

The sound of a phone vibrating on the nightstand interrupted your thoughts. After picking it up, another friend’s name lighting up the screen.

“Y/N! You coming to the party tonight or what?” the message read.

You smiled, tapping your fingers across the screen replying, “Yeah, I’m in.”

Still not entirely sure what awaited you at the party. But one thing was for sure—this time, you were in control.

Turning back to finish getting ready, you thought of the two people who would also be at the party, though you had no idea how close they were to each other now. But there was something about tonight, something about being free from the past, that made you curious.

But tonight wasn’t about them, not yet. Tonight was about you reclaiming your own space, enjoying yourself without apologies.

After applying the final touches of makeup, a bold lipstick that matched your mood, and smirking at your reflection one last time, you left your apartment.

Tonight would be yours.

---

The music blasted through the speakers as you stepped into the club, your heels clicking against the marble floor with every confident stride you took. The strobe lights flickered overhead, casting brief, electric shadows that seemed to make the entire room pause for a split second. Your presence was undeniable. Every eye in the club was drawn to you as though the very air shifted when you entered.

You were wearing a tight, black dress that clung to your body in all the right ways. It hugged your waist and flared slightly at the hips, the fabric smooth against your skin, barely concealing the curves of your body. The neckline of the dress dipped low, teasing without revealing too much, just enough to catch the eye. The fabric shimmered under the club lights, drawing attention to your toned figure—your legs, long and smooth, the curve of your hips, the softness of your waist, the way your body seemed to sway with an effortless sensuality as you walked.

Your hair cascaded down in soft waves, the deep, rich color contrasting against your glowing skin. Your eyes, framed with a subtle but striking makeup, scanned the room with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what effect they had. Your lips, painted a bold shade of red, were just daring enough to leave others wondering if they were meant to be kissed.

You weren’t just walking into the club; you were owning it. You moved through the crowd like you were meant to be the center of attention, every man and woman turning their heads as you passed. The whispers and glances followed you, some too obvious to ignore, others hidden behind the shadows of the dance floor.

At the bar, Heeseung and Ni-ki stood side by side, both men caught in the same unexpected moment. They had no idea how to react. It had been months since they’d last seen you, and the sight of you now—this stunning version of yourself, so much more powerful and confident than before—stopped them in their tracks.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered first, his lips parting slightly as his breath caught. He knew he shouldn’t be staring—shouldn’t be thinking the thoughts that were now running wild in his mind. But he couldn’t help it. The woman in front of him wasn’t the girl who had once been caught up in the whirlwind of their toxic relationship. This version of you was something else entirely. You weren’t just beautiful—you were untouchable, exuding a kind of raw, magnetic energy that made his chest tighten. His fingers itched to reach out, to pull you into his arms, but he held himself back. Out of respect. He knew better than to make a move now.

Ni-ki, standing just a few feet away, was in a similar state of disbelief. His thoughts ran wild as he watched you walk across the club, your body moving in a way that left his mouth dry. Damn. The memory of your one-night-stand was still fresh in his mind, but seeing you now, so confident, so poised, made his chest tighten in a different way. You were everything. His eyes followed every inch of you as you made your way to the dance floor, the sway of your hips sending jolts of desire through his body. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way—especially with Heeseung so close—but he couldn’t stop himself.

The men exchanged a glance, the unspoken tension between them thick enough to cut through the air. Neither of them said anything, but both knew—tonight wasn’t going to be easy.

You, for your part, weren’t oblivious to the heat of their gazes. You felt the weight of their attention, but it only added to your sense of power. You were the one in control now, and it felt damn good.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes locking with Heeseung’s for just a moment, then flicking to Ni-ki. The subtle shift in your gaze made both men stiffen, a pang of recognition hitting them hard in their chests. Neither one moved closer, though; they both understood the unspoken rule of the night—they would respect your space. But that didn’t stop the fire in their veins, the growing hunger that neither could quench.

You continued your stride, your hips swaying hypnotically, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you made your way deeper into the club. The scene was set—you were here, in control, and they were just two players in the game.

---

You were lost in the music, your body swaying to the beat, when a man approached you. His presence was immediate, confident, and his smile was charming. His eyes scanned you from head to toe with a look that could only be described as appreciative, as if he had found exactly what he was looking for.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “I’ve been watching you all night, and I have to say, you’ve got some serious energy. How about we dance?”

You paused for a moment, taking in his appearance—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a well-tailored shirt that hugged his frame. He looked good, no doubt. For a brief second, you considered the offer, but the beat of the music pulled you back into the moment. Why not? you thought. You could have some fun.

Without hesitation, you flashed him a smile. “Sure,” you said, your tone playful.

He grinned, stepping closer, guiding you onto the dance floor as the music pulsed through the club. The man’s hands settled on your waist, and you could feel the heat from his body as you moved together. His rhythm was decent, but nothing you hadn’t seen before. You danced with confidence, your body moving freely, but there was a part of you that remained detached.

You glanced back at Heeseung and Ni-ki, catching both of their gazes once more. The jealousy in their eyes was unmistakable, but it was different now. There was no possessiveness, no anger—only a quiet understanding, a reluctance to claim what wasn’t theirs to hold. They weren’t rushing over to make their move. They weren’t jumping to dictate what you could or couldn’t do.

That was new. The realization hit you like a slow wave. Both of them had changed. Not just in the way they looked at you, but in the way they seemed to respect your space. It was as if, for the first time, they understood that you weren’t someone to be fought over, but someone to be valued. Someone to be given the freedom to make your own decisions. And even though you felt their presence, you could breathe easier knowing they weren’t going to push you.

You swallowed, a small, appreciative smile crossing your lips. You didn’t need anyone’s validation. You were the one in control now, but the shift in the men—the way they had grown—didn’t go unnoticed. It made you think. Maybe there was hope for them, but only if you were ready to make the call. Only if they kept proving that they weren’t the same boys who had hurt you before.

As the minutes passed, the attraction you had briefly felt started to fade. His touch, while not unwelcome, didn’t stir anything deep within you. The music was still loud, and you could feel the energy around you, but all you could focus on was how much you felt the weight of Heeseung and Ni-ki’s gazes from across the room.

You glanced over your shoulder, locking eyes with Ni-ki first. His expression was unreadable, his gaze steady, but something in his eyes flickered—a brief hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Then your eyes found Heeseung. He stood with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. His eyes weren’t angry, though. They were… questioning.

The weight of their attention pulled at you, but the man’s hand on your waist brought you back to reality. You looked at him, realizing you weren’t interested—not in the way he wanted.

The dance was nice, but it was hollow. Your heart wasn’t in it.

After a few more moments of forced movement, you finally pulled back, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Hey, I’m going to take a break,” you said, your voice casual, though your insides churned. “Thanks for the dance, though.”

The man raised an eyebrow, surprised, but offered a smooth nod. “Of course,” he said with a grin. “Enjoy yourself.”

You gave him a polite nod and walked away, stepping off the dance floor with a sense of relief. You didn’t look back at him, but the moment you turned your gaze back to where Heeseung and Ni-ki were standing, you caught them watching you. Neither of them moved, but their eyes met yours again, and the tension between them was palpable.

You paused for a moment, feeling the weight of their unspoken words hanging in the air. But this time, you didn’t feel trapped. You didn’t feel like you owed anyone anything, not the man, not Heeseung, and certainly not Ni-ki.

You walked toward the bar, shaking off the remnants of the dance. This was your night. You didn’t need to please anyone, not even yourself. Tonight, you were free to be exactly who you wanted to be.

---

You sat at the bar, your fingers grazing the rim of your glass as you let the cool liquid settle in front of you. The faint hum of music echoed throughout the club, but it was the low murmur of conversation around you that pulled your focus inwards. You were more aware than ever of the gaze that lingered on you from across the room. Heeseung and Ni-ki. The tension between them, the heat in their eyes, was unmistakable.

You could feel their stares on you, even as you kept your gaze fixed downward, swirling the drink in your hand. You weren’t foolish enough to ignore the pull you felt towards them—towards both of them. The problem now was how much you’d changed. How much you had grown. You’d spent months finding yourself, growing into the confident person you now were. The person who didn’t need to be defined by anyone else’s affection, not even by two men you once thought could hold you together.

But still, the pull of desire was there, a fire simmering under your skin as you remembered the passion, the tension, the way your body responded to their touch. A quick glance up from the drink confirmed what you already knew. They were still watching. It was like they couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop themselves from admiring the person you had become.

Your heart twisted at the thought. No more manipulation. No more games. This wasn’t the same dynamic anymore. They had changed—both of them. And so had you. But even though you knew what was best for you, it didn’t stop the temptation to feel wanted, to see them both fall apart for you. They were desperate. They were *whiny*—needing you, craving you in a way that sent warmth curling through your stomach.

And damn, did you love the control it gave you.

The music thudded louder in your ears as you took another slow sip of your drink. The temptation to look over, to meet their gazes, to see if they were still waiting for a signal from you, was almost unbearable. But you held back. You weren’t going to make this easy. Not for them.

Your fingers curled around the glass, tightening, before you finally gave in—just a little. You took a deep breath and raised your eyes.

They were still watching, their eyes locked onto you as if their very existence depended on it. Heeseung, a bit more reserved, but his gaze was hungry, desperate. Ni-ki, the younger one, a little more brazen, his expression full of longing, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out but was holding himself back. And as your eyes met theirs, you could almost feel the weight of their desire pressing against you, like a magnetic pull that refused to be ignored.

You stared at them for a beat longer than necessary. Your lips curved up into a small, knowing smile, just enough to tease.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you slowly raised your hand and pointed directly at them.

Both men froze. Their eyes widened. They exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible look between each other, but neither of them moved—not until they saw the slight smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

That was it. That was all it took. Your simple gesture, your subtle command, had shattered whatever control they thought they had left.

And in that instant, both men broke.

Heeseung stood, his body tense, his breath shallow. He took a step toward you, then another, and another, the space between you closing rapidly. Ni-ki was right behind him, just as desperate, just as hungry.

They rushed toward you with a desperation that both thrilled and overwhelmed you. You watched them, your heart pounding as you felt the heat rise in your chest. You didn’t have to say anything. They had already learned what it meant to follow your lead.

The goosebumps along your skin prickled as they reached you, standing on either side, so close now you could feel the tension in the air between them. It was suffocating in the best way. Your power, your control over the situation, was undeniable.

For a moment, no one moved. The space between you was charged, humming with need, with desperation. They were waiting for you, as if they couldn’t take another breath without you giving them permission.

And that was when it hit you—how far they had both fallen, how much they had changed for you. The men you once thought had nothing to offer you were now completely at your mercy, and it felt good. So good.

This was what you had earned. This was your moment. You weren’t going to let them control you anymore.

Not now.

Not ever.

But you could let them want you. You could make them beg. And, oh, how you loved the idea of that.

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze shifting between them as a slow, deliberate smile spread across your lips. “You both know why you’re here,” you murmured, your voice low, almost taunting.

Heeseung’s chest rose and fell with every breath, his expression tense as if he were holding himself back from doing something he didn’t quite know he should. Ni-ki’s lips parted, and his eyes glittered with something darker, a rawness you hadn’t seen in him before.

Neither man spoke, but their eyes told you everything. They were both waiting. Waiting for you to take control. Waiting for you to make the first move.

And so, you did.

The bass reverberates through the floor as you rise from your seat without a word. You don’t need to say anything— you know they’re watching, know their bodies are already wound tight with anticipation. Your hips sway naturally, deliberately, as you step onto the dancefloor. The air is thick, pulsing with heat and music, but the real tension lies in the space between you and the two men who, despite their best efforts, can’t resist your pull.

Ni-ki and Heeseung share a glance, a fleeting second where restraint crumbles between them. Then, like moths to a flame, they follow.

The crowd parts subtly as you move, eyes catching onto the effortless way your body moves with the music.

The moment you step onto the dancefloor, you can feel the weight of their eyes on you. The bass pulses beneath your feet, the air thick with the scent of sweat, liquor, and electricity. Around you, bodies move in chaotic waves, but you command a different kind of rhythm—one that is slow, deliberate, intoxicating.

You don’t look back to see if they followed. You don’t need to. You know they have.

And then, just as you expected, they’re there.

When you finally slow, positioning yourself in the center of the dance floor, you feel them step into place behind you—one on each side, caging you in without a single touch.

Heeseung’s warmth spreads over your back first, his hands grazing your waist, hesitant at first, but that hesitation crumbles the second you roll your hips back against him. His grip tightens instantly, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. He exhales sharply against your ear, the heat of it making you shiver.

Ni-ki doesn’t hesitate at all. He steps in front of you, so close their chests nearly touch, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us,” he murmurs, low and breathless.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. “Oh, I think I do.”

And then you move.

Your body melts into Heeseung’s as you grind against him, slow and teasing. You feel the sharp inhale he takes, the way his grip turns bruising as he tries to control himself. But you don’t let up, rolling your hips deeper, pressing harder.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Ni-ki watches, his jaw clenched, eyes dark as he takes in the sight of your body moving against Heeseung’s. But he doesn’t stay idle for long. His hands slide over your arms before trailing lower, ghosting over your waist before settling firmly on your hips, sandwiching you between them.

“You think you can just do whatever you want, don’t you?” Ni-ki murmurs, voice thick with heat. His lips are dangerously close to yours now.

You tilt your head, lips parting slightly. “I know I can.”

Ni-ki chuckles, low and dark, before leaning in—his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. The featherlight touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as he presses a lingering kiss there.

Heeseung’s hands shift, one splaying over your stomach, pressing you further against him. His lips graze your ear again, his voice raspier now. “You love this, don’t you? Having both of us like this?“

You hum, tilting your head to the side to give Ni-ki better access to your neck. “Maybe.”

Ni-ki nips at your skin in response, making you gasp. Heeseung, not to be outdone, tightens his hold and grinds against you, letting you feel just how much you’re affecting him.

The music swells around you, drowning out everything else. They switch positions fluidly—Ni-ki sliding behind you now, his hands wandering, his breath hot against the back of your neck. Heeseung in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours, a challenge in them.

Ni-ki’s lips twitch into a smirk, his hands finding your hips as you both fall back into rhythm, moving together like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You let your head tilt back against Ni-ki's shoulder, reveling in the feeling of their hands, their heat, their absolute desperation for you.

You’re completely in control. And they both know it.

You let them move with you, the three of you falling into a sensual, intoxicating rhythm. Your bodies press, shift, mold together, moving as one. Heat coils at the base of your spine as hands wander—touching, teasing, claiming.

People are watching. You can feel their gazes, some intrigued, others scandalized, but you don’t care. Let them look. Let them see what it means to be wanted.

Heeseung’s fingers trail up your side, featherlight yet possessive. Ni-ki’s hands tighten, anchoring you between them.

