#friends offered to take me and I said yes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 1 day ago

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Ooh yay! Thanks for diving into Part 1, friend! 😍

This line 😂😂 made me burst out laughing! Brilliant!

ahaha glad you liked that one! 😆

My kind of man 😉😂 Ok, when he took her home... I have no words. I think my brain short circuited...

lol right?! And Dean got a chance to do what he does best. 😜❤️‍🔥

Oh no. There was a glimmer of hope this might be more than a one-time hook up, but I have a feeling that this action (even though it's genuine) might put a dampener on that.

A glimmer for sure, but if Dean had had more time that morning, maybe she'd have been able to hook him into that breakfast date. 🫠🫠

Ooo, a little nod to AC/DC.

Yes! I'm happy you caught that 😉🤟🏽

This really does sound like the beginning of a booty call type of phone call. Well... that is a bomb shell to drop at the wedding isn't it? Of course, he will Dean’s a decent guy. He took that news remarkable well, and I could picture him reacting this way to that news.

Right? I thought it would be understandable that she misinterprets the way he tried asking her out. 😅

A MEGA bomb for sure, but she needed to tell him some time! 😅😅 Dean did take the news really well (glad you agree on his reaction lol), though time will tell if he steps up as a future father! ❤️

Of course, Sam has put two and two together and realised what is happening. I can also picture the look on his face, waiting to see what Dean's response was to the news. I could completely imagine his response if he didn't like the answer he got.

Oh yeah, we all know how smart and intuitive Sam is, and he knows the reader well lol. If he hadn't liked that answer, you already know he would've set Dean straight 🤣🤣

😂😂 Dean definitely knows his brothers tells.

lmfao that actually might've been my favorite Dean internal monologue for this chapter.

Oh ok she's one of those women... offer 'help and advice' when really it's a way for her to have a subtle dig.

Yessss exactly. 😒😒 Reader would've liked nothing more than to prove her "balloon" theory right!! lol

I absolutely loved Dean's reaction to hearing her talk negatively about herself. He was not having any of it, and I imagine he wouldn't be too happy if he found out that Lisa's 'helpful' comments were the reason for it.

Aww I'm so glad! That was a fun scene to write, despite the angstiness of it. If Dean found out Lisa had said that, he'd probably break up with her for good right there. 🙃

In a few days we'll see more of this messy quadrangle in Part 2!! 🤣

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind…

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath.

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there.

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases.

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more.

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously.

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now?

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try.

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since.

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled.

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red.

Today, you’re absolutely stunning.

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN.

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float.

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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asxgard · 15 hours ago

Text

Companionship | pt. 2

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have some late night phone calls. He struggles to open up.

Note: wow! Y’all are really so nice omg, I really appreciate all of you who took the time to like, comment or reblog. I also appreciate all you silent readers too! I’m genuinely surprised with how much traffic part 1 got, so thank you all so much! Contemplating adding this to my AO3 account from the perspective of a f!oc, but still undecided (I prefer to keep my reader works strictly for tumblr, idk why). This is definitely going to be multiple parts (my rough outline currently has ten chapters whoops).

I don’t know much about sugar babies aside from what I’ve read, so I took some liberties with my guesstimates.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap, slowburn, foul language, allusion to a panic attack, work stress, Robby trying to avoid his feelings/anxiety, my basic understanding of accounting, angst

not beta read

“You’re lucky. Someone only looking for companionship is a small pool of men. Not as lucrative as a traditional sugar baby, but if that’s more your speed, maybe reach out to some more.”

Your smile twisted, “I’m already uncomfortable with just one. Thinking about adding more makes me feel icky.”

Erin rolled her eyes, “Why? They know what they signed up for. If they wanted fidelity, then they should get a girlfriend.”

“I’m telling you, I could hook you up with a shift or two a week at the bar. I make great tips.” Marsi said, her eyes not flickering from her laptop.

You frowned. “I already gave him my number. My Google Voice number, but yeah.”

“That’s my girl!” Erin praised with a laugh.

You wondered if it was a mistake. He had not reached out since you had sent the number on the app, nearly four days prior. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. Anxiety filled your chest at the thought of having to go through the whole process again.

Or just drop it and take Marsi up on her offer.

