#don't let them look through the curtains | musing

[starikune]

Tag Dump Part 4.

[capslocked]

PARITY

male reader x sana & miyeon

21k words

Within some reasonable tolerance, the two are carbon copies. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Doppelganger, twin, deadringer - they always tell you, they don’t see it.

But when they stand together it always comes across like two shadows stitched into one silhouette; the slope of their noses, their mouths; the way their hair cascades down past their shoulders.

You’ve learned to recognize the twitch at the corner of their lips before a laugh - how they speak in the same inflection and pitch and tempo, the same cadence coloring all their syllables. Even in their figures there is something uncannily familiar: that petite stature, that grace; they both have perfect posture, an ingrained elegance, like something handed down generation to generation. And of course - the height. The hair. The eyes. The same-damned-smirk.

Here's a hypothetical: if Sana's DNA, then Miyeon's RNA. They're both two separate ways of reading the same thing, and they both have it in them to transcribe the same hot load of proteins over all their pretty faces.

"Oh, that's like a sex joke," Miyeon says to Sana, frowning slightly, "right?"

"I don't know." Sana hums. "Protein... like sperm?"

You sigh, rub your thumb at your temple. This is why, normally, you wouldn't take ditzy to bed, but there's all this history between you and Sana that proves otherwise. The dirty truth is: you’ve been taking ditzy to bed for years. And Miyeon’s right there. She’s all bright eyes, blonde hair, tiny little waist, the perfect height to get two fingers in her cunt and the rest of her in your lap without you even needing to shift your arm into something more uncomfortable. God forbid.

She pulls back the curtain of silk-glossed-hair spilling over her cheek and tucks it neatly behind her ear. Okay, fine. So maybe you really do have a type.

"Yeah," Miyeon decides. "I think that's a good pun. Cute."

She glances sideways at Sana; something flashes between them, imperceptible. They've been doing this sorta thing for a long time - long before they ended up in their current living arrangement. This machine of synchronized, unvoiced communication.

"Cute," echoes Sana, delighted, and she lets her eyes flick back to yours. "Baby, are you, like, gonna give us lots of protein?"

"First of all, we’re fast approaching the point of diminishing returns on the whole protein spermaestria," you muse, wryly. Sana beams. "And again, the point I’m trying to make, Sana: you two are identical."

"Not in spirit," says Miyeon, automatically. "Or intellect. Or appearance, either."

"You can't just claim that," says Sana, matter of fact. "He means physically. I have bigger tits and a better ass.”

There's no argument from your end. And not only because the cab driver hits a speed bump or a pothole or perhaps a small child way too quickly that sends you all lurching together into the seatbelts.

Miyeon finds a good hold in the handle over the door - it saves her - and you wind up steadying Sana. For a split second, it's both their shoulders leaning on yours: Sana, then Miyeon, then Sana. Back and forth. Back and forth. The three of you still end up sprawled halfway out of the seats and onto each other in the cramped cab, tangled all together.

"Please, explain it then," implores Sana, hushed slightly. "Go ahead, I'm sure Miyeon's dying to hear it."

"Look, it's not a perfect one to one mapping," you say, running your hand through your hair and putting on your patient professor-in-front-of-the-class face. "For example: Miyeon's cuter-"

"Thank you," chirps Miyeon, sweetly sardonic, before you can even append anything else to the statement. Sana’s already there with a noise of mild protest.

"I mean, I'm a full inch and a half taller than you."

"So?"

"That’s an unfair advantage. You've gotta be the dumbest person I know."

"Funny," chides Miyeon, swiveling her gaze onto Sana. "You could barely talk when we were fucking your brains out on your birthday. He's dating you, not me, remember? If anything, you're the one sporting an unfair advantage."

"Okay, well," Sana counters, reasonably, "when you can barely get a sentence out from choking on my boyfriend's cock, who the hell is supposed to call it?"

You ignore that. Miyeon is having more difficulty; her face has flushed cherry red and her hand's white-knuckle-gripping the side of the cab's passenger door. 

"For what it’s worth," you cut in, placidly, "I don’t think there’s any clear answer."

"Nonsense," they both reply, simultaneously and satisfied - like wind up toys. And that's the way the conversation tends to go when you get them alone like this. Identical, you pause to think again after spilling out from the back of the car and onto the curb outside the girls’ apartment.

All the things they say are word-for-word - they walk the same, eat the same, smile the same, tilt their heads the same. In those moments where you don't speak, it feels like watching some two-headed monster, an entity constructed from equal parts of both. And it isn't just the physicality at play. They've got that eerie ability to read each other, speak for each other. It's strange: their habits, the way their eyebrows arch, the set of their shoulders. It all syncs right up, matches seamlessly.

It's really fucking uncanny.

"Um." Sana twists one slim wrist back and forth until the key turns in the lock. "So, is it, like, wrong of me that I kinda just wanna skip the dinner part of this and watch my roommate get wrecked in the middle of our living room?"

"Depends," you answer, before you can let yourself dwell too much.

“Just a complete and utter carpet dive,” Sana says, shouldering the door open and flipping on the lights. “It’d serve her right. She’s being annoying.”

Miyeon scoffs, sticks out a bare, pale leg - it ends in a nail polished fire engine red, the strap of a stiletto sandal - and blocks your way inside. "Hey," she protests, lightly. You are not the only object in the equation - you are merely an item to be held against them; it's not about you, not in its most abstract shape. Miyeon and Sana are competing - vaguely for your affection, but more so just for affection in general. It's an ego thing, if nothing else.

"I'm an angel. I'm precious."

"Get your pretty feet out of his face," warns Sana.

"Ugh," says Miyeon. And then, "so short-tempered when you're not getting away with everything."

"Whatever, princess." Sana gestures, airy and flippant. "In any case: fuck off, or go get fucked."

This has become some kind of weird custom, admittedly. Miyeon does exactly as her best friend requests. She floats down the hallway and toward her room.

"Can't get good service around here anymore anyway," is what she tosses over her shoulder. Her fingers run up the door frame to her room and hang there, briefly, before she glances sideways back. You and Sana, now giving her your deservedly undivided attention. There is no split focus, no point of overlap. Her hair falls loose past her shoulders; her shirt clings a little to the muscles of her arms, her ribs. The point of contact between her skirt and her upper thighs. Those impossibly big eyes. She's gorgeous. You rarely ever let yourself forget that. There's something devastating about the set of her face, about how her body is absolutely fucking perfect, all curving lines and smooth planes - tits that fit right in your palm, the dip of her stomach, the pretty shape of her ass - she’s tiny, and in a way, that means you can do anything to her and manage to get away with it. She’ll let you. She’ll ask you to do it all again. 

"You two are more than welcome to follow along, if you feel so inclined,” Miyeon adds before she opens the door to her room, steps through, and lets it shut behind her.

"Yeah." Sana runs her tongue over her top lip, staring you straight in the eye. Her smile is slightly predatory, all sharp teeth. "If you’re so inclined."

-

(For anyone wondering about things like premise or backstory, here’s a useful memory:

Sana has a new roommate. They've been living together for two, three months. She's still not over the fact you didn’t ask her to move in, and you're still not ready for it. Your answer hasn’t changed. You like your apartment the way it is; the two of you need space; it's what the kids call cohabital parity and no, the ring's not in your wallet and it's not even bought yet; stop nagging me. It'll happen when it happens. 

Anyway,

It's one of those plainly beautiful evenings in early July or August - a weekend probably: the living room is bathed in the sort of low, radiant sunset that can go on forever, all of summer stretched out, leisure and sunshine. Sana had talked her way into getting you to take her somewhere highbrow and a little out of your budget. She can talk her way into just about anything; that's her brand, her bad habit, her good fortune.

"We're not going to be able to get our tickets," you're explaining into the loud blare of a hair dryer. And to paraphrase, "what the fuck is the point of making reservations if we’re going to be so reprehensively late?"

Sana's juggling the curling iron while fumbling with an eyelash curler and applying mascara and rearranging earrings all at the same time, and you think about reminding her, again, that it doesn't matter what she looks like if you never actually, you know, leave - but then the hair dryer switches off.

“Hey.” Sana ignores the concern and swivels to ask which earrings match which necklace - two pairs are laid across the countertop; they look exactly the same; you love her, desperately, but for the record, you've never been any good at telling jewelry apart. Neither the knowledge-set nor the motivation; she looks fucking gorgeous in everything regardless-

The front door clicks then, and Miyeon bursts through with the force of an entire hurricane - and promptly stops, dead. You forget what the hell she said, but the story was: she'd just gotten back from the worst date in her life. She's in tears, sobbing. It's a mess. She's a mess. You can't leave.

She falls right into Sana's arms. Then Sana throws a pointed, triumphant grin your way, and says to Miyeon - and you remember this, word for word, verbatim - "Aw, baby. Don't worry. Let us take care of you. We'll make you forget all about him, okay?"

This is the long and short of it: Miyeon arrives, in tears. You never make it to dinner and a show. And the night ends more or less how it started - with Miyeon still pretty much crying, but only because you two won't stop. With your fingers, your mouths. Sana knows what her tongue's doing; Miyeon is loud - and responsive. She's gorgeous too. She's so into it. She needs someone who is genuinely in love with her, who isn't going to try and push her around. You slip your cock into her and that's pretty much it, a different kind of curtain call; Miyeon gets Sana's thumb rolling at her clit and, yeah - she's fucking gone. She cums on your cock like she’s dying, like you’re killing her. It's as simple as that.

Now, there are several instances of which this is the case, in chronological order:

a.) The first time, in Sana's bed.

b.) The second time is in the back of Miyeon's hatchback. Tight fit for three people. It's a do-not-recommend.

c.) The third time, when they want to try blindfolding Miyeon while she rides your cock in the living room. The girl can't see shit, you break some IKEA furniture you can’t pronounce the name of, and the condom comes off during the whole process. There’s this unsettling, world-rocking possibility in which you get Miyeon fucking legitimately pregnant via oopsie-daisy. So, you and Sana wind up spooned up with Miyeon between you two and discuss the eventuality, should it arise - what you will all do in the future, the consequences, what Miyeon and Sana will say to Miyeon's and Sana's families - what the fuck you'll tell the rest of your friends, let alone the press - and then, deciding together: hey, well maybe this is actually a really bad idea.

d.) The fourth, fifth, sixth and every time after that where you realize that you're just gonna roll it all back and pretend like this is completely normal. Two's company, three's kind of a fever dream - but this is the platonic ideal of groupthink. It works. It just does; you know how to fit the pieces together now. How to read her body language: the one-two-one rhythm, Sana and Miyeon and then Miyeon-and-Sana; where their hands are, where they're moving; Miyeon's choked little sobs and the breathless gasps when your cock is deep inside her; all the unintelligible murmurs passing between the two of them that you can't understand - but none of them ever really matter. The important thing is that she's put her two front teeth in your left collarbone while you fuck into her slow and deliberate, in a way she can really feel. You cover Sana's mouth with your palm, your fingers pressed against the pulsing heat in her pussy, and you make them both cum over and over until they’re eyes are screwed shut and they’re counting stars.

That's about it. That's all the things.)

-

"I call it being spoiled for choice," Sana says, pausing only momentarily to decide in the mirror of Miyeon's makeup vanity whether or not to take off the bracelet on her wrist. 

The glint that strikes off the metal is gold in the bedroom lights, all warm yellow and sparkling silver. Sana narrows her fingers, pulls it off, on - like you've caught her trying on clothes, the latest fashion in a store front window. A stylistic consideration. It matches the rings on her third and fourth fingers. She decides that it suits her. 

"Lo and behold," Sana continues, "we have a real situation on our hands. In your hands. Whatever, you get my drift."

"Your cock," adds Miyeon, smiling like sunshine. She’s tracing you over your pants with her thumb, and she’s got her doe-eyed grin on, the one that promises something sugar-sweet, kneeling between your thighs at the edge of her bed - the slightest dishevel of her hair, kiss-swollen lips. God, what a picture. Her pupils flare when her fingers reach the top button of your pants. "And what's worse? I'm going to die if I can't have at least, you know. A couple minutes alone with it."

"You'd figure out a way to die either way," Sana muses. She leans backwards in Miyeon's desk chair, tugging idly at the hem of her skirt.

They're not usually dressed alike, and that's the weirdest part - Sana's never had Miyeon's particular taste for the tiny gauche dresses and white converse shoes and glossy nails, not unless it’s some matching outfit that she's being bullied into. Today's no different: the soft fabric of Miyeon's slip of dress barely stretches down to the line of her thigh. The hem starts just below the boundary of innocuous and everything else. She’d been hiking it up all evening. And the straps lay so thin across her shoulders that one little tug in the wrong spot would probably send it skidding all the way down to the floor.

That's the main thing on your mind when you get one in between your fingers.

Miyeon simply shoulders the other, rolling it down to hang loose, leaving the dress hanging off the gentle slope of her chest.

"Pretty," you say out loud.

"I know," she says, holding the grin.

She can make the world smile, it's infectious - and your gaze follows the path: from the blonde-shiny hair spilling over a collarbone, to the peeking line of her bra, to the flutter of the bottom of her dress at her hip. You catch the subtle lace trim, the little patterns embroidered into the waist, and decide her body's a gift - and wrapping it is something divine, something meant to be ripped right to shreds. If no one else is willing to volunteer, then it'll fall on you. Sure, sure, sure. You can be thanked later.

"Lose it," you request, quietly.

"Mr. Impatient," is what Sana sniffs out, scoffing. She's lounged back on the other side of Miyeon's makeup counter. Her heel taps away at empty air, bouncing off the end of her foot, that hot little fucking rhythm she's had going since her partner in crime got in your lap and kissed you right down into oblivion. "You want to get her naked and get inside of her, huh?"

"Is that not why you dragged me here?" you counter.

"Oh, don't put this on me." Her expression slides right into the mischievous smirk you're familiar with. Miyeon’s often sporting the same one.

"He wants to bend you over, princess," she tells Miyeon, and you hear the wistful sigh through her parted lips come out like permission. "Not that I can say I'd blame him. When's the last time you've taken cock again?"

"With him last week." She throws the response to Sana. They look, more than anyone, to be in sync in their one-upmanship.

"Hmm," says Sana, and she’s looking right at you. "Check how tight that dress fits over her hips, don't you just want to tear it right off of her?"

"He's not doing that," says Miyeon, but there's the lilting tease in her voice that signals precisely the opposite. She wants it: wants it like sugar and soda, salt water taffy; wants to be stripped like skin, bared to the bone. Her knees spread, just a little. "Not yet, anyway. Right now," she adds, hand fluttering towards the inside of her thigh, supplying touches right over the lace, "I want to suck his cock."

"Such a slut," Sana teases, tilting her head.

"You'll get yours," Miyeon insists, before pulling your cock out of your boxers with a small smile, curling her fingers around it, leaning forward. "God, this thing." She has the head under the palm of her other hand, and a wet-tipped promise on her lower lip.

You thread your hand into the hair aside Miyeon's temple, gentle and what will seem in a moment: paradoxically-tender. 

"Imagine what it'll do to your mascara when I fuck your mouth."

Miyeon licks her lips. You reckon she’s completely aware how it comes across - the wicked fantasy she is.

"I'm imagining what it'll do to you when she chokes," Sana retorts. 

“When he fills up my throat,” Miyeon says, hungry.

Sana sighs, sounding utterly wistful, and she fixes the same unrepentant look on you. "Poor Miyeon is just starved for cum tonight. Aww," she remarks, sweetly, "The poor thing. Do me a favor won't you? Fuck my pretty little friend in the face."

"Well," is all you get out before you look up at Sana. "Yours too, honey."

"Hardly, the same," Miyeon cuts in primly, glancing sideways at Sana. There is some snobbishness implied; there are ways Sana and Miyeon have always found to subtly measure themselves against one another, to best each other - all of these ridiculous acts and anecdotes. Like their voices aren’t replicas of one another - and in constant disagreement over whoever is currently claiming to be the original.

Miyeon prissily tilts her jaw up. "Your ego might actually be the worst part about you, Sana. That and your tits."

"Guess he just loves all the worst parts," Sana quips, rolling her eyes, "and every time you call it into question I fall in love with him a little more."

She's got one foot up now on the seat of the chair and she's running her fingers, delicate and teasing, around the press of her panties. It's not a voyeuristic thing, she's told you, it's less about watching Miyeon get fucked than it is about knowing exactly what it looks like when she herself gets spread out beneath you. She watches you and Miyeon, she watches her best friend and you, and she touches herself and it's perfect. There's a few seconds, long and warm, before she lifts her fingers away, then sucks them into her mouth with a grin. Just the slightest taste.

"But seriously," she says to Miyeon. "If you're gonna do something - then do it. Don't be a tease. We both know the answer, anyway."

Miyeon swallows. You hear her. You watch her lips wrap around the head of your cock and pop off, wet and shining, and her head rests in the curve of your palm.

"I’m working on it," Miyeon allows, lowly - she pumps her fist again around you, careful with the motion; this little twisting tug. "Fuck, it's not even the fact that it's fucking huge, or. Like, it’s not because I’m dying to get stuffed by this, or because I’m sitting here thinking: oh my fuck, I’m gonna feel so full with this thing inside me."

You have her hand under her chin, thumb stroking gently against her cheek. Her eyes return to yours when you put a little more pressure in your grip. She’s fantastically pretty, and the gleam of lust and want in her irises has you probably too eager to play along. 

“So then, what could it possibly be?”

"It's-" Her cheeks darken pink beneath her blush, stumbling through a mouthful of ums and uhs as her eyes make tiny departures back to your waist until she finally gives up and just stares again.

Sana sits up a little in her chair.

"Look, this is the prettiest cock I've ever seen.” 

You and Sana almost snort in unison.

“I’m serious.” Miyeon rubs a semi-circle over the head with her thumb, glancing up at you beneath her mascara, and then to the base, back up. It jerks, almost like reflex, in her grasp; she huffs in delight. "It’s, like, perfect in every way. And, god, everytime- I’d just about do anything to feel it inside me."

“You’d beg?” Sana asks, eyebrow raised.

“I’m about to get down on my knees and grovel, honey.”

"Should've just said," Sana laughs - Miyeon chews her lip, half-exasperated, and drops a kiss to the tip that makes Sana's expression simper - "you’re halfway there. Want him to cum in that sweet mouth?"

"Want him to tell me what he's going to do," says Miyeon, frilly. "Every last detail."

Lips stretching open, fingers splaying, curling around the weight - she dips her head to rest her cheek on your thigh and kisses the underside of your shaft. She’s practically like liquid. Flowing and easy and gorgeous, always gorgeous, too far gone to form a full thought. That much is obvious. And why shouldn't it be - your hand's already snagged up, your thumb's already wiping the hair out of her eyes. She turns to let it sit against the edge of her cheekbone. "You really need an incentive? Want you to fill me up so I can-"

"Swallow," you supply, simply. “Swallow everything.”

"Yeah," Miyeon presses into the curve of your cock. She doesn't wink, not really; she doesn’t need to. "I like you. You always know exactly what to say."

Her hair brushes a feather-light caress up the skin of your thigh, mouth a vision of sin and pretty red lipstick. "Open," you command, quietly, and she follows your orders exactly - mouth dropping, head tilting, eyes drifting closed - her lips glisten with saliva and you could shove your cock into that mouth, easy. Just push in and wreck the inside of her - spit on her chin, feel her throat clench up as she gags and struggles around your cock. God, if that isn't a thought that can do a number on the base of your spine.

"Easy," Sana supplies, like she can read your mind. That wouldn’t really surprise you. “Leave some of her make-up for me.”

There's the quick hiss of an inhale, Miyeon's mouth stretching open. Her jaw going slack. You feel the long, wet suck of skin and spit, and her eyelids flutter as she settles in. She slides her tongue and adjusts, makes soft, raspy, throaty noises while her lips slide down the first few inches of your cock. It’s funny - Sana had made the same sound earlier in the day - and it's really not like it's an awful comparison. They both let on gorgeous little noises when they're sucking cock and it makes sense because it's the same cock. Same skin. Same person.

You're not, however, about to do something so pedestrian as compare notes. Not on them. Not in the fucking slightest.

And Sana, god - Sana doesn't just watch. She knows better. She's not even the one taking your cock in her mouth but there's the insistent presence of her: a fingertip diving down past the crotch of her skirt, a quiet moan, her wrist jolting in a repetition of short, sharp strokes, the kind she likes to use on herself: precise. Deliberate.

"Miyeon," you whisper. "God, just - it's your fucking mouth, you-"

The hand on her face strokes the side of her head - a push-pull. A chance to break off - she doesn't - so she ends up with a rougher grip tangling through her hair and you guiding her head further down the length of your shaft.

Miyeon loves the pressure on her throat. You know that. And, yeah, she fucking hates choking on it but somehow in her mind, they're different. Opposites. Because with the way she's going, a little cough will burst free in a few seconds time. That’s your signal, you’ve learned, that she'll let you slide yourself to the hilt. Just keep the wet tip lodged there until she starts gasping around it. It'd only take a minute.

Two tops.

And well, that's the compromise: your patience for a throat fuck is infinite. She's staring up at you with upturned brows and that pretty-please pout on her slick-wet lips. She's making her best effort but, christ. Fuck.

Her eyelids flicker once.

Then close.

"There," you breathe down to her, your knuckles finding her cheek, smoothing over the sharp curve of bone there. Your cock is slotted right in her hot little mouth and you're starting to feel like maybe you really did hang the moon and stars in the sky after all. Her lips press around you. Sink, up, down. "Such a good girl, sucking my cock, looking up at me- god, all dolled up, it's not even fair, Miyeon."

Miyeon can be many things, and presently among them: a filthy, obedient angel.

She pulls up. "I try," Miyeon breathes right at the tip. Her tongue darts out. She swirls, and swirls, until it’s back under the tip of your cock again, soft.

You're too predictable, or you're too forthcoming, or here’s the thing about a woman's intuition; Miyeon wants to tell you something more, she wants to let you know how fucking unbelievably hard you are in her hands right now; she wants to laugh at you for getting caught up and dumb but she's not letting your cock slide free. This suckle of her lips, right at the crest where you're most sensitive and leaking precum right into her mouth - this press and pull is as close to conversation as she can get. So what. You love it. She loves it: the reward is in the ricochet. You look at her and her cheeks hollow and the flash of her pink tongue gets wet and warm under your head, the slit of her mouth stretching to take every ‘totally fucking perfect’ inch of your cock.

And then her lips tighten and she just-

"Christ, Miyeon-" You whimper it right down to her, your voice lost in the shiver of her throat, all tight and wet around your cock. It's like your vocal cords have been stolen right along with the air in your lungs and everything feels floaty, warped and red and blanketing you with Miyeon's hard-worked rhythm:

The scissoring flick of her tongue as she strokes the base with a firm fist. The other hand resting on your hip, feeling your hips jerk. She wants this, the part where you let go and stop thinking. The part where she opens her throat, lets her saliva flood to pool against her palm, and wet the tip of your cockhead before letting it slide right back in her throat. Your shaft flexing into her heat, the sound of those gags.

She just-

She just goes on like that, sucking your cock while the flat of her palm skates a little tighter. Up, up, down - up-

"Miyeon," Sana says, now on her feet and shadowing in closer, leaning. And that's it. Sana knows too. She kneels down next to her, gets a finger under her chin, and delivers in a uniquely cold tone: "hands behind your back, sweetheart. I want him to cum in your gorgeous little mouth."

You nearly choke, ironically. You're already grabbing so much of her hair: all those smooth silky strands threaded through your fingers.

You thrust and pull. She gags. She fucking chokes.

Spit collects, rolls down the corners of her mouth and gathers on her chin. You can see the mascara threaten to run tracks along her pretty cheeks, the way the makeup smudges so dangerously close to her bottom lid. "Yeah?" you say, so softly, but you can't - can't seem to look anywhere else, or take anything back - so, what, her jaw's just gonna go on being that perfect little shape, and she's gonna be a brat for it. Okay. That works. She looks good choking. You can see the slick glint of her pink mouth stretching taut on your cock, your cock jerking and bobbing on the pad of her tongue; it's not real - no, this is completely real. The ball of your foot slips along the floor.

It's instinct. You can't help yourself; a groan spills out of you, half-sighed

Sana's whispering right in her ear; not that you can make anything out of it over the noises from her mouth, her fist all wet, pumping. The tick-tock bob of her hair. Sana's hand is on the back of her head and then - pushing the last inch down, and down, her nose buries right into your skin.

“Mnnph.” Miyeon, gurgling: your cock pressed all the way down the line.

"Fuck," you spit, holding her jaw in place. "Fuck, Miyeon-"

She looks up at you, her eyebrows cinched, the graceful lines in her picture-perfect-face pulling around you - blissed out. She stutters in place while you dump a hot load of cum into her mouth.

And she adds a cough as you pump everything directly onto her fucking tongue. It’s more than she anticipated, judging by the leak. How your cum rolls down from the corner of her mouth.

Sana drops a kiss onto her temple as she takes you in and out of her mouth again, until she presses her lips firm and hollows her cheeks. Miyeon's fingers caress your balls like there's some part of you that isn't giving her fucking everything already.

"Come on, princess," says Sana, kissing her way along Miyeon's neck, the tops of her shoulders. There is not an angle to Miyeon's elegant features that she could take that could possibly be anything short of priceless. "Show him how you swallow."

The image is obscene, for one thing. The utter filth in that satiated hum; there’s another. 

It's your white-hot cum dribbling past her swollen, fucked mouth. Miyeon swallows like the good girl she is - takes a breath, stares, and then finishes, a gulp, an extra breath, her whole face now a shade more flushed. Sana kisses her on the cheek and suddenly it's perfect: they're both staring right at you. Your throat has to unclench, reboot and the air in the room just tastes so good and your chest is heaving; you just- fuck, you can't breathe-

"Shit," you exhale. It comes out like a small explosion. "Uh-"

The side of Sana's mouth slants and then Miyeon grins: it's her cheek, dimple; that crescent moon thing and oh, this is the point. Sana slides a hand over the gentle curve of her stomach, then sets her open mouth over Miyeon's still-lips, slipping in close and - kissing. Their mouths melt together like it's the most practiced thing, tongues a second later, and Sana is stroking your cock in her fingers; the expectations clear in every little coaxing flick of her slim wrist.

"Do you have any idea," Sana sighs against her lips. The two of them, blinking up at you, like good little things - sweet enough. "How fucking wet you both have me?"

And Miyeon, shameless as she is disastrously pretty, reads right between the lines. "Where do you want it?" Her mouth tilts up to the side. A wicked smile. "He can cum all over us, no? And I have this skirt with an awfully short, pretty lace. We don't even have to take our clothes off, really, I can just-"

Sana gets an eyeful - Miyeon - before cutting her off, silencing with the wet press of her mouth, and suddenly their kiss goes frantic and quick. They're rolling apart: hands tearing up their clothes. Off. Off. Off.

Your cock stirs. It throbs. Fuck. Sana’s barely intelligible in the space between their tongues. "I could lay flat,” she’s saying, “with my legs open, and-"

"-with him on top of you, pressing inside you - so he could hold me down, and then pull all the way back out, to leave a thick load on your clit-"

"-and when he has to pull out-"

"-probably cum all over you too, the best view-"

"-or all over the rest of me, while I touch myself-"

"-maybe-"

"-and you just have to imagine how good that'll feel, while my thighs shake and we ride it out, you and I-"

Their faces - both flushed and dampened with the strain, both breathtaking. Their eyes are hooded, lashes a-flutter. They'd made their own decision, didn't even bother with yours. A mutual vote of two-to-one: you're going to fuck them in turns. You’re going to fuck them together. You're going to edge yourself in one cunt and fill the other. They're both going to take it, and wear it, and then use each other to make you cum again. Good. Okay, any questions - and they want it rough? 

The answer’s a two-part chorus. Yes.

-

Not even an hour later, Miyeon is playing, of all fucking things, Candy Crush, legs draped lazily across Sana's lap, both of them kicked back on the couch, dressed again like the best girls you've ever seen. "The amount of money they make on this app-" Miyeon complains, waving a lazy hand. A long strand of blonde brushes against the corner of her mouth before she swipes it away again with an irritated sigh. She's just sitting there, knees folded, blithely bitching about a game of match three on her phone. "And they send these fucking blocks just to mess with me," - another swipe. Her hair sticks against the fresh gloss coating her lips. "It's literally just a waste of human-fucking-potential."

"It's a game for children," you offer.

"Then why is it marketed at adults, hm?" She's absolutely serious. "Sana plays it too."

"Mhmm," Sana agrees, not really agreeing at all. Her eyes are closed; you're sitting next to her, and she's taken up your leg as a makeshift pillow, lying down with her arm resting on her forehead, so casually disinterested in anything other than the quiet thrumming of your presence by her side.

It's insane that they're like this: like they're not constantly checking their phones for texts, like you don't all have lives. You're almost - dare you think - having a semi-regular conversation. Now If for a moment you could ignore how they both look like the human embodiment of sin-

"Miyeonie," Sana says.

"Sana," Miyeon returns, flat.

There's not even a movie playing on the living room TV - just the netflix menu; it's volume is at a sort of white noise. A subtle buzz clicks on in the air conditioner.

"You know how you're supposed to go out with that guy next weekend."

"You mean the date you set me up with." Miyeon pauses, tongue caught between her teeth. "Where I have to put on a pretty little dress. And smile. And laugh at all his jokes."

"You know the one."

Miyeon jumps on Sana's train of thought. "You want me to send you some pictures when it's over."

Sana turns it over in her head a few times. “Maybe,” she says, finally.

A genuine exchange perhaps. No fighting, no bullshit, no riptide of pure unbridled sexual frustration.

"Or," Sana adds, simply, "you skip the part where you sabotage the small talk and come back to our apartment." She blinks. "End up getting us both."

“You’re suggesting I’ve been ruining dates on purpose?” Miyeon, incredulous, runs her fingers through the hair at the top of her head, gentle, almost like an admission of guilt. "You're out of your mind. Why would I do that?"

The fragile peace never does last long. Sana looks at you again. Holds onto the eye roll. "Why, indeed."

"I don't follow," Miyeon says; something, a tic, a tell, causes the muscle in her brow to stutter.

"She's suggesting that you'd rather be in bed between us than on a date with some guy whose face we've only seen once," you cut in. Sana looks over. "It's come up a few times."

"Okay, so what?" Miyeon takes a breath. Her mouth a rictus twist. "You're trying to get me to admit it out loud? That I like to get fucked by my gorgeous bestfriend and her pinterest-board-of-a-boyfriend more than I'd like going to a mediocre concert downtown with some dipshit who just wants to see if I'll stick out this 'goddess' routine for a month or two and then bounce for someone else. Wow. Sherlock and Watson, coming through for the killshot. Take me straight to jail."

"We never got around to those cuffs," is what you make mention of. It's not particularly helpful.

"Don't pretend," Sana says instead, "you don’t like to play both sides. Or that the trad-wife fantasy of yours is somehow subtle."

“There's nothing shameful about knowing exactly who you are, or wanting something," Miyeon insists. She tilts her head towards the two of you. A different angle. Her words come out sharp and hot: "some of us have the decency to let our friends know exactly what they want."

“Okay.” You laugh out loud, half out of nervous habit. "Well obviously there’s some sort of rhythm here - I’m just not dumb enough to think I can put a finger on the pulse."

"Then this is, what, some sort of elaborate plot for my heart?" Miyeon's chuckling to herself, but in the space of a blink her voice is more tender. Her arms folding in close. "Is that the plan, finally catching me-"

"Next week." Sana sits up. "There's a trip coming up, something kind of international." She picks at the hem of her sweater, and looks at you.

“What the hell, exactly” - you card your hand through Sana’s hair - “does ‘kind of’ international entail?”

"Ms. Prada has a modeling campaign to attend," Miyeon intones. "She also needs someone to take care of the jetlag, is what I assume this is about."

Sana waves her hand in the air. "I'm saying we book you an extra ticket. Rent a room at a nice hotel. No work. No phones. Just us three, and the best sex you've ever had."

“I wasn’t even aware I was going to that,” you say - almost as an aside.

“You weren’t.” Sana leans more of herself into you. "You are now."

"Is this how you're going to woo me? The grand design?" Miyeon's hands are fiddling in her lap. Sana’s pressing in. Closer. "All the sex and leisure I could ever ask for?"

“It sounds ridiculous when you say out loud,” Sana answers, curling into her. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Miyeon laughs like it’s a lost cause. Genuine, throaty - like music.

“Simplicity doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Miyeon.” Sana kisses her, slow. Quietly, "you could even pack a swimsuit," and there's this beat, the rise and fall of Miyeon's breathing that might lead anywhere: "though I doubt we touch the beach at all."

“You’re pulling on all my heartstrings, Sana.”

And there you are - etching your names onto the calendar. Reservations and bookings and promises of everything and anything and exactly where you all want to be.