And you?

You smile, loving the newfound feeling of power.

The heat between you and them is unbearable now. Every grind, every whispered breath against flushed skin, every lingering touch has pushed them to the very edge of restraint. Both bulges in their pants undeniable by now, growing with each passing second. The music, the flashing lights, the crowd around you—it all fades into nothing.

You know they’re waiting for you. You can feel it in the way Heeseung’s grip flexes on your waist, in the way Ni-ki’s fingers hesitate against your skin as if fighting every instinct to just take you right here.

But they don’t.

Because they’ve changed.

Because they won’t let this happen unless they know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s what you want.

Ni-ki leans in first, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Y/N,” he murmurs, voice strained, “tell us now if you want to stop.“

Heeseung, on the other side of you, breathes just as heavily. “We won’t take another step if you don’t want this.”

You pull back slightly, meeting both of their eyes. Their restraint is obvious—the tight clench of Heeseung’s jaw, the way Ni-ki’s fingers flex like he’s trying to stop himself from pulling you closer.

They’re waiting on you.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Then keep up,” you purr, before slipping out of their hold and striding toward the exit.

The second you step outside, you don’t have to turn to know they’re following.

---

The door to Heeseung’s apartment barely clicks open before Ni-ki pushes forward, his hand firm on your waist as he guides you inside, your bodies colliding in a heated frenzy. His lips crash onto yours without hesitation, kissing you like he’s been starving for you all night. You don’t even have time to catch your breath before you’re melting into him, fingers threading through his hair as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to claim you fully.

Heeseung steps inside after you, shutting the door with a quiet click. He should feel jealous—maybe even furious—but instead, he feels something entirely different. Something dark and electric curling in his stomach as he watches Ni-ki devour you, as he watches you let him.

You gasp against Ni-ki’s mouth when his hands slide down your sides, gripping the curve of your hips to pull you impossibly closer. Heeseung swallows, his throat dry as he leans against the door, his fingers twitching at his sides. He shouldn’t like this. But he does. God, he does.

Your dress rides up slightly as Ni-ki presses you against the cool wall, his lips trailing from your mouth down to the line of your jaw. You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering closed, giving in to the feeling of Ni-ki’s lips ghosting down your throat. A quiet, breathy sigh leaves your lips, and Heeseung clenches his jaw.

You suddenly peek at him through lidded eyes, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. “Enjoying the view?” you tease, your voice sultry and dripping with amusement.

Heeseung exhales sharply, pushing off the door. He steps forward, slow, deliberate, and when he meets Ni-ki’s gaze over your shoulder, there’s no rivalry—only understanding. Only shared desire.

And Heeseung finally realizes: He doesn’t mind sharing, not when it’s you.

Just as Ni-ki’s lips start trailing lower, you place a firm hand on his chest and push him back. He stumbles slightly, brows knitting together in confusion as he looks at you. Heeseung watches too, standing still, his breath caught in his throat as you straighten yourself up.

“Alright,” you say, smoothing down your dress with slow, deliberate movements, your confidence dripping into every word. “Before we take another step, let’s get one thing clear—I’m in charge tonight.“

Ni-ki’s lips part slightly, still catching his breath from the way he’d had you against the wall just moments ago. Heeseung, on the other hand, simply nods, his gaze locked onto yours like he’s ready to follow every single command you give.

You step forward, your heels clicking softly against the floor as you let your eyes scan over both of them, making sure they understand. You tilt your head. “No touching unless I say so.”

Ni-ki exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself, while Heeseung just bites his lower lip, nodding again, more eagerly this time.

“And no getting jealous.” Your eyes flicker between them, watching as they both exchange a look before quickly nodding again.

Your lips curve into a small, satisfied smile. “Good boys.”

Heeseung audibly exhales, his entire body going tense. Ni-ki, usually the cocky one, swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights the urge to reach for you again.

But you aren’t done.

You turn to Heeseung now, stepping into his space, and he immediately straightens up, eyes wide and expectant. You place a hand on his chest, feeling the way his heartbeat pounds against your palm, and you lean in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips.

It’s barely a second—just a taste, just a tease—but when you pull back, Heeseung makes the smallest sound.

A whimper.

You feel it in your stomach, the power you have over them both. Heeseung’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his breath shaky, his hands twitching at his sides as if he’s physically restraining himself from reaching for you.

“More,” he murmurs, almost pleading.

You just smirk. “Only if you behave.”

And Heeseung, desperate, nods without hesitation.

You step back slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you eye the two men in front of you. Heeseung’s lips are parted, his breath uneven, while Ni-ki rolls his shoulders back, like he’s trying to keep himself together. But you can see the way they’re both holding back—the tension in their muscles, the way their fingers twitch at their sides, desperate to reach for you.

You let the silence stretch between them, reveling in the power shift, before finally tilting your head. “If you want to touch me…” You trail off, tapping a manicured nail against your chin. “Then you should earn it.”

Ni-ki lifts a brow. “Earn it?”

You smirk. “Get on your knees.”

For a second, neither of them moves. Not out of defiance—but because they’re both stunned.

“You’re joking,” Heeseung finally says, voice a little breathless.

You raise a brow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

There’s a pause. A heavy, suffocating moment of tension.

And then—Ni-ki moves first.

He drops to his knees without hesitation, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A muscle in his jaw twitches, his usual confidence faltering under the intensity of your gaze. But he doesn’t care. He wants this—wants you.

Heeseung follows a beat later, exhaling sharply through his nose as he lowers himself. He swallows, looking up at you with wide, needy eyes, his fingers curling into fists against his thighs.

You let out a small hum of approval, stepping closer so that they’re kneeling right in front of you, looking up like you’re something to be worshipped.

Ni-ki exhales, licking his lips. “Let me touch you.” His voice is hoarse, lower than usual.

You tilt your head. “That’s not begging, Ni-ki.”

He groans, his hands twitching at his sides. “Please, Y/N,” he murmurs, the rasp in his voice making your stomach tighten. “I need to feel you.”

Heeseung shifts slightly, his lips parting. “Me too,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “Please.”

You press your lips together, pretending to consider it. You can feel the heat radiating off them, the way they’re barely keeping it together. You reach out, brushing your fingers through Heeseung’s dark hair, making him shudder at the touch.

“You can do better than that,” you muse.

Heeseung’s breath stutters, and then he lets out a soft, desperate whine. “Y/N,” he whispers, shifting on his knees. “Please. Please let me touch you. I’ll be good—I swear.“

Ni-ki exhales sharply, his hands gripping his own thighs like he’s holding himself back from just yanking you forward. “Please, princess,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “I’ll do anything.”

You grin now, reveling in the way they’re completely at your mercy. “Anything?”

They both nod—Ni-ki’s breath ragged, Heeseung’s lips trembling.

You let the moment stretch, making them squirm. Then, finally—you exhale and step back.

“Good boys.”

And just like that, you see them both nearly break.

You watch them—still on their knees, eyes blown wide, hands twitching like they’re holding back everything inside them just for you.

You hum, dragging your fingers along Ni-ki’s jaw, then trailing them over Heeseung’s cheek. They both lean into your touch instantly, like it’s the only thing keeping them sane.

“Since you were both so good for me,” you muse, “I’ll let you touch me now.”

Their sharp inhales fill the space between them, but before they can get ahead of themselves, you lift a single finger.

“But only how I say.”

They nod instantly.

You tilt your head. “Carry me to the bed.”

For a moment, they hesitate—not because they don’t want to, but because they both move at the same time, hands bumping into each other as they reach for you. There’s a flicker of something between them—silent, understanding, but also competitive.

Then Ni-ki moves first, wrapping an arm under your legs while Heeseung supports your back, and together, they lift you effortlessly. You let your head fall back slightly, allowing yourself to revel in the way their strong arms hold you—secure, reverent, desperate.

They carry you to the bed as if you’re something precious, something delicate. But you are anything but delicate.

As soon as you’re placed on the soft sheets, you straighten, looking between them. They’re standing now, both looming over you, waiting—hanging onto your every move.

You smirk, running a slow hand up your thigh, watching the way their gazes follow it like magnets.

“Take off my dress,” you order. “And my shoes. But nothing else.”

A sharp breath from Heeseung. Ni-ki’s jaw clenches.

But they obey.

Ni-ki moves first, fingers reaching for the straps of your dress, sliding them down your shoulders with agonizing slowness. His fingertips ghost over your skin, and you don’t miss the way his breath shudders.

Heeseung’s hands trail down your legs, working on unstrapping your heels, knuckles brushing against your skin as he slides them off, one by one. His fingers are warm, careful—almost worshipping.

The dress pools at your waist now, and Ni-ki glances up at you for permission before sliding it further down. You give a small nod, and he exhales, dragging the fabric over your hips, down your thighs, until it’s nothing but a heap on the floor.

Now, you sit before them—legs crossed, clad only in lace and confidence.

You see it—the way they both freeze, eyes dark and heavy, drinking you in like you’re their last salvation.

You shift slightly, watching their gazes flicker over you.

But before they can move—before they can even think about reaching for you—you raise a finger again.

“That’s enough,” you murmur. “Now… just look.”

A sharp pause.

Ni-ki’s throat bobs. Heeseung’s hands tighten into fists.

And then, they do exactly as they’re told.

They look.

You lean back against the headboard, your legs crossed as you study the two men standing before you. Their chests rise and fall unevenly, their hands twitching at their sides, desperate to reach for you. But you aren’t going to make this easy for them. No, they have to earn it.

“Since you’re both so eager,” you muse, tilting your head, “why don’t you start by showing me how much you really want it?”

Heeseung and Ni-ki exchange a glance, uncertainty flickering in their eyes. The room is thick with tension, the kind that makes the air feel heavier, their skin more sensitive, their breathing more labored.

Your lips curl. “Kiss each other.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Heeseung’s breath hitched, his eyes darting between Ni-ki and you, searching for some kind of confirmation that you’re serious. Ni-ki, on the other hand, lets out a sharp exhale, licking his lips as he studies Heeseung’s reaction. There’s no protest, no outright rejection—just the heavy weight of hesitation settling over them both.

“Or,” you shrug, trailing a slow, teasing finger down the bare skin of your thigh, “you don’t have to. But then, neither of you get to touch me.”

A quiet, unspoken understanding passes between them. It’s a test—a challenge they aren’t willing to fail.

Ni-ki swallows hard, shifting on his feet. Heeseung clenches his jaw.

Then, finally, Heeseung exhales. “Okay.”

Ni-ki nods, as if reassuring himself.

Slowly, Ni-ki reaches out, his fingers curling into the fabric of Heeseung’s shirt. There’s a moment of pause, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. The anticipation alone sends a ripple of something dangerous and thrilling through your veins.

Then, in one swift motion, Ni-ki pulls Heeseung forward.

Their lips meet in a clash of uncertainty and heat. The first contact is tentative, almost questioning, but the moment their mouths move against each other, something shifts. Heeseung sucks in a sharp breath at the unexpected sensation, and Ni-ki, testing the waters, tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to pull them further into the moment.

You smirked, heat pooling in your stomach as you watched them melt into each other.

The hesitation is still there, lingering in the way their fingers twitch against fabric, in the sharp inhales between parted lips. But with every passing second, that hesitation begins to unravel—replaced by something neither of them can deny.

They liked it.

The realization hits at the same time.

A quiet, shaky exhale leaves Heeseung’s mouth as Ni-ki’s hand slides up his arm, gripping lightly. Heeseung responds in kind, fingers curling into the hem of Ni-ki’s shirt, pulling him in just a little closer. Their movements are equal, neither leading nor following, just moving together, testing, exploring, discovering.

Your lips parted slightly, amusement flickering in your gaze. “Good boys.”

That simple praise sends a visible shudder through both of them.

Heeseung lets out the softest whimper against Ni-ki’s lips, and the sound sends a jolt of something electric down Ni-ki’s spine. Emboldened, he mirrored the same energy, pressing in just enough to elicit a quiet gasp from Heeseung this time. They both felt it—the shift, the hunger, the desire crackling between them like a slow-burning fire.

They broke apart only when the need for air became unbearable.

Both of them are breathless, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from the exchange.

You slowly uncrossed your legs, dragging your fingers down your collarbone in deliberate, tantalizing strokes. “Now,” you purred, watching them closely, “let’s see if you can follow my next order just as well.”

And judging by the way their bodies were already responding to you, you had no doubt they would.

You let the silence stretch, your gaze trailing lazily over the two breathless men in front of you. Their lips were swollen, their bodies tense, their eyes locked onto yours like you were the only thing that existed.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of your mouth. “Touch each other.”

Heeseung’s breath caught. Ni-ki’s fingers twitched.

Your nails grazed your thigh, just enough to draw their attention. “Make it feel good.”

A muscle in Heeseung’s jaw clenched, his mind visibly working through the command. Ni-ki, on the other hand, exhaled sharply, shifting where he stood, but he didn’t step back. Neither of them did.

Because they wanted this. Maybe more than they were ready to admit.

It was Ni-ki who moved first, his hand lifting hesitantly before pressing against Heeseung’s waist. The touch was light—almost experimental—but it sent a ripple of something electric through both of them. Heeseung inhaled shakily, his body stiff for only a second before his own hands came up, brushing tentatively against Ni-ki’s arms.

You tilted your head, watching intently. “Come on,” you murmured, your voice dripping with expectation. “You can do better than that.”

Ni-ki swallowed hard, his fingers tightening. Heeseung mirrored the motion, his palms sliding up the curve of Ni-ki’s shoulders. Their breathing grew heavier, their touches lingering, testing.

Then, as if something finally clicked, Ni-ki’s hands moved. They trailed over Heeseung’s chest, fingertips dragging over fabric, pressing just enough to make him shudder. Heeseung exhaled sharply, and in response, he let his own hands wander—gliding down Ni-ki’s sides, tracing the shape of his ribs.

A quiet, unspoken challenge passed between them.

Ni-ki’s fingers dipped lower, teasing at Heeseung’s waistline, and Heeseung retaliated by ghosting his touch up the bare skin just beneath Ni-ki’s shirt. A quiet hitch of breath escaped him at the contact.

You bit your lip, your gaze dark with satisfaction. “That’s more like it.”

Something changed in the air.

What started as obedience had shifted into something else entirely.

Ni-ki and Heeseung weren’t just following orders anymore. They were reacting—exploring, pushing boundaries neither of them had considered before. And judging by the way their hands refused to let go, they weren’t stopping anytime soon.

You let the moment stretch, drinking in the sight before you—two men tangled in something neither of them fully understood yet, but neither of them wanted to stop. Their breathing was heavy, their hands still lingering on each other as if unsure whether to pull away or press closer.

A slow, satisfied smile curled across your lips. “Take off your shirts.”