—

Your night passed slowly, studying with your friends until dinner time, when they left. You kept your focus on the Excel spreadsheet in front of you, checking over your homework with careful eyes. Numbers were easy, they did not hold the complexities of human beings—

Your phone buzzed on the table, immediately pulling you away from your work.

You have any time to talk?

It was an unknown number. You watched as the three dots appeared immediately after, though it wasn’t hard to guess who it was.

This is Michael by the way.

So formal, you found yourself thinking with a small smile, quickly adding him to your contacts.

I have time.

It only took a few more moments before your phone started ringing. Anxiety thrummed through your system, heart beating like a drum against your ribcage. You took a long breath through your nose before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” He answered awkwardly.

“How are you?” You asked out of habit.

There were several moments of silence. “I want to say I’m okay.”

“But you’re not?”

“But I’m not.” Came his quiet reply.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Another measured silence. “No. Yes? I don’t know.”

You hummed. “I understand your hesitation, we don’t know each other. But isn’t that the whole point? I’m unconnected to your life and you basically have anonymity. I won’t pry, so we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

He was silent for a long time. You checked the call to make sure it hadn’t dropped. The seconds ticked away on the call, so he was still there. You waited.

“Just a…rough day.” He said, his tone sounding stressed. “I think I’d rather talk about your day right now.”

“My day?” You questioned, surprised.

He only hummed in response.

“Do you want the play-by-play or the cliff-notes?”

Michael exhaled a ghost of a laugh, “Give me all of it.”

You cleared your throat, “So my alarm went off at 5:20, no! 5:25, and then I got out of bed—”

He laughed, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I have early classes on Thursdays, so I was up earlier than I usually like to be…”

“Night owl?”

“Guilty.” You smiled. “But it was my forensic accounting class, which I’ve been enjoying, so I wasn’t too upset getting out of bed. Add in my morning coffee, and I was a pretty happy camper.” You paused, but he was quiet on the other end. “I had taxation today too, and despite the fact I love the numbers, learning tax law just isn’t my favorite thing.”

“Why do you like it? Accounting?”

“Oh, um,” you paused, deliberating. “I like turning unreadable stuff into a well-crafted report, turn a mess into an easy to read story of a company’s financial history. Plus, numbers are a lot less complicated than human beings.”

There was his quiet laugh again. “Yeah, I can see how that can be true.”

“As a doctor, I can imagine you would.” You were smiling.

“I’ve seen…a lot of complicated people.”

You waited a few moments, but he didn’t elaborate. People were the primary reason you had left the medical field early on in your college career — while you enjoyed being helpful, people could be too overwhelming.

“And my shift today was good, busy and boring, but easy enough.”

As you went on about your day as a payroll clerk (though vague about the company details), Michael was quiet. It was clear he needed the distraction from whatever his day had been. You explained your studying routine with your friends and your love of baking. You got the occasional hum of acknowledgment, but it was clear he just wanted to listen to you talk. You moved from topic-to-topic without complaint, pausing occasionally to make sure he did not want to comment, or change the subject.

It was late when you realized the time: 11:08.

“Michael? I’m sure I could keep going, but I’m not sure you want to hear my opinions on office politics.” Your tone was jesting.

Still no response. Furrowing your brows, you listened silently to the other end.

Small puffs of air, slow and steady, in and out. In. Out. He had fallen asleep.

Your first instinct was to be offended — no telling how long since he had drifted off or how long you had rambled to no one. But then you relaxed. He had clearly needed the distraction from what was going through his head when he first called, enough to quiet his brain. Or perhaps he was just that exhausted. Either way, you did not take it personally, you would have likely been up this late anyways.

You ended the call at two hours and seventeen minutes.

—

Are you available at 9?

You checked your phone when you moved into the living room, dinner cooking in the oven, finding a text from Michael. Per your agreement, you usually talked about once a week. He usually gave late notice, though it usually reflected how bad his day had gotten. Your last talk, however, had only been three days prior.

In addition to the one only days ago, you had talked two additional times since your first, typically at night, where you did most of the talking. You almost found your talks therapeutic; plus you were getting paid to just talk. Though, you wished he talked more — part of you felt like you were taking advantage of the situation and he was barely getting anything out of it.

He had already put money on the prepaid Visa card you had picked up after your first phone conversation. Michael thought the card would be more discreet and confidential than Venmo. The $400 dollars you had agreed on for the month had done wonders with relieving the pressure on making your rent payment.