It's Miyeon that finally admits, "you know part of me can’t resist the idea."

"Then, this weekend." Sana's fingertips trace circles on your hip, the tensing pull of muscle. You're aching and exhausted and content: drifting in the tide, a catch of the day, some soft, dreamy wave of consciousness, nothing specific, just the moment passing through all three of you.

But you do get it. There's this obvious snag in your heartbeat, too.

Because Sana is grinning; her fingertips, tapping. Your stomach's fluttering too. A little ghostly clutch of hope in your chest and it's such an embarrassing notion. You're getting swept away - pulled under - and it's Miyeon, splaying out beside Sana, her hand reaching out to you with her palm turned up. It's a promise, and the force of her can - and has - moved mountains.

"I pick the hotel," Miyeon's voice is deeply firm and sure. She’s got a fistful of Sana’s pajamas. "You two can sort out the lingerie."

Sana's mouth curves a perfect grin. She's kissing her again: wet. Heavy. It's not a no, if she was ever expecting one.

-

So that's your reality: what used to be two dalliances - separate but not distinct - now share one headspace, and there's enough rapport just in the group chat alone. You've all been messaging back-and-forth for weeks; Miyeon playing the game where she's the steady one in your life, the knot you're going to tie down when you can finally afford it (and in every way she can imagine). You find it entertaining. Sana seems mildly amused. And Miyeon will call you on the phone, sometimes. A chat-off. About nothing and everything. What you should bring on the trip. Where she's going to eat dinner before you meet her at the airport. Et cetera. Et cetera.

// Miyeon 1:21 AM > hey. I'm all finished packing. how's the bedroom looking?

// 1:26 AM > absolutely wrecked. no survivors

// Sana 1:27 AM > It’s fine. We stripped the sheets, got the box from the closet. Have the video you wanted as well. Call the laundry service in the morning and get the floor washed too. You know. So, nothing comes out of the security deposit.

// Miyeon 1:29 AM > a threesome that destroyed an apartment? say it isn't so

// Sana 1:34 AM > didn't hear you complain during.

// 1:38 AM > strict instructions, right?

And then sometimes, during those conversations, Miyeon will send an aside just for you:

// Miyeon 1:40 AM > strict? please. do whatever. I'm like so good at following instructions

That's Miyeon. The paradox of being submissive - you never, ever treat her gently. She never really wants you to. Sana's mid-reach over your chest to turn off the lights when she glances down at Miyeon's text, then promptly scoffs. The two of them don't always have the most conventional dialogue.

"She's one hundred percent serious by the way." Sana rolls on her side, away, but the nightlight beside the bed just manages to illuminate the slope of her ass - curved in the silk nightie she'd thrown on before bed. You want to crawl between the fabric.

"I never really doubted that. She's got a very specific... demeanor.”

“You’ve noticed.”

“Um,” you say. Sana’s turned over her shoulder to blink at you. “Kind of a dark streak. Like something in her is craving-"

"To be broken to pieces? Oh, it's fucking bliss for her when she's vulnerable and the tension cracks." 

“I was going to phrase it a little more indirectly than that, but yes, I suppose that’s the gist of it.”

Sana shrugs. 

"The girl lives to be chased is what it is.

It's just Sana and her perfect legs and smooth, creamy thighs right there, ready for you to touch, ready for you to fall apart over. They brush your calf, your thigh - so you are kind of distracted. 

“And she feels most wanted when she's choking, getting used, right at the point she can't decide if another inch is gonna kill her or drive her up the wall. No air in her lungs, nothing under her own control." Sana flops, presses against your side, one leg tossed on top, arms curled around your neck. "Pretty obvious, all things considered."

"Sounds a bit familiar, no?" you tease, and reach back to draw her against the front of your body. 

She curves, twists into your embrace. Her hair is half up, half down - wide eyed like a fantasy made manifest. You're always gonna give in, even when Sana doesn't deserve it. 

"You get me. It’s the best. Please, go nuts with the idea."

“Huh, birds of a feather.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sana brushes a kiss against your cheek, presses back into your hips to feel your hard length strain between your boxers and her ass, softening only because, god, she's a real human fucking treasure, "so maybe Miyeon and I have a certain… similar temperment to us, maybe that's true."

"Yeah," you breathe. Your arms wrap around her, the heat in her core now evident from the outside. "That's what I've been saying."

Sana doesn't respond to that, not directly; her palms drag, smooth, over your fingers. "Fuck me to sleep," she suggests instead. "We've got an early flight."

And so you do. You'd pulled your cock from your shorts the second she pressed her ass into your waist and claimed her place as your other half, the little spoon. There's a few beats, a few breaths, where you'd rocked against her clumsily, lining yourself up, and she'd braced the two of you:

She'd arched her back, got an arm over her head to tangle a hand into your hair and keep you right where you were - your lips against her neck. Until it's just this soft-rhythm, all easy thrusts; one arm underneath her, the other around her hip, finding and spreading and - easily - gliding into her cunt.

Sana sighs a lovely sound right next to your ear: your name, some hushed curse. Her hand is wrenched back into whatever group of muscles she can find. And you listen to the gorgeous little tritone of oh shit, oh god, oh fuck when you make her cum. The displays of indulgent affection in her throat, then the ruddy mess of you working her to a wreck of pleasured exhaustion until she collapses into a hot-faced, sleepy daze. All cozy between the sheets, the duvet - you’d fucked her from the outside in; made her relieved and relaxed, all loose and calm. Sana curls into you with her moans still staining the cool side of her pillow and the snugness of her cunt wrapped around your cock.

You drift off just like that, snug inside her. Sana is, as always, impossibly warm.

-

On your phone, there are some choice text messages:

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > jesus

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > can you guys like please

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > PLEASE

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > fuck any quieter

Okay, so it's not perfect. But you're about ninety-percent sure Miyeon had used every fiber of her willpower not to float across the hall and take her spot between the both of you. And it's probably for the best. You feel pretty rough when the alarm starts blaring as it is.

-

The room Miyeon picks out isn’t exactly small, nor was she minding the purse strings. There's a wide expanse of living area, a massive bed in the back; the ensuite and bath beyond that has a walk-in shower large enough for all three of you and room left over. On the walls is gentrification-colored paint, a gray laminate flooring to match; there is not one speck of dust. It feels every bit the palace it is on the outside - the gables and mansard roofs and the Juliette balconies - gothic, or neoclassical. Something vaguely European, with all its rich furnishings and pristine fixtures to boot.

Sana and Miyeon step into the space with all the familiarity of royalty.

"Warm in here," says Sana, appraising; her black chiffon, nearly translucent, fans about her hips with each tiny sway. In her white pumps, she's already a perfect tease and she hasn't even touched herself yet. "Smells good, though."

Miyeon's heels echo behind her like gunshots against the floor, and it's really not ever fair the way a skirt wears her. "The listing said something about a hospitality kit, and essential oils - there should be a basket of things. Do you want me to start the water?"

"Let's settle in a little first," Sana suggests, and without any fanfare, the first thing she does is draw the gauzy curtain closed.

There's an itinerary; it's an ongoing event. Technically it all started in the airport terminal when Sana slung her arm around Miyeon's waist and her hand went straight down to her ass. She just gave it a little squeeze. In the moment, nothing terribly remarkable, but then again, Miyeon didn't tell her not to. They walked through security like that and picked out drinks together from a terminal cafe before doing a circuit, fingers linked. The way Sana looks at her now - Miyeon sees - is how she's always looked at her. That is maybe, the whole point.

"Come here."

Sana's tone is smooth as silk, her mouth an inviting pucker, gloss-dewy and delicious. The bow is even tied at the back: Sana's collar is fitted snug. It sits tight at the base of her neck with the silvery cord loose across her shoulder, knotted down near the apex of her spine. It's simple, classic. All soft fabric and no frill, with an absence that invites eyes and wandering fingertips: she hasn't worn a bra. No strap lines. Her body has the sweetest outline and the warmest curves and god, the skin she's not showing is as good as what she is.

"So," you say out loud. It hits you: there's no cameras, no urgency. No obligations. "We came all the way here just so Sana could have sex, huh."

It's really always about the two of them.

"Good sex," Sana corrects. The table next to her catches the flat of her palm as she settles herself against the surface, one leg crossing in front. The slit in her dress rises in the movement: enough of a hint at the soft thigh underneath. You see her do this every once in a while and her body doesn't lie; this is an implicit act of seduction. But when she looks back up, her smile goes shy and her voice follows suit: "I promised our princess that we'd spoil her a little."

You say, "she's right there," at the same time Sana adds- "which is kind of impossible when she's still wearing her clothes."

Miyeon makes a big, showy production of crossing her arms in a huff. You could do anything; flip a switch; knock her flat against the wall, and Sana would hold her down with a hand at her throat and a kiss her like fire and gasoline on her tongue and no one would have a single word to say to complain.

You could have. Would have. But Miyeon finds her fingertips on the ridge of her clavicle, the barest swipe. She pulls at the top button of her shirt and the seam unlatches: a single reveal, a gradual, fluid movement in the dip and fall of a one inch gap. Just enough skin to make you and Sana swallow.

"Oh?" Miyeon grins. She stares at you with that coy smirk, biting her lip; an invitation for a kiss. For a fuck. You cross the gap, with every intention of making good on it; only, Sana slips in behind her - stops her midway in undoing the next button - and places a hand on the nape of Miyeon's neck, cool.

"She really can be a brat, can't she."

"Only because she gets rewarded for it," you admit, and as soon as Sana touches her, Miyeon is looking up with that same face she gives you when she gets on her knees, ready to be just your little pet, your desperate, whimpering thing.

Sana leans into her ear: "maybe because she knows she can't stop thinking about you bending her over, every chance she gets. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?"

They've always been like this, you think. Growing up with money and cars and ski vacations in the Alps: that sort of thing. It's been a long, slow, build-up and this was always the payoff. It is, without a doubt, just the slightest taste of luxury. Sana pushes, and Miyeon turns up to her mouth with a slow, dangerous whisper. "Isn't it kinder to say it as it is, instead of dancing around it for weeks-"

"For months," corrects Sana, and then sliding into a far more generous tone, "mouths, fingers- or his cock?"

"Maybe," Miyeon lifts her chin like she's readying to kiss, "all three."

Her voice drips - purses her lips, and you're there again: at that fateful exchange. Everything about Miyeon has the power to sink its claws deep. Those heels on her dainty little feet, the stockings climbing along her thighs. Everything.

"Miyeon." That comes out harsher than you'd have thought.

"What can I say? I'm not a patient person." She's got that wild, starry-eyed look to her. You could tame her. You could dominate her - your throat is so dry. The room has the faint scent of citrus, like lemon rind and verbena - a kind of lightheadedness settling over you all. "So, why don't you..." She's blushing, holding her arm up as she skims a finger down this slow path along your torso, finally hooking it into the top of your pants. And now, it's very, very clear she isn't wearing a bra either. "Make things a bit easier."

There's an entire lexicon of everything you'd like to do, so it's best, maybe, that you settle for: "Sana, be a doll."

"Anything," she says; she doesn't hesitate. You like the easy give.

And it's kind of amazing. All three of you together and, sure, the way her fingertips tighten, sliding under the curve of Miyeon's chin and then pulling the linen shirt down from the backs of her shoulders - this is a choice you can all agree on. One that pulls on the elastic band hugging the cut of Miyeon's waist, makes the material drag and ride up the front of her legs. Her belly. Sana has the gift of being able to kiss so perfectly on the back of someone's neck that you could easily forget she can get a little mean, too.

"What is it, baby." Sana asks; a challenge, not a question. "Come on, love. You know it's true. Why don't you let me show him how sweetly you moan with just a pair of fingers in your cunt."

"Please do."

"You're practically wet just saying it. You want it that much." Her voice goes thin, then deep again: a stark contrast. "Show him the mess you've made."

Miyeon's hand is in all the way in your pants; you feel hot. Like the room's air conditioning should've kicked on a lifetime ago - you're trying not to think too much on the way her slender fingers start to wrap themselves around the shape of your cock and your mouth falls open, because she can just - fuck - do that-

They turn to each other like mirror images over the slope of Miyeon’s shoulder, exchanging some secretive wordlessness in the privacy of their smiles and soft, muted laughter. Miyeon's on the toes of those pretty pumps to lean in, closer, further, and Sana lets her.

Which is exactly how it happens: Miyeon kissing you. And she really kisses you, sweet, delicate - and somehow all-consuming. It sets off this chain reaction, a wildfire of unbridled desire: that thread in Sana that can be almost violent, and one that Miyeon always manages to bring to the surface of her skin. Because now Miyeon's gripped and pinned, and Sana, bless her, pulls the fabric of her own dress up over her head until she's naked alongside her. Working towards a common goal. Here's two hands. Here's two more. They're helping you out of your shirt. It's pretty easy from there. You're all unraveling together, just falling apart - Sana and you, working in tandem to unclasp the pearl snap buttons trailing up and down the sides of Miyeon's sinfully short skirt, peeling back the cotton. Miyeon holds the swell of your cock tight in one hand, pumping, while Sana rakes her nails over Miyeon's breasts; both girls taking off the final scraps until every article of clothing is tossed to the floor.

And Miyeon here is simply unbelievable. Your hands are all over her. Her razor-fine waist, her thighs. Her lips. Those soft tits, and that cute mole above her nipple. Because even her imperfections deserve the same lavish attention.

You kiss her, and kiss her, and you can't help thinking how filthy it feels. This wet mouth and tongue, everything you could want in the slide of her mouth - just, messy-perfect and a bit sloppy; how her whimpers leak out in soft, a tight inhale. You cup the side of her jaw as your hips grind into her and a low, uneven sound escapes you. Sana's small fingers wrap her ribs to grip a breast, knead the supple curve and supply her thumb to the indent. It's really, so soft, and warm, and then wet: your precum dribbling over her knuckles, rolling down. Miyeon has her head tilted to let her jaw lean into your palm - she smiles, and laughs like it's nothing - like you're not there, towering over her lithe little frame. Like the head of your cock isn't brushing into her bottom rib under all the twists and jerks of her wrist.

"Your cock is so hard," Miyeon threads into a sigh, in that throaty, almost melodic voice. And then she laughs because she knows exactly what it’ll fucking do to her. "And fucking heavy. I thought I was going to get a real good look earlier in the airport," she confesses.

"Let me guess." Sana presses a kiss to her temple from behind; a lull in the scene. You fuck yourself gently into the curl of her fist. "You've been thinking about it this whole time. About getting him inside you. With that naughty little mind of yours running at a million miles an hour. God, that must've been such a tease, getting stuck with just the thought while we sat through lunch, and the flight-"

"Don’t forget right now-" Miyeon presses in. Her breath is hot against your neck. "While we're talking."

"Princess," Sana says into her ear, and it makes her tip her head - until she’s revealing the pale skin of her neck. God, yeah; maybe she really is nobility. "I'd be hard-pressed to leave you wanting. Your body's all wound up for us."

"She's fucking soaked," you confirm, like you aren't pointing out the most obvious thing in the room.

Miyeon bites her lip; you're gripping your shaft, urging her wrist to go faster. "This is the part where you turn me inside-out, no?" Miyeon is a walking fucking cliche and she knows it, smiling all slyly with her teeth. She says it so damn casually: "so why isn’t my pussy getting any attention, really. I wonder, I wonder-"

"Trust me, neither of us are interested in teasing," Sana assures her. "We're going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. And then we'll fuck you some more."

You push down hard on her collarbone, and in that same instant Sana drops her free hand below and runs the flats of her fingertips along the plane of Miyeon’s tummy - until Miyeon tilts her hips - everything else still, almost lazy. Her feet leave the floor and then come back down again. The momentum of the fall ends up being enough to jostle the three of you towards the nearest wall where Sana's back is kissing the cold drywall. And you're already there - pressed into both: Miyeon's palms flat against your chest as you haul her thighs around your waist.

Hoisted, lifted, cradled between you and your girlfriend - who by the way is inching two fingertips under the top of a lacy-banded thong, slipping beneath the white trim, to finally (oh, god) pull her hand away and slip it into Miyeon's parted mouth. "Look at you." A hum in her chest. "The most beautiful, perfect-"

(You push your cock into her, and hand to god, you swear Miyeon's voice breaks like a bottle over pavement.)

"And all for us- your slutty little pussy is already so wet- Miyeonie, we've barely even started.”

Just think. The code word system you've been employing for months - "We were actually thinking... if you're not doing anything else... what's the harm in the two of us getting more familiar with you." - has proved exceptionally reliable in getting Miyeon out of her clothes and into your lap, but here's where it all vanishes into thin air. Sana's mouth is hovering over Miyeon's shoulder; her body, caught between the two of you. And she's trading in on the implied permission to tell you more directly:

"She needs to cum all over that cock, babe. Fuck her pussy until she’s creaming, won't you."

"Right." You groan in tacit approval, hands holding firm onto the firm swell of her hips - that round little ass, the dimples you can feel the dip of, just under your thumbs. She's already thrown her arms up around the back of your neck when your cock slips inside her, to tug you in; this wordless begging: need, need, need.

It's not even a totally new sensation. Nor is it even the first you've ever been inside her, but god - Miyeon takes one deep breath, and on the second inhale, you sink another thick inch of your cock into her slippery slit: she's completely, gloriously bare, just this slick heat that only opens more and more and more. You draw back, thrust in, and there's this sopping sound, all wet press, into the soft muscle - you don't even remember pulling her panties to the side. But they're bunched into the crease of her thigh and that's rather convenient.

Her breath hitches as she slots down onto your shaft, again - in rhythm - like a total dream. "Fuck, that's so tight," she grates, her voice rough and gutted; something like, 'I cannot believe you feel this good.'

-and they groan in unison when you pick up speed. All of it. Together.

Because it's not just Miyeon's perfect cunt wrapping you up tight, squeezing and pulsing, even better on the backstroke - but it's the way Sana is catching your lips in the space over Miyeon’s shoulder. That you three can play each other with the promise that every last moan or gasp or the single, resounding thrill of pleasure will find a perfect partner: one for your mouth and one for Sana's fingers at Miyeon's collar bone, a tickle along her hip, pressing an insistent fingertip around and around in small circles, dipping into the give.

Her body's shaking so much through every push and pull. Fuck. She's so small - and you're the one filling her. Fucking her. Breaking her. Pressing two girls into the wall like you've earned the right. You're splitting Miyeon apart so that Sana can fill the spaces you leave empty and vice versa: and she's so, so desperate, the little noises she's making, "Please," like it hurts. "Fuck," like it's the best feeling. "Keep going, please, fuck- don't stop."

"See, baby? It feels better when you just give up, doesn't it?" Sana's got her fingers down further between Miyeon's thighs; you can see her swipe upwards. Hear the wet sound. She says, "there," into her ear. "Nice and slow, while he fucks that cunt, and I rub you like this, we want to keep making you feel good. So take what you need, hm. I don't hear you-"

"Oh my god," Miyeon moans. And she means it - feels herself dripping all over you. "I need it. I need it, I-"

"Come on, darling," Sana chuckles, soft and low in her ear.

"N-need," Miyeon chokes.

And what kind of idiot wouldn't take their palm off her breast, or undig their fingers from the round of her ass for even a second. It's having her in the palm of your hand. With one foot dangling against your thigh and the other tangled up above you, the stretch in Miyeon's body is entirely for the convenience of letting you fuck her to pieces.

"There it is," Sana is murmuring into your mouth again, and that’s a reward of its own, her wet, full kiss at the junction between Miyeon’s neck and shoulder as her thumb digs deeper into the curve of the girl’s thigh. You listen to Miyeon moan your own name, uttered like it was written by god and meant to form on her lips as it tumbles down through the ragged mess of pants and gasps.

“Fuck, baby-” You press harder. “Your pussy feels incredible- how you suck me right up like you're the good girl you love to pretend you are- like a perfect toy," you breathe, "-all nice and hot. Licking, swallowing around my cock, getting dicked out for my enjoyment-"

"Yeah, yes," she pants out, the total capitulation. "It feels so fucking good."

You feel the mindless, blissful roll. A rhythm in the give of her thighs as you slide home again and again. There's a clink from the bracelets on her wrists; her hair falling into her eyes; there's the sheer ecstasy written all over her pretty face when Sana reaches one hand to start drawing slow circles on her clit. 

"You're just fucking me so god-damn-good." She’s breathless; you’re taking everything from her. The poise, the finesse, the dignity.

"Of course we are," Sana supplies, and it's fitting. You're both holding her up. You'll be the ones tearing her down.

Miyeon's arms tighten around the back of your head, arching, squeezing, and there's that feeling that always accompanies Miyeon: like she's completely melting you to her core and turning your brains into fucking mush. Everything from her tight little pussy to her breathtakingly pretty eyes to the way her spine flexes to meet the pitch of her voice - it's fucking ridiculous, that she's even real in the first place - let alone that your cock is buried so deep in her cunt you think you can hear her sob. Or that all five-foot-two of her is making these tiny desperate noises as you use the width of her hips to bounce her harder onto your cock. 

Sana's long fingers slip and press - they're not touching anything except the swell of her pussy, just this ghostly brush of a light, almost chaste graze. It's enough: a touch like that, and fuck, another-

Miyeon cries out.

“I'm going to cum-"

"Say it again," Sana's whispering, "tell us what you need," and in a sort of coup-de-grace-style-of-climax, she bites at the skin over the top of Miyeon's jaw and slips a fingertip right onto her aching clit. Presses down. "You're such a fucking slut, Miyeon, such a gorgeous cocksleeve-"

"I-"

She's actually whimpering, the poor thing. Eyes squeezed shut, toes clenching; everything is trembling, tense with release. You’re fucking her into a puddle of a person, and she’s holding her lip between her teeth like it might do a goddamn thing. It makes sense; the tightness, and wet and heat is what she knows.

"Go on," Sana answers her, and it's like her words slice the voice in Miyeon’s throat to shreds, "cum all over his cock. So. Fucking. Good, baby," a hard push through every syllable as her teeth snag into the shell of her ear. She rides the boundary of degradation and downright debasement because she knows that’s how Miyeon will absolutely cum for her. For you, for both of you. "Do what you're fucking made for, and just take it, pretty, lovely, you can’t live a second without having his fat cock and my fingers in you, can you? You look like a filthy little angel like this, I swear."

You’re both on the same page, telling her over and over - shh, shh, you take that cock so well, feel that cock fuck you apart, baby, and all you have to do is cum - only, you’re paying homage to the title: you call her princess. Sana takes the opposite approach. Tells her, "you want everyone to know, don't you, what a goddamn fucking slut you are. You filthy, dirty little thing-"

It works. They both work, and so does everything else.

Your blood has gone totally hot. Like molten lava. Boiling over and about to spill.

The last thing Miyeon says: "Oh god - I'll be good, I'll do anything, I'll be your slut - Sana - anything-"

And it's one of the best lines to ever leave her mouth.

"-for this beautiful cock and these fucking perfect fingers, shit - fuck! Right there, right there, right-fucking-there-"

You fuck deeper, harder. The orgasm ripping through her muscles lets you leave marks and bruises you’ll be coming back to all weekend. Miyeon's face falls against the crook of your neck, mouth pressed there - you can feel every gasping inhale, the open-mouthed warmth of her body. It's you that whispers a shudder, half-voweled - "Miyeon," and she’s already there, so ready - it's kind of crazy how everything about this girl works so intricately and precise, like her very design was to take you to the hilt and melt all over your cock, because Miyeon's response comes as a mind-blanking:

"You can," a muffled whine in her throat. "Do it. Cum inside me. I want to-"

Sana’s eyes flare like she can feel that cable snapping, too. How your mind is all white noise. The torque of blood rushing through your head. You're thrusting deep into her well-fucked cunt with all the strength you can muster, your hips stuttering in the follow-through. When you catch the smile in her lips - the curl in her lips like she knows you’re about to spill everything, like the perfect siren’s call- you hear Sana over her shoulder: "fuck her. Use her. I think she wants to feel it in her fucking stomach - you know, the whole reason we’re here-"

You cum inside her - there’s no question - filling her tight hole up. Shit. You actually cum all over her too.

In fact, you manage to drag yourself all the way out from Miyeon, the wet quivers and hot aftershocks, all so Sana can get a good visual of how you’re fucking ruining her: the loose rope of white that streaks up her tummy, splaying out beneath her breasts. The absolute debauchery; it’s even more pornographic when your fist pumps another splatter of cum right onto the swollen lips of her pussy. Miyeon moaning on impact.

Sana supplies her own soft gasp, scraping the air past her teeth, tension hanging in the silence - and then you bury the rest of your load back inside her cunt.

And here's a feeling that's going to stick with you for a while. Beyond the fireworks in your pulse - the shake-ripple that leaves you with nothing, no muscles, no brain matter - you slide your cock through her cunt again, and again - just to feel how your cum pushes back out. And she's watching, she’s letting you watch: how messy she's become. Her tits. Her sweat-dewed thighs. How every second seems to bring its own unique ache. 

Really, you’re left only with a near mental blank. “God, Miyeon-”

You have just the barest capacity to consider the way Miyeon's trembling frame clings hard - pulling her ass cheeks down flush against your hips - your thick cock completely seated, stuffing her fucking cunt as she goes weak and submissive. You hold her there, suspended as your orgasm softens inside her and Sana hums along your lips, the soft coos spilling into Miyeon's ear: "what a messy, nasty girl. Princess needs to be full and leaking everywhere, doesn't she. How many creampies do you think you're going to ask for?” Sana laughs. “How many will ever be enough? I hope he gave you something worth begging for."

It's not really surprising how a feeling can hook its teeth into you when you're cumming like that. Subjugating the deepest reach of her sopping cunt to fulfill your own filthy fantasy. 

And look: Miyeon is soaked - soaked and wrecked and pliant. You kiss her and kiss her, and Sana kisses you, kisses her too, all of it muddled up - and your mouths are a mess. Your hands go into her hair, onto her ass; there's cum down her thighs and all over the floor. The smell of you three: her slicked arousal and your sweat and Sana's expensive perfume. 

Here, come come - Sana is a flurry of activity; she's helping Miyeon out of her second heel after you'd fucked the first one off her foot without bothering to get the strap unhooked. There's her careful proclamation of, "thank god the walls aren't paper," as you practically carry Miyeon to the edge of the sofa, this dreamy vision of messy hair and a royally-befit-blush. In the whole world, not once has Miyeon looked like anything less than nobility.

And now's no different, really.

You sink down onto the plush, tufted fabric - a chair whose shape might confuse you if Sana hadn’t told you earlier it was explicitly built for fucking, or whatever it is you're doing. She's smiling at you, settling her face right onto your shoulder and peering up.

"Sana," she says wistfully, but looks right at you. "My legs are still a noodly-mess. Could you turn on the jets in the tub?"

"And leave the two of you unsupervised?" She jokes. "Never."

Miyeon sticks out her lip. Pouts, almost: "it'd just be a second."

"She's only asking for a minute," you add in.

Sana rolls her eyes. "And since you've suddenly turned into two hopeless idiots, it can't be trusted. If I'm drawing a bath," a flick of the gaze, "the least you can do is join me. A chance to recover if nothing else."

Miyeon, being Miyeon, has already dropped her face down to your lap, curling up with your cock at her lips. When she gets her first, tantalizing, almost chaste little swipe at the tip, she smiles all impressed with herself. With those big brown eyes, her fingertips skating delicately along your stomach, and her dark lashes beating slow - all of Miyeon, right now, is on purpose, calculated. Precise. 

Her voice is even worse: "she wants her own go first, don't you think?"

Sana watches where your fingers thread into the ends of Miyeon's silky hair, just the gentlest twist and tug. How you have her mouth ready and open, waiting; how Miyeon glances over for approval.

"Well," Sana turns a cheek, "he's already so worked up." Her dark eyes look towards you - a mock frown. "I don't know if we can convince him otherwise."

Miyeon's throat clicks - she's not choking yet, but left to her own devices, she will be. Her expression melts into an almost-gasp as your cock fills the empty space in her mouth. There's that plush little gag as she opens, lips wet. You rock your hips, and then you get to watch her nose kiss the trail leading up the smooth plane of your belly.

"I could go for a soak," you admit, with Miyeon drooling on your cock.

Because Sana's doing that thing where she turns around, has the smug look over her shoulder. Makes a slow, teasing movement that leads your eyes from her pretty face all the way down the cut of her back, until finally she's pushing the soft waves of her hair into one hand so that her ass is perfectly presented-

And jesus, sure: the sloping hips, the inviting lines - the sharp points and soft edges, where she is and isn't; her cupped fingers come up to her own chest, just to show off the heft of her tits, hanging heavy. Everything is sensually posed. You're only a little bit mesmerized. Her figure has always had the cut of a pinup model. Curves like a siren. Her waist to hip ratio is - oh-fucking-kay, maybe you could do it right now - bend her in half - get her fucking sobbing until you kiss her quiet and cum so deep in her cunt it's all she can think about for days-

You realize then you're pulling too hard on Miyeon’s hair.

Not meaning to, or maybe too eager.

Hey, you have a pretty girl sucking life back into your cock and one more giving you bedroom eyes from across the room all ready to sit on it; you never said you weren't trying your best.

"Careful, honey. I'm getting impatient." Sana's hand traces the wallpaper trim in the hall, a sweeping path; a vague reminder as she disappears down and around the corner. You hear the squeak of the faucet and then the sound of her light footsteps. And then it's just an echoey and unapologetic, "one day I might not let you have all the fun," followed by, "my goodness-"

Sana, appraising her reflection in all likelihood. All bright smiles

You turn back to find a second set of eyes staring back, full of hunger, as a wet, messy heat wraps around the base of your shaft and follows to the top with the flutter of her tongue - and then all the way to the back of that tempting throat. Miyeon's moving at the tempo you'd put her at. You appreciate that. But you lift her jaw and hold the side of her face so she's looking straight at you - and as soon as you pop yourself out from between her lips, you say, "you'll let me taste Sana, too, won't you, baby?"

(Miyeon's never been good at saying no - to anything. That doesn't change here in the slightest.)

The way you laugh is easy and sweet. You kiss the space over her temple. "We've always been in this together, Miyeon," a soft tease. "Go ask her nicely, and I bet she lets you clean me up," before adding, "maybe, after you lick all the cum out of my girlfriend's tight ass."

And Miyeon simply grins. The promise of that sloppy fucking mess. She's ruined herself time and time again over far less.

"Oh," she says, "you know how good I look with cum dripping down my chin.”

It's kind of impressive how shameless she can be. So fucking blase - what are friends for, anyway.

“Shall we?"

You scoop Miyeon right up into your arms and, upon standing, swing her little body around in front of you. And she knows that's the sort of thing she shouldn't enjoy: being manhandled, told what to do, having someone lift the choice off her shoulders like that - but that doesn't stop her from tangling herself up around your neck and tilting her hips back into you in that playful-fake, overly innocent-cute mien - where she says in this tiny whisper, "are we, you think?"

Your mouth lands on her ear, nips the softness there, "behave yourself, sweetheart."

And then a low, breathless laugh escapes her: "when's the last time that was even an option."

-

(For the record, the answer is never, and you're probably actually so fucked - it's kind of hilarious to look back at it, and think, because how could any two people who have spent as many weeks (months) as you, putting all the right pieces into the right places, get all the stars align at once? The idea that the three of you are hooking up and nobody's getting hurt, murdered or hung out to dry is statistically improbable; and the likelihood that anyone in this presidential suite will survive the weekend without breaking at least four limbs in various places is rapidly dropping with each passing hour. You've been taking the old adage and clutching it against your chest - 

It can't be a sin, if it makes you happy.)

-

Past the door, the first thing you notice is that Sana's hair is all pinned up. Always pretty like that.

However it doesn't change the picture a whole lot. A few inches more bare skin isn't exactly a big difference when there's the whole, naked, porcelain expanse that spans the soft length of her shoulders, along her hips and waist, and runs to her feet. It's still kind of incredible. The hourglass shaped silhouette. All the natural curves finding relief in the right places. Model-esque, that sort of thing. And, yes: her tits, the absolute heaven-sent frame of her ass and those amazing legs.

It goes without saying.

She's there with her back arched, an arm perched on the granite of the counter. So relaxed. An elegance only afforded to the very lucky or the very rich. She lets her head fall back, the fine curve of her chin canting above a neck that you would've been biting kisses into just moments ago if she hadn't put herself in full profile to take your breath away.

"Show off," Miyeon mumbles, and then whispers to you, "sorry. My body can't do that, like-" she indicates - with a weird wobbly hand gesture, about the height of Sana's pelvis. "Whatever that is."

Sana tilts her head forward and meets the glance you give her reflection.

"Hmm," is her eloquent contribution to the airy room, woven into the pitter-patter of bathwater, lapping at the surface. "Now why am I left to wonder why there's no one making good on my requests, huh."

You cross the space; get close. And Miyeon stays curled up against you, doesn't let you slip away as you walk over, doesn't let go. She kisses the front of your shoulder, hums softly.