The command settled over them like a slow-burning fuse.

Heeseung blinked, his fingers twitching where they still rested against Ni-ki’s waist. Ni-ki, usually so composed, let out a slow breath, his throat bobbing.

Your gaze darkened. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

That was all it took.

Neither of them spoke. They only exchanged a glance—brief but charged—before moving at the same time.

Fingers grasped fabric, muscles flexing as they pulled their shirts over their heads in one smooth motion. The air between them grew heavier, thick with something unspoken as their shirts hit the floor.

You leaned back against the headboard, letting your gaze trail lazily over them. Bare skin, toned and flushed, chests rising and falling in tandem. You could see the tension in their shoulders, the way their fingers twitched slightly, as if waiting for your next move.

You dragged a slow finger along your collarbone, watching how their eyes followed the movement. Then you tilted your head, your voice soft but laced with authority.

“Now touch me.”

There was no hesitation this time.

Two pairs of hands reached for you at once.

You felt the heat radiating from their bare skin as their hands hovered just above you, waiting for the moment they were allowed to touch. But you weren’t going to give them that satisfaction so easily.

You exhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch, savoring the way their chests rose and fell with restrained anticipation. Then, you tilted your chin up and spoke, your voice soft yet commanding.

“Ask for it.”

Heeseung’s fingers twitched, his breath hitching slightly. Ni-ki licked his lips, his jaw tightening.

You smirked. “If you want to touch me, you need to say it.”

There was a flicker of hesitation between them—pride warring with desire. But you could already see it in their eyes. They wanted this too much to resist.

Heeseung was the first to break, his voice low and rough. “I want to touch you.”

Ni-ki followed, his words slightly more controlled, but no less desperate. “Let me touch you.”

You ran a teasing hand down your own arm, watching the way their gazes tracked the movement hungrily. Then, you let out a satisfied hum.

“Good boys.”

Their bodies tensed at the praise, but before they could react, you leaned forward slightly, your next command slipping from your lips like a promise.

“Use your mouths.”

The room was thick with anticipation, the air charged with something electric. Your command lingered, a promise wrapped in temptation.

Heeseung and Ni-ki hesitated for only a second before moving at the same time, drawn in by the invisible pull between them.

Heeseung was the first to lean in, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. He started slow, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the curve of your shoulder. Ni-ki followed, mirroring him on the other side, his lips brushing just beneath your jaw.

You exhaled, your fingers curling against the sheets, your satisfaction evident in the way you tilted your head back slightly, exposing more of your neck.

Encouraged, they grew bolder.

Ni-ki’s lips trailed lower, his mouth pressing against your collarbone, lingering there for a moment as if testing how much he was allowed. Heeseung mirrored his movements, his touch just as reverent, yet equally unrestrained. There was no competition now, no fight for dominance—only them moving in perfect sync, learning, exploring, savoring.

You could feel it, the shift between them. What had started as obedience was turning into something more. The careful touches, the way their lips mapped over your skin—it wasn’t just for you anymore.

They liked this.

You could feel it in the way their breaths grew heavier, in the way their hands hovered near your waist, unsure if they were allowed to touch more. You could hear it in the barely-there sounds they let slip, low and unguarded.

You smirked, your fingers lifting to tangle lightly in Heeseung’s hair, then in Ni-ki’s, pulling just enough to make them pause. Their eyes met yours, dazed, wanting.

“You’re both doing so well,” you murmured, your voice smooth, dripping with satisfaction.

The praise sent a visible shudder through them both.

Your breath hitched as Heeseung’s gaze locked with yours, his eyes dark with anticipation. The tension between them was thick, palpable, and you could feel it swirling around you, pulling you in. Without a word, you moved closer, your fingers brushing over the side of his face, your hand gently cupping his jaw.

Heeseung's eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he leaned into your touch, his lips parted slightly. Your thumb traced the line of his lips, feeling the heat radiating from him. You could see the barely-contained desire in his expression, the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Your heart raced, but you weren’t in a hurry—you wanted to savor this.

Slowly, you guided his face closer to yours, your fingers gripping his jaw just firmly enough to pull him into you. You felt him hesitate, just for a moment, before he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours with a gentle yet urgent pressure.

The kiss was slow at first, tender, as if you were both testing the waters. You let out a soft sigh against his lips, and Heeseung deepened it just slightly, his hand coming up to rest on your waist. It was an exploration, a careful exchange of desire and need.

But you weren’t done yet. As the kiss deepened, you turned your attention to Ni-ki, who had been watching you intently, his body tense with a mix of impatience and desire. You tilted your head, your eyes locking with his, and with a subtle, commanding gesture, you placed your hand on the back of his head, gently guiding his face downwards.

Ni-ki didn’t pull away, but instead leaned into your touch, his breath catching as he felt the pressure of your fingers on his skin. Slowly, he allowed himself to be guided, his mouth moving lower, his lips brushing against your thighs as you kept your grip steady.

Your heart raced at the sensation of both of them so close, so present. Heeseung’s lips were soft against yours, deepening the kiss with a mix of hunger and restraint, while Ni-ki’s breath ghosted over your skin, the warmth of him radiating through you as he followed your lead.

The kiss between you and Heeseung grew more heated, the intensity rising with every passing second. You could feel the pulse of desire between you, a raw, electric connection. At the same time, Ni-ki’s touch against your still clothed cunt sent a shiver down your spine, the combination of the two driving your senses wild.

As the kiss broke, you pulled back just enough to look into Heeseung’s eyes, your fingers still resting on his face. He was breathing heavily, his lips slightly swollen, and one could see the mix of longing and frustration in his gaze. You smiled, your voice soft but commanding, "You both wanted this... Now show me just how much."

And just like the Ni-ki rushes to push your panties down your thighs, the lack of fabric against your sensitive cunt rips a guttural moan from your throat.

They both came to a halt after hearing the noise.

It was almost too much. The way your voice, quiet but dripping with heat, seemed to vibrate through the space, making their hearts race and their breaths quicken. Your fingers gripped the fabric of the sheets beneath you, the sound of it brushing against the bed mingling with your breathless sighs, sending a jolt of raw need through both of them.

Ni-ki’s hand tightened into a fist at his side, his knuckles white. His lips parted, as if he were struggling to hold back, his entire body wound tight with the need to move. Heeseung’s gaze was just as intense, his lips pressed in a thin line, eyes dark with the strain of keeping control.

You met Ni-ki's gaze, voice low and commanding, "Go ahead, I want to see what you can do."

As soon as the words slip past your lips, Ni-ki pushes his head in between your legs and this time you physically can't stop yourself from bucking your hips into his touch.

"Heeseung continue", you hiss through gritted teeth only to choke on your words as soon as Ni-ki licks a long stripe over the entirety of your cunt, savoring every drop landing on his tongue like it's the sweetest meal he's ever tasted.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered between Ni-ki and you, his breath shallow as he watched Ni-ki’s every movement. Heeseung’s body ached to be closer, to stake his claim in the space between them. The sight of Ni-ki inching closer to you only ignited something deeper within him, something primal.

But then he remembered the rules for tonight.

Without a word, Heeseung cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your jaw. Your eyes met his for a split second, and that was all he needed. He closed the distance between you, kissing you with a hunger he could no longer control.

Ni-ki doesn’t even notices Heeseungs eagerness, to occupied with losing himself in your taste. "F-Fuck", he grunts and digs his fingers deeper into the skin of your ass cheeks, hating himself for losing his composure but to his luck your way too fucked out already to take notice of his little outburst.

Heeseungs takes this as a signal to make his move by making your tits his new territory. He looks at you with the biggest puppy eyes, pleading to finally be allowed to touch you, claim you, taste you more. If only you’d allow him to take of that lacy bra he wanted to rip off all night.

And the moment your eyes lock and you nod at him, he rips it of and attaches his mouth to your hard and perky nipples.

You long lost control of yourself as moan after moan follows each breathless gasp for air and high pitched whimper of both their names.

Yet again, Ni-ki doesn't give you enough time to catch a breath of air by sucking your clit into his mouth, applying just enough pressure on your sensitive clit with his tongue to have you gasping for air.

Heeseung is relentless, careless and sloppy. Loud slurping noises match the actions of his mouth as he licks every spot he can reach, not a single word leaving his lips as he's too busy making sure to leave no spot untouched.

It doesn't take long for you to tip toe around the edge as Ni-ki switches between thrusting his tongue into your tight hole and drawing circles into your needy bundle of nerves.

"C-Close", you suddenly whisper and it's then that Ni-ki realises that he's had his eyes closed the whole time, like some pussy drunk freak.

“Fuck, yes. Make me cum“ you moans. And Ni-ki doesn’t need to be told twice. The second he goes back to pushing his tongue into your tight hole, you feels a wave of relief hit your nerves and before you can even process what's happening, Ni-ki applies just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive clit and easily pushes you over the edge with just those few movements, while Heeseung is still touching and kissing you all over. He even started leaving hickeys all over your neck and collarbones.

You doesn’t know how much time passes until you regains your composure but it's the sound of Heeseung unbuckling his belt which pulls you back into reality.

You pulled back abruptly, your fingers curling around Heeseung’s jaw, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes, once filled with heat, were now sharp, commanding.

"Did I say you could do that?" Your voice was low, dangerous.

Heeseung swallowed hard, his lips still parted, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He didn’t answer fast enough.

Your grip tightened, your nails pressing into his skin just enough to make him shiver. "I asked you a question, Heeseung."

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. "No... you didn’t."

A smirk ghosted across your lips, but there was no warmth in it. "Then I guess you’ll have to make up for that mistake."

With a slow, deliberate push, you guided him back, her tone dripping with authority. "Sit down. Now."

After that you continues pulling down his jeans, but stop when you reaches his boxers. As slow as possible you start palming him trough them. And while it didn’t seem like a punishment at first, Heeseung understands now, cause he doesn’t want nothing more than just to be touched by you.

Heeseung bit down on his lower lip, muffling a whimper as his body trembled. Your hands slip under his boxers stroking his hard dick, but still slow and teasing.

His eyes, glossy with unshed tears, flickered upward, searching for mercy. “P-please…” he choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle met his plea. “Oh? Now you’re begging?” Fingers traced the curve of his jaw, tilting his chin up. “You knew there’d be consequences, didn’t you, Heeseung?”

His breath hitched as he nodded, another broken whimper slipping past his lips. He had known. But knowing never made it any easier.

Ni-ki sat perfectly still, his hands clenched into fists on his lap, his body tense with restraint. Heeseung’s soft whimpers filled the room, each one making it harder for him to stay still, to not reach out—to not react.

His jaw tightened as he swallowed the urge to move. He wanted to do something, anything, but he knew better. You hadn’t given him permission.

His gaze flickered toward you, eyes pleading, desperate for instruction. But all he received was a knowing smirk and a simple command:

“Stay.”

So he did. Even as Heeseung trembled beside him, even as his own resolve threatened to crack.

And then finally you pulled away from Heeseung, only to move forward and align your glistening cunt with his cock.

Heeseung who was already overstimulated by now, cried out as you lowered himself painfully slow. When his hard cock reached fully inside of you a loud moan left the both of you.

And with two words Heeseung felt like he could finally breathe again: “Fuck me“.

Heeseung’s hesitation melted away the moment he realized you weren’t stopping him. His grip tightened, his breath coming faster, excitement flickering to life in his darkened eyes.

A low chuckle slipped from his lips—this was what he had been craving. Control. Power. And now that you’d given him a taste, he wanted more.

He moves quickly, almost too eagerly, his cock thrusting into you hard and fast. “Fuck“ Ni-ki moans, sitting right next to you and watching the scene unfold.

Your hand is quick to grab Ni-kis face to pull him closer to your body, your dark eyes roaming his features, expression dripping in the deadly combination of ecstasy and lust.

“Open up“

The command was sharp, leaving no room for hesitation. And there was none. His lips parted instantly, instinctively, his breath hitching just slightly as he held still, waiting for whatever you decided to give him.

You leaned in slowly, letting the anticipation coil between you, before finally letting the saliva drip from your lips into his waiting mouth.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed without question, without complaint.

“Good boy,” you murmured, watching the way his pupils dilated at the praise. He didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact—just waited, ready for whatever you wanted next.

At the same time it feels like Heeseung is hitting every single one of your sweetest spots, the tip of his cock grazing the entrance to your womb with every single one of his movements.

Your voice cut through the moans, firm and unwavering. “Switch.”

Ni-ki moved first—quick, obedient, slipping seamlessly into Heeseung’s position without hesitation. This time you sat down facing the other direction, your ass facing Ni-ki. Heeseung, on the other hand, hesitated for just a second, his jaw tightening as if he wanted to protest. But one sharp look from you had him lowering his gaze and moving, albeit slower, adjusting to his new role.

You pulled him in front of you, while lowering yourself on Ni-ki. It doesn't take him too long to find the perfect rhythm, pulling his cock all the way out of your tight cunt just to thrust himself back inside of you with sharp movements of his hips.

At the same time you guided Heeseungs dick in to your mouth as a reward for being this good to you the last few hours. All you can do is moan on his dick as the feeling of both their cocks filling you up takes over the last bits of your rational thinking. Lee Heeseung and Nishimura Riki are doing soemthing to your body you’ve never experienced before and at this point you don’t even know what to feel or think.

You feel your second orgasm building up and notices how the two men fucking you are also nearly there. So without saying another word, you push your hand between your bodys and start rubbing another set of harsh circles onto your clit.

It takes exactly a minute and the combination of Ni-kis merciless thrusts and Heeseung pushing his cock down your throat with just the right clit stimulation for you to cum all over Ni-kis cock. This time your orgasm feels even more intense, so intense your vission actually darkens for a solid second before turning blurry.

You're so caught up in the sweetness of your own relief, you barely notice the way Ni-kis thrusts start growing sloppy and uncoordinated and without giving it another thought, you lazily reach back to grab a fistful of his hair and pull at the thick strands and just as expected is the pain in his scalp enough to elicit a deep, gutturual moan from him as he cums inside of you.

Finally heaving your full attention Heeseung reaches for your mouth and trusts a few times more before pulling out with a heavy and breathy moan and coming all over your face.

Heavy breathing is the only sound to fill Heeseung's room for the following few minutes, and as the fog of pleasure slowly starts disappearing, you feel like you're finally able to breathe again.

The room was quieter now, the intensity from earlier gradually fading as the atmosphere shifted. You stood before Heeseung and Ni-ki, their gazes following you, not with the same weight of submission as before, but with an unspoken respect.

“Alright,” you said softly, your voice no longer carrying the sharp edge of authority it once did. “We’re back to normal now.”

Heeseung straightened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he finally exhaled, his posture more relaxed than it had been in hours. His eyes met yours with a quiet understanding, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The control had returned to its proper balance, and with it, a certain ease between all of you.