Erin had encouraged you to set up an online wishlist as well, adding things periodically in case he wanted to buy something extra for you. “As a tip,” Erin had told you, a wide smirk on her face. That same day, Erin had coincidentally brought her new Valentino canvas bag that you were sure cost more than your rent payment. You held off on the wishlist, but you kept a few things in your notes app. Just in case.

You sent him a confirmation that you were fine with nine. He must work late hours. He had said he was a doctor, but you wondered in what specialty or where, but you had never broached the topic. You both valued your privacy when it came to your arrangement, not wanting to muddy the waters.

Surprisingly, he did not call at nine. He was usually pretty punctual when it came to a time he asked for. You waited patiently for several minutes before moving to start some hot water for tea, looking out the window at the rain. You figured to give him a bit of extra time before turning in.

At 9:24, your phone rang. Part of you nearly picked it up on the first ring, but you gave it a few moments before picking up. When you answered, he spoke first.

“Please just talk. About anything.” He sounded out of breath, talking quickly. His tone sounded more stressed than you had heard before.

“Are you alright?” Was your first instinct instead of doing as he asked, standing from your chair at the dining table, mug of tea forgotten.

“Fuck. No, I’m not. Please just talk to me. Your day. Your job. The fucking traffic this morning. Anything,” Your name was so quiet on his tongue, you nearly missed it.

It sounded like a plea.

You swallowed, pulse quickening, before running with it, “This asshole actually cut me off this morning, which considering his bumper stickers, wasn’t all that surprising. No blinker, nothing. I swear, sometimes the subway is less stressful, though I hate the morning crowds.”

Suddenly realizing talking about stressful things might not be the best way to calm him down, you pivoted, pacing across your apartment. Deciding quickly on something boring to most, you began to explain your most recent accounting assignment. How you came up with the financial analysis from the numbers your professor had given, to the tax implications of several of the (fake) business’s decisions. You explained it as best you could in layman's terms, trying not to make the math too complicated, before walking him through your report and your thoughts about how to help the business improve.

You paused long enough to hear his breathing, not quite as ragged but still loud and quick. “I don’t need you to respond, but think of five things you can see.”

Oh this was cliche, but you did not dwell on it.

After a few moments, “Okay, four things you can touch.” You paused, finding four things of your own to ensure he had time. “Now three things you can hear.”

“You.” He croaked, much quieter than he had been. “I can hear you.”

“That’s good. Now two more things.”

“…the rain. The cars outside.”

“Good,” you breathed out. “Two things you can smell?”

He didn’t answer, though his breathing had slowed tremendously from when you had first answered his call. It felt relieving, and you finally made your way to sit on the couch.

“Last is one thing you can taste.”

He let out a long deep breath, but kept whatever it had been to himself.

“Are you okay?” You asked again after a few moments.

“No.” He said. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

You nearly huffed, but the annoyance was fleeting. You smiled, “I can tell you more about accounting, but most people find it incredibly boring.”

“You seem to really enjoy accounting. Though, I can’t imagine being cooped up in an office all day.”

“Well I wasn’t quite cut out for psychiatry, and I’ve always enjoyed a good spreadsheet.”

“Psychiatry?” He sounded surprised. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“What does that mean?”

“You would’ve been good at it.”

Oh?

“Thank you.” You whispered. “Um, can I interest you in what my professor assigned today or how my manager nearly fucked up payroll this week?”

He cleared his throat, “I’ll take ‘how my manager nearly fucked up today’ for $200, Alex.”

Your lips quirked back up at the Jeopardy reference, trying to shake off the feeling his praise had given you. With a long sigh, you rubbed your fingers along your hairline.

“He messed up the new employee’s tax deductions by misclassifying his title. When he backtracked to fix it, he cleared out the entire category — thankfully I caught it when I was putting my own numbers in for the small team I oversee.” You told him, looking at your nails. “Led to quite a frustrating day.”

Despite the fact that it had led to quite a hectic start to your workday, adding several tasks that interrupted you workflow, you felt mildly pathetic knowing his day had clearly been so much worse. You tried not to compare, your days had just as much value as his, but it was still a creeping feeling in your gut.