"My bad," You say. It's very believable. You sound a bit winded; kind of a wreck, but your sincerity shines through in that sort of 'I'll fuck it better' kind of way.

"Excuses, excuses." A dismissive shrug. "The water's perfect. But if you insist," and the sultry drop of Sana's eyelashes is deliberate, an invitation. Her breath is caught as your mouth finds the space between her neck and shoulder blade - the place where she's gone all pink, "I'd hardly pass up the chance for you both to eat my pussy first."

And look: it's not a lie, per se, but the natural instinct for Miyeon-logic is just to provide the justification, "the faster we get you a cumming, squirming, desperate mess-" her hand slips to cup the junction of her jaw and the crook of her throat. "-the sooner it'll be 'til he fucks me senseless again."

"We have a long way to go to get even, sweetie," argues Sana. "Last time, you were both pretty self-absorbed."

"We'd never ignore you on purpose," you whisper into the crook of her neck, and Sana turns to let you follow that deep, velvety mouth as the kiss flows across her lips. "You're absolutely necessary."

"Only by accident, then. That's a little bit worse," snarks Sana. The reprimand dies down into something soft as Miyeon lets her tongue trail flat over a nipple. She shudders.

"If I keep going, maybe you can forgive us?" You watch her eyelids flutter open, a haze of ecstasy passing behind her eyes. You keep an arm at her hip, wrap around and press flat until her whole flat tummy is pinned against your cock.

"Mmm," Sana hums. It's that sultry note she likes to let trail from the very end of her throat. "Ask me again after you get me off. But slowly: I want to savor every detail."

Miyeon traces kisses across Sana's rib until your girlfriend presses two wet fingers to her mouth. Easy.

"Then you should probably do something about her," you say, and - as if in agreement - Sana twists her hand into the cascades of her Miyeon's hair. You lean into her shoulder. She sighs; exhales, deeply, while her back is shimmying further backwards into the countertop.

"And you should help her make it up to me," Sana chimes, her voice clear and melodic, every inflection playing right at home in her vocal cords. "Two mouths are better than one, and I have so many other places you should be kissing."

Sana has a verifiable gravitas, for one, and when she's not hiding in plain sight behind the bubbly-bright act she likes to put on, it's nearly impossible not to fall in line behind her. This isn't to say you couldn't win her over either; it's a pretty small crowd here. But you choose one direction and watch her skin pink up and turn to red; you grab a wrist and it goes cold and white. Every last part of her is so damn expressive. The point is that she doesn't need you to make a fool out of yourself to know you're into her - or vice versa.

(Or. You're such a goddamn sucker, as Miyeon likes to remind you with a scoff, a little eye-roll, and then her hands on your belt. At least, before everything else: the knowing smirk, the dangerous suggestion).

You let your fingers find the backs of Sana's thighs as she spreads her knees apart, and there, you're reminded of the one thing. That of all the ways these two girls are identical, you've never found a comparison that really works. Not by any useful measure.

Miyeon has all the softer features: a bit dainty, the doe eyes and the lone dimple, like a doll with an aw-so-cute factor, whereas Sana is all sharp, clean angles; the sculpted muscle in her calves and thighs, the firmness and muscle underneath - which, yeah, definitely not the worst trade off. Don't get it confused, both girls crave your approval; both prefer when things get rough and sloppy. Describing either as anything but the most submissive holy-shit-take-me-now-I-need-you type, when put under the slightest pressure is laughable.

Not when Miyeon lets you use her like a toy. Or when Sana tells you exactly what you need to do to fuck a baby into her (hypothetically speaking; she gets a little silly and dumb around the edges whenever she's about to cum and her brain starts tripping over her tongue). Neither will hesitate when given the option of having your hand on the side of their throat, pinning their wrists to the headboard or the shower wall, fucking them until they go liquid and collapse in your arms, shivering, whimpering and begging, their pussies pulsing around your cock. In fact, there's really no hard or fast rule at all. But here, you recognize, is a great point of difference -

"Baby," you murmur into the inside of Sana's thigh. You leave a mark with your lips that you’ll come back to. "So. Fucking. Gorgeous-" right as Miyeon starts pressing her mouth against her cunt. "Aren't you, baby? The most beautiful girl. And all of this is just mine?"

Listen - the praise kink your girl has is actually pretty textbook: Sana wants to be called sweet, she wants to be complimented, rewarded, and all that good stuff; she wants you to talk to her the way everyone who sees a flash of her skin or a sway of her hips wants to - the best parts of adulation, arousal, love, without any of the side-eye of it being totally obscured in a crowded venue.

Direct.

To the point. 

She wants to hear each and every you're sexy, you look hot, your ass drives me crazy. She wants it on the gruff in your voice, how it gets a little rough at the edges. Tell me you're mine. You make me so hard. This is just the very essence of who Sana is, and you have learned that you need to give as well as take: feed her a tiny ego boosting here and there, and she will completely throw herself at you in return.

Miyeon watches you run your tongue over her cunt like she’s taking notes, and it’s clear you’re more than prepared to give it all up to her. There's always been this veneration, this reverence for every inch of her, a pull towards her - her eyes, her mouth, her wrists, her long beautiful legs, the place where the skin of her thighs meets - you've always had this insane fascination with Sana, this need to know what she'd taste like or sound like. At any given moment.

"Oh," Sana pushes Miyeon closer, moaning. "Yours. So yours, baby."

The moment you both have your tongues working at her - tasting, the sweetness of her dripping down onto both of your faces, making you lick your lips and kiss each other so Sana gets to watch - Miyeon hums approvingly. Lets out this very performative, "isn't she just the best?"

And it isn’t that you can't find the right word - divine, wonderful, heaven, incredible, without any flaw - there just isn't much room to read into the fact that you and Miyeon are both sunk to your knees on the bathmat, kneeling in worship, in adoration - sucking on Sana's clit. The imagery sells itself.

"We'd never forget the important things," Miyeon continues, dreamily.

She's trading with you the folds of Sana's dripping pussy and the outline of her lips for her thigh. You pick up where she leaves off, and that earns you Sana's hand raking through the back of your hair, pressing you so close you can hear her heartbeat in her pulse; her blood burning through the very spot.

“That's how you make me feel, baby: so fucking good. Amazing." You taste it. You chase it. There is nothing like her cum filling your mouth. "Pretty. Mine. All mine."

“Yeah, okay - sure - that feels really fucking good.” 

Sana's orgasms always start slow; a slight adjustment of her hips, the rub of one calf against the other, she's never been the quiet type but there's not quite the screaming or yelling just yet. Her jaw is set.

"You're, uh-," she adds, failing at anything else.

Miyeon tries for it. That edge of danger; not in pain or frustration, but, "there you go, sweetie: you sound so fucking pretty when you're worked up. Just tell us - the words, we need the words to make it good, baby."

"Fine," says Sana, tilting her head down, breathing deeply, and she makes a sound that's neither a whimper nor a laugh, but a crossroads of both. "Right there, oh my god, you are so fucking dangerous, holy shit. Oh, please. Please. You two- just, please, don't you dare- just a little bit - mmm. Why do you have to be so good at that?"

"Right?" Miyeon laughs out loud - like you're the one missing a vital point, like it's your fault your face is buried in her folds. “I used to think guys just didn’t like doing it. And then, well-"

And you drag your tongue flat and up over her pussy, right through that whole slicked up slit, your fingers still pumping in and out, and then you flick it just hard enough to-

"-yeah," she huffs, panting.

Miyeon presses her thumb into the mess of Sana's cunt, and it causes Sana's whole body to shudder apart - you lift your face to breathe, or to promise, "we can go for hours if you want, taking turns making you cum," before pressing into her again, and Sana's only got so much patience and stamina when you're two steps ahead of the curve, because her legs are practically going to wobble off her body.

"Poor, pretty baby," Miyeon murmurs against her, and she's talking like she’s taken all the control now. Operating in that cycle of push and pull.

And to her point: Sana is whining, gasping - every bit as hot and bothered and needy. She's whispering please and not giving up her requests.

"Fuck. Okay, sorry-” she apologizes. For some reason.

Your nose keeps getting bumped, her cunt is grinding down into your chin. That is fine. If it keeps on like this, your whole face will be soaking wet.

"I'm going to just- going to go ahead and cum, I think- so fucking. Yeah, keep on going just like, shit, please: my pussy is fucking throbbing."

This is the easy part, if you've read the rest right. If the hours and the minutes, and all the passing days: you know which direction the pieces are about to fall.

Sana arches her spine, rolls her hips into your face, and when you swirl your tongue all over the wet heat at her core, the sound she makes is music: low, throaty and delicate. Your mouth is attached to her clit still when you look up over the hand you have steadying each tremble in her diaphragm. And possibly as a sort of vengeful maneuver, Miyeon is shoving two fingers under your jaw and far enough into Sana's pussy that each curl of a knuckle is all that’s left to find Sana cumming right onto your mouth, your chin. 

She wants to scream, to cry out, but her mouth joins her face, in that frozen expression of anguish, of an absolute that perfect pleasure.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Miyeon consoles, standing up, leaning in - close, really, impossibly close; she presses their foreheads together, murmuring against Sana's ear, whispering what-do-you-need, there you go. Baby, that was perfect. They each know the song and dance. They can shamelessly recite each other's lines. Miyeon slides an arm to the small of Sana's back, one across her shoulders, and Sana leans against her with this gorgeous look of a perfect, mind-numbing orgasm on her face, her eyes bright, her lashes fluttering - a sheen of sweat across her forehead; your stomach falls and bottoms out; you can't not be fucking attracted to these two. Miyeon smooths down her hair, reassuring her. Her hand reaches lower, wraps around her, pulls.

The bath is well filled at this point, water near overflowing, and Sana is equally fucking soaked. This storm of wet and hot beneath your lips. You clean her off with the broad stroke of your tongue and don't spill a drop, because the noise she's making - it sounds like rapture, ecstasy. She's half-delirious, panting, with her hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Where," she gasps, trying her damnedest. You have the best girls in the world, you really fucking do. Miyeon rubs the heel of her palm against the soaked, red hood of her cunt. Sana lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan; the arch of her hips chasing Miyeon's touch; "you, are you two - god damn, if I hadn't already-"

"Shhh. My poor girl. You're not thinking about his cock just yet," and those are Miyeon's slender fingers coaxing your jaw free from Sana's cunt, prying her free from you so she can sit alone at her throne. "They always keep lube in these kind of places," Miyeon reaches into a drawer, fumbling about. It takes a moment for it to register that she's actually talking to you. "It usually looks like some body oil, you know the nice massage kind, in these tiny bottles. Help me look, will you?"

It does not take long - hotel management understands what these rooms are for. The scandal and the romance and everything in between. Because Miyeon finds what she’s looking for in the next drawer down: a sample-sized container of massage oil, something slippery and organic. It smells vaguely of lavender.

"Look at me," Miyeon tells you, and Sana is absolutely listening along too. It's all very seamless: Sana and then Miyeon. All the synchronized parts. Their signals have some sort of feedback even if you're not always actively aware of the things they pass back and forth.

Miyeon guides Sana onto her shaky legs, turns her toward you - So you swallow, hard, and run your thumbs into the crease of her ass - you're kneeling, still, still totally naked and wet all around the jaw. "Eat her ass, and I'll keep her cumming until she can't feel anything else."

You shift your weight and run a kiss along the tender skin at the back of Sana’s thigh. The contact has her bracing a hand on the counter for support.

“And then-” Miyeon says, with a gleam in her eyes like she knows what the fuck she wants. She slides back down to the floor until Sana is pinned between a rock and a hard place. Her two favorite people in the world: namely, your hands gripping Sana's hips, and Miyeon's tongue all over the aching little clit you'd just had your mouth wrapped around moments ago.

"And then?" you provide, hovering a kiss onto the beautiful round of Sana's ass. Her fucking cheek. You have to slap it. Just a little. And when you watch it ripple back and forth with your handprint there, a spot of pink already blooming, well, she has to be giving you a sultry look that demands to know when it is exactly that you are going to stick your cock inside of her, and it is absolutely just impossible to look anywhere else.

"And then," Miyeon supplies, "we're going get that beautiful cock in her ass so you can fuck her brains to mush."

"Thanks I guess, for the explicit permission," you scoff, and here you drop your lips, trail them into the crack of Sana's ass, up and down, teasing the taut stretch of her hole with the tip of your tongue.

"Someone has to take responsibility for-," she pulls on Sana's leg and stretches it forward, repositions her ever so slightly. She sucks Sana's clit into her mouth with an exaggerated sort of satisfaction.

You wait for Miyeon to continue, and then realize with the unshakeable notion: she isn't going to, because it's too damn much trouble. There is no reason to pull apart the premise and not the girl straddled between your faces. The only option is to follow her lead, and to worship Sana. To trace every crevice of her, lick between her ass and the sensitive, clenching heat of her pussy.

"Can we, like, take a timeout-" Sana's mouth is slurring into the skin of her forearm. Her upper thighs are quaking, quivering as you sink your teeth in. Her head's gone all heavy as a slutty little moan rings out and straight down her lungs.

And maybe the realization is setting in. You and Miyeon are going to fuck her until you all can't think - until you're nothing but primal urges, nothing but bodies with beating, pounding hearts; and every thought in Sana's head will be to the two of you; to Miyeon, whose hand finds the front of Sana's stomach and guides her pelvis into rolling forward and grinding into her mouth, to you, with your tongue lathering and lapping at her asshole, and running your hands around her hips until her whole body's shaking, "oh fuck, my god-" 

(The writing is on the wall. You and Miyeon are going to fuck her until none of you know where you end, where the other begins.)

Sana tries again, and the question ends in a deep, rumbling, "don't you want, Miyeon, wouldn't you rather just really, fucking love, having his thick cock stretch you apart," - she swallows - and when she glances behind her back and finds you watching her, there is just pure, unadulterated arousal burning through her eyelashes, over the flare of her ass.

You catch the fucking bow of her lower lip wobbling as she adds, a little more pointed and a lot more determined, "when you're, fuck, begging and screaming for his load? To be his cumdump, his little bitch," it's like she's got her heart set, and her mouth can't stop moving fast enough, and "to do whatever he wants just because it makes you look and feel so damn hot?"

You can hear Miyeon's mouth smacking with the way it works, the way she is swallowing, gasping. You can hear the sound she makes when her mouth goes loose, and says, agreeing, "you're going to love it Sana, every god-damn-inch, you always do" and Sana is falling apart again into your grip, moaning, and then "it's so much better. All the stretch, that tightness. But she needs your fingers first.

You can hear Sana gasping too, dripping a mess into the place where her pussy and ass meet. Miyeon licks a wide strip from her core all the way up and kisses it. Lick. Kiss, lick - her hands pulling Sana closer by the hip - kiss, kiss, lick - pulling her mouth around your girl's clit. So close to the place in Sana's bubbly cheeks, where your mouth supplies long sucks and soft kisses - so close you can practically taste the scented flavor in Miyeon's lip gloss.

"I can't- shit. Hold on, guys," Sana whispers. It's her nails scraping against the granite. "You need to-" and then the loud, dull thwap of her knee knocking into the cabinet. 

She's cumming again - this time, loud and guttural, but another really beautiful sound - her cunt pulsing hard into nothing while the air hangs in limbo, Miyeon's tongue circling her clit, your palms around Sana's beautiful, round ass. You're half convinced they'd be fine with being locked away in some tower. Forget the world and its obligations. Or, rather: let the world stop spinning; leave only this.

There is not much talking from then on. 

Mostly whining, whimpers and pleas to: not stop, yes, there, yes, please, fuck, and Miyeon wraps her fingers around you - almost the same thing she did when you were pumping your cum into her quivering cunt earlier, asking, please, may I-?

Sana bends herself over the counter, like something instinctual. The perfect bend and arch in her spine, the bow of her knees and the press of her thighs. Inviting, pleading. You can feel the tingle, the stiff tension in the muscles, when you reach out and lift her ass; it gives so easily to your touch. Your palm, her cheeks. There's a beautiful flush as the pink starts to run, fade, and reappear along her back, and - fuck, okay, seriously-

Miyeon's there, kneeling next to you: stroking her fingers up your length. She’s kissing you too. It’s hard to think.

But the sound of the cap coming off the bottle comes like an alarm clock, pulling you out of a dream.

Miyeon sits on her heels, smiling into the press of your lips as the bottle she procured tips out. Clear, viscous and smooth into her palm. When it becomes a lot of dripping; she swirls it against your cock - her knuckles wrapped around you, running and twisting into every curve, sliding her whole grip with long, calculated strokes.

"I don't think she's in any condition to keep a tally," Miyeon announces, "so, why don't you decide?"

"Meaning?" you're panting; your brain keeps working to formulate complete thoughts.

"Meaning," she slips her tongue against yours, slides her teeth and draws into your lower lip, "you should totally pound her gorgeously tight little ass" - another kiss, mostly on your lower lip; almost a bite - "and then you should dump that massive load of yours" - a shudder rolls through her shoulder and leaves a whisper in her wake - "right inside mine."

There are about eight thousand words in the English language but what you say is, "fuck."

Because she's right: Sana is blathering the moment you stand up and let your hands reach around, grab hold of her full, rounded hips. She’s not in any state to protest or complain about matters of equality or correspondence. Her lips and tongue are barely even fit to say anything but yes-yes-please-anything, oh god.

Which, okay, whatever: of course, whatever the fuck she needs - whatever they need - you pull at her hips until it's there, your cock sandwiched between those full, warm ass-cheeks, the perfect amount of pressure to get you so fucking hot, and Sana's not shy about rolling her hips to keep you pressed to the surface, rocking into your balls until her cunt's making slick, wet, hungry noises and she's just one endless, groaning moan.

"Love feeling your cock," Sana mutters; and there is a, "please, fuck me, baby- please?" thrown in for good measure.

"Please do, you're like - you're like ridiculously gifted," Miyeon adds, always the right touch of caustic.

"-please."

Sana's eloquence is short lived, because the second you give her ass a squeeze and Miyeon presses her thumb against Sana's cunt, her voice catches on her throat.

She sounds perfectly winded, completely out of breath, a tiny, sexed-up growl running through the notes as she speaks to her reflection in the mirror. Miyeon laughs. She can hardly get her own shit together when you lean up and grab a breast in hand, or start leaving slow-but-steady bite marks along the back of her shoulder blades; like it's all-too funny when you pin Sana to the counter until she starts to beg in that please, please, please tone: when every syllable and gasp is hitched and short.

"She doesn't want gentle," Miyeon tuts, finding her place next to Sana, holding her chin in her hands and catching the expression on her face. She presses a thumb into Sana's mouth for no reason other than: they're so soft. Wet. Pink and full, parted around her fingertip. "Isn't that right, baby?"

Your gaze follows their hips, swaying. And from this angle: identical. The hair, the jawline, the arch of the throat and shoulders, the elegant twist and fold of their limbs, the eyes, the blush, the smile, and the legs. They don't have to look exactly the same: their presence is near identical - Miyeon's the cuter one, sure. It's been established, but fuck, the look on Sana's face as you spread her asshole with just a finger is fucking dangerous. You're going to lose your mind. Both the flat tummies and the beautiful breasts and their matching hard nipples - and the fucking two best asses the world has ever seen. A line up over the counter: Miyeon and Sana, side by side; their reflections looking at you in tandem, wearing these same expressions. The eyes begging, asking and insisting, the pouting lower-lip and the glassy sheen of their eyelashes.

You tell them: "how am I supposed to" - you run the thick-glistening head of your cock along the pucker of Sana’s tight ass, grind your hips into the friction - "focus when you two look at me like that?”

"Um, just give up," says Miyeon, grinning; and then, when your jaw snaps closed and there's the obvious shift of your hips as your length strains through your body's need and pulls you closer to that incredible, tight, dark hole: "god, there you go. That is so fucking hot."

So, it's just like this:

They watch each other. The mirror is right there; every want, every motion. 

And then, yeah, a low and throaty, "is that it?" - Sana nods into Miyeon's hand and smiles, with just the slightest hint of something that could resemble a blush - "why we always come back to him? Because, really-"

"Mmm." Sana hums agreement, dazed and drunk in her words, the slow breath of air you push out of her chest as your cock starts to sink in; the deeper the intrusion, the lower your names become - just murmurs and sighs and sounds: "god, yes, god-"

Her pussy starts to drip onto the tiles, her slick collecting at Miyeon's knees as Sana takes you all the way: and you hold, once you're all the way in; once that gorgeous little puckered rim has stretched around your entire width; there's just the smell of the room; lavender and rose and citrus - Sana's endless arousal - and you hold, and hold on tight - and your muscles shiver as Sana draws the first rocking motion of her hips.

The smallest, lightest grind.

"Jesus fucking christ," you curse, because the heat around your cock is excruciatingly tight. A slow-burning, tingling-aching pleasure as the flesh inside Sana's ass moves up and down the length, drawing out inch by inch of skin - until your entire cock is nearly pulled out.

You're the one that drives all the way back in.

Sana gasps. She runs her hand through her hair. She tries her damndest to remember what words are, clearly coming up empty.

"Baby." Miyeon is kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips, and coos praises in her ear. She sinks her fingers into the curve of Sana's immaculate ass, pulling on the soft cheek, showing-

You are speechless. It's just: that next stroke. And another. Your cock slipping in and out with each pass, so easy once Sana sighs, licks her lips and leans into your rhythm, there, all at once and then faster. And she looks in the mirror, because of course; of course she watches Miyeon run her hand all over her front, the perfect tits and a pretty stomach - your thrusting keeps up until every thrust has her hips rolling forward and snapping back, chasing her own momentum; chasing that thick, hard, stretch of cock and that beautiful pleasure-pain as the force and pace rocks her, pounds her so her entire body has to curl against Miyeon's chest for support, so that she's going a little weak in the knees.

"How is he?" Miyeon's tone gets wicked in these situations, a lot less innocent. She gets excited, giddy. "Pretty, handsome, stupidly attractive," her voice picks up a playful lilt, and she gets you grinning - it's only the start. "And he's all yours. But how's the cock, huh? He's gaping your ass so pretty. Your hole is so fucking open around him. It looks incredible, doesn't it?"

Sana reaches for the side of her ass, presses her fingertips to her skin: pulls and splits a fingernail into the tender flesh where her ass and thigh meet - right above her cunt. You snap your hips into hers and watch your cock disappear. Every motion gives, slurps and sucks until you're hilted inside her.

"Feels, mmmm - fuck." Her chest is fluttering, every part of her so fucking flushed, her blood running beneath the surface so every single inch of her skin is saturated with her own need, her want.

"Feels so good," you growl, your vision gone dark around the edges. Miyeon's there, vaguely, smirking into Sana's jaw, licking at the sweat, scraping her teeth along the skin to bite down, pull- "she's so fucking tight. Gripping the hell out of my cock. Like, it feels unbelievable, you know."

"Babe," she cries, though you give her no respite - you use that little sliver of slack and pull out far enough that she'll know it when your cock is hammering into her ass, a little more aggressive, and you start with quick, hard pumps that echo throughout the room - not for your pleasure or hers: just to hear it, listen, you're driving up so far into that perfect, gorgeous ass that it sends her tits rocking and rolling with every bounce of her chest; her moans, her babbling incoherence, are, again - it's like a drug - and Miyeon's smiling. And also, getting herself off.

"So pretty," Miyeon says into her temple, "with his cock fucking open your ass." And she has her fingers swirling, swirling, in little patterns around her cunt, grazing over a wet clit, like the way you're pounding Sana's ass and dismantling her whole consciousness is absolutely the most arousing thing ever, like Miyeon could stay and watch forever, like Sana's the most beautiful person in the world, and Miyeon would be right here with her every second - whispering praise in her ears - "god, babe, if I could, I would never pull his cock out. You take him so well, don't you? You're just made for it. He could stretch you out over and over and we could, you know - be fucked silly - no thinking - for, like, forever. All day long."

Sana's fingers claw, gripping at the bowl of the sink, while Miyeon has her hand glued to her clit, playing herself.

Miyeon doesn't wait - but she asks anyway - and of course: she's leaning up, in, nuzzling Sana and saying: "yes?"

"So," is all Sana gets out before gasping, because the sight, it's too much to not let yourself feel a little power drunk, and there is a sudden thrust that practically turns the poor girl's voice into a croak. "Yes. Fuck - fuck-"

You don't really have any clue where this is coming from but: "Miyeon, here, take this cock. Come get what's yours you fucking cocktease," and, whatever - who needs thoughts? Your girlfriend's already bent over the bathroom counter, your fingers holding the smooth curves of her ass apart, her beautiful body opened all up and pink.

Miyeon ruffles her hair as she finds the perfect angle, knees knocked up against the drawers, and she's got more oil spread onto her own puckered rim.

You know your girls: Sana is desperate for your cock, Miyeon lives to be used.

"I love how fucking cock-drunk she gets," Miyeon laughs, and then - the moment you've shifted from one gorgeous hole to the other - her mouth slackens, her eyelashes flutter: "shit. Holy - didn't really realize- oh wow."

"Kinda distracting?" you tease, knowing full well you're just going to lose your own words; watching a gorgeous ass swallow your cock; being told to keep giving and take, just as much: the warmth in your own core, your cunt, clenching hard - an aching pulse - the excitement coursing through your veins and this, this whole sensation of being connected: your bodies, all-encompassing and present, three whole units, joining at the hips, being forced back together-

"-you feel fucking, so tight. That's how the fucking joke goes, right?" Miyeon manages: to talk, still, even with a cock in her ass and your teeth and tongue painting pretty marks up the ridges of her spine.

Sana is catching her breath, brushing her fingers through her hair staring wistfully.

"Gives you two so much to talk about."

"Now don't even start- I really like it, alright."

Sana gives her ass the worst slap but your balls hit her cunt on the following thrust. Miyeon's so fucking tight you can barely breath. And her laughter tinkers off into a very pretty string of obscene moans from the way your cock spears into her, all at once: the flat, wet, throbbing sounds of a tight ass taking a thick cock without stopping, stretching and sliding with an increasing ease the longer it goes on for, until you're snapping your hips so far forward they're slapping Miyeon's ass and gripping, squeezing the round shape of her waist; until the movements are just you, the heavy weight of your balls against the hot wet skin between her legs.

And god damn it, she's got to start with:

"Forgot how much you stretch me, Jesus - baby, it is a really gorgeous cock you've got," - and that is when it hits, and her hands fist up, trying to grab at something, anything: "oh my god."

"You are such a whore," Sana laughs, but not unkind, because Miyeon can only grin in response, with your cock pounding out into the red-hot, clenched walls of her asshole. And then: a nice, hearty sigh.

You find yourself asking, almost by impulse, "isn't she, uh, tight. God."

And, fuck: you were thinking how insane it is you two ever managed without the third party. How now, not fucking Sana and Miyeon's glorious, matching asses side-by-side would drive you fucking crazy, and maybe that's why it's really the best news. How when your cock slips out of one ass, and slowly nuzzles into the other - how when you all three watch the pretty faces in the mirror twist and turn into a look of such pure fucking bliss - you just sort of-

"Oh."

That's Sana: with Miyeon pressed chest-first over the marble counter, Miyeon's cheek and nose flush against her face, their arms twisted, bodies crossed at the wrist and wrist - their skin shiny-red with exertion. They're the closest possible position: mirror images of the other, and - with the slightest push -

And it's pretty. It's fucking, you know.

"Perfect," you groan. "This is it. Look at you, the both of you - god - it's like. It's not normal to be as beautiful as the two of you are. Right. So, you know-"

"Hey," Sana is a little faster on the uptake when you're fucking Miyeon and her ass within an inch of dying, "your face. You look like you're close, are you close baby?"

The blood's starting to sing in your ears. Miyeon's forehead keeps bouncing into Sana's - their sweat, mixing, her skin peppered and blotchy pink from where she's gotten a little bit lost in her own head, her hips moving of their own accord, her body tensing, relaxing. You can read all of her movements, recognize her signals: the way she moans louder than usual, the way her cunt trembles against you, the way her ass squeezes, holds, lets go-

You pull out. Just to keep yourself from blowing, just to pull on your balls, to look and watch the perfect view. And Sana reaches back - a warm hand wrapped around you.

You feel her palm wrap around your cock, coaxing another serving of oil - like she knows just how rough it's going to be to start again.

"Just," she pants, leaning into Miyeon so you have to rut around to find your way back, "until the end."

There's something so pleasantly mind-numbing about the moment when you ease your cock into the sweet-soft ring of muscles again and she's just stretching and pulsing and grabbing all around you. The way you keep going: she's holding herself, giving her asshole a squeeze, a stretch - her lips kiss a sound onto the side of Miyeon's shoulder and she nods, gasps, breathes out heavy and pained, like the rest: a total fucking rush.

You watch Miyeon lean further, a beautiful shift of balance between the two. Her hands clamp around the sides of Sana's thighs for support, and the longer you pound into her, the deeper your cock sinks, the closer the pressure becomes as their heads turn in, looking to the same place, their foreheads knocking, and-

"Knees," you growl. You're holding your cock in your first - demanding: "Get on your fucking knees."

Sana smiles first. Then Miyeon. And when the lipstick smears against their cheeks, you don't have it in you anymore to think clearly. The line between your imagination and your fantasy is so blurred: you want their mouths moaning into eachother. You want Miyeon to clean the taste from Sana's lips. You want those cunts grinding, their clits making contact, and for one of them - fuck-

So: "I need the both of you."

And it's your name falling off of Sana's tongue when the tops of her shins hit the tile floor - she's kneeling, she's pulling Miyeon by her waist until the three of you have converged into this beautiful, glistening, open-mouthed trio. Sana kisses Miyeon hard while you cum all over the image: the contrast of their soft, wet, hot tongues against one another while your harsh grip pumps along your slick, throbbing length. It feels like a knot unraveling, a tension snapping loose, your cum landing on their cheekbones, their temples, between their lips - It's a long, slow roll through the valley of your abs - Miyeon licking into Sana's panting mouth and swiping through the streak of white you just pumped out into her fucking hair; the messy collision of lips, swallows, tongues; the faint, slow sounds, the slickness-

"Look," she breathes. You can hear the way their words hitch when their fingers hook eachother, guiding through the mess across their skin, dipping through the sticky cum, circling the plush pout of their bottom lips; and it's Sana that grabs Miyeon by the wrist, bringing her hand forward; sucking, running her mouth in a lazy path all across the width, "that's all, fuck, I need to. Wanna taste all of it."

You just groan.

Miyeon is slumped into the lacework of Sana's limbs, swapping the tastes between her tongue and the space of their breath; while her own thumb caresses the raw, stretched opening of her ass. Sana whispers things, incoherencies, into Miyeon's hair: kisses at her temple, strokes the muscles of Miyeon's back. Feeling how they shiver, they heave, they fall - exhausted and flushed in the heat of one-another's embrace. She licks the words across Miyeon's cheek and follows with her nose trailing Miyeon's jaw, and your cum's smearing a streak onto Miyeon's bottom lip, before their tongues have tangled themselves into another messy, well-fucked kind of collision.

"Good girls," you mumble, kissing Miyeon's knuckles, and helping Sana to her feet.

Your legs are a lot less shaky than either the two of theirs, but it's okay, you pick Miyeon up and set her on the sink; and then turn on the tap for the both of them, since they'd need a wash and some salve.

"Now, what?" says Sana. She's smiling; a washcloth at the ready; some dribble of soap from the bottle.

Miyeon gives her a smirk from over her shoulder, turning away just enough to flip her hair; the ends brush across her jaw. It's a cute little quirk of the eyebrow; the upward twinge to the corner of the lip; it's a motion that knows every muscle, every detail.

"Depends," says Miyeon, sharpening up her tone just the littlest bit, "the bath looks like a tight fit for all three of us but," and there it is - the mischievous glint; the curve in her hips, her mouth, and, of course - you notice the way her eyes drop to the stiffness of your cock. The way her voice purrs, all light, but a lot more intent: "Did you see the shower? It's absolutely gigantic."

"I saw the detachable head," Sana throws out. A teasing little comment, one you remember - that sends a pretty deep shudder down your stomach and thighs. Your cock twitches, hard and - okay, good thing Miyeon booked the room for a week and then some. The view is pretty great: watching your cock get rock-solid in under five seconds. Watching them kiss the same knowing look, sharing the private joke. Watching their hips swing, watching them slide the glass door: Miyeon in front and Sana from behind.

It's in unison that they both turn over their shoulder and ask, "won't you help us test it out?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right there." You shake your head, "so thirsty," even though, you know you're equally to blame.

-

It's that tiny whisper of "don't look at me like you don't have cum in weird places either, hm?" that Sana gives you, while Miyeon is washing her hair, rubbing and sliding along the locks. "I'll help you with the spots that are hard to reach, come here."