Ni-ki shifted, the electric energy that had once surged through him now tempered with calm. He gave a small nod, his gaze not as intense as before but still filled with a hint of admiration. He wasn’t seeking approval anymore; there was something deeper now, a trust that had been forged through everything that had happened.

“Better?” you asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

Heeseung nodded, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Much better,” he replied, his voice more at ease now. Ni-ki’s agreement came in a quiet murmur, a subtle shift in his demeanor that mirrored the new harmony between all of them.

“You know,” Ni-ki said, breaking the quiet, “we can do this any way you want. Just… don’t make it so heavy next time.”

You smirked slightly, a playful glint in your eye. “I think we all learned something today, didn’t we?” you said, letting the words hang in the air.

Heeseung shot you a teasing look. “Next time, I get to make the rules.”

“Not so fast,” you replied with a soft laugh, feeling the balance settle back into place. The evening had settled into a comfortable quiet, the air lighter now that the tension had dissipated. You sat on the couch, surrounded by Heeseung and Ni-ki, both of them more relaxed than they had been hours ago. The moments of intensity had passed, but the shift in the atmosphere was palpable—there was a newfound understanding between all of you.

“We’ve been through a lot,” you said, voice soft yet steady. You could feel the weight of the day lifting off everyone’s shoulders, a sense of peace spreading through the room.

Ni-ki glanced at Heeseung before speaking up, his tone light but sincere. “I think we’re good now, yeah? It doesn’t feel as… tense anymore.”

Heeseung nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I agree. We’ve figured things out.” He met your gaze, eyes filled with a mixture of respect and something deeper, a connection that went beyond the dynamics of control.

You smiled, leaning back against the cushions, feeling content with how things had turned out. “This is what it should always be—trust and understanding. We each have our roles, but we’re all in this together.”

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, the quiet comfortable. No longer defined by power struggles or control, the bond between you all had evolved into something more genuine, more real. It wasn’t about dominance or submission anymore; it was about each of you finding your place and respecting each other’s limits, desires, and needs.

Eventually, Heeseung reached over, nudging Ni-ki playfully. “So, what now?”

Ni-ki grinned, the energy that had once been electric now settling into something more playful. “Now? We just… live, I guess.”

You looked at them both, a sense of pride swelling in your chest. “Exactly,” you said. “No rush. Just… live.”

Note: Yeahh… so that just happened… not proofread yet btw

Still let me know how you liked it :)

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chastiefoul · 2 months ago

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how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

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sttoru · 3 months ago

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pls pls pls 🥹 older bf! gojo fucking the attitude out of his gf

𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru picks you up after your lecture to spend quality time with you, only to realise you got an attitude that needs some fixing.

tags. dom older bf!gojo x female reader. smut, pwp but also with plot. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). rough. hints of degradation. p in v -> unprotected. standing doggy. semi-public. spanking. hair pulling. name calling. creampīe. nicknames ‘princess, baby’. wc: 3.2k

“mind telling me who that was, baby?” satoru asks while he fixes his sunglasses. he pushes his hair back a little, walking beside you through campus. you had just finished your study session with a boy who’s in your statistics class. your lovely boyfriend offered to pick you up and take you back home after that.

though, despite the kind gesture, you’re still visibly stressed after revising the material. your mind is occupied with all sorts of stuff you need to know before your exam on thursday.

“just a classmate,” you respond curtly, not even looking at satoru. you’re speeding ahead of him, wanting to rush home already. you nibble on your bottom lip and your brows are furrowed due to the distress, “why do you care?”

that sentence came out harsher than you had expected it to. you don’t mean to be bitchy, but you’re under too much stress at the moment. your body reacts before you can withstand it.

satoru is silent for a few seconds. he’s surprised by the tone of voice you used. he keeps on following you, however, not letting your little comment ruin the conversation. he’s there to help you, not to make you even more upset.

which is why he tries to lighten the mood.

“oh?” satoru chuckles, his dimples showing. he easily keeps up with you, his long legs carrying him around quite fast. the white haired man pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear ever so gently, “did someone upset my little princess today?”

you don’t answer him. you’re focused on your phone, hurriedly texting your friend back while speeding past all the other students. you don’t even notice how the girls are gawking at your man—whispering about how handsome he is and who he might be.

satoru doesn’t pay them any mind. his sole goal is to gain your attention back. he frowns after his question is met with silence. the clicking of his dress shoes increases as he tries to get you to stop and face him.

“c’mon,” your boyfriend sighs and stands in front of you, stopping you to an abrupt halt. he holds your wrist tenderly yet firmly, letting you know that he wants to properly communicate with you, “y’ can’t ignore me.”

you yank your hand back, your irritated attitude visible in your actions. you look up at satoru, not caring about what he thinks or wants at the moment. you just want to go home and relax. everything is overstimulating you.

“i can and i will,” you huff before stepping aside to continue your journey out of the university’s terrain. your boyfriend’s frown only deepens. you’re not the only one who’s currently getting agitated. you push past a group of students who stood in your way, “let’s just go home.”

satoru’s eyes narrow. he doesn’t get upset fast—he rarely feels any kind of anger—but right now he can feel something itching inside of his chest. he’s tried not to let the jealousy get the best of him at first, but now with all the other emotions coming into play, it’s nearly impossible to hold himself back.

satoru considers himself a fairly mature man. he’s always been one, yet when it comes to you he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t have any control over his emotions. his body and mind act on their own.

“aht aht. not so fast, little lady.”

you suddenly feel yourself being dragged to the side. satoru’s grip around your arm isn’t harsh, but it sure is enough to make you stumble along with him. you click your teeth in slight annoyance after the initial shock settles in. you know there’s no fighting it; you don’t want others to witness your little squabble.

“hey, where are we going?” you ask, a slight whine leaving your throat. you simply want to go lay in your bed and avoid everything and everyone else. your eyes are focused on the back of satoru’s head as he guides you along. he doesn’t bother to face nor answer you.

you sigh and simply allow yourself to be dragged away. if you’re going to get a scolding, you don’t mind. you’re just going to hear him out and nod along so you can go back home faster.

you raise an eyebrow when satoru arrives at the bathroom on the second floor. “what the—” you’re confused as to what your boyfriend is trying to achieve. you quickly look around to see if anyone has seen you.

no one seems to be close. this part of the building has always been empty around this time frame anyway.

you’re pulled into the men’s bathroom after satoru made sure that the coast was clear. he gently pushes you into an empty stall and locks the door. “satoru, what’s up with you?” you sigh as you stumble back against the bathroom wall. it’s a hypocritical comment considering your own nasty attitude.

you try to push him aside, only for your boyfriend to force your arms around his neck, pulling you flush against him. your eyes lock into his and that’s when you notice how . . dark they are. the usual playful look is nowhere to be found.

“i’m just thinkin’ that y’r attitude needs some fixing, hm?” satoru whispers. a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—it’s a twisted one. wicked, with the thoughts of what he’ll do to punish you for your actions. he rarely has that expression when he’s with you.

he tips your chin up with quite some force, “i can help with that.”

everything else happens at a blink of an eye. one of satoru’s large hands slithers up your back to tangle in your hair and yank it back, exposing the column of your throat for his hickeys to take shape on. his other hand swiftly makes work of your pants and undergarments.

his jaw is clenched—the usual hint of gentle love in his eyes is replaced by lust fuelled by jealousy and frustration. satoru is not playing around either. instead of taking his time like he usually does when it comes to intimacy, he’s quick to discard both your clothing.

“fuckin’ tease,” the white-haired man mutters under his breath, panting with desire. he zips down his pants and frees his big cock from his boxers. “always pushing my buttons. isn’t that right, baby?”

satoru lets out a breathy, mocking chuckle. he fists the shaft slowly while his blue eyes roam over your body caged against him and the wall, “but i guess tha’s part of the reason why i love you—hah.”

you’re basically in shock at the sudden switch. your jaw is slack and your eyes are wide, but there’s an undeniable feeling in your chest that tells you you’re loving this change. you can’t deny the fact that you’re turned on. extremely turned on.

“‘toru, i don’t think it’s smart to do this here,” you murmur in a small voice. you’re trying to have some dignity, even now, when your panties are soaked and the scent of your obvious arousal is driving your man crazy.

“don’t care,” satoru shakes his head with a smug grin. his long fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear before flimsily tugging them down to your ankles. his eyes darken the second he sees the webs of sticky, translucent slick clinging from your panties to your puffy folds.

he grunts, his cock twitching painfully in his hand. he’s thinking of simply jerking off to the sight of you in front of him, but he decided otherwise. satoru smacks your clit with his fat tip, “should’ve thought about that before catchin’ an attitude with me.”

suddenly, he turns you around so you’re facing the wall. your nails dig into the flat surface of the tiles, catching onto nothing. you’re hoping that no one will walk into the bathroom. last thing you need is everyone knowing that you were getting your back blown out by your boyfriend on campus.

not that satoru would mind those rumors. it’d only fuel his (already) huge ego.

“oh, yeah— shit. you need this ‘s much as i do,” satoru groans as sinks his cock into your pussy, agonisingly slow, inch by inch. you shudder and hold in your moans as your velvety walls make part for him.

his hands spread your pert asscheeks, smacking the full globes before kneading them to soothe the pain. he continues in a low, dangerous voice, “you wouldn’t be so stuck up if y’ didn’t need this fuckin’ dick to shut you up.”

satoru doesn’t stop pushing in until his heavy balls are resting snugly against your bottom, warming his sack full of cum that’s aching to be released in your dripping cunt.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you bite your lip and try not to orgasm just from the feeling of being full— so full of cock that it makes you see stars, “just like that.”

the white-haired man responds with a satisfied grunt, sweat forming on his forehead from how hot and wet it is inside of you.

“oh, there she is,” satoru coos once he hears your whiny voice, that sweet voice he cherishes and loves. it isn’t cold nor avoidant anymore like before and that’s really all he wanted to acquire. he licks a stripe from the tip of your ear to the lobe, voice husky, “there’s the girlfriend i know. moan some more f’ me.”

you shiver as satoru’s lips connect with the back of your neck. after wetting the skin with his saliva, he bites. not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark. you clamp around his dick in response and he curses under his breath.

“please, fuck me,” you breathe. you need more stimulation, need him to absolutely ruin you. the shallow and slow thrusts he’s giving are nothing but torturous.

satoru grins and rests his chin on top of your shoulder, large hands rubbing around your hips and lower abdomen, teasing your clit every now and then to get you even more pent up.

“fuck you?” he tilts his head, as if contemplating. he clicks his tongue and gives your ass a firm slap that nearly sends you over the edge. “hah, you should be grateful for what i’m givin’ you.”

but satoru’s weak for you. even if he’s trying to be the ‘mean’ and ‘cold’ dominant guy. his cock is aching to plunge in and out of your wet hole, to see you come undone and feel your juices coat his balls and thighs.

“fine. i’ll fuck you,” satoru relents with a roll of his eyes, acting like he isn’t desperate for you too. he grips your hips in a bruising manner and bites your shoulder, “—fuck you like the brat you are.”

your hands save your face from making contact with the wall as your body suddenly jostles back and forth in a speed you can’t even process.

“satoru!” you nearly scream his name out of pure surprise. the pleasure comes crashing down in waves, your pussy uncontrollably spasming around his girthy cock.

satoru grumbles something incoherent as he pistons his hips, ramming in your sloppy cunt while his eyes are fixated on your bouncing ass. white locks of hair stick to his forehead as he splits you open on his dick.

“so pretty,” the older man sighs. he turns your head sideways so you can look him in the eyes while he fucks you silly. he caresses your cheek gently, a contrast to the mocking grin on his lips and the rough thrusts against your ass, “too bad y’ got such a potty mouth on you.”

satoru pushes his index and middle finger between your lips to muffle your noises, “…but don’t worry, i’ll fix that for you. gladly.”

you eagerly suck on them between quick gasps of air, saliva trickling down his hand. your boyfriend redoubles his efforts, the fat tip of his dick hitting that special spot deep inside you.

his free hand reaches down to circle your clit. the double stimulation sends you into a state of pure bliss. your pupils are dilated as you struggle to find satoru’s gaze, head lolling back and forth with each powerful stroke.

perhaps this really was all you needed to help destress and forget all about your responsibilities. it feels good to not think about anything at all— your head empty except for the feeling of your cunt being filled.

satoru’s cock twitches inside of you with the urge to release a load in your womb. “give me it, please,” your voice is muffled as you plead with him. your hand sneaks downwards, trying to find his balls, “w-want your cum.”

your fingers toy with his sack once you find it. his pre-cum and your own juices now coat your skin as well, your hand enclosing around his balls, massaging them. it’s like you’re trying to coax his potent semen out of them and that alone makes satoru throw his head back in ecstasy.

“little cumslut. . .” satoru growls, brows furrowing as he tries not to shoot his cum inside of your greedy cunt right that second. the hand that was keeping you quiet quickly snatches your wrist and pins it against the bathroom wall.

“are you that desperate to get filled? yeah?” your boyfriend huffs, not stopping to catch his breath at all. his hips pound faster against your ass with renewed passion.

your lips are parted and they move, but not a single answer comes out of your mouth. you’re unable to think or talk because of the pleasure.

satoru takes that as a yes. the erotic sight of you being so lost in sin is enough to fuel his desire to fuck you harder. his hips never falter as he scoffs at your pathetic self, “tch, so addicted to my cock y’ can’t even answer me.”

you shake your head and search for your words. however, you fail, and all that you’re capable of communicating is what you need, “fuuuuck, yes i am—‘toru, need your cock ‘n cum— more.”

satoru lets go of your wrist to grab your jaw. he forces your head back again before he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. his tongue plunders inside your mouth, exploring every inch.

he pulls back to gasp for air and releases your jaw with a slight shove to grab your hips again. “more? hah,” the white-haired man lets out a haughty chuckle. he gives a particular hard thrust against your butt, tip kissing your cervix painfully yet deliciously, “y’ think you deserve more after that shit you pulled?”

satoru yanks your head back by your hair. the stinging sensation makes your scalp itchy, but it also increases your pleasure. he lowers his lips to your ear, his voice dangerously low, “nah, you gotta make this work.”

you could. you can make it work and that’s the truth. he could fuck you with just his tip and you’d be able to cum a couple times in a row.

jolts of pleasure run down your spine as satoru drives into you harder, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. you’re seeing stars and the words roll off your tongue, “please, mhh, almost there!”

satoru groans. he can feel the delicious fluttering of your cunt around his cock, the telltale signs of an orgasm building. he has half a mind to pull out completely and let you writhe and beg him some more.

he contemplates it for a few seconds. the second your eyes start to roll back, signaling your impending climax, his cock slips out of your pussy. you whine and push your hips back in search for his dick- to fill the void he left.

satoru jerks himself off at the pitiful sight. he rubs his veiny shaft between your slick folds before slapping the tip against your cunt, letting it catch onto your entrance for a few times.