You continued on after a beat of silence on his end. Fixing the problem hadn’t necessarily been the issue — it was redoing every employee's numbers that led to your annoyance. That, and the lack of accountability from your manager.

Time ticked on, Michael only adding in his thoughts here and there, mostly staying quiet.

He coughed awkwardly during a lull in your conversation, “Uh, thank you for tonight.”

Beginning to feel your exhaustion, you smiled tiredly. “No thanks necessary.”

“Goodnight,” there was your name again.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

want to join the taglist? shoot me a message!

#michael robinavitch/you #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x you #michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #companionship series #asxgard writes #the pitt

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minisugakoobies · 12 hours ago

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what if we...? | choi san

Pairing: Best Friend!San x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: PWP, smut, best friends to lovers

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: San and reader have been drinking, reader is down bad (and maybe San is too? question mark??), kissing, dry humping, allusions to doing hand and mouth stuff but no specific genitals are mentioned, unprotected sex (if reader can get preg assume alternative bc - or maybe they're just being risky who can say)

Word Count: 714 words

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: You might be a little drunk but you're pretty sure your best friend just asked you to kiss him. What if you did?

A/N: This is for @moni-logues, who asked for San + "You can kiss me, you know." I know you enjoy F2L and honestly it's the first thing I thought of for your prompt. He's so best friend coded. 💕

ATZ Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

“You can kiss me, you know.”

The words coming out of San’s mouth catch you off guard. The two of you have been hanging out, drinking your work week away on his couch, and the hour is late enough that even the stars are asleep, tucked away behind cloudy blankets in the predawn sky.

It’s a little difficult to remember how you got here, to this position you find yourself in, snuggled up against your best friend, who peers at you from beneath the pulled-up hood of his sweatshirt, waiting for your reaction.

Is that hope in his eyes, or just the last shot of soju?

Maybe it had been you who had said something about the temperature. Maybe San, your friend who famously runs hot, offered you his warmth with an arm around your shoulders. Maybe you made a joke about how cuddling with him was the most action you’d gotten in ages - a comment in retrospect makes you feel a bit pathetic.

It was definitely San who just informed you that you can kiss him, though. Of that much you are certain.

How much more pathetic would it be for you to take him up on it? God knows you’ve thought about kissing him a lot. Like a lot a lot. Like right now, for example, as you sit here staring at his mouth.

San hums, tilting his head, and this brings you back to the moment. His grin is so knowing that your neck burns with embarrassment, but you’re not shamed enough to stop leaning in. He moves in too, brings his face close enough for you to feel his breath, and as your eyes slip shut, you feel his mouth lightly brush yours.

His lips are warm and soft, and his kiss is surprisingly tender. Maybe it’s unfair to him to expect anything different. Your best friend has always been so sweet. Of course he’d kiss like this. His lips hover over yours when he pulls away, and instinctively you lean forward again, a sudden greed overwhelming you. A need to make it real.

San makes a surprised noise against your lips, but it isn’t long before his arms encircle you, strong and secure, and maybe he slides your leg over his or maybe you straddle him yourself, who is to say? Not you, not with your best friend’s tongue in your mouth.

A heat builds between you. Your hands end up under his hoodie, stroking over his stomach, while his fingers dig into your hips. He’s hard beneath you, and makes sure you know it by rolling you over his crotch.

“San,” you whimper, your head kicking back a little when he does it again. He feels so good and you’re both still completely clothed. Imagining what he’ll feel like inside you makes you start to beg. “Oh, oh please, I wa-”

You break off, choking on a wanton cry when he grips you harder, grinding you against him, and you sink your fingers into his hoodie, as if that grabbing on to him could somehow alleviate the incredible ache you feel right now. He puts his lips to your ear, panting slightly, like he’s struggling to keep it under control.

“You want to?” he asks, and you nod, whispering, “Yes,” and then you’re on your back, watching him peel off his hoodie and the shirt underneath. He tugs at the bottom of your shirt, and you nod again, letting him help you, though the way he slowly drags the material up seems less helpful and more teasing.

When you’re both finally topless, he leans down and kisses you again. It’s gentle and sweet, until he lowers himself to lay on top of you. As your bodies entwine, the kiss deepens, and soon you’re gasping for air, and needing so much more.