It's that little, meaningful, mischievous curl in Miyeon's lip when the water's pouring, and your breath falls across her skin. The way her hands reach out for you, even when Sana takes her chin and plants a firm, messy kiss across her mouth. It's the same gesture Miyeon's making, using Sana's forearm for support. How she runs the palm of her other hand along the back of Sana's thighs, slipping and pressing forward to guide, nudge. She pulls Sana onto her toes, aligning their bodies. It's in the little laughs they share, the wet smacks of lips, the soft little hums they make when tongues slip over, into the open.

It's here too, that you first ever get them confused, just a momentary slip up of "Sana, could you grab the towel-" or some equivalent, when you glance away at the perfect wrong moment and you're left just a little puzzled, still mostly entranced by the sight of the steam on the glass and their fingertips drawing patterns into it as they lean in for another kiss, or a moan-

"Oh," Miyeon says, delighted, "I'm supposed to be her, right?"

They're fucking-

Sana is less enthused. "Stop. I do not. Am not."

- identical.

"Look, I didn't mean-"

Miyeon laughs to cut you off and skips the argument. She winks, and somehow that makes it worse.

It's there too, the look of regret when your fingertips curl into the skin of her breast, your thumbs a tease against the rigid nubs of her nipples and the texture of her pretty stomach. They don't realize how much you really love their matching expressions. So, they don't mind the mixup, and besides: you just follow Sana's guiding hands and let your lips ghost-kiss, so gently across Miyeon's thigh. It's impossible to imagine a version that isn't one and the other, the two of them, here, with you: sharing kisses, offering the gentlest, slowest exploration, teasing and tugging a gasp of a response.

"Hey," Miyeon muses, "does that mean you'll keep your cock warm in me once we go to bed and feed me a steady stream of ice cubes between all the sessions, mm?"

Sana raises her head in faux offense and drops back into the comfort of Miyeon's thighs. "Jeez-us christ," Sana huffs; "one day with him and she thinks she's me. Have mercy."

"She isn't?" you ask.

Sana sighs. "Um. Not even close."

Miyeon beams at the both of you. She even runs her fingers through Sana's hair, doting - affectionate. "She'll come around to the idea eventually, don't worry. Until then I'm more than happy to take on the role. It can't be that hard, yeah? Just to be all - naughty-sexy-sweet-oh, look, a surprise, i’m actually ready to get fucked six ways to sunday-"

-you get an eyeful of whatever they are doing, this time just, fucking-

Sana only says, "it'll have to take an exceptional amount of patience on both your parts."

-gorgeous, lewd, completely fucking filthy.

"I got a lot, babe."

The second Sana opens her mouth, it's followed with: "pfffht."

It's just, who wouldn't give them whatever they want? Whatever they ask? There's a list out there: no doubt the both of them, gagging. Throat-deep. In their little skirts. Panties. Naked and straddled, just, across their hands. One, maybe. Or both all the same, or still a different preference. One behind the other and taking turns. Something - and this is important, here:

"Look," they say, eyes wide up at you and blinking - on the same fucking beat no less, "you can trust us, okay?"

(Gentleman and distinguished scholars: the list, by the way, only ever gets longer.)

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)

Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?

And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.

+18 mdni

cw: p in v sex, cockwarming

It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.

As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.

You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.

“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.

Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.

“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”

You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.

A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.

Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”

You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.

“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.

You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.

The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.

“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.

Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.

He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”

[sheeple]

Heirs of Hogwarts | Part 4

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): It's the (badly written) smut chapter (is it obvious that I don't know how kissing works?) / Weee Woo mature smut hour is here!!! / semi-exhibitionistic (office fucking while the door is locked?) / The oral fixation is back / dunno if I missed smth. A/n: The long-awaited final part of the series. And I swear to GOD if the tags don't work I'm going to screeaaAAAMMM [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

When Mattheo opens his eyes, a ray of sunshine peaks through the curtains and it falls over your sleeping face. In your sleep, you have tucked yourself closer to his body.

Mattheo can't help himself but smile. He rests his head on his fist while he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. Oh, how peaceful you look — how at ease with him beside you.

At his touch, you scrunch your face and turn away, nuzzling into his chest. You grumble something and he laughs.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

Groaning, you reach for the covers and pull them up to hide yourself from the light. "What time is it?"

Looking over his shoulder towards the small clock on the bedside table. "Half past eight."

Another groan comes from you and you push the covers just down so your face is peaking out with a pout. "Way too damn early..."

At that moment your door gets kicked open and the twins storm in. "Get up! Mom made breakfast and she has given you ten minutes to get dressed.

As Danny drags you out of your bed and into your bathroom, Victor gives Mattheo a stern glare. "You listen to me, Riddle. If you hurt but one hair on our sister's head you're a dead man! Understood?!"

Mattheo nods dazed, not jet have been really woken up before the invasion.

With one last curt nod, Victor turns around and marches out of your room. Not before saying, "If I were you I would get dressed. Mom doesn't like tardiness."

The way one-half of your brothers send you sly looks while the other half glares daggers at Mattheo as the two of you join your family at the breakfast table makes you want to be swallowed up whole by the ground.

"Slept well?", muses Felix as he peels a tangerine and gives his wife the segments.

Pursing your lips, you wait until both your parents aren't looking before flipping him off. He returns the gesture, only to get whacked by his wife — who in turn winks at you.

As Mattheo tilts his head towards you and as he parts his lips to say something, Victor calls out, "Hey! No canoodling at the breakfast table! Felix and Jean were bad enough, we don't need to experience you two being disgusting too."

"Hey!", both you and Felix call out, offended. Felix because he and his wife were called disgusting, and you because of the accusation of canoodling while you were literally doing nothing.

As you and your siblings bicker — because let's be fair, Felix needs to pull Herbert and Danny into the argument — Mattheo looks around the table with a fond smile.

It's nice to see how your family is. Even while you bicker and pester each other, he can see you hold so much love for each and every one of your brothers. And they do for you. And now he can see certain traits that you do that come from your parents or that all the Hufflepuff siblings do.

It's nice. It makes him jealous deep down.

When you notice Mattheo's faraway look on his face, you reach under the table to hold his hand. You give him a squeeze and in return, you get a smile. A genuine one luckily.

The two stay like that until it's finally time to go. After all, you have so much homework to do.

Your mom hugs you with tears in her eyes, having always found it difficult to let her babies go. She also gave Mattheo a tight hug and made him promise to come back another time. Maybe for the summer holiday, he can join you and your family at your vacation home — the idea was protested with grumbles from most of your brothers.

Your father pinches your cheeks before clapping Mattheo on his back and shaking his hand. "It was nice meeting you, Mattheo. Take good care if my daughter, will you?"

"I wouldn't dare otherwise", he smiles while reaching for your hand.

Waving goodbye, the two of you walk back to the portkey. And with a final deep breath, you touch the small cup and get sucked in a portal.

With a slight stumble, the floor changes from grass to the creaking floorboards of Sprout's office. You manage to catch yourself by the desk.

Having let go of your hand, Mattheo takes out his wand while he walks towards the door. He peaks his head out and looks around the corridor. Once he closes the door, he casts a locking and silencing charm upon it.

"What are you doing?", you ask laughing as he slowly turns around.

Mattheo says nothing but strides towards you. Taking your face in his hands, your breath hitches as his thumb rubs circles over your cheeks. Your eyes flicker over his face as you recognise the look in his eyes. It's the same as last night.

"Matt", you whisper, pressing your forehead against his.

He silences a groan by biting his bottom lip, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Tell me now if you don't want this. Tell me and I will stop. But once... I can't stop- won't stop. You fill my every thought, awake or at night."

You trail one hand up his body and place it on his shoulder, moulding your body against his as he presses you against the desk, his own hands simultaneously travelling down your body. He grabs the backs of your thighs and hoists you up the desk.

A surprised yelp escapes your lips and Mattheo seizes the opportunity to crash his lips against yours. His eyes close shut as he laces his fingers into your hair, holding your head in place to deepen the kiss.

You moan as you grind against him. Mattheo's all-consuming, all over. You feel and smell nothing else than him. One of his hands is in your hair while the other travels down your side towards your knee. How he grabs the flesh of your thigh to pull you even closer ─ if that is even possible.

Wrapping your arms around him, you throw your head back as his lips travel from the corner of your mouth towards your neck. He peppers open-mouthed kisses, running his tongue over your skin and sucking softly. You bite your bottom lips so as not to sound too desperate.

While his lips assault your neck, Mattheo's hand has travelled from your knee up your thigh to underneath your skirl and his middle finger toys with the elastic of your underwear.

Your body moves like it has a mind of its own and your legs open further to give him room to slip his hand beneath the fabric.

As he explores and rubs slow circles on your clit, he groans loudly. "Gods", he breathes out, his forehead resting against your shoulder and his eyes trained on the movements of his fingers hidden under the fabric of your panties.

"Matt... please", you beg, squirming at the teasing touch.

As if your plea snaps him out of a daze, he rips his hand away from your core ─ earning a desperate whine from you ─ and he pushes your underwear down your legs, stuffing it in his back pocket.

He pulls your hips to the edge of the table while he drops to his knees. Looking up at you through his lashes, asking your permission to continue.

"Mattheo I swear if you don't soon- OH!" You moan loudly as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your hands shoot to his curls and you pull on them as he continues his ministrations, pulling moan after moan from you.

His lips wrap around your clit and you swear that you see stars. A finger prods at your entrance, slipping in easily with how wet you are. Soon, a second finger gets added and you can't help yourself. "I could eat you for lunch", he groans.

"Please Mattheo... please!"

With one last kiss, he pulls away and looks up at you, his mouth and chin glistening. "What is it, baby?" He leans his head against your thigh while his thumb rubs lazy circles around your clit.

You groan and whine, writhing under his heavy gaze and stimulation. "I... please- do something. I feel so..."

He pouts, speeding up his fingers. "Do something? Okay." He rips his fingers away and you feel like you could die.

"Not that!", you hiss, glaring at him.

Mattheo chuckles and rises from his kneeled position. "You're oh so cute when frustrated, love." He grabs your cheeks with one hand and pushes his soaked fingers into your mouth.

The taste of your own arousal dances on your tongue and you moan, closing your eyes and sucking on his digits. Mattheo can't help but watch you with fascination as you hold his gaze.

You grab his wrist and pull his fingers away with one last kiss. "Fuck me, Mattheo Riddle. Fuck me so good that I forget that our relationship used to be fake." You use his own words, which earns you a growl.

Mattheo grabs your hips and turns you around so that your ass is up in the air and your chest laying on the desk. He pushes the hem of your skirt up so you're fully exposed. A groan escapes him while Mattheo grabs two hands full of your asscheeks and pulls them to the side.

One hand leaves your skin and you hear the metallic sound of a belt buckle before a zipper. You look over your shoulder and see that he has pushed his pants just down enough to free himself. He strokes his length a couple of times before lining up with your entrance.

With one fluid trust, he's fully inside you. You grip the edge of the desk and a loud moan rolls from your lips. You're so full. So filled to the brim.

Mattheo swears he's in heaven. Your pussy is pure ecstasy. "So... tight", he says with a clenched jaw, trying his best not to immediately spill inside of you.

Rolling your hips against his, you look over your shoulder with your bottom lip between your teeth. Mattheo has his eyes closed and his head thrown back. The grip on your hip is bordering on bruising but it feels so good.

You can't help the moans coming out of your mouth when he bottoms out before pulling out of you completely and plunging back in. It shocks your entire body and Sprout's desk he has you folded over.

A hand travels down and you roll lazy circles over your clit for extra stimulation, his own hand engulfs yours and moves in sync with you.

It makes your body buzz and you feel the end coming closer and closer. Squirming underneath him, stars flood your vision and soon you feel yourself teetering over the edge.

Mattheo, feeling your pussy convulse around him, pulls you up and presses you against his chest. He captures your lips in a fiery kiss and helps you ride out your orgasm.

"Shit", he curses under his breath, the squelching sound of your cum sending shivers down his spine. "I don't know how much longer I can hold it."

"Cum in me", you moan, arching your back.

You don't have to say that a second time because Mattheo swears he's in heaven and cums almost immediately with a loud grunt, his head thrown back. You moan with him and he holds the both of you still.

The two of you stay like that until he has gone soft and you are starting to cramp. As he pulls out, you feel a dollop of his cum run down your leg. Mattheo drops to his knees and licks it up.

"No", you squirm, feeling so overstimulated that even the thought of his tongue touching you makes your pussy twitch.

He helps you up on the desk and cleans you up with a towel he conjured. "How are you feeling?"

"Good", you smile, "Tired. Spend."

Mattheo returns your smile as he pulls you closer for a kiss. Once he has enough, he presses his forehead against yours. "Come to my game tomorrow."

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "And do what? Watch my house beat yours?", you tease.

"You could sit there all prettily in my jersey while watching me beat up your ex."

A laugh escapes you. "That way to original deal wasn't it? You distract my parents while I distract Malcolm. All so Slytherin can win the house cup."

Mattheo smirks. "You know it, baby." He takes your face and traces your lips with his thumb.

"And after that?" You lean into his touch.

"After that, I am going to fuck you silly in the locker room showers and make you moan my name so loud everybody knows you're mine."

And he did just that. With his knuckles still bloody from punching Malcolm in the face — nearly earning a suspension when he almost didn't stop — he holds your hands in a tight grip as he ploughs roughly into your cunt as the water from the shower makes his sweater cling to your skin.

And you bet the school did know your two definitely were an item after that.

Tag list (bold means I couldn't tag you): @mylosz0 @kermits-bitch @jolly4holly @daisiesformylove @frogtape @dancing-inasnowglobe @slytheos @undercover-smutlover @reverse-soe @nikkissecretlibrary @moon-struck-meraki @bengbengbengi @justhavingsomefun1 @itsamusical4lifee @genshingeeksworld @y0urm0m12 @alnitakstarsky03 @mel-vaz @slytherinboysappreciation @sailtomarina @bubybubsters @jasmine2105 @abaker74 @lovelyygirl8 @vickykazuya @eltrss @llpovi @m1kasawps @sol3chu @ledtassoo @itsarajr @glittervame @glittervame @mjlock @universallyblizzardlove @hoeforvinniehackerrr @iamkaku @elltheawkward @hey-there9-its-me @mattheosangel13

[voxmortuus]

3 and 12 with Benny Cross where he's overstimulating the reader?

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Benny Cross x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Bikeriders ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 563 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Overstimulation | Begging | PWP | Pure Smut | P-i-V | Hand Holding During Intercourse | Creampie | Reader Gets To Finish | Reader Gets Called a Good Girl | Benny fucks reader into being a stupid girl... | Benny calls reader a stupid girl... with affection of course. | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @echoinyourshadow ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

It was how he ground against you, that perfect friction against your swollen bud. Wet, slick, and utterly sensitive, your moans are a rhythmic musical that fills the air. The creaking of the bed, the grunts and groans that matched your own. The room was dark, with the exception of maybe a single street light shining through your curtains. He kept thrusting, your hands in his, your fingers locked together, using you as momentum with each thrust. Each push, each pull. The way he used you caused you to shiver and quake.

Your breathing picks up, feeling the stimulation to your bud, your eyes close as you spread your hips a little wider. Needing to feel more of him, wanting to feel more of him, wanting him deeper, but the way he moves, not only does it cause him to go deeper, it forces more stimulation in places where you couldn't catch your breath. You grip his hand tighter, he moves his hands above your head, taking yours with them pinning them above you as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, faster, and now deeper. More moans escape you. The stimulation becoming almost unbareable, but not in a bad way.

With your moans, your whimpers, you begin to beg and plead.

"Benny! Oh fuck! Please... I can't. I need to... I... FUCK!" you moan loudly.

It's like you want to beg him to stop, but you can't. You don't want to, the sensation feels so good, but you feel you can't release, but not in a bad way, in such a way that it's so overwhelming you're wanting to hang on, to keep going to ride it out as long as you can. Clencing your jaw before it slacks you try to find the right words again.

"P-Please! Oh... my... god! Benny... You feel... I feel... it feels... FUCK!" you cry out again. Why can't you find the right words.

Your brain starts to feel like mush, your eyes roll as they close, you bite your lip as your legs begin to shake, your insides feel like they're quivering with so much pleasure. But is it too much? Has Benny fucked you into stupid? It sure feels like it.

"Have I fucked you stupid, Darlin?" He smirks looking down at you as he continues to thrust and press deeper, keeping that stimulation right where it needs to be.

"You've fu-fucked me, int.... in... into an overstimulated stupid girl... FUCK!" you growl.

He chuckles and looks over your face. "Okay stupid girl... beg for me." He mused, his low husky voice carried.

"Please... please let me cum... let me make a mess... let this stupid girl make a mess." You beg.

He looks over you, tilting his head, he chuckles as he slows ever so slightly for you to catch your breath, and for you to feel that finish slowly seeping from you, you're a wet, drippy, stupid mess. You let out a long, drawnout, much needed moan. Your whole body convulses as he presses himself deep inside you, releasing his own finish. When you've both had a moment of calm he smirks looking down at you, slowly pulling from the mess you've both made between your legs, he kisses your forehead.

"Good girl." He smirks. Kissing you again. He watches you intently before he falls to the side laying next to you.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Shadows Of The Past ~ YJN [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 5.2K

GENRE: mafia AU, established friendships, friends to lovers, financial trouble, joengin helping the reader, always been there for her but she never knew it, SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, public sex (kinda) links into the other stories too ehe epilogue with everyone included <3 

PAIRING: Jeongin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

When you'd agreed to go to dinner with Jeongin to talk business you hadn't thought he'd bring you somewhere too sophisticated and fancy and you suddenly felt out of place. You were dressed in your pencil skirt and a white shirt that you were almost sure had stains all over it and everyone in the restaurant looked as though they were dressed for an award ceremony.

The restaurant exuded an air of elegance, its walls adorned with muted artwork that all seemed to be signed by an artist known as "Little Muse" and you felt unease bubbling inside of you. Why did he bring you to such a nice place? 

Soft jazz music drifted through the air, mingling with the clinking of silverware and the murmur of voices.

"Jeongin," You whispered as a waiter took you over to a table, your eyes widening as you saw them pull back some curtains to a private booth the two of you were going to be sitting in.

"Yes?" His eyes landed on you, sending shivers up and down your body something you wish you could shut off instantly. You'd had a crush on him as a kid but it had passed when he moved away, or so you had thought since everything seemed to be coming back up to cause trouble again.

"This is a business dinner, we should go somewhere...I-I don't know, better for business." You stuttered out as you took a seat across from him, your eyes looking down at the table that was draped in a white cloth with candles casting a warm glow on your private booth.

"This place is perfect for business, a friend of mine owns this place so we'll be left alone." He smirked at you, he wanted this to be alone time with you.

After not seeing you for almost 10 years he was desperate for some time alone with you, he hadn't seen you since the two of you were young but his feelings for you remained true.

"Okay, so I was thinking if you're serious about going into business with me-"

"Order something to eat first, you look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks." You stared at him, a little taken back at just how forward he was with you, how did he know?

You hadn't eaten anything but ramen and something you could scrounge up from the hotel kitchen without being noticed. All of your money went straight back into the hotel, you hadn't even had two coins to rub together as of late but there was no way he could have known that. No one knew about it, not even your employees since you didn't want to have them worry about losing their jobs.

Instead, you cut your payout completely making sure they would still get paid and budgeted whenever you could, even leaving your home so you could sleep in your office. You sighed a little and nervously let your eyes flick over the menu, your eyes catching a glimpse of the prices and you instantly felt sick.

"About this business proposal," You said, your voice uncertain as you refused to look up from the menu.

"Yes, Cupcake?" The nickname made your hands clutch onto the menu. No one had called you that in years, no one but Jeongin had ever called you that and he only called you it because you always made sure to have them to hand if he was around.

Clearing your throat, you tried to shake off the memories that were threatening to overwhelm you. You'd been practically inseparable when you were kids, exploring the hotel together until you knew every inch of that damn place. But then Jeongin moved away when he turned 19, no warning, no letter, nothing he was just gone. Part of you thought he'd died until you were old enough to find out who he was and who his family truly were.

"I want to make sure we're both on the same page," You told him, forcing yourself to focus on the matter at hand.

"I put my heart and soul into this hotel, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to share ownership," You were but you weren't going to come across as too desperate to him. 

Truth was, the hotel was going under and you were left to try and scramble to put it all together. 

When you found out your uncle left you the hotel in the will you'd been over the moon about it. Ever since you were old enough you'd been working in the hotel, starting as a maid until you were promoted again and again till the point where you were practically running the place - your uncle still in charge of the books though. You now realised was because he was losing money left and right, taking out shoddy insurance deals or just flat out refusing to pay for some of the repairs only to do it himself and fuck it up more. 

A bank had recently told you that you'd be better off starting a fire and claiming insurance on the place than getting out a load but you were determined not to give up on the place, not when it had been everything you'd wanted ever since you could remember.

Jeongin's lips curled into a faint smile as he watched you, he knew how much trouble you were in but he wasn't going to let on that he knew. He didn't want you to see this as some sort of pity party, he did this because he loved the place as a kid and couldn't stomach the thought of something happening to it, or to you. 

His men had been watching you since he came into power, he refused to let anyone touch the hotel you had his protection and you didn't even know it. 

"I understand your hesitation, Cupcake. But trust me when I say that together, we could turn that place into something extraordinary." You sighed a little, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, you knew he was persuasive, and he seemed to be drawing you in against your better judgment. But there was something else lurking beneath the surface, something you couldn't put your finger on.

"What's in it for you, Innie?" Your tone was more assertive now but Jeongin smiled at the nickname you used for him.

"No one's called me that in years." He chuckled softly and you felt your cheeks warming up at how happy it seemed to have made him.

"For me, it's more than business, Cupcake. It's all about reconnecting with an old friend, someone who knew, before all of this." You stared at him, unsure of how to respond to him but luckily a waiter came over to take your order. Jeongin rattled off his choice of food and you couldn't help but admire him from across the table and then he ordered for you. Ordering more food than you'd ever be able to eat but you were grateful for it nevertheless. 

Throughout the meal, you talked about everything and nothing, the easy banter of your childhood friendship slowly resurfacing. And as the evening drew to an end, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you wouldn't have expected to. You still hadn't told him about the money issues, you were scared if he found out too soon he'd bail on you. 

"I'll come by tomorrow with my payment, we'll sign everything with a lawyer," Jeongin told you as you stood outside the hotel, he questioned nothing when you asked him to drop you back here instead of a home which you were more than thankful for.

"That sounds good," You smiled a little, you were still unsure of everything and you weren't sure if you'd be able to trust him but you knew time could only tell that.

The following day when Jeongin showed up he expected to find you at the reception desk waiting for him and he frowned not seeing you standing there. Lowering the bouquet of flowers he got for you he stared at the woman on the front desk.

"Is YN around?" He stared at the woman who nodded frantically. 

"She's probably doing some tasks around the hotel, Miss YLN is a master of all trades." Jeongin hated that you'd resorted to fixing things yourself, he couldn't stomach the thought of something happening to you while you were fixing something.

"Will you make sure these are put in some water and on her desk? I'll try and find her," With that he walked around to try and find you, his footsteps echoing on the marbled floor of the lobby as he made his way to the elevators.

Eventually, he found you in one of the rooms, straightening out the bedsheets while a maid stood shaking in the corner, 

"Did she take over?" Jeongin asked quietly as the maid bobbed her head frantically, and he nodded for her to leave and watched her run off down the corridor. Jeonmgin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at you, with an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Isn't that the maid's job?" He teased gently, his voice laced with amusement. You glanced up from your work, heat taking over your body. You cleaned whenever you were stressed about something and it seemed you'd hardly stopped since waking up this morning.

"I...Uh...Just felt like doing some cleaning." You mumbled, the truth was you were stressing more now that you knew a lawyer was coming to help you and Jeongin signed everything over. You thought he was going to see the books and run for the hills and you worried you'd be left with nothing. The thought of it had kept you up for most of the night and you'd spent all of your time stress cleaning the entire place. Your office was the cleanest it had been in months and you showed no signs of living there and the toilets on the reception floor were spotless too.

"To relieve stress?" He arched a brow, staring at you as you placed chocolates onto the pillows and brushed your hands down the front of your skirt. The same skirt and shirt you'd been wearing the night before and looked as though you'd slept in, if you'd slept at all. Which judging by the bags under your eyes was a big no. You hated that he could see right through you, you hated that he could tell something was wrong without you saying a thing.

"Maybe." You grumbled a little, pushing the cart out of the room and into the hallway, going to move on to the next room when Jeongin stared at you, freezing you in place. His eyes bored into the side of your head as you let out a small sigh,

"Well, you certainly seem to have everything under control." He remarked, a little admiration in his voice. He was impressed with how well you'd kept the hotel going until now, he knew what his lawyers had found since he'd found it months ago but he said nothing. He knew if you found out about him knowing about the money problems you'd refuse his help, you were stubborn and always had been. 

This deal was to keep the place he loved afloat yes but it was also to stop you from losing something you loved, he wanted you to be happy. He'd do anything in the world to make sure that you were joyful about something. It was the reason this place was still even going, no one was allowed to touch it under his strict rules and no one went against him.

Even some of your high-paying clients had been sent there specifically by Jeongin but it was getting harder to send them when the hotel was going under.

"Just trying to keep things in order." You mumbled, trying to downplay everything as you kept a casual tone.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension and you felt your throat drying up and your heart beginning to race. Whenever he looked at you like this it made you feel as though all of your problems were melting away, that he would take care of everything.

"Listen, Yn," He began, his voice gentle as he stepped closer to you, his hand gently clasping your elbow and bringing you closer to him. Your steps fumbled a little as you crashed against his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you now felt how hard his heart was racing.

"I know we've got business to attend to, but I want to say...I'm grateful for the chance to reconnect with you..." You nodded at him, not knowing what to say or do, your heart was aching for you to reach out and kiss him but you needed to remain professional. 

"Whatever happens with the hotel, I value what we have more than anything." Your heart fluttered at his words, despite your reservations about all of this you couldn't deny the connection you felt with him.

"Me too, Innie..." You replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips as he leaned down closer to you.

"Boss. The lawyers are downstairs, saying that something is wrong with the books." Your heart shattered into tiny shards, all of which felt as though they were beginning to pierce into your lungs leaving you breathless.

"We'll be right down," Jeongin spoke coldly, his hands holding onto you as you scrambled to get away from him.

"We should go downstairs," You mumbled, refusing to look at him and he missed the time you had before this.

"Yn." He tried to call out but you were already making a B-line for the staircase without looking back in his direction.

In your office the tension hung heavy in the air as Joengin sat across from you, flanked by his team of lawyers. Your hands were shaking as you stared at one of the mn,

"I'm sorry, Yn, but the numbers don't lie." One of them said gravely, you'd been introduced but didn't bother to learn either of their names since you knew this was all going to fall through.

"The hotel is haemorrhaging money, and if we don't act fast, it's going to sink further into debt." He explained, sliding the papers over to you as you stared down at the maths you'd already been working out long before they came into the scene, 

"Our recommendation is to cut our losses and walk away while we still can." The other one said to Jeongin but his jaw tightened, his expression unreadable as he absorbed everything.

"Innie, I know this looks bad but...I-I can fix it. I can get another loan." You tried to scramble for something, anything to keep him from walking away from this.

"Every bank has turned her down." The lawyer stated coldly, making your blood boil as you turned to face him,

"I'll fire some staff, make more cutbacks. I'll stop paying myself." You weren't telling them that you'd already done that, you just needed to buy some time to get him to stay.

"You haven't been paying yourself for months, you've been sleeping in your office." The second lawyer stated making you stare at him, wondering how long he'd been watching you for them to know all of this.

"You've been watching me?!" You snapped at the lawyer who looked as though you'd just bitten his head off. 

"Sir, we recommend walking away." They both stated, standing up slowly as you stared at Jeongin, your eyes pleading with his. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders.

"I'm not walking away." He declared, his gaze locked on yours, your heart thumping rapidly against your chest.

"I made a commitment to Yn and I intend to honor it. We'll find a way to turn this around, no matter what it takes." He told the cooly. The lawyers exchanged incredulous glances, clearly taken back by Jeongin's stubbornness.

"With all due respect, Sir, this isn't a wise investment." One of them insisted.

"You'll be throwing good money after bad." Jeongin shook his head at them, he didn't care what they said he wasn't going to walk away from any of this. They were only here to oversee the signing of everything, everything they found was everything knew already and didn't care about.

"I'm not in this for the money. I'm in this because Yn is my friend, and I won't abandon her when she needs me most. We'll figure out a solution together, even if it means taking risks." You felt a surge of gratitude swell within you, a lump forming in your throat at his unwavering loyalty. Despite the odds stacked against you, he was still willing to stay by your side and you knew you had a fighting chance. 

"T-Thank you...I-I don't know what I'd do without you." Your voice choked up a little and he smiled at you,

"You don't have to worry anymore Yn, I'll always have your back, no matter what," He told you reassuringly, with that the lawyers got out the papers and you all began signing. Jeongin put down more money than he needed but he was willing to do it for you. 

As the night stretched on, you and Jeongin found yourselves huddling together in your office, poring over the financial reports, and brainstorming ideas to salvage the hotel.

"We can have more functions held here, a friend of mine is having a wedding soon and I'm sure I can sway him to holding it here," He stated as you stared at him in complete awe. All night long you'd found yourself staring at him more and more. 

"Sure. It's been a while since a wedding was at the "Celestial"." You giggled at the thought. You'd always loved hosting weddings but everything had died down when you didn't have enough staff to work the events.

"I can bring in other servers and we can slowly build everything back up," Jeongin smiled proudly of himself and you stared at him. The air crackled with tension as you thought back to your moment in the hallway earlier but you quickly went back to scribbling notes onto a pad. Your mind races with ideas other than weddings, you could host parties, charity balls, or anything you wanted.

Jeongin leaned in close, his presence comforting and yet electrifying all at once. You slowly looked up to meet his gaze and linger a little more than necessary. The years of unspoken longing bubbling to the surface, your defences crumbling like sandcastles in the side. Jeongin's hand reached out tentatively, cupping your cheek as he brushed his thumb along your skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as you leaned into his touch.

"Innie," You breathed out, your voice barely coming out above a whisper as you searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But he said nothing, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that ignited a firestorm inside of you.

In that stolen moment, time seemed to freeze around you as you melted into each other, the weight of your unspoken desire finally finding a release. You wrapped your arms around Joengin's neck as he pulled you onto his lap, your lips moving together in a silent promise of love and devotion. 

"I-Innie," You breathed out as you broke apart, completely breathless and dizzy with desire, you knew that you wanted him badly.

"Sofa," You whispered, kissing down his neck and softly biting into his skin as you moved together toward the sofa. Jeongin carefully set you down on the sofa and sank to his knees in front of you, 

"Yn, are you sure?-"

"Yes...Just please, touch me." You begged him, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he slowly rolled your skirt up your hips.

"I've wanted to fuck you ever since I saw this skirt," He moans out, kissing up your thighs until he reaches your underwear, yanking them down in one swift movement, your heart hammered against your chest.

"R-Really?" You felt your body heating up as he wrapped your legs around his shoulders, dragging you to the edge of the sofa quickly.

"Don't act shocked, Cupcake. I've always wanted you," He said plainly as if it was common knowledge for you to know but you'd never had any idea that he did.

"You never said anything to me when we were last together," You battled back with him but he smirked,

"I was planning on it before I was yanked away from you,"

"You never wrote." You mumbled to him, it wasn't the time to get into this now when you were laid bare in front of him but you wanted answers.

"Orders from dad, no contact."

"But-"

"Will you let me eat your pussy? I'm fucking starving, Cupcake." He growled out before you nodded, giggling a little but it was quickly replaced by a gasp as he ran his tongue up your slit. His mouth was hot and wet as he slowly ran his tongue against you, building you up as he ate you out like a man starved. Your head rolled back against the back of the sofa as you cried out his name. You couldn't remember the last time you'd slept with someone or even made yourself feel come but Jeongin was already better than any memory you had.

"F-Fuck," You hiss out, your hips slowly grinding against him as he hummed against your clit, vibrations chilling up and down your spine, as you cry out his name.

"I-Innie," You moaned out, raking your fingers through his hair and pushing him deeper into you, his tongue swirling around your clit as he slowly pushed two fingers into you. Thrusting them slowly and softly, curling them to that one spot that made your head spin. 

"Just like that," You plead with him, your heels digging into his shoulder blades as you feel the tension building deep inside of you. Jeongin pressed himself closer to you, humming against your clit until it was too much your orgasm hit you suddenly, your legs shaking around him as he smirked.

"Good fucking girl," He groans, standing up and chuckling as you quickly removed his belt, throwing it against the room and pulling down his pants.

"Please," You beg as he lays you down on the sofa, kissing you softly as he carefully lines himself up at your entrance, your legs carefully wrapping around his waist.