“begging like that isn’t going to get you anywhere. y’ can do better,” your boyfriend encourages in a sultry tone. one of his hands rest on your tummy, fingers splaying over your clothed skin. another filthy smack of his tip against your slit makes you shiver, “come on.”

you bite your lip out of frustration. you arch your back each time the fat head of his cock catches onto your gaping hole, hoping to slip it in, but you can't. you tilt your head back and lock eyes with satoru close up behind you.

“please let me cum, 'toru. i'll be good, i promise,” you beg with a lewd pleading expression. one that make satoru's balls tighten with the urge to cum as well.

with a low groan, satoru snaps his hips forward, burying his dick inside of you once more, “there ya go. good girl, knew y’ had it in you.”

the praise and familiar feeling of his dick stretching you open is enough to push you over the edge. you nearly black out as your cunt spasms around him, your juices gushing out to coat his length and balls.

satoru grits his teeth once he feels your tight cunt clench viciously around his throbbing cock. your orgasm has a domino effect on your lover, causing him to hastily chase his own release. “shit! take it, princess. take it all inside this greedy fuckin' cunt,” he hisses and grinds his pelvis against the fat of your ass.

satoru buries himself to the hilt before his cock jerks and pulses, emptying his balls deep inside of you. his fingers dig into the meat of your butt, holding you in place as he grinds against you, making sure every last drop of his seed is nestled into your waiting womb.

“there y’ go, mhm—taking my load so deep,” your lover sighs and lowers his head, resting against your back. he hugs you tightly to his chest while you both catch your breath. he rides out his orgasm slowly, still grinding against you while he leaves lazy kisses on your nape.

a minute passes before you've regained your composure, somewhat. you smile as satoru kisses your temple lovingly, praising you for taking him so well. the switch back to his usual gentleman personality is much needed after such an intense moment.

“thank you, babe. i needed that,” you giggle as you rest back against his chest. thick, pearly globs of cum escape your pussy, dripping around his cock and onto your thighs, but neither of you could care less. the clean up is a problem for later.

satoru chuckles back at you as he leaves another loving kiss against your cheek. “i knew you did,” he murmurs and pets your head, “my poor girl has been working so hard on her assignments, hm? poor, poor baby.”

you playfully roll your eyes at the overexaggerated concern in your lover's voice, however you appreciate it.

satoru doesn't bother to pull out. first things first; he needs to get you all comfortable again and give you the aftercare you deserve. his hands massage your hips as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, acting all lovey-dovey like he hasn't just shown you a more dominant side of him.

“how ‘bout we go home and order some food? we can cuddle and watch a movie together, ‘kay? i’ll take care of you, princess.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #jjk fic #gojo fic #jjk x female reader

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corkinavoid · 2 months ago

Text

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[Edit 2: There's more art!!!]

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dumbbitchgalore · 5 months ago

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Easing Old Man!Price into sex after dealing with erectile dysfunction 💓 (🌽 link)

As Price gets old with every passing day, a subtle yet gnawing voice at the of his head was telling him that he wasn't able to keep his birdie happy and satisfied despite all his efforts and it didn't help that physically he was not able to perform satisfactorily. He mentally curses himself for all the years of nicotine and alcohol use, mentally chiding himself for not listening to you earlier.

His little birdie would eventually leave him for his flaws.

But you saw it in a different light, you tried to keep John happy and fulfilled and besides there is more than one way to achieve the orgasmic bliss that John always seemed to coax out of you with either his hands or mouth or maybe both, one of his many talents. Your love for him never dwindled but you could see the sadness and unfound guilt in his eyes.

One day, he tells you that he wants to use Viagra to make sex as pleasurable as it used to be. Despite your attempts to voice that you have no complaints about the two of your sex life, John shut them down. He needed to do this, not just for you but for him, to make him feel like a man again. You start to understand that maybe reassurance may not be enough to help John find his self-esteem again so you cave and tell him it's fine.

Tonight, you both find yourselves sitting on the bed after John had taken the pill. Sweaty and flushed til the tips of his ears, John felt like a schoolboy seeing a woman naked for the first time. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, what to say or how to react after seeing his chubby cock stand tall and proud after such a long time. He looks away when you sit next to him, wearing nothing causing you to chuckle chuckle at his nervousness.

“Come on, babe. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen my tits. Hell, you even drank my-”

John places a hand over your mouth stopping you from finishing your sentence. You give the palm of his hand a attentive kiss before pulling away and placing a fleeting kiss oh his cheek.

You hand makes its way to his cock, giving it a few trial pumps. Seeing John’s eyes glaze over gave you all the permission you needed to continue your ministrations.

“That’s it, soldier boy. Let your birdie help you.”

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velvetydream · 1 year ago

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꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

┌───────────────────────── · · · · ♡

The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor #alastor x reader #x you #x reader #imagine #imagines #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine

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tsuyalovebot · 7 days ago

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make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

#not enough people understand the concept of yearning #he is starved. ravenous and absolutely depraved #but it's so good because of the moral dilemma that comes with it #he totally feels guilty the first time he realizes the slightest touch with you would rile him up #i imagine it being around late high school #when he realizes the weight of his attraction to you.#and it's delicious.#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads x reader #lads caleb #lads caleb x reader #lnds caleb #caleb x reader #lnds #caleb smut #𐙚 ; bǎo bèi.#mimi.writes

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yoru-exe · 1 month ago

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PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . call my name

as overly formal and unnecessary as it sounds, the amphoreus' hero has always been lord phainon to you. while it comes with great honour and respect, much like how it applies to your master; lady aglaea, it feels like there's a barrier between you and him, and he doesn't really like that, considering that he'd like to know you better, closer.

so naturally, he revels in making you drop the honourary title, and the best way to make you do so (based on his countless personal experiments of trial-and-error, which he very much enjoyed) is to catch you off guard. shock you enough to make you forget all about the formality, enough to make you see him not as just amphoreus' hero, but as phainon himself.

one of the times that happened was when you found a lost little girl in the wood. so you asked around the village nearby if she's familiar. you were starting to get some leads when you stumbled upon an elderly man who commented, "my, what lovely family you three look".

"no, we're not-".

"well, thank you so much, good sir. unfortunately, they're not family members. we're actually looking for this child's parents. although i'd like to note that i do look forward to starting a family with this woman".

"phainon!".

of course, that's just one method of making you fall into his plan. there's trill in guessing how you'll react. the blush that never fail to paint your face rosy red always manage to make him fall deeper for you. but nothing made him completely weak than you calling his name consciously out of your own choice.

not even mydei's hardest punch to his gut could do as much damage as you do in this situation.

he was looking at the moon one night all alone when you appeared beside him. "someone seems busy with his thought. would he be so generous to share?", a teasing tone laced your words, making him chuckled. you always seem to know how to calm his nerve when it's going wild.

"just.. thinking about the battle to come. do you think we'll make it this time?". from the hill you're standing on, the ruins around the perimeter glowed under the moonlight. the destruction they faced was unmistakable. from the way he sympathetically shifted his gaze upon them, you guessed that perhaps it's from his previous battle, one that you didn't embark together with, one that he failed.

without warning, you took his hand in yours, caressing circles on the scars on it, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "of course we will, because you have me by your side", you announced pridefully, so full of confidence that it felt contagious on him. "and you by mine, phainon".

you voice was so low, as if a whisper of a mother soothing her crying child, or a girl confessing to her lover of her affection. but he heard you loud and clear.

although, he felt like he needed you to repeat that again because his system was in a mess from you saying his name that he didn't get to savour it to its fullest.

"no, that only come once".

safe to say that he spent the rest of the night begging that you call his name like you just did. but where's the fun in a challenge if you just give him what he wants?

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

this is kinda silly, but someone implied that phainon isn't as innocent as what we originally thought he would be did something to my brain chemistry. and you know what? good for him. this man needs some fun before he d***

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #phainon #phainon x reader

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majestyeverlasting · 6 months ago

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the moments in between

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Joel and Ellie arrive at the Jackson commune, his strong frame and intense gaze captivate you. But as the days pass, you lose hope that he might be drawn to you as well. That is, until the walls come crashing down and the truth finally reveals itself.

Word Count: 7.3k [slow burn]

A/N: I put a lot of love and time into this one. It's my longest fic so far but it didn't feel hard, which I like to believe is a good thing. Hope it resonates, hope you feel the feels and the yearning between these two—let me know! Hope you're well.

A breeze follows Tommy as he saunters in through the doors of the Tipsy Bison, the soft click of his boot heels echoing off the wood with each easy step. The cowboy hat on his head casts a shadow over his eyes until he takes it off, his dark hair cascading down over his ears. There’s a small smile playing on his lips that makes you narrow your eyes.

Cleaning the bartop suddenly loses its appeal, but you don’t stop, only slow down. The fresh, tangy scent of lemongrass continues to waft up from the motion.

“We close early on Sunday’s, officer,” you tease as he climbs onto a stool.

He frowns as he sets his hat aside. “I don’t look like a cop, do I?” You shrug, and he chuckles as his gaze roves over to the pool room. “Nate back there? Yo, Nate!”

“Evening, Tom,” the older man calls back as he polishes a cue ball.

“Joel’s made it into town.” There’s no overt emotion in the way he shares the news, but you can see that it’s all in his eyes as he waits for you to react.

“Joel, Joel? As in your brother?” He nods, still in disbelief himself. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Tommy—right? What the heck.” He used to talk about him all the time.

His exhale makes way for a shaky smile, “I know. Made it in not too long ago with a young girl he’s looking after,” he tells you, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “He’s outside. Wanted to come in and see if you’d let us grab a drink.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Know it’s late. Promise I’ll make up for the trouble.” He knows it’s no trouble. Not when it comes to him.

He turns around, barstool squeaking, and waves Joel in through the window.

You move to start working on their whiskies. “Make it up by letting me be the baby’s godmother?” The glasses clink as you set them onto the bar and begin pouring the caramel colored liquid, smirking when you meet his gaze.

Tommy isn’t completely opposed to the idea. You’d been in Jackson since the beginning, a friend to him and Maria in every sense of the word. Arguably family. “If you can manage not to tick me off until the little one gets here.” Despite his words, his eyes are fond.

The door creaks open, and Joel strides in, scanning the room. There are pictures on the walls of American icons and landmarks, and old Polaroids of commune members. There’s a guarded confidence to the way he walks, an intensity.

Tommy quickly leans in and whispers, “He means well. It’s been a long day.”

Joel takes a seat beside his brother and acknowledges you with a curt nod, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Welcome to Jackson,” you greet, introducing yourself afterwards.

“Joel,” he says, taking you in with a steady gaze.

“Tommy’s told me a lot about you.” You push their glasses closer to them in an encouragement to start drinking.

Joel takes his first sip and fights back a reflexive grimace. It’s been a while, but it's good. Good enough to make him feel pleasantly warm as it glides down. Tommy drinks off his brother’s lead, and you realize just how alike they look. Joel’s hair is a little shorter and accented with streaks of gray, but they both have those same dark, telling eyes.

They fall into light conversation, but it’s clearly not what they'd talk about if they were alone. That’s when you sense the distance. The slight edge to the space between them. It’s why Tommy resorts to drawing you in, the two of you ripping off each other as Joel listens, fine with not having to speak until this whole little ordeal was winding to an end. However, he does sit up a little straighter whenever you laugh. You pour them more whiskey when their glasses get empty.

Eventually, the remaining light outside fades away. Tommy hisses at the sight, standing. “I gotta get home to Maria,” he says, stretching his back. Joel moves to get up too, until, “At least finish off this glass, man. You’ve earned it.” Tommy squeezes his brother’s shoulder. He means it genuinely, at least. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Joel. Thanks again for this,” he tells you.

“Bye, sheriff,” you call after him. Tommy scoffs.

Joel realizes just how quiet it is when you move aside to tinker with a bison trinket sitting on the counter, unsure of what to say with Tommy gone. He knows you can see him looking at you. “So, are you here by yourself?” he finally asks.

A playful smile tugs at your lips. “That’s not a creepy question at all,” you tease, quickly gathering that he doesn’t find the implication funny. “Uncle Nate?” you call.

“Busy!”

You raise your brows at Joel. “Not alone.”

Nate was chosen family. The man taught you everything you know about shooting, fishing, and survival even though you gave him a hard time for it when you were younger. He was also the founder of the Tipsy Bison. He only came into the bar on the weekends when he wasn't on patrol. His time in the military all those years ago made it hard to step away from a life of service.

“We were cleaning when Tommy came in,” you tell Joel. He takes in that information wordlessly.

“You aren’t much for talking, are you?” Joel takes a sip from his glass. “Nothing wrong with that. Must mean you don’t miss much. Really observant.” When he doesn’t respond, you smile shyly, realizing he probably just wanted to relax after a long day. “Guess I won’t stand here and talk your ears off.”

The floor creaks as you disappear into the recreation room with Nate, rounding the corner. Joel exhales, shoulders dropping from being drawn up. He almost misses your company.

Nate sits hunched over a word search puzzle, using the pool table as if it's a normal desk. He doesn’t look up at you, even when you give an affectionate tug to his curly gray ponytail. It was something you’d been doing since the days you both were out on your own and had to stay quiet all the time. Back when there was no safety, no security, no commune.

“Ouch,” he drones, unphased.

“Are you gonna come out and meet Tommy's brother?” you ask, low so Joel can’t hear. “I feel like you guys have a lot in common: brooding and grumpy.” Pride flutters in your chest when the man’s lips twitch.

“I’ll meet him… eventually. Gotta finish this puzzle.” You realize there’s a small hourglasses going, the sand swiftly filling the bottom portion. “There ya are—serendipity.” He circles the letters.

Word searches were something he recently started doing. When you have a past as extensive as his, it’s always chasing after you in one way or another. Especially in those quiet moments that sneak up on you. He claimed that seeking out words from amid an ordered chaos keeps the racing thoughts at bay whenever they come rushing in.

Joel is finished by the time you join him again, and you realize he’d waited instead of calling out. Already standing, ready to go.

“Anything else I can get you?”

He shakes his head. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

Joel turns to leave but you keep talking, “So I reckon Tommy already squared you away with a house and a tour of the town?”

He stops. “I’m across the street from him. Gettin’ the tour tomorrow.”

“That’s great, I’m really glad you found us.” You sound so genuine that there’s a flutter in his gut. “We’re a pretty crazy bunch, but I think you’re gonna like it here.”

“Hope so.” Those are the words he leaves you with.