Like he usually does, your best friend reads your mind. He uses his mouth and hands to bring you to the edge of pleasure. When he finally slides his cock inside you, it only takes a few thrusts before you’re pushed over, moaning and shaking, and San fucks you through overstimulation until you’re clenching again while he cums inside.

Maybe later, he’s the one to suggest you do this again sometime. Maybe you agree. Who can say.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

#ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #san smut #choi san smut #san x reader #choi san x reader #san x you #choi san x you #fic: what if we...?#choi san fanfic #san fanfic

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chickensoup1025 · 2 days ago

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ddvauau - diner date

(with @bluebblurry) 1.3k words

“You’re ridiculous..” Grian blushed brightly as the waiter brought the giant milkshake to the table. There were two adorable bendy straws in it too.

Scar just giggled, thanking the waiter with a big smile, and turned back to his friend. “Whaaaat, you don’t wanna share with meee?” He flashed those godforsaken puppy eyes, and Grian’s resolve melted. The milkshake did look delicious…

The waiter passed the check to Scar. “Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you!” Scar said and pulled it close to him, taking out his wallet before Grian could even register what the waiter had said.

“Wait, oh-” Grian tried, face scrunched a little in frustration. Scar was always trying to spoil him. “I can pay for my own stuff, I-I know it was a bit more expen–”

“It’s no problem, G, I’ve got it.” Scar interrupted gently, eyes and smile warm as he passed it back to the waiter with his card inside.

Grian puffed up his cheeks for a moment before sighing. “’Kay fine… at least let me get the next one..?”

“You’ve got a deal.” Scar winked, his smirk all big. “Now are you gonna share this milkshake with me or not?”

“Well since you so kindly offered-” Grian grinned and took a yummy sip. He held his hand palm-up on the table, hoping Scar would take it again.

Scar did. And it was a perfect fit like usual.

Scar's foot gently kicked the side of Grian's and he grinned across the table before taking his own sip.

“Tell me about your date last night.” Scar wiggled his eyebrows and squeezed Grian's hand.

Grian immediately blushed thinking about the ball.

“Well...” Grian bit his bottom lip. “HotGuy picked me up a-and we road in a limo to the event...” he cleared his throat. “He uh... called me stunning.”

Scar’s eyes glinted a bit, happy that Grian remembered the compliment. Grian wasn’t making eye contact with him, shy in his recollection of the night.

Scar wondered if he should act jealous. It seemed silly to because Grian was talking about him but at the same time he didn't want Grian to get the wrong idea, that he wasn't interested in him. But a jealous person wouldn't even be asking about the night… Oh well. Just keep it cool, Scar.

“Well he's right. From the photos you sent me of your outfit you were stunning. Wish I could've seen in person.” He nudged his foot and smiled at feeling a nudge back. “Go on.”

Grian’s face just got more red with Scar’s compliment, and it made Scar preen a bit. “O-on the ride there he told me about his most recent mission a-and how he wished I could’ve seen it.” Grian huffed a soft laugh.

Scar wanted to defend his alter-ego and say Well HotGuy’s cool! Obviously he wants his crush to see him being cool! but he kept his mouth shut.

“The place was really cool by the way, I think you would’ve loved the architecture.” Grian’s eyes were big and bright as he looked up at Scar finally, so full of genuine excitement. “It had these huuuuge lofted ceilings with gorgeous pillars all around the ballroom, and the ceilings were done up with these absolutely beautiful handmade paintings.”

Scar remembered the ceilings and the walls and the pillars and above all he remembered Grian rambling about them last night. And how excited and adorable he looked. “Sounds lovely!”

“Oh it was. All the people were dressed so fancy, too. I was almost nervous I was overdressed. Some guy even asked me to dance even though it was quite obvious I was with HotGuy.” Grian's eyes widened. “Not with HotGuy, though. I was his plus one, that's it.”

Ah, yes. The man who asked Grian to dance. Scar's blood just boiled at the memory of seeing the creep's hand on Grian's backside. It wasn't hard to act jealous anymore. “Dancing, huh?”

Grian nodded. “Yeah um... that guy that asked me to dance grabbed my ass, but HotGuy got him to back off.” He fiddled with the end of the milkshake straw. “And then me and HotGuy danced and he asked me about the building’s architecture and I babbled on and on about it like an idiot.” He groaned softly and dropped his head in his hands. “I was really tipsy at that point, ugh...”