"You're so hot when you beg." He moans out as he slowly pushes into you, filling you to the hilt as you let out a strangled moan. He was bigger than you'd been expecting and you whimpered a little,

"M-move," You urged, bucking your hips a little to let him know he was good to move and he smiled kissing you roughly as he slowly pulled out of you, only to slam back in a second later.

"F-Fuck yes!" You cry out, your eyes screwed shut as you clutched onto him, trying to adjust to his size as he continued to pound into you. His cock driving into you, hitting that one spot that made you scream louder. Your nails dragged down his back as you searched for something to cling onto, ripping holes into his shirt as your head rolled back in complete ecstasy.

"Jeongin!" You moan out, your clit grinding against him on every stroke of his cock, the pressure building inside of you hitting near its breaking point.

"Cum for me, cupcake. Let me feel you," He moans out, his thrusting getting faster as you finally felt the pressure snap and you came around his cock violently, causing your back to arch away from the sofa. 

"S-Shit, Yn." He groans, unable to hold himself back anymore as he thrusts into you, slowly coming undone inside of you as you lay there. The wind knocked out of both of you as you let out small chuckles at one another.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you lay on the sofa together, the warmth of your embrace serving as a sanctuary from the outside world. Jeongin's fingers gently traced patterns along your back,

"My dad never wanted me to contact you after we moved away. He said it was best to leave the past behind us," He finally told you, his words hesitant.

"I regretted it every day...Losing touch with you was like losing a piece of myself. But now that I have you back in my life, I never want to let go." A smile tugged on his lips and tears brimmed in your eyes at the weight of his words.

"Innie..." You whispered, your voice cracking a little. Jeongin pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, 

"I love you, Yn. I've loved you since we were kids, and I'll love you for the rest of my days." Tears spilt down your cheeks as you clung to him, your heart overflowing,

"I love you too, Innie." You confessed, 

"I always have and I always will," You finished as he kissed your lips softly. In that moment, as you lay close to one another, you knew your love was a force to be reckoned with. That no matter what, with him by your side, you'd be able to overcome any obstacle that stood in your way. 

"I want this place spotless!" You called out to the event hall of your hotel, everyone inside was rushing around at the last second to make sure everything was perfect for you. You placed your hand on your stomach and watched as one of your guards - Carlos - made his way over to you with some snacks,

"You're going to make it obvious," You mumbled to him as you took the crisps from him and started to eat from the packet. It seemed as though ever since you'd hit the 6-week mark of your pregnancy you'd been craving crisps or anything that was savoury and Carlos had been the man to help you. Mostly because he was the only other person who knew about it and he only knew because he found you crying in your office whilst holding the stick.

I think it should be obvious. Too much stress isn't good for the baby and have you told Mr Yang yet?" Carlos was far too comfortable with you, you thought maybe it was time to switch him for another guard but you'd grown comfortable with him also and you enjoyed your talks together.

"No." You mumbled with a mouthful of crisps, shaking your head at him. All week long he'd been trying to get you to tell Jeongin about the pregnancy but you were nervous about it. It had only been a few months since the two of you got together and you knew if he found out he was only going to stop you from working Jisung's wedding that your hotel was hosting and that was the last thing you wanted.

Everything you and Jeongin had been working toward was here and you weren't going to let someone else take the reigns on this.

"Don't you think you should?" He raised his brow at you but you mumbled what he said back to him in a mocking tone and walked toward your office. You opened the door and stared at Carlos with a weak smile,

"I'll tell him when the time is right after the wedding is over." You shrugged not realising that Jeongin was standing inside of your office and Carlos held back the smirk. He'd known about Jeongin coming to visit you and it was his intention to try to get him to overhear everything,

"Tell who what when the time is right?" You cringed as you heard Jeongin and you glared at Carlos.

"You're a backstabber and I hate you." You mumbled slamming the door in his face and making your way toward the chair behind your desk.

"Is there something I should know?" Jeongin chuckled, watching you closely as you shook your head

"No. It's nothing, it's just Carlos worrying for nothing." You hated the fact that you were lying to your boyfriend but you needed to make sure you worked this wedding. You'd been planning it for months now and you weren't going to let Jeongin or anyone else take it away from you, not when it was the first wedding in years.

"Is it about your pregnancy?" Your hand paused midway to your mouth and the crisps fell from your grasp,

"How-" Your heart sank as you thought about him finding out through someone else but you. The last thing you ever wanted was for him to be upset but he didn't seem it in the slightest, in fact, he seemed rather happy.

"Please, you've been eating crisps non-stop, you're throwing up and not to mention some of the maids were gossiping about it when they found the test in your trash." Jeongin had known for weeks and at first, he was a little upset that you hadn't come to him but he could understand why.

"Those little rats," You mumbled to yourself, sighing and looking at him, suddenly feeling the guilt take over you as you whimpered a little.

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd stop me working." You defend but Jeongin eyes you up closely

"Did I though?" He smirked, raising a brow at you. Sure, at first he wanted to stop you from doing everything but he knew that would only make you worse and neither of you wanted that.

"Well, no, but-"

"I won't stop you working but as soon as I see you stressing that's when I'll put a stop to things." He reached his hand over the desk and squeezed yours softly, 

"Thank you," You whispered, smiling a little as you thought about it.

"Jisung and his bride-to-be are waiting for us in the Restaurant," They were waiting to go over a final plan and you had a special surprise for them as well. You'd been working with a private contractor for a few weeks making sure that the honeymoon suite was perfect for them and it was finally complete which you were going to show them around after food.

The sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm glow over the gardens of your hotel you watched as your daughter ran toward Changbin's son - Rath - who was quickly running away from her.

"Your son is a nousense." Jeongin grumbled, his arms folded against his chest as your daughter continued to chase Rath through the gardens yelling for him to wait for her.

"Your daughter is the one with the crush, it's not my son." Changbin laughed as he wrapped his arms around his wife, your head shaking as the two men began to bicker back and forth with one another. It felt good to have nights like this together.

You found yourself close with all seven of the other wives Jeongin's friends were married to, each of you helping raise each other's kids or just being close friends, it was a bond that could never be broken.

"Wait till he hears that Jisung's son wants to date his daughter." Chan laughed loudly causing Changbin to yell louder and in Jisung's direction this time. You giggled a little lacing your fingers with Jeongin's as you listened to all the children laugh as they played games in the garden and you couldn't think of a better place to be than right here.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part One)

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Hi beauties! Another late update because I started working full time again and I barely even have time for myself. I'm warning you, my updates are going to be much slower from now on. I'm so sorry😭❤️

I know the season finale is next but I will definitely try my absolute best to finish them in time but the only day I get to write now is literally Sunday since its my only day off 💔i said it once, and I’ll say it again I HATE ADULTING

Alright, enough of my rambling. I hope you guys enjoy it!! <3

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Joliet, Illinois

Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ was blasting through the Impala’s deck as Dean drove. His phone rang and he instantly picked it up upon seeing Y/N’s contact. “Yeah?” Dean answered, “There’s a cop car outside” Y/N whispered into the phone that was on speaker, currently holed up in her motel room with Sam and Jo.

She slightly creased the curtain, standing at the window with a worried expression. “You think it’s for us?” Dean asked. “We don't know” Sam responded, moving from his bed where he and Jo sat to speak into the phone next to Y/N. “I don’t see how it could be for you guys. You ditched the plates, the credit cards.” Jo chimed in. Sam and Y/N let out a breath of relief when the cop car drove away.

“They’re leaving. False alarm” Y/N told Dean as Sam moved back to his bed. “See. There's nothing to worry about, sweetheart” Dean assured her. “Yeah, being fugitives is a fucking dance party” Y/N sassed, pacing the room. Sam snorted at her humor in agreement as he flipped through the books on his bed along with Jo. They were currently hunting a Djinn.

“Hey, chicks dig the danger vibe.” Dean chuckled, “Isn’t that right, Jo? You can’t tell me knowing Sammy is a wanted man isn’t getting your knickers in a twist” Dean’s amused voice boomed through the speaker. Jo blushed and flipped him off even though she knew he couldn’t see her before she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t talk about my knickers, prick!” She retorted as Y/N buckled over in laughter. “That’s not exactly a no, asshole” Dean teased, hearing Y/N’s laugh in the background. Sam threw himself down on his bed, covering his face with a pillow and groaned. “I can’t listen to this,” he complained in a muffled tone.

“Leave the lovebirds alone” Y/N joked after sobering up from her laughter, this made Jo toss a pillow at her as Sam groaned again. Y/N quickly dodged it, blowing Jo a playful kiss. “You got anything?” Y/N asked, changing the subject. “Are you kidding me? How could I? You got me sitting through, like, 50 square miles of real estate here” Dean sassed, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“Well that’s where all the victims disappeared” Y/N pointed out as Sam finally uncovered his face and returned to flipping through his books. “Yeah, well. I got diddly squat. What about you guys?” Dean asked, Y/N looked over at Sam hopefully. He shrugged before gesturing for her to hand him the phone. She did just that.

“We got just one thing. I’m pretty sure of it now. We’re hunting a Djinn” Sam told Dean. “A fucking genie?” Dean cackled, “Yeah.” Sam nodded as Jo tossed her feet up on his lap and Y/N dug through her bag to get her cigarettes. “So what? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?” Dean mused as Y/N lit her cigarette.

“We don’t know. I guess they’re powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants” Jo chimed in as Sam ran his hands up and down her shins. “Yeah, I mean, djinn have been feeding off of people for centuries. They’re all over the Koran” Sam added as Y/N propped herself up on the window still. “My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn’t she?” Dean muttered.

“Damn straight. Way hotter than that Bewitched chick” Y/N agreed from across the room. Sam scoffed in annoyance as Jo rolled her eyes, the two shooting Y/N a judgemental look. “Are you two even listening to me?” Sam chastised Dean and Y/N. The psychic pursed her lips, trying to hide her amused smile as she took a drag from her cigarette.

“Ahem. Yeah. So where do the djinns lair up?” Dean asked, clearing his throat. “Ruin, usually. The bigger, the better. More places to hide” Sam explained to him. “Yeah. I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I’m gonna go check it out” Dean told them. Sam’s hands paused on Jo’s shin as he and Y/N’s eyes widened with panic.

Y/N quickly crushed her cigarette in her ashtray, darting over to snatch the phone from Sam. “Are you stupid?! Come pick us up first” Y/N said firmly, “Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around” Dean assured her. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unsure look as Dean hung up the phone.

Y/N sighed heavily, stuffing her phone into her pocket. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” Sam muttered, worry plastered on his face, “Me too” Y/N agreed.

-

Meanwhile, Dean pulled in-front of the old warehouse. A storm was coming as the thunder clapped. He abruptly exited the Impala, shutting the door as he took out his flashlight. Dean clicked on his flashlight, shining it around the dark surroundings before heading towards the building.

The large door on the front of the building was already open, slightly creaking as it rocked a bit back and forth thanks to the wind. Dean stepped in, immediately noticing all the cobwebs and piles of dirt and sand everywhere. He glanced around with his flashlight, noticing the piles of clothing lying among the debris, and the sound of footsteps made his ears perk up.

He immediately clutched his knife dipped in lamb’s blood, clenching his jaw. Dean stepped closer to the sound of the footsteps, his footsteps light and his ears on high alert. The footsteps continued, and Dean felt his heartbeat start thumping in his ears as the dread started to fill his stomach.

Suddenly, the djinn lunged out from behind a pile of clothes. It was a flash, one moment Dean was simply walking and the next his back was slammed backwards against a wall. The back of his head stung and he was briefly disoriented, dropping his knife as white spots danced in his vision.

Dean grunted as the Djinn’s hand gripped his throat, trying to fight the monster off. The Djinn’s eyes flashed a dark shade of blue, along with his hand. Dean struggled and grunted as the Djinn pressed his glowing tatted hand to his forehead, the hunter’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fell in a sleep-like state.

____________________________________________

Dean’s Dream World

Lawrence, Kansas

Dean gasped awake in the middle of the night to thunder clapping. His eyes wide as he struggled for breath. He found himself in an unfamiliar bed with a naked woman next to him. He tilted his head in confusion as he leaned down to see who the woman was, the last thing he remembered was getting attacked by the Djinn.

Dean’s jaw plummeted to the ground when it turned out the woman next to him was Y/N, a blanket lazily draped over her chest, her back facing him. Dean began to panic instantly, wondering how in the fuck he ended up in bed…naked…next to Y/N fucking L/N.

His eyes drifted down to her lower back to see her anti possession tattoo was not there. His heart was in his ass at this point.

He sat up quickly, his eyes wide as the realization of the situation hit him. He put his hand up to his head and groaned. He glanced at Y/N’s sleeping form and swallowed the lump in his throat when he saw her eyes were shut. “Motherfucker” He mumbled, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

4:32 A.M. He slowly removed the covers, silently standing up and grabbing his jeans off ground and quickly got dressed.

-

Now fully dressed, Dean exited the bedroom, strolling around the unfamiliar house. Not in any way used to the environment. He had no idea what the hell was going on. He switched on a light and did what his mind instantly told him to do. He called his little brother.

“Dean?” Sam answered, confused as to why his brother was calling him at this ungodly hour. “Sam?” Dean whispered in relief, trying to keep his voice at bay. “What’s going on?” Sam asked, concerned. “I don’t know where the fuck I am man” Dean told him. “What? What happened?” Sam gasped, now worried.

“Well, the uh, the djinn. It attacked me” Dean told him, running his hand over his face. “The gin? You’re drinking gin?” Sam’s brows furrowed. “No, dumbass. The djinn! The scary creature, remember?” Dean exclaimed lowly. “It put its hand on me and then I woke up in bed next to Y/N!!” Dean explained, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“You mean your fiancée?” Sam snorted. Dean’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped to the ground in surprise. “My WHAT!?” He exclaimed, eyes going even wider if possible. “My fiancée? When the fuck did that happen” He repeated, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Dean, you’re drunk. You’re drunk dialing me” Sam shook his head as he laughed. “No, I am not drunk! Quit fucking around!!” Dean exclaimed lowly, “Look. It’s late. Alright? Just get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Sam brushed it off, instructing his brother to sleep it off. “Wait. Sam! Sam!!” Dean gritted his teeth but the line went dead.

-

Palo Alto, California

Sam chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he sighed deeply before shutting his Criminal Law and Procedure book.

-

Lawrence, Kansas

Y/N heard Dean arguing and slowly awoke, eyes wide with confusion as she sat up and looked around. She realized Dean wasn’t in the bed with her anymore and her stomach dropped. She glanced at the bathroom, it was quiet so he couldn’t be in there. She then saw a faint light coming from the hallway.

Outside, Dean groaned as he looked around nervously. He quickly stuffed his phone into his pocket, his eyes landing on a stack of mail that was placed neatly ontop of the dining room table. His eyes widened again when he picked it up to see, ‘Y/N L/N. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ written on the first letter.

Inside their shared room, Y/N pulled the covers off her body before wrapping her light blue robe around her and slowly padded out into the hall, peering into the kitchen to see Dean rifling through mail.

“Lawrence?” Dean muttered to himself, sifting through the mail. ‘Dean Winchester. #53 Barker Ave. Lawrence, Kansas’ was written on the next letter. “What the fuck????” Dean mumbled, his heart stopped when a sleepy voice behind him said. “Charming?” He spun around to see Y/N, clutching her robe to her chest.

“What are you doing up?” Her soft voice of concern honeyed his ears. “Hey…Y/N” Dean said sheepishly as his ‘fiancée’ approached him. His heart beating out of his chest. “Y/N. I just- uh-” Dean stammered, “Oh, you can’t sleep, huh?” She cut him off in a sultry tone, running her hands over his chest. His eyes glanced down at his left hand to see a very familiar ring placed neatly on her ring finger.

The ring his father gave him the day he died belonged to his mother. Sam was indeed not lying when he said that Y/N was his fiancée. Dean’s breath got caught in his throat at Y/N’s touch and the tone in her volume. “Yeah,” Dean chuckled nervously. “Well, why don’t you come back to bed and let’s see if I can do anything to help?” Y/N suggested, her voice low as she snaked her arms around his neck.

Dean shivered involuntarily when Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt his whole body stiffen as her fingers traced the nape of his neck. His cheeks began to heat up as his eyes looked down at her, the blue robe she was wearing hugged her body perfectly. The low tone of her voice sent a small jolt down to the pit of his stomach.

“Well- um- Princess- ” He mumbled nervously as he tried to make an excuse. He didn’t get a chance to say anything again when she attached her lips to his. Dean’s eyes widened as Y/N’s lips crashed onto his own. He let out a small gasp of surprise against her mouth at her sudden movement.

His brain shut down as his hands automatically moved to grab her waist. Dean shut his eyes, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel of her lips finally against his. But it didn’t feel right. It felt off, he knew the Djinn had something to do with this but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it since the love of his life, the woman he believed didn’t him love back, Y/N fucking L/N’s tongue was down his throat.

The kiss deepened as she parted her lips for him and slowly began to pull him back towards the bedroom. Dean’s brain was screaming to stop. This wasn’t what he wanted, but the feel of her lips against his. The way her tongue was exploring his mouth. It was driving him crazy. And he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, moving against hers. He moaned low, the sound getting muffled by the kiss. He backed her up against the wall of the hallway, pinning her there with his body.

SNAP OUT OF IT WINCHESTER!

“No, no. Stop” Dean whined, forcefully peeling himself away from her. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t have sex with her. As much as he wanted to, so fucking badly. He couldn’t do it. Not like this.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and her smile faded from her face at his words. “Huh?” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned her back against the wall and tilted her neck to look up at him. “Why?” She asked confused as he ran hand through his hair, putting a decent amount of distance between y/n and him.

She stepped closer to him again, placing her hands on his chest. “C’mon baby.” She whispered in a seductive tone, a small smirk on her lips, “What’s wrong? You’re not one to deny sex” She asked concerned. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as she spoke, his breathing becoming a bit more labored.

“Y/N, I- ” He began, his mind racing to find words to explain the situation. But then Y/N pressed chest to his, her palms pressing into his chest. Dean’s mind immediately went blank as she looked up at him with those damn eyes. That damn look is gonna kill him. “I’m just tired, sweetheart” Dean lied fluidly, praying she’ll take the bait.

Y/N’s expression softened a bit as she stared up at him. She could tell it was a lie, by his facial expressions, but she didn’t push him for answers. “Oh, baby” She said tenderly, her hand moving up to caress his cheek. “Why don’t you come back to bed then. I’ll just hold you. How does that sound?” She asked, her voice sweet as honey.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat as she placed her hand on his cheek. Getting held by Y/N didn't sound like a bad idea right about now. His eyes flicked down to her lips, wanting to kiss her again.

God, it’d be so easy.

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, leaning his head against hers. “You go ahead, I’m right behind you” He whispered. Dean wanted this to be real, he was praying it was. Y/N’s lips curled into a soft smile at his reply. She brushed her thumb over his cheek before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead softly.

“Alright, don’t take too long” She whispered, patting his shoulder before making her way back to the bedroom. At the doorway, she gave him one last glance before heading back into the bedroom.

Dean groaned under his breath as he watched her disappear into the room. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Dean’s mind was racing. This was all wrong. How the hell did he end up naked in bed with his friend who he was secretly in love with but also his supposed ‘fiancée’?

This was all some sick game the djinn was playing with him. Dean knew they possibly granted wishes, it was no secret that Dean wished for y/n to be his…could it be? Could the Djinn have actually given him what he desperately wanted? Even though he never said it out loud, is it possible the Djinn knew somehow?

Dean began to investigate the house, peering around the living room. He took in the pictures of him and y/n that were placed neatly around the room. Pictures of them on vacation with y/n wearing a big floppy hat, pink two piece bikini and Dean in a matching white shirt with pink swim trunks on.

Dean’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest as he picked up a photo of him and y/n at a beach. It was summer, both of them were soaked, and both was wearing bright smiles with shades on. Dean’s hand trembled as he observed the picture.

He set it down before walking over to the bookshelf, he let his fingers brush over the spines of each book. He was trying to look for a clue, anything to tell him this wasn’t real.

He went back to looking at the pictures. A small smile gracing his face when his eyes landed on a frame that held a picture of the two hugging. Y/N had a big grin on her face, holding out her hand to the camera, showcasing her engagement ring while Dean’s eyes were trapped on her. The starstruck gaze he had on her in the picture was oozing with love and admiration. The two seemed to be at a concert in the picture.

Dean felt his heart swell as he took in the picture. He had no recollection of any of these memories. Curiosity got the best of him, so he turned the picture frame around and took the picture out. Written on the back was ‘Bon Jovi, Nashville Tennesse. February 14th, 2006. She said yes!’ In his handwriting.

His heart leaped to his throat again as he read the writing. This must be when he proposed to her. He sat down on the couch, a wave of emotions washed over him. His fingers trembled as he stared down at the picture in his hand.

Dean’s eyes scanned the room once again, his eyes landing on a particular picture. He thought he was gonna cry upon seeing it, his entire world stopped. Dean Winchester dropped the picture frame, the glass shattering on the ground and instantly left the house.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the Winchester residence, the L/N residence right across from theirs. Both houses were still intact, the L/N residence not burnt to a crisp. Dean shakily stepped out of the Impala, shutting the door behind him.

He walked up the porch and began banging on the door harshly, ringing the bell a few times until the light came on outside. The door opened to reveal a very alive and well Mary Winchester, a worried expression etched on her face. “Dean?” She said softly, sleep potent in her voice, clutching her robe to her chest.

Dean's eyes widened, tears welling up at his emerald irises. “Mom?” Dean gasped, “What are you doing here? Are you alright?” Mary asked her son, concerned. Dean gulped, unsure of how to feel at this exact moment. “I don’t know” He croaked. “Well, come inside” Mary ushered him inside. His body was stiff, still in shock but he managed to pull himself inside.

“Y/N just called and said you took off all of a sudden” Mary said as she shut the door behind her. “Y/N? Right…” Dean muttered, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from his mother. His very alive mother. “Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you and Mrs. L/N always tell me when you put me to bed?” Dean asked as he swallowed hard, he wanted this to be real.

Mary’s brows furrowed in confusion as she folded her arms across her chest, “Dean, I don’t understand-” She was cut off, “Just answer the question” Dean snapped. His mothers eyes softened, “We told you angels were watching over you” Mary answered, Dean felt as though he was about to break down into pieces.

“I don’t believe it” Dean almost sobbed before pulling his mother into a tight hug. Mary grunted in surprise as her son’s strong arms engulfed her. Confused from the random show of appreciation, “Honey, you’re scaring me” The motherly tone in her voice echoed through his ears as she gently rubbed his back. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t think that wishes can- can really-?” Dean stammered, his words getting lost in his throat. “What?” Mary asked confused, “Forget it” Dean smiled, pulling his mother into a hug again that he longed for since he was a little boy. “Forget it. I’m just, uh— I’m happy to see you, that’s all” Dean held back his tears as he buried his face in his mother’s hair.

His brows creased, his breath constricting in his throat as he melted into the embrace before pulling away, “You're beautiful” Dean chuckled tearfully before pulling away. “What?” Mary gasped confused. The padding of footsteps made Dean’s ears perk up, his head swung around to see M/N, squinting her sleepy eyes at him.

F/N wasn’t in town, he was coming back tomorrow and M/N never liked staying alone in her house. So, it became tradition whenever either of their husbands went out of town, M/N and Mary would sleep in each other's guest room. Clutching her own robe to her chest, “Dean, what are you doing here?” Y/N’s mom asked him, equally confused.

“I-uh” Dean started, his words caught in his tongue again as he saw Y/N’s mom. Her hair was tousled, her eyes were tired and squinty from being dragged out of a dead sleep. “Mrs. L/N!?” Dean gasped, now engulfing his soon to be mother-in-law in a tight hug.

She was alive. His mother was alive. It was all surreal.

M/N chuckled and patted his back as she returned the hug with her own. Mary just stared at the two with a slight smile on her face. “It’s great to see you too, hun. But why are you here, now of all times?” She asked as she pulled a little away to look up at him.

“Uh- I uh- just missed you guys” Y/N’s mother chuckled at his words and pinched his cheek. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” She teased, her lips curving into a small smile. “Did Y/N kick you out of the house again?”

Dean’s smile faltered slightly. He felt on the verge of tears again, the only thing keeping him grounded was the feel of M/N in his arms. Just the mention of Y/N set him off again. This time his lips started to tremble when he spoke.

“No- uh- I just-” He began but his voice was cracking. M/N could sense he was on the verge of tears and gently caressed his face. “Okay, sweetie calm down. You’re alright” She whispered in a motherly tone.

Dean felt his bottom lip tremble again. He hasn’t been comforted like this since he was four. He leaned into the comfort of his future mother-in-law. His eyes fluttered closed as M/N’s fingers gently touched his skin, he could practically hear her say ‘You’re okay, baby’.

“I’m fine,” Dean assured her shakily, pulling away from her gently. A broad smile on his face as he cleared his throat, wiping his mouth. His eyes scanned the room, staring at the picture frames that were propped up all about. “Hey, when I was- when I was young, was there ever a fire here? Or at your house?” Dean asked them.

Both women shared a confused look, “No. Never” Mary told him as Dean walked around the room. He saw a few pictures of both their families.

Of him and Sam as kids with their parents, seemingly on vacation.

One of Sam and Y/N, they looked to be in their teens, smashing cake in each other’s faces.

Another of Sam and Y/N wearing a graduation cap and gown, both holding up high school diplomas, Dean wasn't in this picture.

And another of Dean and Y/N, he was wearing a light colored dress shirt, dark jeans. His arm wrapped around Y/N, grins spread across their faces as he wore her graduation cap. This time, Y/N was holding up her degree.

A few more were framed of Sam, Dean and Y/N going to prom. Looking almost exactly like the ones they took years ago.

There was another one of the trio sitting on a couch, their arms folded across their chests and Y/N was sitting in the middle of the boys. It reminded Dean of a picture Bobby made their take years ago as teenagers.

There were more of Y/N and her parents, along with some of all three kids when they were young and another unfamiliar little girl who looked quite similar to Y/N with F/N and M/N. Dean tilted his head in confusion but brushed it off.

Dean’s heart swelled as he looked at the pictures, “I guess I was wrong” Dean mumbled, his eyes widened when his eyes landed on a picture of F/N and John, wielding softball bats, “Dad and Mr. L/N are on a softball team” Dean gasped. He turned to Mary and M/N who seemed to be still confused before clearing his throat.

“Their softball team. That’s funny to me” He covered up his stammering as he took in the picture. The idea of either men on a softball team was wild to him. Mary’s eyes landed on the ground as a sympathetic look took over M/N’s face. “He loved that stupid team” Mary mumbled, M/N noticed her friend’s look of heartbreak and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Dean’s face dropped, his eyes snapping back to his mother. “Dad’s dead?” Dean asked, both Mary and M/N tilted their head at him from his question. Dean quickly recuperated, “And the thing that killed him was a-” He tried to find out. “A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that” M/N said, shaking her head at him as tears welled up in Mary’s eyes.

As much as hearing his father was dead hurt him, Dean was happy to hear that his father didn’t go out the way he originally, “And F/N?” He asked M/N hopefully, “Out of town, you know that, it’s why M/N is here” Mary said, furrowing her eyebrows at her son. Dean nodded sheepishly before saying, “That’s great”

“Excuse me?” Mary gasped, Dean’s eyes widened when he realized how his words must’ve sounded. “That- that’s great. That he went peacefully, I mean it- and F/N fine….it’s sure beats the alternative” He said softly, placing the photo back down. Mary and M/N shared a knowing look, “You’ve been drinking” Mary pointed out.

“No, I haven’t. Mom” Dean sighed, assuring her. M/N nodded, not wanting to press anymore. “I’m just gonna call Y/N and have her come pick you up, okay?” M/N said calmly, taking her hand off of Mary’s shoulder to pick up the landline. “Wait. No. No, don’t do-” Dean quickly stopped her, holding her hand gently to place the landline back down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that” He begged, taking a proper look at her. “I wanna stay here” Dean told them, their faces contorted in confusion again. “Why?” Mary asked. “Because. I-i- I miss the place” Dean sheepishly lied. Mary and M/N shared a look again, both confused at what the hell was going on.

“It’s okay. You two go to bed, okay?” Dean assured them, moving to sit on the couch as he continued to scan the place with his eyes. Mary walked over to her son, placing a gentle hand on his face. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked him, the maternal tone potent. Dean’s heart swelled, his eyes softening. “I think so” He croaked, holding back tears again.

“Okay” Mary said sweetly, placing a kiss on his forehead. Dean leaned into the touch and the kiss, still trying not to cry. Mary pulled away and gave her son a small smile, “We’ll be in our rooms if you need us. I love you” The mother told him. M/N nodded in agreement as she and Mary turned to slowly walk out of the room.

“Me too,” Dean said softly. “I’ll get you a blanket” M/N told him gently. “Thanks” Dean croaked out, his voice low as he heard their footsteps fade away. He let out a shaky breath as his head fell into his hands.

He let himself take in a moment to process everything. Seeing his mother and m/n alive again, seeing them full of light and life again. Hearing that his father passed peacefully. Knowing that F/N was alive and well himself. This was the life he always longed for. The life he always secretly wanted.

Dean exhaled another shaky breath. ‘You’re okay. They’re all okay’ He assured himself, wiping his mouth as a tear rolled down his cheek. But it didn’t feel right, that little voice at the back of his head was telling him that this is not what he thinks it is. Not what he wants it to be.

He looked up when he heard footsteps re-enter the room, his eyes landing on Y/N’s mom as she walked toward him with a blanket in her hands.

She stopped at the edge of the couch before she gently laid the blanket over him. Dean’s body tensed as he felt the fabric being pulled over his lap. A feeling he hasn’t experienced for a very long time. M/N seemed to notice his tenseness, her eyebrows slightly furrowing, “What’s wrong?” She gently asked.

“Nothing” Dean replied, his eyes not leaving the blanket that rested against his legs. “Just tired” He muttered, shifting his body so he laid down as he leaned against the pillows. M/N gave him a soft smile. “I know that” She said softly before leaning down and placing a kiss on his temple.

Dean melted at the feeling on his skin again, closing his eyes and relishing the comfort he got from this simple action. It’s a feeling he always craved but never got. M/N gently pushed his hair away and gave his cheek an affectionate pinch. “Get some rest, honey, okay?” The woman told him gently.

Dean opened his eyes and met M/N’s loving stare, fighting the urge to cry again. “I will” He mumbled, a lump in his throat slowly forming. M/N smiled and gave him one last pat to the cheek before she pulled away, turning on her heel to head down the hall to the guest room. leaving him alone in the living room.

The second she was gone, a soft “Fuck” escaped his lips as a tear rolled down his cheek again. Dean allowed himself to succumb to the comfort, his mind finally stopped racing, the darkness of a peaceful sleep taking him over.

-

The next morning, Dean woke up on the couch. He shot up from his position after his eyes fluttered open.

It was real? It wasn’t a dream? What the fuck is going on?

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared at the picture frames again, his heart still aching from the comfort he’d received. He shook his head. “No. Something’s not right” He whispered to himself, his eyes landing back on the picture of him and Y/N on prom night.

He did the only thing he could think to do in a moment like this. He called his little brother. Dean fished his phone out of his pocket, dialing in Sam’s number but it went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. I can’t come to the phone-” He shut his phone, taking a deep breath.

He had to figure out what the fuck was going on, what this djinn did to him, or gave him.

____________________________________________

“Well I don’t think I’ve seen you in my class before” The professor said to Dean, leaning back in his chair. Dean sat across from the professor in his office, immediately going to the Lawrence local college for any answers on this Djinn. “You kidding me? I love your lectures. You- you make learning fun” Dean chuckled, pointing to the teacher who chuckled in response.

“So, what can I do for you?” The Professor asked. “What can you tell me about djinns?” Dean asked, clasping his hands in front of him as he leaned into his chair.

-

Now infront of several books filled with lore, “Well, a lot of Muslims believe the djinn are very real. They’re me times in the Koran” The Professor explained, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, i know. Get to the wish part” Dean said impatiently. “What about it?” The professor furrowed his brows. “Do you think they could really do it?” Dean asked.

The professor looked baffled, “Uh…no. No, I don't think they can really do it. But, you understand that these are mythic creatures?” The Professor pointed out. “Yeah. No, I know, I know. But, uh, I mean, in the stories” Dean clarified. “You know, say you had a wish, uh-” He cleared his throat, gulping before continuing.

“-but you never even said it out loud. You know, like that- uh. Some loved ones never died or something awful never happened. Or…uh...the girl you love starts loving you back? Is it possible?” Dean asked, swallowing harshly. “Supposedly, yes” The Professor shrugged. “I mean, they have godlike power. They can Alter reality however they want. Past, present, future” The Professor explained.

“Why would the djinn do it?” Dean queried, leaning down to look at the books as the Professor eyed him suspiciously. “What, self defense? Or maybe it’s not really evil” Dean muttered, hoping that he could stay in this reality. This beautiful, dreamlike reality. “Son?” The Professor asked, concerned. “Hmm?” Dean hummed.