Your eyes stay trained on his back as he makes his way towards the door, stride the same as when he first arrived. Perhaps a little looser. Before he exits the bar, his eyes catch a glimpse of one of the decorative license plates secured to the wall: Austin, Texas.

Shortly after he makes it outside, his heart rate ticks up in that impending way he wishes wasn’t so familiar, breath catching in his throat as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. There’s no escaping the panic as it sets in, surging through him. A few staggering steps allow him to brace a hand on a wooden directory board.

You see it all from inside. At first, you think he’s trying to read the sign, but then he hunches over more and grips his chest. Without thinking, you jog towards the doors.

“Joel?” You call once you’ve broken outside.

It’s a cool spring night, a crescent moon shares its pale glow from above. Most of Jackson is already tucked away inside or at least halfway there. But in this sliver of time, it feels like it’s just the two of you outside. Joel doesn’t let on that he’d heard you, but the moment you’re close enough, you recognize what’s going on. You press your palm to his back to let him know you’re there. That he’s still here.

“Concentrate on your breathing. In and out, just like that,” you encourage, settling on rubbing his back in measured passes. Then you go quiet on the off chance he needs that.

In your newfound silence, Joel is forced to focus on the shaky breaths rising from his lungs. That’s when he accepts he’s not in control. Not in the grand scheme of things. There’s a whole big fallen world just outside the gates of this haven. A world that had taken people he loved and was cruel enough to let him be the one who lived to tell the tale. The heat that rises to his cheeks is made up of frustration more than distress, crackling like pop. Like coals.

The ground takes on a vignette as he stares at it, his vision briefly closes in. You never withdraw your touch.

When his breaths eventually begin to steady, you remember how to breathe yourself. With a tired exhale, he straightens back up to his full height, and you take a few small steps away. Maybe this wasn’t new, but a fact of life for the man who’d rode into Jackson in an air of mystery and a young girl by his side. Maybe he never wanted you to get a glimpse at this side of him. If he feels that way, he doesn’t make it obvious. He almost looks appreciative that you’d bothered enough to care.

“Sorry to scare you,” he rasps, not meeting your gaze even though he can feel it. You want to tell him that there isn’t much that scares you anymore. At least that’s what you like to believe. “I’m usually alone.”

Except, tonight, he wasn’t. And maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.

•••

Howdy Stranger

This is Jackson Hole

The last of the Old West

Joel reads the painted wooden sign as Tommy and Maria show him and Ellie around. There are people everywhere. Children playing outside, adults fluttering in and out of shops. All while the Teton mountains loom and watch over it all with their snow-capped peaks. He looks over at the girl when she nudges his arm, pointing to a Calico lounging on a porch. Despite her beaming smile, all he offers is a low hum.

It was hard to be in the now when his thoughts were split between the past and future. Up until Jackson, there was no such thing as stability, and he couldn’t help but think about the day that the rug would be pulled from beneath the commune as well. Ellie’s smile fades when she notices the harsh squint of his face. He kicks himself for it.

“Cat hater,” she mumbles under her breath.

Joel grunts and directs his attention back to his brother.

When the tour comes to an inevitable end, Ellie sings Jackson’s praises after Tommy and Maria go their separate ways with a promise to reconnect later that day. He lets her talk as they make their way back to their new house, idly agreeing every once in a while. A few curious eyes fall on them as they walk, but Joel doesn’t pay them any mind.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Ellie stops walking to give him a flat look.

“I hear you,” he insists. “Been hearing you for the past ten minutes.”

There’s no snark in his tone, but Ellie still feels the slight sting of offense. “Well, sorry for being excited about having a nice place to live for once. It’s not like I was born into hell or anything—I mean the Boston QZ.” Sarcasm drips from her voice as she starts walking again, faster so it looks like they’re not together.

Joel swallows down guilt like it’s just another pill. His legs are long, so it doesn’t take much to catch back up with her.

“Hey…Kid…Ellie.” She keeps ignoring him. “This is new for me too, okay? Everybody’s got a different way of processing, can we agree on that?” It’s a fair enough proposal. He never had been forward when it came to sharing his thoughts. “Wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, deciding to take a break from her rambling for his sake. The mutual silence isn’t so bad.

Someone he isn’t expecting to see is you. You’re wearing a backpack and ushering a line of young kids into the community center. One of the little girls stops and stretches her arms up towards you, earning a playful eyeroll before being lifted onto your hip. Joel doesn’t miss the way the afternoon sunlight catches your face.

•••

The next day, a faint thump against the door startles Ellie as she sketches in the dining room. Rather than getting up from the table, she remains still, pencil in hand and brows furrowed. Upstairs, the spray of the shower continues as Joel lets it drown out everything else. Three light knocks eventually sound, and she musters up the courage to scurry to the front.

She peeks out the window first, spotting you. Someone she hadn’t seen around. An amused smile pulls at her lips at the way you’ve seemingly wrestled the big basket you’re holding into a better grip than before.

When she opens the door, you let out a relieved sigh. “Special delivery,” you say before introducing yourself.

“That’s a really pretty name,” she compliments, already warming up to you. “I’m Ellie—is all that stuff for us?” When you nod, she excitedly steps aside and ushers you in.

“I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have because that’d be a lie,” she shamelessly admits. “You can put it right over here.” You follow her into the living room and place the welcome basket on the coffee table.

A few of the ladies you volunteer with helped you put it together after your shift counseling for the spring break camp. There were cookies, seeds, natural soaps, feminine hygiene products, and even a knit blanket that looked particularly soft and cozy. Ellie wastes no time reaching out to run her fingers over it. A laugh bubbles up your throat when her jaw drops.

“This is literally what clouds feel like.” She haphazardly pulls the blanket out the basket, wrapping it around herself like a cape. “If Joel says anything, this was specifically included for me.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to share if he asked nicely,” you reason, amused. Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “But to be fair, we did think you’d be the one to really appreciate it.”

She smiles at being considered. “Who made it? This is, like, next level.”

“A woman named Emilia,” you tell her. “She actually made me one back when Jackson was first being built up that I still have,” you tell her, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. The evening sunlight pours in through the windows, casting golden streaks onto the floors. “Now she’s always got a few on standby.”

Ellie sits beside you, reaching out to dig through the other contents in awe. “They told us the commune's only, like, seven years old on our tour yesterday,” she recounts. Think you’ll have your blanket forever?”

“Forever’s an awful long time. It might hold up,” you think aloud. Ellie nods, contemplative. “I can take you by to meet her sometime, if you’d like. She’s the resident seamstress, so you’ll probably end up crossing paths anyways.”

“What about you? What do you do?” she asks, giving you her full attention.

“I mainly help coordinate community events. Been stepping in to assist with the youth spring break camp for the last couple days, though,” you say. “Also bartend on the nights that I feel like it. Just for fun, you know?”

Ellie's face lights up. “I’ve had whiskey before.” She puffs out her chest when she says it, and you play into her pride by raising an impressed brow. The first and last time you had a sip was when you snuck it from Nate as a teen. “But that’s really cool, though. The community stuff and all that.” You can tell by her tone that she means it. In more ways than one, you’re reminded of your younger self.

“Joel’s gonna join the patrol. He says I’m too young, but that’s just bullshit.” She says the last part lower as if he’s somewhere listening. “I’ll figure out a way to make him cave.” There’s an air of confidence to her voice that suggests she’s done it before. The thought warms a tiny portion of your chest.

“I’ve gone out with my uncle Nate a few times. It can be a lot,” you admit. “He just wants you safe, Nate’s the same way.”

As Joel stops at the top of the staircase, freshly showered, he catches those last words. He’d know your voice even if it’d been forever. His footsteps are quiet as he descends the stairs, but you hear him coming nevertheless. Ellie’s too busy sniffing the pine soap as you straighten up and glance his way. Joel’s eyes are as observant as you remember when they land on you, seeing into you, it seems. His damp hair is combed back in a way that makes him look more distinguished.

“There you are.” You stand up with a smile. You’d been wondering how he was doing since the panic attack.

He wishes your warmth wasn't so compelling.

Ellie whips around to look at him. “I know you said not to open the door to strangers—which is practically everybody at this point—but she’s really nice and brought us gifts so you can’t be mad at me,” she rushes out. He clocks the blanket around her shoulders.

He hmphs. “That’s how they get you.” He’s not being serious, but Ellie frowns, trying to read through his eternal poker face. “Treats and a friendly smile.” Your lips twitch in amusement as Ellie narrows her eyes.

When Joel starts walking your way, she consoles herself with the fact that he would've already asked you to leave if he sensed your intentions were off. The commune wasn’t filled with questionable people like that anyways. The two of them didn’t have to be apprehensive of every soul they came across anymore.

He’s close enough now that you can smell the cedar soap on his skin. “I’m not a stranger,” you lightly defend. “Not entirely.” You look from Ellie to Joel.

A wall rises in real time, shutting you out right along with the night you met. It happens in his eyes just like everything does. He hadn’t mentioned you to her, and it was your mistake for believing he would’ve at least passed on a name.

You swallow back a small lump in your throat that may not be entirely just. “Anyways, hopefully you guys will be able to put this stuff to use.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie pipes up. “Are you leaving already?” She hadn’t missed the finality that had crept into your tone.

You nod. “Don’t wanna take up too much of your evening. I actually meant to come by sooner.”

“Well, are you going to the dining hall for dinner?” Her gaze flicks to Joel. “Maybe you can come with us.”

Joel knows he’s in trouble when he hears the fondness in Ellie’s voice. It’s the same sentiment he was straining to tamper down within himself. Every time he opened his mouth or looked at you, it tried to claw its way to the forefront. The last thing he needed was another person getting close enough to see that he was a million tiny pieces being held together by the glue of whatever god was keeping him alive.

You decline her invitation, expressing plans to go to your uncle’s place. But you give her a rain check. When you go to leave, Joel allows his eyes to flitter down the rest of your body.

That wouldn’t be the last he saw of you. But it was always from afar, lingering on the outskirts. Wishing there was a seamless way he could fall into your orbit without sending everything spiraling out of control.

You were always looking right back at him with hope in your eyes, holding space. Waiting for your world to be shaken.

•••

Laughter, chatter, and music drown out the insects that usually take precedence at night. Weeks of planning had finally come into fruition. All of Main Street is lined with fairy lights that cast their warm glow down on the summer festival. There was no shortage of entertainment, games, and food. It was a time to let loose and relish the sweetness in the air along with that of life.

Nate plays his harmonica for a group of children around the bonfire, all clapping and stomping along. A smile graces your face as you walk by, waving at him. The fullness of your heart almost overrides the ache that has settled in the arches of your feet. You’d barely sitten down since earlier that morning when preparation began. There was a sense of responsibility that came along with the orange vest you were dawned in. The pressure to assist, and guide, and answer questions wasn’t all on you, but the other volunteers were better at taking breaks.

Tommy’s grainy voice breaks into the air through a megaphone, “Thirteen-and-up three-legged races starting in five minutes, this is your last call. Grab a partner and make your way over to the east lawn,” he says. “Again, this is the last call.”

Joel and Ellie already happen to be seated at a picnic table that gives them a perfect view of the race setup and Tommy facilitating in an orange vest of his own. Ellie had already worked through her first honey cake and was eyeing Joel’s. He pretends not to notice until she looks up at him all wide-eyed.

“Can I—” he slides his plate over to her. “Thanks.”

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,” he lightly accuses, shaking his head.

“What does that even mean?” She takes a bite. “Weirdo.”

Joel just grumbles and tosses a napkin her way. She wipes her mouth and keeps staring at him. Not because she’s waiting for an answer, but because there’s amusement sparkling in his eyes. Which happens more often now that they’d had a couple months to settle into Jackson. A laugh was coming, she could feel it.

“Quit gawking at me and eat.” There’s a tell-tale waver in his voice.

“No.” Ellie lightly kicks his shin beneath the table and that’s what sets him off.

He tries to bite back a chuckle, but he gives in when it doesn’t work out, shoulders shaking. Ellie starts grinning at him from across the table, and he kicks her back with the tip of his boot.

“Hey!” She breaks into giggles and retaliates. He lets her have the little victory.

A small smile lingers on his face when he regains his composure. They sit in a comfortable silence as Ellie finishes the rest of her dessert, taking in the festivities around them.

It isn’t long before a girl with dark hair approaches their table. She’s a ball of masked nerves. “Hi,” she greets. “Ellie, right?” She says it as if it’s possible for her to have forgotten. As if after they sat together at last week’s movie night, she hadn’t been thinking about her since.

Ellie get’s uncharacteristically squirmy. “Oh. Hey, Dina.”

Joel can’t believe it.

Dina tucks a flyaway behind her ear. “My old partner bailed, so I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna do the three-legged race with me. I think we’d make a better team anyways.” Then she glances at Joel. “If you wouldn’t mind me stealing her away for a bit.”

“Take her,” Joel quips, making Dina laugh.

Warmth rushes to Ellie’s cheeks as she stands. “Sure, let’s go.”

The two of them jog over to get prepped for the race. Joel watches the whole while, warmth kindling in his chest at the fact that she was slowly finding her tribe. The race doesn’t start for another couple minutes, and when it does, Ellie and Dina burst off into first. It’s intense. The whole ordeal is a mess of laughter, stumbling, and flailing limbs. In the end, the duo end up placing second, crossing the finish line only to fall into a heap of giggles with their legs tied together.

Joel stands from the picnic table with a grunt to throw away all the empty plates. He has every intention to sit back down, but notices a few frazzled volunteers carrying mops and towels. Then his eyes rove over to the long line standing at the drink stands. Adults check their watches, children fidget. A woman in an orange vest is talking to another woman managing the stand. He doesn’t realize is you until you turn away from her and beeline towards the community center, looking stressed.

“Hey,” he calls out to a stout man wearing an apron. “Do you know what’s going on?”

He’s surprised Joel caught on. Everyone else was carrying on as usual, carefree and unaware. “There was a spill at the community center. You know Mr. Robertson’s special Summer Fest punch?” he asks in a thick Brooklyn accent, Joel nods because he’d heard the rave. Apparently it was made especially for the festival. “Kitchen’s flooded with it. I didn’t have time to build an ark,” he jokes.

Joel wrestles with himself. “I’ll go see if I can help.”

By the time you exit the community center, gaze fixed over your shoulder, you crash into Joel. He instinctively reaches out to steady you, touch firm but gentle. “Whoa, easy there.” The low timbre of his drawl is enough to draw your mind away from all the noise. “You alright? Here, let’s get out of the way.” You let him pull you aside by your elbow.

When you look into his eyes, there’s so many things you wish it was the appropriate time to say. It’s been cordial between the two of you, but it always seemed like he was in a constant state of backing away, like an animal scared of giving into a primal craving.