“You been drinking?” The Professor questioned, his brows raised. Dean had to stop himself from laughing, “Everybody keeps asking me that, but, uh, no” He assured him with a cheeky smile.

-

Dean was now outside the college, opening the trunk to the Impala. He snorted upon opening it when his eyes landed on a couple of old magazines and trash in the trunk. “Well, who would’ve thought, Baby? We’re civilians” He chuckled, shutting the trunk.

Dean felt as though someone was watching him, so he looked across the street to see a young girl, looking almost terrified yet calm, staring right back at him. Dean looked shocked and confused as to why this young girl kept her eyes trained on him. Assuming she could be in trouble, he began to approach her.

He moved to walk across the road without looking at both sides and almost got hit by a red pick up. The tired screeching on the road as the driver hit the brakes. The driver beeped their horn and yelled inaudible curses at him as he stood in the middle of the road.

“Ah, sorry” He apologized, holding up his hands apologetically before turning his eyes back to the little girl, only to see she was now gone. Nowhere in sight. Dean felt something off in his stomach as he walked away.

____________________________________________

Now back at the Winchester household, Dean greedily and contently ate a sandwich prepared by his mom. He leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to relish the feeling of a home cooked meal. One of Mary’s favorites to make him, a chicken salad sandwich with extra pickle. A loud moan of content left his throat.

“Mmm. This is the best sandwich ever!” He exclaimed, his mouth filled with food. Mary chuckled lightly from where she was at the sink. “Thank you. M/N made you a pie before she left for the airport to pick up F/N. I’ll get you some”

“Pie?” Dean mumbled, perking up at the mention of it. He hadn’t had M/N’s pie in years, the only person who could almost replicate her recipe was Y/N. And he loved her pie but nothing could compare to M/N’s pie. Mary hummed in response and disappeared into the other room for a short moment.

He waited anxiously in his seat, his eyes bouncing back towards the doorway every other second, waiting for the woman to reappear with the pie. “I tried to get ahold of Sam earlier. Where-? Where is he?” Dean asked through a mouth full of food as he chewed.

“Oh, he’ll be here soon. M/N is picking him up too” Mary replied, setting down a plate of warm apple pie in front of Dean. “Good. Thanks mom, I’m dying to see him” He replied, picking up a fork and dug into the pie immediately. A small hum of contentment escaped his throat.

His eyes fluttered shut, his lips curled into a smile, “Sweetie, uh, don’t get me wrong.” Mary began, sitting across from Dean at the dining table. “I am thrilled you’re hanging out here all of a sudden” Mary said softly, placing her hand on Dean's shoulder before gently brushing her son's face. A content smile spread across Dean’s face, his cheeks still stuffed with pie as she said this.

“But, uh, shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked. “Work?” Dean’s face dropped. “At the garage” Mary said as if it were obvious. “Right. The garage. That’s where I work.” Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. I’ve got. the day off” Dean said as he took another heaped forkful of pie into his mouth. “Mmm” He moaned as his mother chuckled.

“That’s good. The boss man deserves a day off with how hard you work” Mary said. “Bossman?” Dean mumbled again, confused. “Yeah” Mary chuckled. “The one you and F/N own after your dad left his shares to you in his will?” Mary stated as if he was supposed to know this. Which he was, but obviously, Dean was confused.

A nervous laugh escaped his throat as he tried to compose himself, attempting to act as normal as possible. Mary tilted her head when she saw his bewildered look again before continuing, “Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?” She questioned a second time, her hand still gently resting on her son's face.

A lump formed in his throat as he looked at her. A feeling welling up in his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure, mom” He mumbled, forcing a smile. Mary looked worried for her son, wondering if he started drinking frequently again. But she nodded before pulling away, not wanting to rile him up as his eyes landed on the lawn outside the window. Picking up his pie, Dean padded over to the window.

He leaned down to get a better look before saying, “That lawn looks like it could use some mowing” Dean said excitedly as he stuffed his piehole with…..pie. Mary looked surprised at this, “You wanna mow the lawn?” She asked, amused. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to mow the lawn” Dean said enthusiastically like a kid on Christmas.

“Knock yourself out. I think you’d never mowed a lawn in your life” She snorted, sipping her coffee. Dean shrugged at her words but ignored them, he was just so excited to mow a lawn. The domestication of it all was heartwarming for him.

-

Dean reeled the chain back of the lawn mower, happily pushing the machine around the grass. He struggled a bit but quickly got the hang of it. He noticed a neighbor across the street throwing out trash, so he happily waved to the man, who awkwardly waved back at him.

Dean didn’t think too much of it, instead. He continued mowing the lawn.

-

After finishing up the yard work, Dean sat contently, relaxing on the steps to the porch of his mom’s house. A beer in his hand, He took a swig, “Ahhh” he breathed out. He let his head roll back, his eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath, letting his eyes travel back to the lawn, the sweat on his forehead glistening as it hit the setting sunlight.

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up, his eyes darted back towards the driveway. His eyes widened when he saw a car pull into the driveway, someone he believed to have been gone appeared. “I don’t believe it” Dean gasped as M/N pulled up with Jessica, Sam, and F/N. Jessica was alive and well.

Dean instantly pulled Jess into a tight hug, grunting as the college student gasped. “Jessica,” Dean said with relief. “Good to see you too, Dean” Jessica chuckled awkwardly, wiggling in his tight grip. “You’re okay” Dean mumbled in her hair. “Dean. Can’t breathe” Jessica groaned, causing Dean to finally let go.

Sam looked a bit confused at his brother, who now had a huge smile on his face, which was pretty rare when it came to him. Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N’s father, who was helping Sam unload the trunk. An almost tearstrucken expression was on Dean’s face, “F/N” Dean pulled him into a bone crushing hug as M/N smiled at the affection Dean displayed.

The two never had that since they were always at each other’s throats, oppositely contrasting real life. F/N’s eyes widened in disbelief and surprise at the hug. He instantly brushed him off, leading Dean to be confused. “It’s Mr. L/N to you, son,” He said sternly.

Dean’s smile faded as he looked at Y/N’s dad, slightly shocked. He took a step back, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle as he muttered an apology, “Right. Sorry, Mr. L/N” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, shooting a glance at Sam who shrugged in response.

M/N’s smile dropped at his rude response, she smacked her husband on his arm roughly. “Be nice!” She chastised him as Sam and Jessica shared an amused look. F/N winced and rubbed his arm where his wife smacked him before he let out a laugh, “Hey! I was nice” He protested. The corners of Dean’s mouth curled into a smile as he shoved his free hand in his pocket.

M/N rolled her eyes in response at her husband’s usual stern behavior to Dean before turning to him. “Tell your mom we’ll be right over, honey. We’re just gonna put his stuff away” M/N said gently to Dean, pointing to their house across the street before patting his cheek.

“Of course” Dean smiled, running a hand through his short cut hair. “See y’all in a minute” He called over his shoulder, watching as the married couple walked across the street with the luggage. M/N was firmly pointing at her husband for being rude while he said lowly, “What’d I do? I was nice” F/N protested.

But M/N wasn’t having any of it, “You were rude, and you know you were. You’re always like this with the boy” M/N said, shaking her head at her husband. Dean’s brows furrowed, confused as to why Y/N’s father seemed to not like him. But he brushed it off, shaking the thought.

“Sammy, look at you!” Dean then turned to his little brother, patting him on his shoulder. “You’re with Jessica, that's- I don’t believe it” Dean chuckled as Sam smiled. “Yeah” Sam said a little awkwardly. “Where'd you guys come from?” Dean asked the crew. “We just flew in from California” Sam Said as if Dean was supposed to know that.

“California! Stanford, huh? Law school, I bet” Dean exclaimed excitedly. Sam slightly scoffed at his enthusiasm, “I see you started off Mom’s birthday with a bang, as usual” Sam said with a bit of judgment, gesturing to his beer. Dean blinked twice, “Wait, Mom’s birthday. That’s- That’s today?” Dean stuttered.

Sam raised his brows at his brother, “Yeah. Yeah, Dean. That’s today. That’s why we’re here. Don’t tell me you forgot” Sam shook his head at him in disapproval. Dean gulped slightly, feeling guilty for not knowing, even though there was no way he could’ve even known.

____________________________________________

Later that night, the Winchester’s and L/N’s were dining at quite an exquisite restaurant for Mary’s birthday. The table was filled with chatter and laughter, “Wow, that- that looks awesome” Dean said sarcastically with a grimace as the waiter set down his food, which was practically asparagus on a stick. The table erupted in laughter as Y/N gently placed her hand on her fiancé’s thigh.

“Alright. To Mom, Happy Birthday” Sam put up his wine in a toast, “Happy Birthday” Y/N and Jess both said to her as everyone raised their glasses. Mary smiled happily, letting the warm feeling spread through her chest as she thanked her family. Jessica then leaned over to place a kiss on Sam’s lips.

Dean looked at the pair with awe, a warm feeling in his chest, he was beyond relieved to see his little brother happy. Though, he did wonder about Jo. But he put two and two together in his head, realizing that they met Jo on a hunt. So since they have a normal life, they never met.

“I was really worried about you last night” Y/N said softly to him, causing Dean to break his gaze away from the couple. “Oh, I’m- I’m good. I’m really good” Dean assured her, his heart skipping a beat at the feeling of her hand gently caressing his thigh. “Okay” Y/N nodded, though she didn’t believe him, but she decided not to push.

Her eyes flickered down to Dean’s very unappetizing looking food, a coy smile on her face. “Why don’t you say later we get you a cheeseburger and we can watch American Pie on Blu-Ray” Y/N said in a suggestive tone. “Oh God, yes” Dean almost moaned at the thought, causing Y/N to snort in response as lightly bit her lip.

Cheeseburgers and American Pie were code for “food and sex” when it comes to them. But Dean didn’t know that yet.

“How did I end up with such an amazing woman” Dean said with awe. A smile spread across Y/N features as she gently squeezed her fiancé’s thigh. “I’ve just got low standards” She joked. Dean snorted as He looked at her lovingly, a small smile on his face as his eyes roamed her features.

“What?” Y/N asked suddenly as she caught Dean studying her. He shook his head in response as he said softly, “Nothing. Just admiring you, as always” Y/N’s eyes softened at his response before leaning over to place a small gentle kiss on his lips.

F/N narrowed his eyes at his daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law, but said nothing as he glanced over at the young couple, shaking his head slightly as he took a sip of his wine. His wife shot him another stern look, firmly pointing her finger at her husband in a manner that said, ‘Behave’. F/N sighed deeply, giving an almost bored look at his wife before turning back to his food, a grumpy look on his face.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright, Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom’s birthday” Sam began before turning to Jess. “Uh, you wanna tell them?” He asked her. “They’re your family” Jess said shyly, “What? Tell me what?” Mary asked curiously, Sam then lifted Jess’ hand to display her engagement ring.

Dean’s jaw dropped as gasps were heard around the table. “Sam!” He exclaimed, his eyes moving from Jess’ hand to his little brother, shock still written on his features. Y/N placed her hand over her mouth, excitement radiating off of her as Mary and M/N clapped their hands together, a huge smile on their face, “Oh, my God! You’re getting married!” Mary cried, bringing a hand up to her lips.

The older woman instantly got up along with M/N And Y/N. “That’s so wonderful!” Mary exclaimed as she pulled Jess into a hug. “Thank you” Jess smiled as Mary let go. “Congratulations, honey” M/N Said as she hugged the young girl. “Thank you, Mrs. L/N” Jess giggled before turning to Y/N after her mom let her go.

Y/N pulled her into a tight hug as she exclaimed, “We’re both gonna be Winchesters!” A smile spread across Jess’ features as she pulled away, “I know. I’m so excited!” Jess gushed. Y/N pulled back and held Jess’ hands in hers. “Let me see that ring,” She said expectantly.

Jess giggled as she held her hand out before Y/N gently took it, admiring the ring. “It’s so beautiful” Y/N commented, letting go of Jess’s hand and turning to Sam. She gave him a quick thumbs up as Dean got up to give Jess a tight bear hug, lifting her up slightly from the floor as Mary hugged Sam. “I just wish your dad was here” Mary said to her younger son.

“Yeah, me too” Sam said softly to his mother, hugging her tighter before pulling away. Dean then moved to shake his little brother's hand, “Congratulations, Sammy” Dean said sincerely as Sam eyed him weirdly at the term ‘Sammy’. “Thanks,” Sam said gratefully, “I’m really glad you’re happy. Even if it’s not with Jo, I know you loved Jess” Dean’s words spewed out of his mouth without thinking.

Sam raised his eyes at his brother, confusion written on his face, "What are you talking about?” He questioned, "Who’s Jo?" Dean’s mouth slightly went agape when he realized what he said but he didn’t get a chance to clear up his words, due to the girl from earlier that day appearing at the corner of the restaurant.

Dean’s eyes wide fed as he pushed past his brother, immediately rushing over to the girl. He brushed past a few people, his eyes leaving the young girl for a split second, only for her to disappear again, gone into thin air.

Everyone at the table looked at Dean with confusion as he turnt back to them gulping, F/N especially with a look of disapproval aimed in his direction as he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

____________________________________________

The two families were laughing and chattering as they reentered the Winchester residence. “So, Dean, what was all that back at the restaurant?” Sam asked his brother as they walked into the living room, all the ladies were talking amongst themselves as he said. “Oh, I thought I saw someone. I’m sure its nothing” Dean assured him.

“Well, I had a lovely birthday. Thank you” Mary said sincerely to everyone. “Goodnight” Everyone Said in unison as Jess And Y/N blew kisses to their future mother-in-law. Mary smiled as she started to rub her eyes. “Goodnight” She said, blowing kisses to everyone before wrapping her arms around M/N, drawing her in for a tight hug.

“Thank you for baking the cake, it was delicious” Mary said to her best friend with much gratitude. “It was my pleasure as always, Mar” M/N squeezed her back before letting go, moving back to cling to her husband as Mary walked up the stairs. A little yawn left her lips. “I think you and I should hit the hay” F/N chuckled, gently wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist, letting her lean against him.

“Agreed” M/N said, a small smile on her face before turning to her daughter. “Goodnight, baby” M/N said softly. “Goodnight, Mom.” Y/N said as she leaned in to hug her mom, a smile on her face. She then plastered on a fake smile towards her father before awkwardly hugging him.

“Have a great night everyone, love you y/n/n” F/N said to his daughter gently, a bit of despair in his eyes. “You too, daddy” Y/N responded half heartedly. Her dad sighed before shooting Dean one last glare. He then opened his door for his wife, before walking out behind her and shutting the door behind him as Dean smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah, well. I’m beat” Sam said tiredly, “Ready to turn in?” He asked Jess. “Sure” Jess nodded. “Alright, night guys” Sam smiled at everyone, “Goodnight” Y/N muttered But Dean’s face dropped. “Hey, hey. Wait a second, wait a second. Come on, it’s not even 9 o'clock yet.” Dean protested. “Let’s, uh, let’s go have a drink or something” Dean suggested.

Y/N shrugged in agreement, not minding the idea of hanging out with everyone. “Maybe another time,” Sam said, a little irritated. “Come on, man. Look at us. I mean, we both have beautiful women on our arms. We’re both engaged. Let’s go celebrate!” Dean chuckled, smacking Sam on his chest lightly.

A silence fell in the room due to the way Sam was looking at Dean, “Guys, can you excuse us. I just wanna talk to my brother” Sam said to the ladies politely. “Sure. Come on, Y/N” Jess shrugged, gesturing for both her and Y/N to leave. “Thanks,” Sam smiled but Y/N narrowed her eyes at Sam.

“Don’t start, Samuel” She whispered in a warning tone before following Jessica out of the kitchen. Sam raised his hands in defense, “Won’t do anything” He assured her as she, as well as Jess, left the room. Y/N him one last pointed look over her shoulder before shutting the door behind her.

Sam turned to his brother, an irritated look on his face. “Okay, what’s gotten into you?” He questioned. “What? What do you mean?” Dean asked, confused. “I mean, this whole…warm fuzzy ecstasy-trip thing” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. “I’m just happy for you, Sammy,” Dean smiled, patting his brother on his arm. Sam rolled his eyes with a tight smile.

“Yeah. Right. That’s another thing. Since when do you call me Sammy?” Sam scoffed. Dean's brows furrowed, his heart dropping. “Dean, come on. We don’t talk outside of holidays” Sam pointed out. Dean blinked twice in shock, “We don’t?” He asked surprised. “Well, we should. I mean, you’re my brother” Dean chuckled, trying to ignore the tugging pain in his chest.

“You’re my brother?” Sam huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah,” Dean smiled. “You know, that's what you said when you snagged my ATM card. Or when you crashed my car. Or when you bailed on me and Y/N’s high school graduation.” Sam pointed out his multiple mistakes as Dean’s mouth went agape again. “Yeah, that kinda does sound like me,” Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, hey man, I’m sorry about all that-” Dean tried to apologize, stepping closer to Sam but he cut him off and stepped away. “No. Look. It’s alright. I just— you know, I’m not asking you to change. I just, uh….I don’t know. I guess we just don’t really have anything in common. You know?” Sam said, shrugging. Dean felt his heart drop in his chest again.

A lump grew in his throat as Sam moved to walk away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes, we do. Yes, we do” Dean stammered, pulling Sam back. “What?” Sam raised his brows. “Hunting” Dean took a chance. “Hunting? I’ve never been hunting in my life, Dean” Sam scoffed. Dean swallowed harshly, his heart caught in his throat,

“Yeah, well, we should go sometime. Me, you and Y/N. I think you guys would be great at it” Dean said sadly, this made Sam even more confused. “Y/N? We've barely talked since high school since you two hooked up on our prom night” Sam snorted.

Dean’s heart felt like it had been stabbed as Sam’s words sank in. “What? You guys don’t talk?” He asked in disbelief. Sam shook his head, burying his hands in his pockets as he looked at his brother, still confused. “Why not?” Dean asked genuinely, feeling another pang of pain in his chest, he was trying to wrap his head around all the things that had been said tonight.

He thought that he and Y/N were the best of friends, hell, they were practically siblings, so why would they not talk?

“People just…drift” Sam shrugged, eyeing his brother weirdly. “That fucking sucks, you two were like ring on finger” Dean gaped, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, people change,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. A silence fell between them as Dean took in the newly found information, “Get some rest” Sam said softly to his brother before leaving the room. The shock still evident on Dean’s face.

____________________________________________

It was later that night, Dean and Y/N were back at their own house while Dean sat on the couch in the living room. His mind was racing and stuck on that dreadful conversation he had with Sam. His heart was caught in his throat, a sick feeling churning in his stomach at the fact that he and his brother were not close and neither was his brother and the love of his life.

Y/N noticed Dean was a bit in his head as she entered the living room, a sigh escaped her lips as she padded over to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out two beers, she then popped the bottle cap open with a silver ring on her right hand. She then headed back into the living room, offering her fiancé the beer.

Dean’s eyes snapped over to her, his expression softening. “My favorite. I guess you know me pretty well” Dean said softly as he accepted the beer, “Afraid so” Ashe teased, plopping on the couch next to him. “You alright, baby?” Y/N asked gently.

Dean gave her a thin smile before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a sip of the beverage. The conversation with his brother had really been bugging him. How could they have not been talking? When did they stop talking? And when did Sam and Y/N stop being friends?

“Sammy and I don’t get along. And you guys stopped talking” Dean said, glancing down at the bottle in his hands as Y/N sipped from her own bottle. “Well, you don't really spend a lot of time together and me and Sam sorta just…drifted. It happens, people change. I mean, I just think you dont know each other all that well” Y/N said gently, a small frown on my face.

“And for the record, he doesn't know what he's missing” She added, offering Dean a smile, which he returned. “I could fix things with us. I can make it up to you guys….to everyone” Dean said confidently, nodding. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. “Okay…what's gotten into you lately?” She asked with a small chuckle.

“This isnt gonna make a lick of sense to you, princess. But I kinda feel like I've been given a second chance. And I don’t wanna waste it” Dean said wholeheartedly as he stared at Y/N lovingly. Calling her ‘princess’ felt wrong here to him but he didn’t care, he wanted it to be real so bad. “You're right, it doesn't make any sense. But I’m all in” Y/N chuckled.

Dean grinned at her words as he placed a gentle hand on Y/N's thigh "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are," he said softly, his emerald eyes filled with tenderness. Y/N smiled shyly, a light blush spreading across her cheeks, “You only say that every hour” She teased, taking another sip of her beer. “Not that I’m complaining, it gives me an ego boost” She joked.

Dean chuckled along with Y/N, the sound of her laughter music to his ears. The thought that had crossed his mind earlier in the day resurfaced, prompting him to ask her a question. “Hey, princess,” he began. Y/N looked at him expectantly, curious about what he was going to say. “I gotta ask…why does your dad hate me?” Dean asked, tilting his head a bit.

Y/N let out a sigh, a slight frown on her face as she recalled the strained relationship between her father and fiancé. "It's complicated, babe. My dad's just a bit of a control freak, especially when it comes to me" She explained with a hint of frustration.

Dean looked confused, he was used to F/N being controlling in reality but the man never seemed to hate him before. If anything, he adored Dean. So F/N hating Dean right now was foreign to him. “You know, since that night..” Y/N said lowly, Dean was even more confused now.

"Since what night?" Dean asked, a frown forming on his face as he tried to decipher why F/N’s behavior had drastically changed towards him. Y/N took a deep breath before answering, the memory still a bit raw. “Don’t you remember the night of my prom?” She asked. "Well…not exactly" Dean admitted, trying to recall the event, only to come up blank.

Y/N gave him an incredulous look, “You don't remember?” She asked in surprise, her tone almost sounding hurt. Dean’s heart sank at Y/N’s reaction, he hated the thought that he’d done something to hurt her, but he genuinely had no memory of what took place on prom night, at least in this world.

"Look, I'm sorry, princess," Dean began, moving closer to Y/N and taking her hand in his. "I seriously can't remember a thing about that night. Can you tell me what happened?" He asked gently. “We lost our virginities to each other and Dad caught us a couple weeks later hooking up at a motel, how could you not remember that?”

A mixture of realization and shock washed over Dean as Y/N's words sank in. It all made sense now why her father hated him with a fiery passion. “And then he kicked me out the same night when he said he didn’t approve of our relationship” Y/N further explained, caressing Dean’s hand with her thumb.

"Jesus... no wonder he hates me" Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. It all made perfect sense now. But the memory of that night was still a complete blank for him.

"I personally don’t think that's why he doesn’t like you. I think it's because you proved him wrong” Y/N assured Dean. Dean furrowed his brows, puzzled by Y/N's statement. "Proved him wrong? What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely curious as he rest his beer down on the table. “Jesus, charming. What’s going on with your memory?” Y/N chuckled.

Dean cracked a small sheepish grin, realizing how dense he sounded. "Right, sorry. Go on" he chuckled, giving her hand a squeeze. “After he cut me off from my trust fund and John cut you off from yours. You worked your ass off and put me through college. Dad never thought you had it in you, but I knew you did. He has not choice but to respect you, but Dad being Dad is too prideful to admit it”

Dean’s expression softened as Y/N recounted their history. After what Sam told him, it messed with his head. Realizing he was practically the family fuck-up, the black sheep…it hurt him to say the least. But now knowing that Y/N stood beside him through all he had supposedly done and he did whatever it took to support the love of his life despite getting completely cut off, Dean felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in himself.

He felt like he was worth something, because everyone including God himself knows how Dean Winchester thinks of himself. A proud smile tugged at his lips, his loving gaze never leaving Y/N’s face.

"I'll do whatever it takes” Dean said tenderly, squeezing her hand again. She giggled lightly at this, resting her own beer down besides his, “I know you will, and that's one of the many reasons why I love you” Y/N said softly as she brought her hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, he automatically leaned into her touch, nuzzling into her hand like a kitten.

“And I love you too, more than anything" he replied tenderly, placing a soft kiss on her palm. “Besides, Adrienne was always his golden child” Y/N said with a bitter tone and a scoff as she pulled away. Dean furrowed his brows, confused by the new name she had mentioned. "Who's Adrienne?" he asked quizzically, his curiosity piqued.

“My little sister.” Y/N said as if Dean was supposed to know that, rolling her eyes. His eyes widened in surprise. Y/N had a little sister??? His mind then went back to the little girl in the pictures at his mom’s house, that must've been Adrienne.

“The one who tried to sleep with you last time she was in town” Y/N added bitterly. "It's always been ‘Adrienne this, Adrienne that’ “ she imitated her father's voice. Dean's smile dropped as he processed Y/N's words.

He couldn't recall the interaction with her sister or any prior mention of her, but the idea of anyone trying to come between them made him feel rather possessive.

"She tried to what?! ” Dean exclaimed, a hint of anger in his tone. "Relax, baby” Y/N chuckled as she placed a soothing hand on his chest. "You shut her down pretty quick, if I recall. You drunkenly said I was ‘the one’ and then proceeded to scream your lungs out at her, I think I’m safe” she replied, amused by his reaction.

“It's why you put a ring on it” Y/N teased, gesturing to her engagement ring, admiring it in her hand. Dean smirked as he watched Y/N admiring the ring on her finger. "I knew it would look good on you" he said with a hint of admiration in his voice. Seeing her wear the physical symbol of their commitment filled him with a sense of contentment and belonging.

“I’ll never forget you kneeling down in that stadium while Bon Jovi was playing ‘All About Lovin’ You’ and you asking me to marry you.” Y/N reminisced, resting her head on Dean’s shoulder. A warm smile played on Dean's lips as Y/N recounted the proposal. Even without his memory of it, he could tell it must’ve been special.

The fact that he had chosen such a romantic setting because he was never a huge Bon Jovi fan but Y/N loved the band’s music. The fact that he chose something so close to her heart filled him with a sense of satisfaction. "That sounds like a pretty perfect moment" he said, a hint of longing in his voice.

"You were so nervous" Y/N chuckled. "You kept shaking your hands and your leg kept bouncing up and down," she added, recalling the proposal with a fond look. Dean shook his head with a mock frown, "Shut up" he muttered playfully. “You know….I get it” Dean said softly, tracing circles on her hip with his thumb.

Y/N hummed in response, enjoying the feeling of his touch on her skin. "Get what?" she asked curiously, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. “Why you’re the one,” Dean responded, connecting his eyes with hers, this gaze filled with love and admiration. Y/N felt a warm sensation in her chest as she returned his gaze, his eyes so full of love and tenderness. "Oh, really?” she asked, teasing him a bit.

Dean grinned as he nodded, attaching his lips to hers. Y/N let out a small gasp of surprise, which soon melted into a soft moan as she returned the kiss eagerly. The way he took charge sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, her heart hammering in her chest.

Dean's hand on her hip began to wander, gently caressing her body through the thin fabric of her clothing. His other hand moved to cup her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. There was a voice at the back of his mind that was screaming at him to stop, telling him this wasn’t right as Y/N straddled him.

Dean's mind waged a war with itself, her presence in his lap both tantalizing and guilt-inducing. He wanted her, craved her, and yet he couldn't shake the nagging thoughts that told him it was wrong, Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet.

He pulled back from the kiss, panting lightly as he looked up at Y/N. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen and parted in a gasp. "We gotta stop,” he said quietly, his voice filled with both desire and restraint. Dean brought his lips to her neck, “Mhhmm” Y/N panted, groaning slightly as she rocked her core against his growing erection.

Dean stifled a moan as she rocked against him, his hands on her hips gripping just a bit tighter. "We gotta stop..” he repeated, though his body was clearly at odds with his words. “I know, I know, i've got work” Y/N sighed, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

Dean returned the kiss, his fingers moving to run through her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. "You gotta work now?” he asked, his voice thick with desire but also confusion because it was nearly midnight. “I told you, I’ve got the night shifts on Thursday” Y/N responded as she reluctantly peeled herself away from him and headed over to the closet.

Dean’s brows furrowed as he picked up his beer from the table and followed behind her, “You work nights at the uh…” He began as he stepped into the closet to see Y/N with a hanger in her hand, nurse scrubs attached to them, “…hospital.” He finished, an impressed grin on his face. “I’m engaged to a nurse. That is so respectable….and hot” Dean muttered to himself as he eyed Y/N’s ass while taking a sip of his beer.

He wondered to himself why Y/N decided to go into nursing due to the fact she always had a love for music, but Dean shrugged it off.

______________________________________________

Authors Note: Okay soooo, Tumblr told me that my post was too long so I had to split this into two parts.

Part Two Here!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

[ruh--roh-raggy]

Home Sweet Home (William Afton x Wife! Reader) - Part 5

Hello hello! After a bit of a delay I am very happy to present you with part 5 of Home Sweet Home! This chapter we get to see William and Reader's first date, super cute, super fluffy, I've been dealing with a lot of emotions so a lot of gentle reassuring William about readers self doubts. I hope you guys enjoy, if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: None

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 4,913

Part 4 - Part 6

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You stretched with a soft sigh, your feet sliding against the cool, soft sheets. A smile spreads across your face at the feeling of William’s arm slung over your waist. Your eyes fluttered open, a thin slit of light through your heavy curtains the only indicator that it was morning. You roll over, your hand trailing over his stomach as you cuddle into his chest. He lets out a soft hum as he wakes up, “good morning beautiful.” His voice raspy and thick with sleep.

“Sorry I didn't mean to wake you up.” You whisper, placing a soft kiss to his chest.

“Why are you apologizing? I get woken up to the most beautiful sight in the world.” He tilts your chin up, his lips capturing yours in a slow, needy kiss. His hand kneads at your waist, you smile as his mustache tickles your nose.

“What's the plan for today?” He rolls into his back with a groan, pulling you on top of him in the process. You lay your chin on his chest, bright, sparkling eyes staring up at him. He smiles softly, tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

“Well,” he starts, “we need to go to the store, we’ll try to make it quick but we have nothing.” You both share a chuckle. “And then we come back here and work our butts off until dinner.”

“And see you be all sexy and strong lifting those heavy boxes again? Yes please.” You grin at him, yelping as he lightly pinches your butt.

“You always have your mind in the gutter, don't you?” He teases back. “I'm surprised you can still even consider me sexy.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” You reach up to gently caress his cheek, he lets out a soft sigh as he leans into your touch. “You're not allowed to be mean to my husband, I'll have to beat you up.” He chuckles at your serious expression.

“I'm an old man now, rabbit.” He responds wistfully, combing his fingers through your hair as he studies your face. “I'm definitely not the rugged, muscular little punk I used to be.” He chuckles and you can't help but breathe out a laugh in response. Remembering all the photos of a much skinnier more awkward reflection of your husband that Henry had shown you. ‘The pride and joy of our robotics team.’ he would always muse, struggling not to get emotional over the loving expression you had while looking at them. “I've got all these wrinkles now, my hair’s going gray-”

“William,” he snaps his mouth shut at the sound of your voice. Your age difference was something that had eaten at him since the two of you had first started dating. Always worried he was going to move too fast or make you feel tied down. He never could quite wrap his head around how a pretty young thing like you could stand being around a miserable old fart like him. “It wouldn't matter if you were 20 years younger and were built like some sort of Greek God.” You shuffle around under the blankets, allowing you to push yourself up enough to be face to face with him, the tip of your nose brushing his as you talk. “I wouldn't give up any of the time you and I have spent together for anything. Will, I love you. A few wrinkles and a change in your hair color isn't going to change any of that.”

“So, you don't mind that I don't have shredded abs?” He jokes, making you laugh in response. Despite the sudden loss of seriousness you could tell your words helped.

“Abs are overrated,” you shoo off the thought with your hand. “I happen to love your soft tummy.” You state matter-of-factly.

“Well I'm glad.” He pulls you in for a soft kiss. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He mumbles against your lips.

“You're one to talk.” You quip back. He smiles before pulling you back to him. You hum as you feel his arm tighten around your waist, wanting to feel every curve of your body pressed firmly to his. The way William’s lips moved against yours was slow and methodical, he always knew how to kiss you in a way that left you feeling utterly breathless and dizzy by the end of it. You rest your forehead against his when you separate. Both of you shared soft, tired smiles as you enjoyed being in each other's company. He reaches over to his nightstand with a groan, wiping his hand down his face before putting on his glasses.

“What do you say sweetheart? Ready to start the day?” You nod, both of you reluctantly leaving the warmth of your bed and each other's arms as you got ready to tackle whatever obstacles you would face.

You stood at William’s side, trying to manage your wild bed head as he brushed his teeth. “What do you want for dinner?” He asks with a mouthful of toothpaste.

“I don't know, something easy.” You wince slightly as your brush gets caught on a particularly nasty snarl. “We could always get something frozen to throw in the oven I guess.”

“Absolutely not, I won't let my wife eat that filth if I can help it.” He places a kiss on your head as he heads out of the bathroom. You chuckle, shaking your head in response. “Think about it, I'm gonna go start the car.” He disappears around the door with a wink. You groaned at his request, you hated making food decisions. You threw on some clothes, deeming your appearance good enough for the grocery store, before heading downstairs. William stood at your kitchen counter, holding an old recipe book that looked almost comically small in his massive hands.

“Whatcha got there?” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

“I saw this in your box of memories yesterday.” He smiles down at you, lowering the book in order to make it easier for you to read it. You looked at the worn, yellowing pages with a special fondness. This was the one cookbook William owned, a collection of recipes put together by a group of little old ladies around Hurricane. One of them managed to pass it off to him at their grandson’s birthday years ago, saying how a hard working man like him deserved some good home cooked meals every now and then. You ran your fingers over your husband’s handwriting in the margins next to one recipe ‘add garlic’. On the next page there was a recipe for chocolate cake, next to it in your own neat script it read ‘Will’s favorite' punctuated with a heart.

“Is this the one that has-”

“The recipe from our first date.” You finish in unison.

“Yes it is.” He chuckles. You remembered it like it was yesterday. The whole morning went horribly before you were supposed to spend the day with Will, you were about ready to call him to reschedule. “I think we both could use some comfort food tonight, what do you think?”

“I think that sounds wonderful.” You jump slightly as he snaps the cookbook shut in front of your face, you push him playfully before the two of you head out.

Will’s hand was warm as he held your own, his thumb languidly rubbing over your knuckles as he drove. Your eyes trailed over the treeline as it whipped past your window, smiling softly to yourself as you reminisced about how something as small and silly as beef stew could hold such a powerful memory.

You tried your best to quiet your sniffling as you listened to the phone ring, your heart jumping into your throat when you heard the click of the receiver being picked up. “Hello?” You felt yourself begin to well up all over again at the sound of his voice.

“Hey William, it’s-uh, it’s me.” You hoped he would be able to recognize your voice despite it cracking. “I think I'm going to need to reschedule-”

“Honey what's wrong?” The genuine concern in his voice opened the floodgates. A sob cracked free from your throat as you tried to explain the situation. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No.” You manage to croak out.

“Can I come see you?” You froze for a moment. He wasn't mad about you canceling at the last minute, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

“Yeah, that's fine.” You stutter.

“I'll be there in about fifteen minutes, okay?” You nod before remembering he couldn't see you. You rolled your eyes over how ridiculous you were being.

“Okay, I'll be here.” You sniffle before hanging up. You jumped as your buzzer rang, picking yourself up to the couch and slowly shuffling over to unlock the door. You undid the chain latch, meeting William in the hallway.

“Rabbit,” he starts softly. Seeing your cheeks still red and streaked with tears from another wave of crying that had hit you when he was on his way over. “Come here beautiful.” You hurried forward, melting into his embrace as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His fingers gently slide into your hair, cradling your head against his chest. You felt stupid for crying, you were supposed to be going out on this big, fancy date William had set up and now you've ruined it.

“I'm sorry.” You manage to get out after you have calmed yourself down somewhat. “You went through all the trouble of getting us that reservation-” he cuts you off, quietly shushing you as he continues to hold you, slightly rocking side to side.

“It’s okay bunny. It's not like we’re going to get banned from the restaurant for canceling our table.” He chuckles, managing to elicit a soft laugh from you as well. “But, I would like to know what's making my girl so upset.” He nods in the direction of your apartment. “Would it be alright if I came in for a minute?” You nod, his hand instantly taking yours as you separated from his embrace.

“I'm sorry about the mess, this morning definitely didn't go as planned.” He looked around the cramped space. The flowers William had sent you lay on the kitchen counter, the stems still glistening with water. A half cleaned up pile of broken glass lay on the floor next to the counter. He noticed a white dress that appeared to be covered in some type of tomato sauce laying in a heap on the dining room table. You started to explain before he even had a chance to question it. “My roommate got into a big fight with her boyfriend this morning.” William sat next to you where you had positioned yourself on the couch, elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded neatly in front of him as he listened attentively to what you had to say. “I was woken up by them yelling at each other, I heard some glass smash so I came out here to try and diffuse the situation. It turns out he had smashed the vace I had put your flowers in onto the floor.” You let out a weak chuckle as you felt a tear slip down your cheek. William reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours in an attempt to offer some form of comfort without risking overwhelming you further. “And my-uh, my dress…” you looked over at the table, your throat growing tight at the sight. “He also ruined my dress in the process of us throwing him out. So now I have nothing to wear, and the flowers you got me are starting to wilt, and I ruined our date-”

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You didn't ruin anything.” He moves closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. “There’s going to be plenty of other fancy dinners. Baby, I'm not upset over you not wanting to go out after the morning you've had.” He places a kiss on the top of your head, his thumb soothingly rubbing your shoulder. “Would you like to come spend the day at my place?” He asks in an almost timid manner. You look up at him, eyes still wet with tears. It made his chest tighten, you looked so small against his much larger form.

“I'd like that.” You smile.

“You go get ready, I'll clean up in here.” He offers with a small nod.

“Oh, I can't ask you to do that.” Your breath catches in your throat as he gently tilts your chin up with his fingers.

“Don't worry about it bunny.” He tucks some hair behind your ear. He nods for you to go get ready. You scurry off to your room, William cleaning up the glass on the floor. He searched through your cupboards, finding a suitable enough vessel to hold the flowers you seemed to love. He smiles at how adorable you were, getting upset over something so simple, it was sweet. His attention turned to the dress on the table, making an irritated sound as he picked it up. It wasn't a guarantee he would be able to get the sauce out, but hand washing it in the sink couldn't hurt. He thought about how pretty you would've looked all dressed up. Though somehow he thinks your new plan would end up being more fun.

You hurriedly looked through your closet for something to wear, not wanting to appear like you were trying too hard to impress him. You decided on a cute pair of jeans and your favorite T-shirt. You passed back out into the kitchen, smiling as you saw the large man hunched over your sink, trying to get the stain out of your dress. “Will?” He paused, a smile creeping across his features. This was the first time you had called him Will.

“I got it mostly out, we can throw it in the wash at my place if you want.” You nod, smiling at him adoringly.

“I wouldn't want to trouble you.” You start.

“It's no problem.” He rushes to reassure you. He slowly steps closer to you, almost as if he was worried he was going to scare you off. “You, uh, look like you’re going to cry again.”

“You’re just really nice, that’s all.” You crack out a laugh, William chuckling alongside you.

“Well, I’d like to be able to take care of my girl when she needs me.” He winks, making your cheeks flush. He holds out his arm for you to take, you smile softly as he pulls you into his side.

William opened the door, letting you step inside before him. You neatly tucked your shoes beside the door before padding across the soft gray carpet. Looking around you would definitely define William as a minimalist. You didn’t see any pictures or trinkets, everything was very neat and orderly. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to go start something for dinner.” You ended up trailing after him into the kitchen, wanting to spend as much time with him as you could. He unzips his hoodie, tossing it at you with a flirtatious smile. “You look cold.” You slip your arms into the too long sleeves, blushing slightly as you wrap yourself up in the warm fabric. William’s sweatshirt smelled like machine oil, cheap cigarettes, and musky, warm cologne. He pulled out a large wooden cutting board from one of the drawers, brandishing a pristinely sharp knife not long after. He hums softly to himself as he wanders around his kitchen, pulling ingredients from cupboards and setting them all out in a row on the counter top. He pulls out a large stew pot from a small closet, setting it on the stove as he sets in motion preparing the meal he had decided on.

“Do you want any help?” You offer with a smile.

“You just sit back and relax, bunny. Throwing this together shouldn’t take me too long.” The two of you chatted idly as he cooked. You had always enjoyed William’s dry humor, but this was the first time you had seen his full genuine personality outside of Freddy’s.

“You’re a gossip!” You exclaim your accusation through a fit of laughter. He gives you an offended look, his hand clapping against his chest.

“Me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You couldn’t miss the smirk that passed across his lips as he turned his attention back to the cutting board. “You’re acting like I don’t know about your and Ashley’s little gossip sessions at the prize counter.” He rebuttals in a teasing tone. He straightens up, striding over to you. He puts a hand on either side of your thighs, caging you on the counter, “I bet you talk about me, don’t you?” He gives you a wink and a lopsided smile. Your cheeks immediately heated up as you thought about how much his name actually came up between the two of you. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving away. He glances up at you as he slides a cutting board of carrots into the large pot at his side. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to relax.” He remarks happily.

“You promise you’re not mad about having to cancel the reservation?” You ask nervously, balling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt in your hands.

“I’m happy just spending time with you.” A small smile creeps across your lips at the sincerity in his voice. “You had a bad morning, I wouldn’t want to go out either.” He reaches out for your hand, you accept his request with a flustered grin. “Plan’s can change, okay? I won’t be upset.” He tries his best to reassure you.

It was a rainy day outside, the stew was left to cook on the stove. Will held your hand loosely in his, giving it a gentle squeeze whenever he reached a point of interest when he was talking about one of his newest projects. He leads you into his workshop, keeping you close to him as he guides you around various piles of mechanical parts. His hands find their way to your waist, easily lifting you from the floor to set you on a clear space of workbench. He bumps a button with his elbow, the garage opening to let in some of the warm, damp air from outside. “Mr. Emily was right about you being a workaholic.” You tease.

“It’s not my fault there's always work to be done.” He bites the tip of his tongue as he concentrates on what he had pulled in front of him, you noticed the glint of something silver catching on his front teeth.

“Will… is that a piercing?” You ask with genuine curiosity. His eyes widened slightly for a second before he cursed under his breath.

“I forgot I had that in.” He admits bashfully. “I got it in college, I just got so used to wearing it I never let it close.” You hop down from your position perched on the workbench, placing yourself directly in front of him.

“Show me.” You nod up at him. He raises an eyebrow and smirks slightly at your demanding town. He stoops lower, bringing himself face to face with you.

“I don’t know,” he purrs, “you didn’t ask very nicely.” You swallow thickly at his gravelly tone.

“Show me, please?” You try again. He chuckles at your flustered appearance before sticking out his long tongue, showing off the silver barbell. “Wow.” You found yourself nearly drooling at the sight of it, something about the small piercing made your heart race in your chest. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that William was a very attractive man, with his sharp features and broad, strong body he's drawn the attention of many wandering eyes. But, this new found detail about him only seemed to highlight the tough yet playful attitude you had grown enamored by.

“Maybe if you're good I'll show you how talented I am at putting it to good use.” He winks with a smirk. “Come on, this stuff can wait.” He places a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist as you're escorted back inside of the house. It hadn't occurred to you just how much of Will’s day you had disrupted up until now. He was supposed to come pick you up at six o'clock sharp, glancing at a clock that ticked quietly on the wall you had realized it wasn’t even eleven.

“Will, I don't want to get in your way if you're busy.” You speak up, both of you pausing in unison.

“Bunny, let me tell you something.” He fully turns to face you, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. His dark silver eyes held a particular softness as they scanned over your features, his hands sliding around your back to pull you closer to him. He speaks in a low tone, giving the conversation a new found sense of intimacy. “I'm in no rush to get that work done, and if I'm being entirely honest if you left right now I wouldn't be able to get the image of how cute you look in my sweatshirt out of my head all day.” He breathes out a laugh. “I know you're worried about being a disruption but honey I promise you you're not. I want to spend time with you, I want to be there to make you feel better. If that means pushing off a couple projects to cook a homemade meal and to spend the day with you… we'll, I don't know about you but that sounds pretty alright to me.” He smiles softly at you, giving you time to allow his words to sink in.

You couldn't get over just how different he was than anyone you had been with in the past. There was no yelling because of the wasted effort, no being left alone to wallow in how awful you felt about messing everything up. Right now there was only you and William; how warm his large hands felt as he soothingly rubs his thumbs over your waist, how the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen drifted through the hall, how he looked at you with so much kindness and understanding, and that was plenty. You pushed into him, burying your face against his chest as you welled up with emotion. William held you tightly against him, determined to brush away any negative thoughts that tried to creep their way in from the back of your mind. He had a pretty good idea of the guys you had experienced before him, the shithead he had met before he confessed to you said enough. You were used to being pushed around and treated like you were never enough, leaving you to feel like you were always taking up too much space and anything that went wrong immediately fell into your lap. William hoped that, given enough time, he would be able to help you remedy that way of thinking. “How about we throw on a movie? It's Saturday, there's bound to be something on.” He offers in a patient tone.

“I'd like that.” You sniffle in response. You slip your hand into his, allowing him to guide you to the living room. He pulled you into his side as he clicks on the TV, absentmindedly flicking through the station past re-runs of whatever shitty sitcom happened to be on and action movies that would definitely ruin the quiet intimacy the two of you had fallen into. He paused on a romantic comedy, looking down to gauge your reaction. You adjusted yourself in order to be more comfortable, your arm resting across Will’s stomach as your head fell against his shoulder. He was praying you wouldn't ask him anything about the movie he had thrown on, he wouldn't have been able to focus on it right now if he tried. Your small form was so warm against his side, the sweet scent of your shampoo was nearly intoxicating as he waited for you to get comfortable. He pulls the blanket off of the back of the couch, laying it over both of your laps.

“Will?” You call for him softly.

“Yes, rabbit?” His eyes drift down to you and the sight alone was enough to nearly break him. You looked so incredibly tiny curled up against him, your big doe eyes holding so much adoration as you gazed up at him. William froze, feeling as if he even breathed in this moment it would be over.

“Thank you for taking care of me today.” His heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the sight of your sweet smile. You slowly and carefully pushed yourself upwards, your lips pressing against his scruffy cheek.

“Of course, bunny.” He smiles, eyes dropping to your lips for a brief moment before he shook the thought from his mind. Today was about making sure you were alright, kissing you should be the furthest thing from his mind right now. Unfortunately for him, it was all he was able to think about since the two of you had started seeing each other. He hadn't kissed you since the night of his confession, worried that he would take things too quickly without realizing it. He jumped slightly as the timer on the stove started to beep. “I'll be right back.” He places a kiss to your forehead before getting up. Once he enters the kitchen, out of your line of sight, he drags a hand down his face with a soft groan. “Get a hold of yourself.” He chastises himself quietly.

You remained curled up on the sofa, smiling to yourself as you ran your fingers over the soft material of the blanket William had draped over your legs. You glanced back at the kitchen before turning back to the TV with a soft sigh. There was something about being with William that was so undeniably effortless; the way he pulled you into his arms, your body molding to his like you were always made to be pressed against one another, the softness in his voice that was reserved just for you, how the smell of his cologne calmed your ever racing mind. Your fingers drifted to your bottom lip, breathing out a laugh as you thought about your first kiss. It felt like a lifetime since then, your mind often wandering to the memory, leaving your heart racing and your cheeks flushed. You knew William wanted to take things slow, he was very concerned about you feeling pressured to do things you weren't comfortable with just because he was older. Even though you constantly reassured him that wasn't the case he still seemed to treat you as if you were made of glass. You heard the soft clinking of him grabbing soup mugs from a cabinet, your feet thudding softly against the hardwood floor as you stood from the couch. You sucked in a deep breath as you nervously made your way towards the kitchen, thumb running over the worn fabric of your boyfriend’s sweatshirt. William stood at the stove, humming softly to himself as he added the finishing touches on the dinner he prepared. You swallowed thickly as you watched his muscles shift underneath his fitted black T-shirt. “Will?” You continued to walk forward as you called his name, knowing if you stopped now you would lose your nerve. He turns to face you, his silver eyes catching yours. His arms opened to greet you the moment he realized how close you already were, your hands slid over his shoulders as his landed on your waist. You pushed yourself up on your toes, guiding his lips down to meet yours. He lets out a surprised yet pleased sound, melting into you as he kisses you back. You both pulled back, breathless and wide eyed. He swore every time he looked at you he found something new to fall in love with. The blush that dominated your cheeks from doing something so bold, how small you looked wrapped up in his sweatshirt, he hoped he would be able to keep the memory of you looking like this forever.

“Will?” He’s jolted back to the present by you nudging his shoulder. “Everything alright, baby? You spaced out.” He looked down at you now by his side. Your soft smile and twinkling eyes are still as captivating as they always have been.

“Yeah bunny, I'm alright. Just thinking about our first date.” He smiles. The two of you stood in your kitchen preparing the ingredients for the stew, the sound of you singing along to the radio a learned comfort to William’s ears. He still couldn't wrap his head around why you chose him of all people, his gruff and dry demeanor was a sharp contrast to your bubbly personality. Yet, despite how difficult he knew he could be sometimes, your love for one another never waivered. It took him a long time to be able to provide for you the way he felt you deserved, lots of late nights at the pizzeria and sacrifice were needed to get to where the two of you are now. But, through every rough patch, every struggle that would have seemed insurmountable on his own, it only solidified one thing.

You loved each other.

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Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast @lokanda (if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!)

[tempvstas]

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

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Content Warning(s): some angst, leona being emo lol

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Leona Kingscholar

Authors Notes: Hello all, I am not dead, just busy :] Life update, started uni so I've been busy with that, also, bit off more than I could chew so I burned out HARD. Genuinely lost motivation to write. But I do want to get back into the flow of writing. I'll try and fulfill requests(esp the ones sitting in my inbox, sorry to everyone who sent me requests before im not ignoring you i swear 💀) when I can but theres no guarantee. I wanna write what I can and what I want to and atm its Leona :]]. Please enjoy LMAO

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Leona couldn't remember the last time he had felt the warmth of another.

Moonlight filters through the open balcony of his room, a gentle breeze causing the curtains to sway slightly. He can feel your hands curled around his waist, his tail wrapped around your leg respectively. He stares at you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, your soft snores seemingly filling up the room.

Silly Herbivore. He muses, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You're so vulnerable, nestled against his chest. Wholeheartedly clinging onto him as if you were afraid he'd disappear. As he stares at you, he can't help the slight bitterness that wells up in his throat.

Why did you choose him out of everyone? Out of pity? He's never been good enough. The elders and servants back home made that quite obvious enough. He almost laughs out loud at the thought. He would never be good enough, would never be anyone's first choice, and would never put in enough effort because he was just too damn lazy.

A worthless, selfish, arrogant, too prideful for his own good, lazy, a good-for-nothing second prince who will never amount to anything.

Does he even deserve you?

Your slight movements startle him out of his thoughts as he stares down at you, blinking up at him with bleary eyes.

"Leona?" You mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Can't sleep? That's unusual," you tease him, shooting him a sleepy grin. Unwittingly, Leona feels the edges of his lips quirk up, "I was planning on it, until you started squirming around," he huffed. You study his face, a frown marring your features. Leona pokes your brow where it's creased, chuckling slightly, "Don't do that, your face will get stuck like that." You scowl at him, "I'm not a kid," you grumble, "Besides you have that look on your face and I'm worried about you."

Leona stares at you, an eyebrow raised, "Mind elaborating on what 'that look' means." You sit up so that you're face to face with him. "You know, that look! When you get all broody and emo, and all 'oh my sevens im so angsty grr'. That look." Leona wrinkles his nose at your wording, "Very funny Herbivore." You continue to stare at him, concern causes your brow to crease even more.

"Leona, what's wrong? I can tell something's up with you. I know you don't like opening up, and that's fine, but you know I'm here for you, right?" You reach over, taking his hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. Leona's breath hitches in his throat for a second, he finds himself shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he finds your gaze trained on his.

Not looking away from him, holding his gaze unwaveringly. Genuine sincerity in your eyes.

"Leona." His ears twitch at the sound of his name being called. Your voice is firm, to get his attention, but soft enough that he doesn't feel the urge to flinch away. He sighs, feeling that you wouldn't let this matter go easily.

"I know you are. If you want the truth, no I'm not fine." Leona grimaces, this feeling of opening himself up was foreign to him. "I'm far from fine. I'm just.....what did I do to deserve you?" His voice breaks a little at the last part, but he continues. "I'm worthless, selfish, arrogant, too prideful for my own good, lazy, a good-for-nothing second prince who will never amount to anything. Compared to Farena or that damned lizard Malleus, I'm nothing. I have nothing. I will never be anything more because I will always be overshadowed by people like them." He takes a second to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I've always had to work hard to earn my keep only for everything to crumble like sand. All my hard work amounting to nothing because someone just so happens to be lucky enough to just be better." His ears flatten against his head out of irritation.

You listen to his words, staying silent. You give him a moment to catch his breath before hesitantly reaching over, pressing a hand to his cheek. Leona flinches, but then leans into your touch after a brief second. "Hey...look at me," you nudge his face so that he's staring at you.

"Look, I will admit you can be selfish, hell sometimes kind of a dick. You irritate me and sometimes I want to strangle you cause you won't let me get to class on time because you won't get off me." You pause, before continuing, "But you are not worthless. And you're not a good-for-nothing second prince. I love you, faults and all. You, Leona Kingscholar, are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me okay? I would go to hell and back for your stinky ass." Leona laughs softly at your nickname for him, leaning more into your hand. "You are worthy. I didn't choose to love you because I felt pity for you, I love you because of who you are. You say that all your hard work crumbles to sand? I've seen you pick yourself back up again. You're passionate about what you're interested in, and even if you won't outwardly say it, I know you care. You're not a saint by any means, far from it. But that's what I love about you. You're flawed and imperfect, and I say that's better than some perfect curated image of who you're supposed to be." You poke his chest to emphasize your point.

"So don't you ever question why I love you okay?" Your thumb brushes over the scar over his left eye, pressing a soft kiss to his eyelid. His eyelashes tickle your face as you do so. "I love you, scars and all. And I'll say it as many times as I need to."

Leona stares at you, a mix of emotions in his gaze. He clears his throat, his tail tugging you closer to him. "Fuck...that was hot," he smirks, leaning in, his nose brushing against yours. "Seriously? I give you this long speech and thats what you have to say?" You roll your eyes playfully, smacking his shoulder lightly. Leona's laughter rumbles in his throat as a hand gently holds onto the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Despite his rough exterior, his kisses are gentle, his lips molding against yours. His other hand finds its way to your waist, holding you in place as you straddle his hips.

The two of you part for air, small gasps can be heard between you. You wrap your arms around his neck as you settle next to him, head nestled in his neck. Leona adjusts his position into a more comfortable one, his chin resting against the top of your head. The two of you lay in silence, the only audible sound being the occasional breeze that ruffles the curtains. Slowly you find yourself falling into the embrace of sleep.

"Herbivore?" You hear his voice above you. "Mhmm?" you mumble sleepily, feeling your eyes drooping.

"....I love you." You smile, hearing his words, before drifting off.

Ensuring that you're asleep, Leona leans over, kissing your forehead, watching your sleeping face. "....Thank you for being in my life.....and for not giving up on me," he whispers, before settling against you and drifting off himself.

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[captain-mj]

G’day Captain can I please request soap and ghost trying to shower together while on leave or after a mission but one of them (Ghost) has the water way to hot so the other (Soap) just sits in the bathroom keeping each other company and giving reassurance that they’re both alive and okay. hurt/comfort or full fluff up to you, gen or teen not explicit please just after some comforting vibes after the game that shall not be mentioned.

Have a great timezone!

Yeah I can write some gentle fluff! Also I saw your second ask and I appreciate it! We're all good dw :)

Ghost and Soap had just spent the past six weeks in the middle of nowhere and Ghost wanted nothing more than to just take a hot shower.

Soap hissed the moment he touched the water. He had been lucky enough to get in a few hours earlier and shower beforehand, but he was clingy as hell after missions, not that Ghost was any better. "Jesus, Simon. Think you could get it any hotter?"

"No. I tried."

Soap groaned and looked at the water and then his skin which had taken a bright red hue. "Yeah, I'm not getting in that."

Ghost finished undressing and got into the water. Any other day, he may have turned the water down so Soap could join but his back hurt too much. He started to wash himself, feeling some humanity sink back into him.

Soap sat at the sink and started to brush his teeth. He listened to Ghost scrub himself clean. "Use the conditioner I brought."

"I don't get why." Ghost grumbled but Soap could hear the bottle opening. "It's just hair."

"I like my men well groomed." Soap answered and rinsed his mouth out. He waited there silently, just listening to the sounds of Ghost.

Ghost hummed softly and Soap closed his eyes.

"Given up by Linkin Park?"

"Bingo."

"Think you could scream for seventeen seconds?"

Ghost mused over it. "Nah. Probably not." He changed the song and it took Soap a lot longer this time.

"Addicted to you by Saving Able?"

"I've let you listen to too much of my music."

"Probably. Let me try." Soap started to hum. He kept with the older rock vibe since he wanted Ghost to have a change. He got two notes out.

"Lips of an Angel by Hinder. I don't like that song. Do another one."

Soap laughed and tried a different one. It was a popular one but Ghost wasn't guessing it. He started to sing the lyrics too.

"Seriously? You don't know Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles?"

Ghost opened the curtain, smiling. Soap brightened and looked him over. "Course I know it. I just like hearing you sing." He pulled on some boxers, stretching. Soap knew he needed to do something or else Ghost would get dressed and put the mask back on, so he attacked him. He kissed along Ghost's face and got his attention.

Simon grumbled but melted right into him. "Johnny..." He pulled him closer. "I'm so glad you're here."

Johnny kissed him softly, running his fingers through Ghost's wet hair. "I know. Glad I can finally be with you again."

They held each other close and hummed softly. Soap traced his fingers over his scarring and Simon purred. "Johnny, you wanna lay down? We can put on a movie."

"Sounds great." Soap walked with him, holding his hand. "Maybe one of your old horror movies?"

"I love you, Johnny."

Soap kissed Ghost's hand and walked with him to Ghost's bedroom. He pressed into him and they snuggled up together. Ghost picked something random. Soap couldn't remember it at least.

They snuggled up together and ended up falling asleep

[jjoongstar]

𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

fluff | hongjoong x reader | wc: 908

The sun is setting, and you're there in his arms. He held you tight, but also soft. You let your guard down, and relaxes in his presence. Chilling with him on the sofa at the balcony of your shared apartment, enjoying the lovely view. The gentle late evening breeze brushing over the two of you. He plays with the strands of your hand, while you enjoy looking at the beautiful sunset, he enjoys watching the magnificent view in his embrace. Your lovely features shine so much more under the golden light by the sun. The soft hues makes every curve of your face more lovelier, and it always made his heart flutters. Wondering what he did in his life deserve such a person. You lean back on him and he wonders off to your neck and inhales your scent. He could never get tired of you. He loves its so much you could feel his lips smiling at the skin of your neck. It tickles a bit but you just laughed it off softly.

"The sun is gone now, can we go back inside? It's cold out here,". He broke the silence first after the sun fully set, they sky getting darker by time. You sit up and turn around to get a look at him, you couldn't help but let out giggled upon noticing his nose and ears were red from the night breeze. You agreed and pinch his cute, sharped and well built nose. He has such a perfect nose. You put your hands around his neck and he gently lifts you off and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. He kisses your lips softly, reassuring you, as he makes his way bringing the both of you inside and he places you gently on the bed. You watch him walk away from you, whining to him due to the loss of warmth from him, "Baby, I'm just grabbing something for us from the kitchen, I'll back, don't worry, I'm not leaving you," he chuckles at your behavior. You've really grown attached to that man. He has his back facing you. It got you thinking, all of the memories, the moments you all had together throughout your relationship with him.

You never believed in love until you met him. Never knew he could hold your heart and kept it all to himself. His choice of words to you are more than anything. A man full of wise words. The songs he created all dedicated to you, it's all about you, you're his muse. He always puts you first in any situation. He never looked at anyone else, other than you. But sometimes he can be a little bossy. But it made your heart dance. He likes to yap around and all you could see is a cute little man.

The sound of the bedroom door being closed, the room went dark for a while, until he opens the curtains in the room as wide as possible. He sat down beside you, 2 bottles of coke and a few sweets and snacks he brought in. You went through scanning all the packs of snacks and gasped excitedly when your hands lands on your favourites, "I was walking by a store and saw them, it reminds me of you, I knew you love them," he said gently as his hand strokes your cheeks. God you love him so much, and so does he. You held his face with both of your hands, moving your body straddling his hips, and peppers him with kisses to his whole face. His forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose. His lips. He held the back of your head, to ease the movement and angles you to kiss you better. Soft, gentle loving kisses. He tastes so good, so familiar, so sweet, sweet like candy, you can't get enough of him. You felt his lips curve upwards as you were so needy kissing him. He was the first to pull away and lets you take a few breaths, he chuckles, "I already ate a few," he admitted. Knew it. No wonder it made you crazy more for him. He leans back in tasting your lips more at every angle. The room was filled with soft kissing sounds and sounds of the two of you giggling at each other. His hands wandering around your the bare skin of your waist. Your back. His touches were soft and it send shiver to your spine. "Just a slight touch and you're already like this,". "It's shows how down bad I am for you.", you respond squishing his cheeks with one hand. He looks into your eyes. His dark eyes shines like stars with dim light in the room by the moonlight. Every look, every touch, makes you wanna give him your body.

He lays down pulling you with him and ended up on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat. Your eyes darts outwards, the window, the moon in the dark night sky, the moonlight shining slightly in the room. His arms wraps around securely around your waist. He knows just what it does, when he holds you tightly. Gentle strokes on your head and back. Soft touches that always makes you melt. "I love you so much, my moonlight", he said placing a soft kiss on your head. You give off a soft laughing hum, "I never knew you could hold moonlight in your hands,".

He calls me moonlight too.

A/n: moonlight by ariana grande was on repeat for days, and it always reminds me of hj, so I kinda had to wrote it down cuz I can't get him out of my head :)

[thewidowsledger]

Secrets Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 6: Sweet Dreams | 3.9k

© thewidowsledger 2023 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairing: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: None (Warnings or none, minors do not interact; this is an 18+ series fiction)

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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"Can I get a private show?"

You're internally shaking, switching your glance over the unconscious body lying on the floor and Natasha. You didn't even notice the wad of cash she flashed on you.

"Y-yeah, well…w-well, I-uhh…" you want to call a bouncer but where are they when you need them most?! Why is this place lacking bouncers tonight? Other nights when you work aren't like this. Is this club facing bankruptcy or something? You glanced at Natasha and she just gave you a playful smirk with a hint of a concerned look.

You know your place, you keep reminding yourself.

"Y/N, know your place. Got that?" Penelope's threat keeps echoing in your head.

You have no choice now, but you are quick to make a plan.

"This way."

You walked your way out of the balcony. At this point you were praying internally that no one would notice you with this woman behind your back, especially Penelope.

You nervously led Natasha to the bar, she noticed how you asked the bartender where the private rooms are. It was because you had never been to that place.

"Damn, you do private shows now I see." Sam smirked as he glanced over at Natasha, his eyes suddenly traveled in her bloody hands. "Oh shit," He looked at you with worried eyes and you just gave him an 'I know right' look, you were a little shaken and he could clearly see it, he slowly placed his hands over the counter top of the bar, "You okay? Do you want me to—"

"No, Sam. I'm fine, " you reached his hands and he pointed you to the halls where the private rooms are. "Thanks, Sammy."

As you walked through the hall, your heart started to pound heavily, wishing she didn't hear any of it. You chose the room in the end of the hall and opened the thick curtains for Natasha to get inside.

"Here, I-uhh…I'm going to go to Penelope so—"

"Penelope?" Natasha didn't let you finish.

"Yeah, I-I uhh, well she told me that she's booked tonight and…I saw her earlier…with you so—"

"I don't want her." Natasha once again didn't let you finish. She threw herself at the sofa.

This was the first time you heard someone say that they don't like Penelope. In a soft whisper to yourself, you mused, "Everybody wants Penelope…"

"Well, I don't." Natasha interrupted your thoughts this time.

You were shocked at her reply and her tone when she said it was a plain reply but heavy, you didn't even realize that she heard you talk to yourself. To hide your embarrassment you crossed your arms, hoping you looked intimidating, "Why'd you book her then?"

"I didn't. My friend did, he booked her for me." Natasha chuckled at your question and at your sudden change of behavior.

"Well, why didn't you—"

"Because…" Natasha leaned her back against the sofa properly, "I don't like her. I did consider my friends' offer. But I said that if I like her, then I will have her, but I didn't so…I promise, I don't like her."

Well, she didn't let you finish again, for the third time.

"I didn't ask you if you like her…" You frowned, muttering to yourself. She just chuckled at you.

You watched her figure sitting comfortably in the leather sofa, her legs wide open, her right arm straightened at the top as her bloody and bruised fingertips tapped the sofa. You gulped nervously at the sight of her, your face heating up like a burning kettle.

You're fucked up, you don't do private shows. You haven't even experienced getting to anyone's lap. Not ever. You didn't sign up to any of this. The plan was, once you get her here, you go get Penelope after so they could have…their planned shit. Although you hated the idea of it.

But right now the only thing you know is…you are fucking screwed.

You know your place, now you're lost.

You stood straight in front of her, you have no choice now. You waited for her signal for you to start.