There was always a reason why he couldn’t stay in your presence longer than he did. He had to get back to Ellie, or turn in early for his patrol shift the next day, or some other excuse. Even during the game nights you hosted, he would always leave before his belly was full and the real fun was about to begin. When everyone was finally free of the day’s worries and truly ready to talk, laugh, and let everything ride on the toss of a dice.

He’d resigned himself to enjoying you in the little here and there, the moments in between. So much so that even Ellie had begun to notice. It was in the way he never allowed himself to lean in too close whenever you were at his side. Or never fully crawled out of his shell no matter how many times you smiled sweetly or let your fingertips brush his forearm.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks more intently. As he scans you over, he notices your clothes. The lower portion of your vest and the thighs of your flared jeans are stained with a wet, dark substance.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You pull away from him with more force than necessary, feeling guilty for the way he swallows and takes a step back. “Sorry.” You release a heavy exhale, tears welling in your eyes with a dull sting. “I’m ruining everyone’s night.”

Joel frowns. “No you’re not. Tell me what happened.”

“I was trying to transfer the extra beverage dispenser onto the wagon so I could wheel it out to the drink stand, but it slipped out of my grip,” you explain. “The lid came off and the punch spilled everywhere.” You wipe your tears away quickly, as if they’ll stain too.

“Accidents happen,” Joel’s tone is steady like scripture, tenderness peeking through just enough to cling onto. “Everybody’s fine. The world's still turning.”

Nobody had reacted in an extreme manner. There were gasps and startled jumps, but assurances came rushing in as the janitorial volunteers insisted that they’d get everything cleaned up. Everyone in that kitchen knew that there were worse things in life than spilled juice. Sure, it was upsetting, considering the time Mr. Robertson spent and the people looking forward to drinking more, but it was a small mistake in the grand scheme of things. But when your heart is already heavy and your mind is tangled with other concerns, those little mishaps feel like the most devastating ones.

There was a directness about Joel, though, that eased away the guilt crawling beneath your skin. It was like he understood what screwing up truly was and this was many light years from it.

Dina spots Joel in the distance and points him out to Ellie. “There he is over there.”

Their smiles fall from their faces when they get closer and realize you’re crying. “Holy shit, what happened?” Ellie looks between you and Joel, worry etched onto her face.

“I just made a stupid mistake.” You sniffle, trying to regain your composure, not wanting to worry them. There was always something unavoidably daunting about seeing adults cry.

“You girls stay here with her for a second. I’ll be right back,” Joel instructs.

A new song starts up by the live band that’s playing. It’s an instrumental rendition of Every Breath You Take. A decent crowd has gathered, nibbling on sourdough and nodding to the melody. Some people are wrapped in each other’s arms. Joel soaks it all in as he navigates back to the racing lawn.

Tommy claps him on the back when he makes it and Joel returns the gesture. “You enjoying yourself, man?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” he says distractedly. “There was a spill at the community center, so no more punch. You think you can get everybody on the same page?”

“Copy that.”

Tommy’s voice carries through the megaphone as Joel makes his way back to you, the announcement fading with each step.

“Howdy, folks. Some of you may have already heard, but in case you haven’t, there’s been a little spill and we are unfortunately all out of Mr. Robertson’s world famous punch for the night. We apologize if you didn’t get the chance to try it, but I promise we’ll figure out a way to make it up to y'all. In the meantime, I heard the lemonade and ice tea ain’t half bad.”

His words blur into the background as Joel makes it back to you. There are a few disappointed groans, but nobody is completely devastated by the news. They keep carrying on just as he knew they would.

Tears no longer streak your face when Joel makes it back, Ellie and Dina seeming to have lifted your spirits a little more.

“Do you wanna go get cleaned up?” Joel suggests.

Now that you’re thinking about it, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin is beginning to grow uncomfortable. You take a deep breath at the thought of walking home, away from Summer Fest, all the energy, all the fun. Joel sees the disappointment on your face.

“I can go with you,” he offers.

•••

The walk to your house is quiet, the sounds of the night's festivities now distant. The porch steps creak gently under your weight as the two of you ascend them. Joel watches as you unlock the door, but finds himself cemented as you step inside. Confusion, appreciation, frustration, and want are all amalgamated into one look directed right his way. Without saying a word, you head further inside, leaving the door open.

Joel’s hands twitch at his sides like he’s a live wire wrought with energy. Bugs would fly in if he didn’t do something—that’s the justification he creates. You’re halfway to the laundry room when you hear the front door shut behind him as he follows after you.

The living room is illuminated by dim lamplight as he walks through. A quick glance into the kitchen gives him sight of one of Ellie’s more recent drawings stuck to the refrigerator door with a smiley face magnet. It's a portrait of your face that you agreed to sit for one lazy afternoon while Joel was away on patrol.

The air smells like you. Understated and sweet, floral and earthen. Small plants line multiple windowsills despite how convinced you were that you couldn’t keep anything alive. The whole commune would be worse off without you and he’d be the first to wilter away.

At the sound of a zipper and clothes brushing against skin, he stops his pursuit of you. Miles away even though you’re mere yards apart. All he has is your shadow, dancing in the dim light pooling out of the laundry room and into the hall with him. He backs himself into the cool wall and closes his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Up and down and up again. An SOS in the middle of a sea when salvation was right within reach. It gets quiet after a while. No more running water, or cabinet doors, or shuffling around.

“You can let me in, you know?” comes your voice, so light it’s almost nothing. Joel releases a shaky breath and opens his eyes to the sight of you, dawned in old shorts and a graphic tee. You wish he would say something, anything. Share a fraction of what’s going on in his mind. “I’m right here, Joel.”

“I know. I see you.” There’s a defensive edge to his voice that’s wounded around the edges, as if he’s trying to accommodate the truth that burns within his ribcage, his stomach, beneath the entirety of his skin.

“So now what?” You swallow your nerves, studying his face, his neck. “We’re just gonna keep seeing each other for the rest of our lives and that’s it? No knowing, no feeling, no experiencing?” You ask. “No loving?”

One by one, the walls close in, until it feels like you’re standing toe to toe with nothing but words as weapons and honesty being the only way out. It’s not a fight he’s ready for. He can trek through the harshest winters, fight off monsters and all manner of men, but he’s defenseless in front of you.

There will be no victory, no rising from battle with a bloodied fist or blade, or immediate relief akin to the coming of spring. The only way out is to dig within, and he already knew what resided there. It was a matter of carving it out and laying it on an altar for you to see as you did the same. It’s not a fight at all, it's a sacrifice. All risk with probable reward.

“I don’t want that to be all that we do.” You’ve never heard Joel speak so quietly. It’s as if there’s Infected lurking nearby and he doesn’t want to be devoured. “Think about you too much.”

“I was starting to think you didn’t like me at all. Not like how I like you,” you say.

Joel swallows thickly, warm all over. “How do you like me?”

You push out of the laundry room doorway to step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, the beating of his heart. You let it thrum against your palm until a shallow breath slips past his lips, then you move to cup his stubbled jaw, lightly brushing your thumb over his lower lip. The urge to touch you back grows so great that he finally gives in and lets both of his strong hands settle on your waist.

Joel can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he leans in towards you, studying your face, searching for any sign that this might be some elaborate ruse. Instead, he finds something so poignant that he doesn’t have the words to define. It’s as terrifying as it is wonderful to, for once, be unable to size up what he’s up against.

You close the space in between you with a softness that takes his breath away. Bared heart meeting bared heart. Joel’s lips are gentle and unhurried, every second savored and not a single one missed. You try to focus but it feels like you’re falling and flying all at once. Then his fingers dig into your waist a little harder, a silent plea to stay there with him, the warmth of his kiss, the firmness of his body as he pulls you closer.

Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to play with the hair curled at his nape. The kiss deepens not in urgency but a shared understanding. A promise sealed in the way your bodies fit together. And then, slowly, deliberately, Joel eases back, lips lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer until there’s a slight space in between again. Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours, thumb stroking tender circles on your waist.

When you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, wondering if you can feel that two worlds having converged into one, buzzing with a newness that’s as beautiful as all the words you’d kept bottled inside.

•••

It hadn’t taken much. Just a hug and a few soft kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw. When Joel’s grumbling finally subsided, it made way for the soothing ripple of the river. You’d settled along the bank and stretched out a few blankets when you first arrived. An hour seemed to pass in the matter of a few seconds, laughter, conversations and all. Now the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon up in the ombre sky.

It wasn’t any fault of your own that you’d asked Joel if the date could extend a little longer. It’d been a month of getting to see him in this light, open and unguarded, generous with giving those slow, easy smiles. Willing to lay down across your lap like this when you asked sweetly enough.

The small mouth of a fish breaks the surface of the water as you trace along his hairline, disappearing by the time you run the pad of your finger down his nose. His lips twitch as he continues to ward off sleep. This time, there’s no stopping a soft laugh from rising up your throat. That’s all it takes for his eyes to flutter open, blinking until they’re able to focus on the soft upturn of your lips. No sooner do they avert to the sky, assessing the fleeting light.

“We gotta head back now,” his voice is gruff. When he moves to sit up, you place a delicate hand on the center of his chest and he settles back down with a sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart, the sun’s setting. I don’t want you out here in the dark.”

Packing up and riding back to the commune meant this moment would be resigned to a memory. “A few more minutes won’t hurt,” you insist.

Before Jackson and before you, every second was about enduring to the next. Life was an endless onwards, onwards, onwards reverberating through his veins. Slowing down was always a risk until you showed him that sometimes life’s most worthwhile moments were in the stillness. Somedays that was easier to remember than others, but he sure did put in an effort.

“I think you’re enjoying this more than I am anyways,” you tease. The corners of his lips quirk upwards before he can stop them.

You continue on like that, tracing his face, occasionally glancing up at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Then an animal catches your attention across the way, lean and tall with short antlers protruding from its head. You suck in a breath of pleasant surprise, and Joel startles upright thinking the worst. His shoulders relax when he sees the creature. It bends its neck down to nibble at something in the grass until deciding to gallop away.

“Just a mule deer.” He gives you a look.

“I know, sorry. I get excited.” You offer an apologetic smile and he's reminded of how beautiful you look in the light of the setting sun, features aglow. He doesn’t say anything, just soaks you in here and now. An airiness fills your chest.

He stands with a groan, extending a helping hand back down to you. When you’re steady on your feet, he takes your chin in one gentle hand and tilts your head back so he can align his lips with yours. The kiss is brief, and he follows it up with a soft peck.

“Will you let me take you back home now?” he questions. “Ellie’s gonna have our heads if we’re late for game night. Especially when she’s choosing the line up.”

•••

No heads roll that night. Plenty of dice do, while Uno cards are slapped onto the coffee table, and Jenga blocks fall. Tommy, Maria, Dina, and your uncle Nate, eventually file out of Joel’s house, leaving the three of you alone. Ellie feigns sleep on the couch as soon as it’s time for cleanup, and dozes off for real as you and Joel start taking care of everything yourselves.

He steps up behind you as you’re standing at the kitchen sink, snaking his arms around your middle. A curious hum rises up your throat as you lean back into him.

“I think somebody cheated during Jenga tonight,” he hushes against the shell of your ear, relishing the way you shiver at the warmth of his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel noses at the back of your head. “So you weren’t the one touchin’ me during that last round?” he asks. “Scratching my back, squeezing my thigh.”

“It was innocent,” you insist. “It's a stressful game, I was just trying to ease your nerves. How was I supposed to know your hands would get all shaky?”

A sudden chuckle shakes his chest, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Ease my nerves? We weren’t even on the same team.” His fingers squeeze your hips in quick, gentle pulses, making you arch into him in a spell of helpless giggles. Joel evades your attempts to grab his wrists, but shows you mercy when you turn around, looking up at him through your lashes like you could do no wrong.

“You’re lucky I happen to like you an awful lot.” He places both hands on the counter behind you, effectively caging you in.

You smooth your hands up his chest, admiring the soft lines by his eyes, the handsome bump of his nose. “I know. I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“No, that’s me,” Joel whispers.

He’s certain of it.

Thank you so much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts, it’s my favorite thing.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem reader smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #slow burn #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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cherry-burst · 3 months ago

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🔞MDNI - That first make-out session with Sylus is gonna hit different.

Okay, maybe you shared a few heated kisses before. A couple quick pecks because other people were around. But now, as his lips absolutely devour yours, it's a tinge (a lot) more feral.

Sylus is like a tidal wave washing over you stripping you of every expectation you had and raising the goddamn stakes ten-fold.

The searing kiss, the large hands holding you to him, and the massive body curling around you like a protective shield. It was all so intense, not to mention how he presses his knee between your legs for you to decide what to do with it.

He kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole. The possessiveness in his actions making you weak at the knees and stealing the air from your lungs. His searing gaze only makes the coals inside you burn brighter.

You kissing him back, pressing up against his lean body like the kiss is a challenge, has him groaning into your mouth. 'Now thats my girl' he thinks. His hand cupping your face then moving to the back of your head hold your lips agains his, preventing you from breaking away too soon.

He let his inhibitions crumble completely. He has nothing on his mind other that your body on his.

Then it gets a bit more heated because you have nothing to do and, what a supprise, neither does he. You have all the time in the world to be together tonight.

He snakes his hand up your skirt and tears down the fabric underneath. Well, oops. You didn't need those panties, did you? He doesn't give a fuck. He now has access to your pussy. And, fuck, you're so wet already. He challenges himself to make you even wetter than that, more messier, more slick, positively soaked.

The neck kisses go crazy. You react to his kiss on your neck, a gasp or sigh, it fuels him. He's pulling on your hair until more of your neck is exposed so he can kiss more of you, bite more of you, suck and leave hickies on more of you.

His lips on you is all he needs. On your lips, on your neck, on your chest, on your stomach.

"Tell me you want me" Sylus asks, his fingers inside you already making you become so messy. He adds a third "Just me. Say it" The 'please' is indicative in his eyes.

His silver hair is disheveled, his breathing is heavy. His red eyes are intense to say the least. He's so far beyond the calm man you grew to love and was now the feral man you were realizing you were growing equally as smitten with.

You tell him how badly you want him, how good his lips feel, how good his fingers feel, how you want more. Sylus is beside himself, caught up in the special moment he gets to have with you, a new side if you to explore. He wants it. He wants you. All of it, all the time.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus lads

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amazinglyashy · 3 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

#love and deepspace #.writey #lads #lds #x reader #sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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drcranessweetestdoe · 1 year ago

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heyyyyy

could you do a Tommy shelby fic?

in which he fucks Ada's bestfriend when she is 18!

hii, love this idea xx I have been writing this all day, time to celebrate with a jam sandwich:) xx

Finally mine

warning: agegap!, Thomas lusts after her while she is underage, grooming, virginity loss, virginity kink, innocence kink, unprotected sex, Tommy being a softie, possessiveness

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Innocent!Reader

summary: ever since he came back from the war, Tommy found himself wanting his sister’s lovely and sweet best friend, too bad he has to wait until she is 18

(Y/N) was the sweetest girl in the whole of Birmingham, always polite and kind. Thomas was smitten with her from day one. She and Ada met in school, she felt sorry that Ada was always alone, because everyone told their kids to stay away from the filthy Shelby’s. So, one day she gathered the courage and sat beside the sad girl, who was very excited to finally have a friend.