"Well, why don't you sit because you've been standing there for what seems like hours." She glanced up at you.

"Sit?" You asked her dumbly, "You don't want me to…" You immediately brushed off the thoughts you were thinking earlier as you sat across her, "Of course thank you."

At least she won't let you do a lap dance for her…or maybe she wanted more than that? Fuck.

"Got a name?" She asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your eyes were glued to her bruised and bloody hands. A deep sense of concern welling up inside you. You noticed how veiny her hands were, your eyes trailed up to her broad shoulders, up to her jaw until you met her eyes. You almost swallowed your tongue, "I uhh, It's Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N."

Natasha chuckled when she noticed that you just checked her out, "Hm, Y/N Y/L/N..." she repeated in sa soft tone.

"Can you wait here?" You quickly asked.

"What? Why?" Now she was alarmed at your question as if she doesn't want you to go anywhere.

"I'm going to get my bag, so I can..." You hesitantly pointed her hand but your voice laced with sincerity.

"Oh, this is nothing. I've had the wor—I mean no need, I can handle this. I'm fi—"

"Please, my conscience won't let me sleep." You're the one who didn't let her finish this time. You reminded her of the same words she said the night the two of you met. When she asked to walk you home because her conscience won't let her sleep if she didn't. "I promise, I'll come back."

Natasha glanced away at you, crossing her arms together, "Go…"

You felt a slight pain with her reply, "Don't squeeze your hand please." You told her and pointed at her right hand.

"Oh, I-okay," Natasha watched as you walked out to the room leaving her alone.

⧗

As you entered the room, you found yourself alone. There are no other girls in here, you reminded yourself. You quickly untied the lace of your heels and kicked them away. You didn't have time to undress, so you just grabbed your jogging pants and quickly put them on. You were panicking and stumbling with every step as you circled the room.

As you made your way out you snatched the heels from the ground and stuffed it in your bag as you walked to the hallway. Your gaze fell upon the private exit, your initial instinct was to walk away. Your mind was debating for a second, you hated it. But your empathy outweighed your desire to leave. You gave her your word, you promised to come back.

The cold air of the club welcomed you as you entered, you groaned as you forgot where you placed your windbreaker jacket. Not wanting to throw any tantrum, you slightly ducked and tiptoed your way to the bar so no one would notice you.

"Damn, you look like shit!" Sam was startled by your presence.

"I know," You are wearing your dress earlier as your top, jogging pants, and your pink slides as your slippers. One strap of your backpack clinging on your right shoulder. You really do look like shit right now. "Give me a shot of Lemon-drop please."

Sam playfully raised an eyebrow, teasing you about your preference, "Still a baby I see," he jested, knowing it was not the strongest or most potent of alcohol, "Give me a sec baby girl. And by the way how's the show going?"

"Eww Sam! Shut it, I already gave you a sec, give me my shot!" You rolled your eyes on him. "And there is no show, okay." You muttered to yourself with a childish-like tone.

"Lemon-drop for the baby girl." Sam handed you your drink with a wink.

You raised your glass in a mock defiance, joining in the banter. "Cheers to keeping it light for the baby girl!"

"Speaking of keeping it light, what happened earlier wasn't light," Sam suddenly gave you a warning at the same time concerned look, "There were a couple of scary gals that went over the balcony, they exited with a mushed-bloody-faced guy. You take care, Y/N. And the lady you're with."

The heat in your throat caused by your drink was replaced with a sudden cold, "Yeah…thanks Sammy. Keep my drink on that woman's tab. Her name is Natasha."

"Okay baby girl!" Sam shouted, laughing as he watched you rush over the private rooms. You just gave him a finger while clutching your backpack.

⧗

As you walk to the hall you couldn't help but think about what happened earlier, why would you need to take care of yourself? It's normal to have a fight in the club, for sure that guy would forget that it happened. You were blinded with that thought in your mind.

You opened the curtains you found Natasha sitting still on the sofa.

"I thought you ditched me," she said not looking at you as she picked the bruises in her knuckles.

"Don't do that!" You swat her hands away from her bruised knuckles as you rushed and knelt in front of her.

Feeling a sense of panic rising within you, you quickly grabbed your bag from behind, and frantically started rummaging through your stuff.

Your heart raced as you desperately searched for your pouch where you put some medical aids. With a flicker of desperation, you grasped the bottom of your bag firmly and turned it upside down. Your stuff spilled out onto the ground, scattering in disarray. Your make-up kit, loose change, the heels you wore earlier during the performance, rolled and clinked against each other, but your focus remained on finding your pouch.

"Sorry about that," you mumbled, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Natasha just chuckled at the sight of you. And her focus suddenly turned on to something—a thing that was clattered in front of her.

Finally, amidst the chaos, your eyes landed on the small, fabric pouch you had been desperately searching for. You swiftly retrieved it from the mess and held it up triumphantly, almost like a child who had just found their lost toy.

Your frustration was evident as you grasped the pouch, only to find a lone bandaids staring back at you. You sighed in disappointment, realizing that it was not nearly enough to properly cover Natasha's bruised knuckles.

"Great, Y/N. Fucking great." You mumbled to yourself.

"I-uh, here. This is the only thing I have, give me your hand so I…" You extended your hand towards Natasha, silently requesting her injured hands.

Natasha gave you her bruised hands without a second.

You were slightly shaking when you held it. Her hands were slender and graceful, with long, tapered fingers that seemed to possess a natural elegance. The skin was smooth and flawless.

As you worked, you found yourself captivated by the feel of Natasha's hands, its warmth, strength and comfort beneath your own.

Know your effing place, Y/N...

You were lucky she didn't notice you almost squirming while tending her wounds and you also didn't notice that it was because Natasha was focusing on something else.

"Here, y'go. Done. I'm sorry that is the on—"

"Tell me more about it, " she suddenly asked, her eyes still focused on something beside you.

I swear to the love of Goddess of War if this woman interrupted me again, I'm going to kiss her. Wh—kiss?! Y/N…know your place for fucksake!

You immediately released your hold of her hand shaking away your thoughts messing in your mind. You turned your focus on your mess lying on the ground as you anxiously picked up your backpack and stuffed your things inside.

"What are you talking about?"

You didn't know that Natasha has been looking at your pointe shoe the whole time.

"Your dreams."

You gripped the shoe before stuffing it on your backpack, you were feeling embarrassed because of the stitches it had on it.

"That's just it..."

When you didn't get a reply from her you decided to take a slight glance on what she is doing, just a slight. As you looked up at Natasha, you saw a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She was examining her hand.

She actually heard your response but she just didn't want you to feel like she's pushing you to tell her more about it.

Natasha's gaze focused on the bandaid, adorned with a playful teddy bear design, and she couldn't help but find it cute. Find you cute.

"I'm sorry about that, I bought that on sale…" you sheepishly apologized.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha found your frustration endearing and your genuine desire to help comforting. In Natasha's mind, your actions and the way you reacted to the situation only added to her already growing fondness for you.

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

Natasha's unexpected invitation caught you off guard. You hesitated for a moment, your mind filled with caution and the awareness that Natasha was still a stranger to you. But something with her, sparked a sense of intrigue within you; plus you badly wanted to get out of this place.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you found herself nodding in agreement.

With a nod, you guided Natasha out through the halls of the private room. When you made it to the club you ducked in an instant as you passed the bar so no one would notice you sneaking around, you giggled when Natasha mirrored your action.

You led her towards a private entrance and exit door of the club, a gateway to escape the vibrant chaos and slip into the night undetected. The same door you didn't expect to exit with a patron from the club.

As you both stepped out into the cool night air, a sense of liberation washed over you.

Natasha glanced at you as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. She was once again mesmerized by you.

"So, this is where you also enter the club?" She suddenly asked, trying to act normal after staring at you for too long.

"Yeah..." You responded not looking at her, your hands sliding in your pants pocket.

Her answers as to why she didn't find you going into the club a few weeks ago was now answered, but maybe if she considered Bucky's idea of entering the club she could've found you sooner.

You broke the silence slash awkwardness between you, "Well…I'll go now, thank you for…" You don't actually know why you're thanking her, "Everything?" You were embarrassed with your statement, your cheeks are now again burning hot.

"Wait, let me walk you home again. Please, a thank you for…" Natasha raised her right hand with your teddy bear bandaids around it, "This."

You found her cute when she did it, the contrast between her toughness and mysterious persona and the cuteness of the bandaid brought a smile to your face. You shook your head with a chuckle.

"I insist on walking you home. Please...my conscience won't le—"

"Let you sleep, yeah." You finished her statement with a slight smirk creeping in your lips.

You started walking ahead of her, but she didn't follow you as you didn't answer her asking your permission if she could walk you home again.

"Are you coming or what!" You shouted, turning at her.

You giggled when she started walking running towards you, when you saw her nearing you turned to start walking again.

You both walked together through the quiet streets, the cool night breeze gently brushing against your skin. There was a palpable sense of silence, an unspoken tension between you, mingled with a burgeoning comfort that eased the initial awkwardness. You both didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words, instead allowing your shared presence to speak volumes.

As you both walked through the chilly night, you couldn't help but shiver, your arms wrapping around yourself in an attempt to ward off the cold. You also tried not to make Natasha notice that you're cold.

But still Natasha noticed your discomfort and, without hesitation, she stopped her pace, and began unbuttoning her suit jacket.

"Oh, no, no, no…"

But she already removed it.

Your eyes widened when she closed the distance between you, you could literally feel her breath as she took your backpack. You immediately turned your head away when she started wrapping her suit around you.

"You look like you could use some extra warmth." She said tugging the suit properly on you.

"And you'll be the one getting cold now." You protested with a frown.

"I'll be fine. You need it more than I do." Natasha smiled gently as she took a step back, she clung one of the straps of your backpack to her shoulder.

You felt the jacket's warmth envelop you. The fabric carried the faint scent of Natasha's perfume, adding a touch of intimacy to the gesture.

"Thank you," you murmured, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Natasha simply nodded with a satisfied look, her own attire offering little protection from the cold. She shrugged off the concern, focusing instead on the way her suit suited you, enhancing your beauty. It was a small sacrifice for a fleeting moment of shared warmth.

As you both continued to walk, now wrapped again with a gentle silence, the exchange of warmth fostering a sense of closeness. You still feel some curiosity and mystery towards Natasha, but at the same time her presence makes you comfortable, at ease as if you knew her for a very long time.

"I uhh, I actually don't live on…wherever block I told you last time." You revealed, breaking the silence.

"And I think we just passed that block and we didn't even noticed," You turned to look back with a chuckle, an awkward one.

"Oh…" Natasha's expression remained unreadable, but her eyes showed a flicker of understanding at the same time embarrassment.

Another question was once again answered, but of course Natasha didn't want you to know that she had her men scattered on the block you said you live in or how she checked each studio in that area. You don't even know what she really is…

The truth could wait for now…

"Yeah, I actually live at 890 Fifth Ave." You said, not daring to look at her.

"Oh, so you need to get to the train? That's like three stations away from here right?" She asked, glancing at you.

"Yeah…" You nodded, looking at your feet as you walked. Guilt consuming you, "We're actually heading there now, just a few walks and we're at the station. But I can han—"

"Did you get home safe that night?" You shot your eyes towards her, you were stunned by her concern. You didn't even care that she stopped you once again from talking when you tried to say that you can walk yourself to the station. You expected her to be disappointed or cold but…she wasn't.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't." You shrugged and smiled at her sheepishly.

It's just a simple thing. Everyone can lie about where they live, people even have fake names when they're out in public, and she was a stranger and still is a stranger but you felt guilty about it.

But… is she still a stranger? Was she ever a stranger to you?

The train station was nearing, Natasha's heart sank. The thought of never seeing you again weighed heavily on her mind, creating a sense of unease she couldn't ignore. Even though she already knows where you truly live, she felt a bittersweet pang of reluctance, not wanting to let go of the moment she had with you.

"If you…ever had any dreams or came up with any dreams. Would you mind…telling them to me?" Natasha couldn't help but suddenly ask. Wishing she didn't cross any lines.

You were taken aback by the question, "Why would I do that?" you gave her a mocking fake gasp and let out a faint laugh—almost an evil laugh catching Natasha off guard.

Natasha's brows furrowed, her mind trying to comprehend your response. She let out a nervous chuckle as she felt embarrassed, thinking she went too far.

But then, a mischievous glimmer danced in your eyes, "You have an obsession with my dreams, Natasha." You playfully teased her.

She shivered when her name came out of your mouth. She was stoned at the moment with her cheeks reddening, and her voice was dying inside her throat.

You noticed how nervous she'd gotten. And you were satisfied with how nervous you made her be, "I was just playing with you."

Natasha sighed as you revealed your playful intent. The tension that had momentarily built up dissipated, replaced by a lighthearted atmosphere between you. Natasha couldn't help but smile at the clever way you had deflected her question.

"But okay...I will." You smiled, glancing to take a good look at her, "I'd love that…"

The surprise on Natasha's face was unmistakable as she struggled to process the unexpected turn of events. She hadn't anticipated that you would agree to telling her your dreams so readily, particularly after your initial response. She couldn't help but beam with happiness as she took a glance at you.

"It's not like there are other people that wants to hear them, you know…" your voice almost cracked. You looked away, trying to blink the threats of the incoming tears in your eyes.

"I…I love hearing them." Natasha muttered, but you didn't hear it as the sound of the incoming train invaded your ears.

The train arrived in a soft hiss.

"Well, I guess this is my train." You faced her, "May I?" You pointed sheepishly at your bag.

"Oh, yeah. Here." Natasha quickly removed the strap of the bag out of her shoulder and handed the bag to you gently.

You were about to return the suit back to Natasha, but she immediately reached out and took hold of the suit, her hand grazing on yours in the process.

But instead of taking the suit back, Natasha's gaze locked with you. Without hesitating, she closed the distance between you, her movements swift yet gentle.

"Keep it," Natasha carefully tugged the suit properly on your shoulders, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Her hands moved with a tenderness, adjusting the fabric to ensure it sat comfortably on your frame. As she did, Natasha's fingertips slightly brushed against your exposed chest, sending a faint electric tingle through your own body. "It looks better on you anyway."

The station announcer's voice resonated through the bustling train station, signaling imminent departure and last call for the passengers. The countdown had begun, a few people around you hastened their steps, heading the call and making their way towards the train. The urgency filled the air, accompanied by the sound of footsteps.

Yet, you both remained rooted in place, face to face. Unwilling to part ways.

You instinctively took a step back, a slight shyness washed over you, causing you to avert Nastasha's gaze momentarily.

The open door of the train station seemed to beckon you, urging you to walk in.

You turned to walk through the door but a surge of emotion overwhelmed you. You closed your eyes in a moment while taking a deep breath, you gripped the strap of your backpack like your life depended on it.

Know your place, Y/N.

Know your place

Know your place

Know your place

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat when you rushed back at her and placed a swift yet tender kiss on her cheek.

"Bye, Natasha."

Secrets Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist

[deancaspinefest]

Whatever Makes You Happy

Author: Rex_Writes | Artist: Kit Shay

Posting on Sunday March 24

An aspiring songwriter, Dean Winchester spends his days in the local coffee shop, which just happens to be run by the most gorgeous man he has ever seen, Castiel Novak. This gorgeous man becomes his muse, songs flow out of Dean’s pen with the speed of a rushing river. Unfortunately, just like getting his songs heard, Castiel is just another thing Dean can’t have. He’s had his heart broken by a straight guy before and he can’t go through that again. Thankfully, Dean meets Lee Webb who is an amazing singer, AND he’s actually /interested/ in Dean. Will Dean stay with the man who’s a sure thing or will he risk everything for whatever makes him happy?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and steady his shaking fingers.

"Hey. You're gonna be great. They're gonna love you," Charlie said as she placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder.

"It's not them I'm worried about. It's him. What if he just thinks I'm some sort of…creep." Dean huffed softly and dropped his head to his chin. "This was a stupid idea, Charlie, I can't do this." Dean stood up from the stool he had been sitting on. "Charlie?" Charlie had disappeared, but Dean saw the curtains flutter close as he heard her voice over the speaker.

"Guys, gals, and non-binary pals, welcome to open mic night, or as I like to call it, Artist Validation Night. Our first performer is a little shy, so let's give a warm round of applause for Dean Winchester!"

The curtains on the mock stage in the coffee shop swooshed open and Dean was suddenly faced with too many familiar faces. He couldn't do this. This was too much, he didn't sing in front of people. Hell, Charlie wouldn't even know he could sing if she hadn't come home early one day and heard him while he was taking a shower.

But here he was. There was only one person he was singing to, but he forced himself not to look, instead focusing on finding the right chords.

You were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You look like an angel Your skin makes me cry

Dean closed his eyes as he sang. Piercing blue eyes flashed through his mind.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Dean knew that he missed notes, and his tone wasn’t perfect, but that's what happened when you put all your emotion into a song. His fingers deftly slid over the frets, playing the chords he knew by heart. Dean took a deep breath and finally lifted his eyes from his guitar during the next section, easily finding those blue eyes at the back of the room. He stared into those gorgeous blue eyes singing the next lines without looking away.

I want you to notice When I'm not around So fuckin' special I wish I was special

Dean broke the connection first by double checking he had the right finger placement for the upcoming bridge. He took a grounding breath and launched into the bridge.

Whatever makes you happy Whatever you want You're so fuckin' special I wish I was special

Dean looked back up to meet the icy blue stare yet again, but he was gone. Fuck. He knew this was a shit idea. He knew Cas was straight. He was gonna kill Charlie.

Dean finished the song, finding a cruel truth in the last chorus.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

(continue reading on Ao3 on Sunday March 24)

[pandoradoesotherstuff]

The Courage we Need to be Joyful...

------------------------------------------

A/N: After much discussion with @astrandofgold, repeated listening of the soundtrack and one let's play later: I'm fucking obsessed with Stray Gods. The story is engaging, and the songs are beautiful and powerful. So of course your girl here had to try her hand at writing something for it! This is a sweet fluffy love confession Apollo x gn!reader.

( I based reader on the Greek deity Circe, known for their vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Reader is mentioned to have the eidolon of that idol)

Warning: contains mild spoilers for the game and the ending!

Enjoy! ❤️

You smile contentedly to yourself as you gently stir the cauldron that's simmering merrily in the fireplace. Your kitchen smells like lavender and fresh herbs, sunlight filtering in through the voile curtains that covered the window. The sound of bickering voices outside your apartment in the Olympus block catches your attention. There's a moment of silence before someone knocks loudly at the door.

You stir the latest concoction once more before making your way over to the front door, it was Grace. The newest last muse who had been given Calliope's eidolon, opened up the secrets on her death and generally turned the lives of the idols upside down. (About time really.) Then standing almost shyly behind her was Apollo, the idol of prophecy and enlightenment himself. You smile warmly at them both, trying hard not to let your eyes wander over the open shirted sun god in front of you.

"Grace, Apollo, what can I do for you both?"

Grace playfully elbows Apollo with a mischievous smirk.

"This guy here has something he'd like to talk to you about."

Your stomach flips nervously but you don't let it show on your face.

"Sure, come on in. Make yourself at home."

You move to the side as the muse ushers him in the door, Apollo looking like a deer in the headlights.

"Well, I'm going to let you two crazy kids get to it. I'll see you later." Grace shoots Apollo a meaningful look before leaving quickly. Something was definitely going on here.

"Do you mind coming through to the kitchen for a moment? I have a new mixture brewing and I'd rather not have it burnt to the bottom of the cauldron."

The small laugh he gives is like music to your ears as he follows you through the small apartment.

Apollo sets himself down at your small round kitchen table as you lift the mini cauldron off of the fire and onto a pot stand on the side.

"What is it?" He asks as you add a little pinch more of powdered satyr hoof from the clay pots that lined your countertop.

"A simple sleeping draft...for Athena. After everything she's finding it hard to find rest so..."

"Ah", was all he said. Not needing any more explanation. Admittedly he was surprised you were still helping her after everything, but he also knew you had a weakness for helping those in need. It was part of your nature to help no matter what.

You sit down at the other side of the table, wishing you had something to do with your hands instead of nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves.

"What was it you wanted to speak to me about? Is everything okay?" You glance up to see him quickly looking away with what appears to be an ever so slight blush on his cheeks.

"Much better now that the trial is over with and...and I know Calliope is at peace."

"I wish you could have told me about the prophecy, Athena, the Furies...any of it really." You reach out to place your hand over his larger one, a sad smile is playing on his lips. "I would have helped you in any way I could, I hope you know that."

He looks up at you with the same sad smile, turning his hand over to entwine your fingers. His hand feels strong and warm in yours. It feels almost natural.

"I couldn't. It wasn't safe. For all I knew I would have been cursing you to the same fate as Calliope. And I can't...I can't bear the thought of any harm coming to you". He sighs, running his other hand through his hair. You don't say anything, hoping it might prompt him to continue.

"We've known each other a long time. A long long time. I still remember the way your face lit up and you said my name when Circe's memories finally returned to you. They picked well with you for what it's worth."

You squeezed his hand gratefully, smiling shyly at him.

"It was the first real solid memory that had returned to me after almost two years. Before that I had only had little snatches of dejavu. But you...you I saw clear as day in my minds eye, and it felt like no time had passed since we last spoke all those years ago."

Apollo leans closer, now clasping your hand in both of his. Your heart beat races as you look deep into his eyes and see nothing but sincerity gazing back at you.

"This is...difficult to say and I guess I'm sorry I never realised it sooner. I've spent so long in the dark of my own mind, scared of hurting anyone with my prophecies, tired of losing the people I care about. Beyond terrified to let anyone in and then Grace, she..."

Oh. Grace. Of course. The beautiful last muse he'd helped to save. Of course it was her, she was talented and compassionate, it was bound to happen. Of course he'd fallen for her.

"She helped me to realise that the courage I need to be joyful was, well, inside me all along."

You're nodding along, a smile forced on your lips as you try to listen to this painful confession without flinching.

"I just have to reach out and take that chance".

"I'm happy for you a-"

"-I'm in love with you."

You freeze in place, mind completely blank and reeling from the confession. Could it be?

"I uh...y-you love me? You, Apollo, you...amazing, handsome, kind you...you love me?"

He stays quiet but squeezes your hand reassuringly. You're thankful he was giving you this time to process his words.

"Are you sure?" You ask quietly eventually, eyes cast down, still hardly believing what you'd just heard. He chuckles quietly before gently cupping your chin with one hand and tilts your face back up to look at him.

Apollo then leans over the small table, eyes flicking down to your lips briefly, lightly guiding you closer to him by his cupped hand. His lips touch yours ever so softly, a thousand butterflies exploding in your stomach at once as you kiss him back tentatively.

"I love you too," you whisper after a moment of silence. He smiles at you, bright and warm like the sun before letting go of you to pull you to your feet and into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry I took so long to say it, but luckily for me I've got till the end of time to make up for it. If you'll let me?"

You pull him down into another kiss by his unbuttoned shirt, already craving the taste of his lips and the feel of his body close to yours.

"I think I can live with that."

[blankweiss-sb]

Birthday drabble

Okay, so this might play in the same verse as the gift drabble I did for @hiding-in-the-vault

CW: blind Dream, blood and torture mention, Pandora's Vault time, un-beta'd

People were blind, they'd always been. Not literally blind, in most cases, but ...metaphorically, metaphysically, definitely emotionally. How could everyone be so wary of him, Bad mused, yet be so totally dismissive?

" Looking forward to curling up underneath a warm blanket." Antfrost yawned, the leather of his gloves stretched and worn but still steady and sturdy. Etched spells lined the seams.

When Antfrost had won a parkour challenge, Dream had gifted him these gloves with a grin and the boious claim of having bought them of one of the villagers in the village the parkour challenge had been held.

However, the gloves consisted of well-treated warhog hide - not pig hide. How the others had ever swallowed that lie Bad would never understand since villagers wouldn't have been able to access the Nether - or treat the warhog hide with diamond dusted sponges. Or enchant it with Admin-specific spells.

"You sure you're ok with taking my shift?"

Bad forced his lips to move, stretch and part, smile but not too brightly. "Yeah, go get some good rest. Only come back when you're properly rested, you silly muffin." When sharp eyes didn't waver away from Bad's face, he let his smile fall, not quite shatter, just shrink a little. "I don't have anyone waiting for me, after all."

Antfrost winced, cringing away, any suspicion hopefully wiped away and redirected. He kept his silence until they stepped in front of the hissing portal.

"Bad...you good with taking half my shift? I could stay here, you know, keep you company. You...don't actually have to be all alone." Antfrost shifted as his ears folded back and his tail wrapped around his armor covered shin.

Well, Bad didn't want that. Now, how to discourage Antfrost...ah.

"Aww, thank you but all's good." He chuckled and mimicked ruffling the top of Antfrost's head, right between his ears. Antfrost ducked away long before Bad's hand would have made contact.

"See if I care about your feelings again." Despite his parting shot, Antfrost waved and skipped through the portal.

Less than a minute later, the portal screeched and shattered at the press of a button. Now the only two inhabitants of the prison were Bad ...and Dream. Just like Bad had planned.

(Sam was ...out. He hadn't told them were he was going and Bad didn't really want to know. It was a good thing. If he didn't see Sam, it was easier to dismiss the mounting urge to rifle through another forgotten but barred with three locks vault. Nobody would benefit from Bad taking up his Scythe and wielding her to her full extent again.)

Turning on his heel, Bad marched towards the center of the prison, past check-ins, levers and iron bars until the sulfur stench of the lava burned his nostrils. His hand paused on the lever to the bridge and Bad prepared himself mentally. His other hand slipped into his pockets, curving around the rind of the Gapple he smuggled in. Its enchantments zing across Bad's palm.

With a firm breath, he pressed down the lever and the bridge groaned inching forward. Bad hurried to the front, hissing as lava droplets sizzled onto his armour when the lava curtain spluttered and stopped.

His breath hitched.

Had Bad been complaining about the sulfur stench? It was roses and daisies compared to the iron tang in Dream's cell air. Not to mention brown and dark red splattered against void black and crying purple was much more nauseating than the ever-shifting red-orange-yellow.

Dream himself had pressed into the corner opposite to his water hole. Or rather, he'd wrenched himself into the gap between the wall and lectern, somehow, muscles tense and shaking. (Not enough food - or not the right one as molding potatoes languished underneath the droppers. Admins needed way more than potatoes, especially molding one. Keeping up a server took energy, being connected to One took even more. Bad didn't believe the latter was in effect at the moment, or Dream wouldn't be here anymore.)

This was painfully familiar - only with less torture and Dream having been much, much younger.

Dropping to the floor, Bad crossed his legs and hummed. At the first note, Dream froze before a small noise vibrated through his mouth. Bad didn't know the words to the songs he was humming. He was merely humming the song back to its creator.

After humming another of Dream's humming songs back to him and a couple of lullabies, Bad smiled as Dream slipped from his hiding spot and settled against the wall. His smile widened into a grin when Dream tilted his head and Bad opened his mouth-

The mask slipped to the side, revealing just a sliver of Dream's face. It was enough. One milky eye, blood-crusted, stared at Bad's collarbones.

Dream's small smile dealt a fatal blow to Bad's heart.

Bad rearranged things in head - he needed a plan, he couldn't, couldn't, how dare they - took a second and a breath. Gulping down any negativity, he almost cooed. "Heya Dream."

"Hullo Bad, how nice of you to visit me."

Hadn't Bad seen the smile or his eyes or heard the almost crumbling of his voice, those words could have been sharp and cutting with their sardonic edge - or at least be taken as such.

"Is today my birthday or what?"

"In fact, it is."

"O-oh." No matter how humorous Dream's little falter was, laughing was the last thing on Bad's mind. Especially when the tension in Dream's body returned. "Going to give me a birthday present?"

It was so painfully clear that Dream was expecting violence. Bad hated it.

"Indeed, I will." Dream flinched when Bad flipped his dagger open and pulled out the Gapple, carefully cutting the enchanted fruit into pieces. The sound of the weapon slicing through its flesh must be scary or traumatic enough for Dream to begin trembling.

If Bad knew the words to whisper to reassure Dream, he would - but he didn't. He didn't and it was his own fault. No matter what Dream had done - and really, thinking about it, had it been any worse than what other members of the Server had done? Or at least, the punishments here didn't fit the severity of the crime, not when every other member of these lands got off scot-free - he didn't deserve this.

"Hey Dream." Bad shifted until his knee was touching Dream's. Dream almost choked on his own tongue as he tried retreating but only hit a wall. (Don't react.) "Open your mouth, dear one, the sun's coming."

For one second only the lava and the crying obsidian talked, in hisses and screeching - then a long-missed sound echoed through the cell.

Dream's wheezing laugh was lovely to hear, without any malice or taunting staining it.

"Bad, what the fuck, I'm not a little, sick kid anymore! You used that then! Like, seriously?!"

"First off, language, secondly..." Bad reached out and squeezed Dream's four spindly fingers before wrapping them around a slice of the Gapple. "Here's your gift. You've got the rest, too, but I kind of need to feed it to you now. I'm gonna look at the lava now, just tap my hand when you want more."

Settling his hand to Dream's knee, Bad turned away. For quite a while, nothing happened. Dream did absolutely nothing, Until muscles contracted underneath Bad's fingers and he listened to the scraping of Dream's mask against obsidians, small bites as teeth crunched down on an apple, the shuddering sobs and sniffles through Dream's nose while he was choking down a thin Gapple slice.

A finger feathered against Bad's knuckles, and Bad pressed another Gapple slice against it, only for it to be snatched away.

He didn't know how long it took - the cell didn't have a clock - but Bad estimated that Dream used an entire hour to eat one Gapple. Bad's resolve solidified when he turned around and carmine skin edged Dream's eyes. Dream's cheeks were still wet with tears.

"Happy Birthday, Dream."

Dream answered with choked laughter and pressed his knee against Bad's. He even patted the spot next to him and Bad didn't hesitate to slide into it. (Despite the dried blood on the wall, floor and Dream himself.) As soon as Bad settled down, Dream turned and buried his head into Bad's collarbones.

Slowly, slowly Dream dozed off. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered, like it was a secret, like no one else was ever supposed to know.

Bad had plans to make.

And a vault with three locks to unlock and rummage through.

[sammialex]

Babel

The grey, pebbled wool of your oldest sweater slips down over your hands as you type, words flowing out of your fingers and across the keys of your computer. Live and let live, you plead into the void. Vitriol spits back at you. Naive, the kind ones say. Idiot, say the rude. Traitor, say the rest.

You close the computer with a soft click, and spots burst in front of your eyelids as you press the heels of your palms into hollow sockets. Darkness has crept into the room while you were absorbed in the screen's blue brightness, and shadows loom from potted plants, various towering stacks of papers and books, and furniture that is cozy in the light of day.

No one listens. Every day you put out another letter to the editor. You write another blog. You post another picture. Every day you turn on the news and see another disaster, another shooting, another suicide, another law called FREE that will only limit freedom.

It's enough to turn someone to drastic action, you muse, and you're joking, really, you are, but some tiny part of you wonders what that drastic action would even look like. If the pen is not mightier than the sword, and surely it isn't if none of the articles and posts and memes make any sort of difference. If the sword is not mightier than the pen, and surely it isn't, if all of this violence can be caused or calmed by a word from the right person.

You don't have an answer.

The stairs creak beneath your feet, slow shuffling steps carrying you higher, closer to your bed. A slice of silvery moonlight through the window crosses your pillow, and you lean against the sill, just looking out at the sky. Stars struggle to peek through the light pollution from the nearby city, and you strain to see the brightest—there, Orion's belt. The hunter. There, his faithful dog, forever at his heels.

They watch over the sky, proud and sure, chests thrown out and blazing. Do they fear for us? You wonder. Do they know how much less we look to the sky, how hard it is to see them if we glance up? Do they resent our cynicism as it grows, generation after generation, scoffing at gods while looking to the false idols who live among us?

Perhaps they are unsurprised, watching another cycle of struggle and loss. You remember a quote you once heard, that the Earth is littered with the ruins of empires who believed they were eternal. You think of the boneyard your home is built on, the blood that was spilled to make room for your life.

The curtain grates over the rod as you close it with a sharp jerk, plunging the room into darkness. What would it take, you wonder as you crawl into your warm bed and feel guilty that you have one at all. What would it take, for humanity to stop acting the ouroboros, wrapped around and eating itself alive? Have we always been this way? Or did we climb too high, a species of Babel, meant to tear itself apart at the seams?

Your head hits the pillow, cool sheets against your cheek. Your eyelashes drag against the fabric as you blink once, twice, and then leave them closed.

What would it take, you wonder. You see how easy it would be to turn to violence, to let this helpless rage seep into action, to try and grab something, anything with two hands and do something people would have to acknowledge. You know how useless it is, that your name would be lost to the next one, and the next, day after day as the violence continues to mount, endlessly escalating.

Your sleep is uneasy.

The sun rises. Another day.

also posted on ao3 here.