It was the age of war, so everyone was always on the edge of a meltdown. And money wasn’t exactly falling from the sky. While (Y/N)’s family weren’t considered aristocrats by any chance, she never had to worry about not getting fed, or not having a warm bed to sleep in. That was something that the Shelby’s couldn’t exactly relate to, there was little money and quite a few mouths to feed. Aunt Polly tried her best to feed the hungry children at the table, but she was failing more and succeeding less. Her sister-in-law’s three big boys were away at war, but they were always talked about.

One day, the thirteen year old (Y/N) plopped down beside her best friend Ada with a full lunch box in hand. She always had lunch packed with her, but Ada never did. For a long time, she just assumed that the malnourished girl was not hungry in school. While she was munching on her apple, she heard the growl of a hungry belly and Ada turned her head down in shame. While a girl is naive at 13, (Y/N) immediately knew that her friend was hungry, and that she probably didn’t get as much food at home as she did. When Ada looked back at her, she reacted with a wide smile to the outstretched hand towards her, holding a big red apple.

For the rest of the break, they just sat under their tree, silently chewing on their apples, with a smile on both faces.

That is how Ada knew that (Y/N) was going to be her lifelong best friend. She opened up to her when they were sharing a cigarette on the edge of the forest.

“We had more money before the war, if Tommy was here he would make sure that we have food.” Ada explained.

(Y/N) just blinked at her friend. “Who’s Tommy?”

———-

Three years later, the girls were now sixteen and the war was finally over. Because (Y/N) herself didn’t have any brothers, or sisters, she didn’t know how many families waited for this day to come.

It was a pretty summer day, and she made her way to the Shelby household, where she was always welcomed by Aunt Polly. Except, when she walked into the house, there was only one man sitting at the table. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she blushed heavily, he was very handsome. For a moment she believed that she walked into the wrong house, but the photographs on the walls proved otherwise. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall blankly, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear her come in.

Thomas just wanted a moment to himself in his childhood house before going back to the Garrison, he was not the same man anymore. Suddenly, he saw a figure in the corner of his eye. A second later, the two pairs of eyes met. His previously sad eyes lit up at the sight of her, but he tried to conceal it. She was so beautiful… Slender and weakish frame, something that made him eager to protect her. Her long and soft looking hair. And that face, oh god, that pretty face.

“H-Hi… I’m (Y/N).” She walked closer to him and stuck her hand out for him, she recognized him from the pictures, he was one of Ada’s brothers.

He heard about her, Aunt Pol always told him what was happening on Watery Lane in the letters she sent to Tommy. She had mentioned Ada’s lovely friend, multiple times. She told him that the girl was pretty, very kind, and that she went with her to church on Sundays when no one else wanted to, just so Polly didn’t have to go alone.

Tommy smiled at her, and she felt herself get lost in those bright blue gems of eyes. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips and planted a little kiss on it. Her hand was soft and warm, it was a while since he felt the touch of a gentle female. He smiled when she blushed more at his kiss. “Thomas Shelby.”

—----

From that day on, Miss (Y/L/N) was under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas always had one of his men following her and Ada to school, and then back home. It killed him knowing that he couldn’t touch her, make her his, not yet anyway. That would have been immoral and awful, and he knew that aunt Pol would have broken his hand in two and cut off his cock. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent too many night fucking his fist to the thought of her. Everyone in the Shelby clan could see how soft he was towards her, always making sure that she stays out of the bad things, and whenever she came over and he was working, his eyes basically formed into hearts and followed her everywhere. The family loved her, she enjoyed baking and she always made sure that at least once a week she turned up to the office with home-baked treats. Those kinds of sweet treats calmed everyone down, business was blooming after all.

Ever since Tommy came back from the war, he only let himself be pleasured by whores, the one girl he wanted was the one he had to wait for. He always hired prostitutes that resembled her even the slightest bit. He imagined that he was burying himself inside her wet and warm walls, he overheard her and Ada and he was very well aware that she was untouched, a sweet little virgin. In Small Heath, the girls started sleeping around in their teens, but she, at 17, didn’t care about the boys her age. She wanted a certain gangster, who was nearing his thirties.

He didn’t even claim her yet, but wherever she walked, everyone knew she was Tommy Shelby’s girl. He sent her gifts, and always a handwritten note. Her heart never failed to warm up when she saw the little T.S on the bottom of the cards. Flowers, chocolates, exotic spices that she could put in her sweet treats, jewellery, dresses, everything a 17 year old girl loves. She was spoiled by him. When she wore one of the dresses that he got for her, she always sent him a shy smile and a little nod.

—-----

Tomorrow was going to be the day when she would finally become 18 years old, a young lady. She felt so antsy getting to bed, knowing that she would wake up as an adult. She also deeply hoped that Tommy would do something, after 2 years of gifts, protection and lustful gazes from distance. It was safe to say that her standards were very much heightened.

When she woke up, she noticed a big box on the chair of her vanity, tied up in one of those big ribbons. Her mother must have brought it up for her, as she always did when her daughter’s name was on the box, written by the familiar handwriting.

She was smiling widely when she opened the box up, it had a beautiful silky dress and a gold locket necklace. She marvelled at the divine fabric, but quickly blushed when she looked into the box again. There was a set of white lingerie and a note.

Tonight, I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7pm, be ready.

~T.S

She melted at that, and she felt her lower tummy warm up. This evening, she will finally be claimed.

——-

By the time 7pm rolled around, she did everything she could to make herself look pretty for him. She took a long hot bath, made sure she smelled good everywhere. She washed her hair and tied up half of it with a bow. She put lotion all over herself, sprayed herself with perfume and put the lovely dress on. Sitting in her vanity, she put on some makeup. She felt beautiful.

She got her light coat on, along with kitten heels and she was waiting for his car to come. When it did, she sat in the backseat and greeted the driver.

She got driven to Arrow house, which she only heard about before. It was so huge, and overwhelming, but very nice.

A maid took her coat and escorted her to the dining roomom. Just like the rest of the house, it was quite big, both the room itself and the table. It was decorated elegantly, the candlelight flooded the room. Just as she stepped in, Thomas walked in the room on the other door. He looked so handsome as always, with his muscular frame and his tailored suit.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest, she looked like an angel, and she was standing in his house, wearing his gift. The maid left, now there were only two of them in the room, he walked up to her. With a gentle hand on her waist, he pulled her closer so he could plant a kiss on her cheek and whisper in her ear. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He got even closer, her head was spinning with him so close, his masculine scent sent her hormones into overdrive. “I hope the dress isn’t the only gift of mine on you.”

He felt his dick twitch when she looked up at him like that, a gentle glint in her eyes. She shaked her head, too lost in his eyes to answer with words. To shake her out of her trance, he guided her to her seat, with his hand still on her slender waist.

He sat next to her, the maids kept on serving the finest of foods. Thomas also brought out a bottle of red wine. Both of them were surprised how easy it was for them to talk. They talked and ate, and Tommy even found himself laughing. He also found out how innocent she was, she wasn’t stupid, just inexperienced, and he was more than happy to give her experience. She also had a big heart, and a gentle soul, she was everything he needed.

While everyone in Small Heath tried to warn her about Thomas Shelby, she never understood why. He was just trying to protect his family and give them a chance at a better life, he was also an absolute softie for her. She could see that he had a lot of love to give, he enjoyed being the leader and defeating other gang leaders, but he must have been craving someone who could take care of him for once, she knew that she wanted to be that person.

When they finished dessert, he pulled her chair closer to his and cradled one of her blushing cheek into his palm.

“Are you aware of my intentions towards you?” He asked in a serious tone, she knew that he wasn’t fooling around. Now or never. She nodded as much as she could with the gentle hold on her face, but he wasn’t having it. “Answer me with words, I want to see if you really want this.” She felt dizzy by hearing his dominating tone.

“Yes, I know your intentions with me.” She replied shyly.

“What are they?” His fingers started to move her hair out of her face, caressing her in the process.

“Y-You want to make me yours.” She spoke lowly, it was hard to speak when he was looking at her as if he was seconds away from ravaging her.

“Yes, and do you want that, (Y/N)? Do you want me to make you mine?” He was even closer now, he whispered seductively in her ear, his full lips were nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I will give you everything you crave. Please, let me give you the world.” Thomas Shelby barely used the word ‘please’, but he was nearly begging for her. She almost giggled, as if she really needed much convincing.

“I want it, I want it so bad, Tommy…” She was getting impatient, and he saw it on her.

“Shh, sweetheart… Don’t let your pretty head worry, I’m going to take care of you so nicely.” He stood up and stuck his hand out for her to take. “Come.”

He walked with her to his bedroom, she was walking behind him so she couldn’t see the wicked grin on his lips. When they stepped in the door, he just kept on walking, which caused her to walk backwards, until her knees hit the bed and she had fallen down on it.

He didn’t waste a second and crawled on top of her, his lips slowly finding hers. Their kiss started out slow, he guided her lips with his own. After a few minutes, noticing that she was starting to become more and more confident, he slipped his tongue into her open mouth. His hand wandered to her back, where the zipper was, his head pulled away so he could ask for silent permission. Once he got it, he helped her sit up and he removed the dress. Sitting back on his heels, he admired the sight in front of him, her young body was just begging to be ruined. She was wearing the lace, she looked exactly like an angel. His lips glued themselves to her neck and they sucked and bit, her noises were proof that she was enjoying his touch. He made sure to really mark her up, she wasn’t going to leave his mansion for a while, he needed his time with his new prize. She bit down on her lips to hide her moans, something he growled at.

“Don’t you dare. I want to hear you, don’t hold back, sweetheart.”

He went down to her breasts, he also reached under her arched back and unclasped her bra. She tried to cover herself, but he was having none of it. He slowly unpeeled her arms from her chest and kissed all around her breasts. “How beautiful! Such a nice pair of tits you have, the best I’ve seen.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she mewled loudly, she didn’t expect to feel so aroused while getting her nipples sucked at. He made sure that he gave both of her tits the same treatment before going lower.

Before he could do more, he stood up to remove his shirt and pants, her presence was making him hotter by the minute. He hooked his fingers into her panties and his cock nearly tore his underwear when he saw how the crotch was stuck to her entrance. She was already so ready for him. He yanked harder and they finally parted, he brought her panties up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mhm, so sweet… But, I think I need to feel this from the source.” Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her spread legs, her mind was making her doubt herself. What if she looked ugly down there? What if it smelled or tasted b—

“OH— Tommy!” She moaned loudly when his tongue licked a long stripe up her slit. He just chuckled into her pussy darkly, then he moved on to her pleasure. His mouth was sucking her throbbing clit, his fingers slowly circled her entrance, teasing her.

“Fuck… Your cunt tastes divine, and it’s only for my mouth to taste.” It wasn’t even a question. She was unable to form a coherent sentence, she could only moan and thrash on his tongue. He took one finger and he slowly eased it into her, she was so wet that it slipped right into her, he didn’t hesitate to add another one. “You’re going so good, I cannot wait to feel this tight virgin pussy on my cock.” He curled his fingers and rubbed them right into her spongy spot, her fingers grabbed his hair and tried to push his face more into her heat. He felt her clenching more and more, so he sped up his movements and grinned proudly when she came undone with a whiny moan and a desperate call of his name.

He kissed his way back up to her heaving chest and looked up at her flushed face. He talked her through it, until her breathing evened out again. He slowly slipped his underwear off, his back straightened out for her to see his big cock. It was veiny and thick and it made her nervous. He kept her legs spread, while he kneeled between them, one of his hand smoothing her face and the other one gripped himself at his base. “Want to give a little touch? Don’t be scared, I’m going to make this very pleasurable for you, my sweet girl.” He hissed when her fingertips made contact with his dripping tip, he was so pent up and her soft touch nearly made him blow his load all over her juicy tits, but he had to stay patient. “Are you ready? Ready to become mine?”

“Yes, Tommy, please, I want to feel you. I-I waited for you.” This caused him to grin and give her a deep kiss.

“I know you did, little one.” He positioned himself at her entrance and he slowly began pushing in, he felt a bit of resistance, but with a sharp thrust, he managed to break through it. He wrapped her up in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear soothingly. “I know, I know. It will feel better in a minute, your pussy just has to adjust to my cock. Relax.” It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but it still did, the girls in her class made it sound worse, or maybe their boyfriends didn’t take the time to prep them properly. That made her so proud, her Tommy made sure she was ready. She tried her best to relax her muscles and she felt the pain lessen. She planted a shy kiss on Tommy’s neck at which he chuckled at. “Good girl. You’re mine now, only mine.” He slowly began moving in and out of her.

Her walls gripped on him like a vice, he didn’t need any whores anymore, he had her now. His hands lifted her hips up a bit, so his cock was hitting her spot at every thrust. He went more and more faster, his fingers also began rubbing on her swollen clitoris.

“AH— Tommy, I’m going to—do that thing again.” His innocent little girl, so good for him.

“Good… I can feel you squeeze me, come on, sweet girl, come for me. Come on my cock. Let me fill you up. Let me make you mine.” With a shout of his name and a cry, she came around him. When he felt her walls pulsing around him, he let go too. His warm cum painted her walls, and it was such a delicious sensation. He stayed inside her for a few minutes, both of them trying to catch their breaths.

When he pulled out, he sat back so he could watch his cum leak out of her spent hole. He looked down proudly at his softening cock, which had some of her blood on it. Shit, he really filled her up with his load, there was so much of it. And the whiteness of him and the dark crimson of her virginity made such a lovely contrast together.

He took a rag from his bedside table and cleaned her up, making sure that he was gentle with her, the girl just got fucked and she was sensitive both physically and mentally, he had to be gentle.

After he made sure they were both clean, he once again brought her into his embrace. He smiled at her lovingly, which caused her to do the same. Her hair was all puffy from his touch, but he loved it.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He cradled her cheek, and caressed her under eye area with his fingertip.

“I’m good, I feel a bit sore, but it’s okay.” She nuzzled into his neck and left little kisses. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He smiled in a way he didn’t for a long time, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wanted to give the world to the girl in his arms, and he felt the primal urge to protect her and keep her away from all the bad. “Me too. I’m happy to know that you’re finally mine.”

taglist: @your-nanas-house

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