And Scar remembered. Grian was so giggly and happy and touchy, and a little jealous part of Scar wondered if that’s how he was with everyone or just Scar and Hotguy as a coincidence...

Scar tapped the straw against his lip. “Was HotGuy chivalrous? Did he treat you right or do I need to fight a professional superhero?” He teased. Most definitely fishing for Grian's opinion on his other side.

Grian sighed and his somber expression made Scar immediately worried. Did he do something wrong last night and didn't realize?

“He was the perfect gentleman.” Grian rubbed a hand through his soft hair (Scar would know). “Some light flirting here or there but it really was… nice. He was very considerate of me. It was… nice.” He repeated. Grian was definitely holding back saying something but Scar wasn't sure if he should push.

After a beat: “It wasn't a date.” Grian seemed to say more to himself.

Scar bit his lip and waited a moment to ask, “If he did ask you on a date-…”

“I'd say no.” Grian squeezed Scar's hand and pulled it closer to him. He looked Scar right in the eye and Scar believed him. He felt mostly glad…

Jeez, secret identities are confusing.

Grian looked like he might cry if Scar said the wrong thing next, so he just ran his thumb over the back of Grian’s hand and offered a gentle smile. The milkshake was gone now, the check was taken care of, card returned, so Scar tugged lightly on his hand. “Wanna walk down to the park?”

As they left into the cold air of the winter evening, Scar pulled him closer. “Me too.”

“Hm?” Grian looked up.

“If HotGuy asked me on a date. I'd say no.” Felt absolutely ridiculous to say because of course he'd say no, he wouldn't even ask in the first place. But it's not like he could tell Grian he'd say no to anyone who asked him on a date. Grian was a part of anyone.

Grian giggled and tried to imagine it. HotGuy bending down to kiss Scar's hand. For some reason the image was hilarious to him.

Scar lightly bumped his shoulder. “What! What’s so funny!”

Grian hiccupped on his giggles, only laughing harder with Scar’s reaction. “Nothing nothing!” He hid his big grin behind his hand, still laughing. “Just with you both being so tall, I just think–” and he fell into another fit of giggles.

Scar wasn’t sure why he was blushing up to his ears with his grin, almost starting to laugh too with Grian’s utterly contagious giggle fit. “You think what?” He poked the blond’s side, earning a little squeal.

“How–” Grian tried to speak through his laughter– “How would it look try- hehe, trying to dance with each other?” His voice was high as he tried to catch his breath. “He’d probably drop you if he dipped you!”

Scar finally started laughing too, trying to imagine it, as he poked Grian’s side more. Eventually Grian was a mess of giggles and squeals and he pushed away from Scar, running toward the swings. “Hey! You- you get back here mister!” Scar called after him, his smile huge and hurting his cheeks.

They felt like kids again.

When Scar finally caught him after two rounds of tag around the playground, he held onto Grian from behind, not letting him go to run away once again. Grian tried to wiggle out of his hold with laughter but the grip around him was too strong and he felt so comfortable, so he stopped struggling quickly and just leaned back, putting his hands up on Scar's arms.

Scar kissed his temple and swayed them side to side. “Dance with me.”

Another laugh punched out of Grian. “W-what?”

“I didn't get to go to the ball and dance with you last night,” Scar lied easily, “let me get a dance right now. Under the stars.”

Grian's smile was so warm. "Okay."

#ddvauau #sooooo romantic #this ladies and gentleman is what we call the Touchy Stage #they're basically dating but not actually and it's great #the pining is real #and identity shenanigans are fun #desert duo #scarian #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #hermitshipping #mcyt #my writing #blue's writing #the whole ball is written out in basically bullet points btw but maybe we'll write it out-out one day to post

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michanvalentine · 1 day ago

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I'll jump in on the conversation to add a few of my thoughts. It's true that Ascendant Astarion doesn’t care about consequences—he’s strong, he has power. But I believe the consequences are very much there, whether he wants to ignore them or not.

First of all, because vampires are the enemies of other vampires. Sooner or later, he’ll draw the attention of someone—other vampire covens, other vampire lords. Sooner or later, one of his spawn will try to overthrow him, just like Cazador did with Vellioth, and like Astarion himself did with Cazador. It’s a cycle, like with popes, lol.

Eventually, word will reach vampire hunters about this dangerous ascended vampire. Whoever holds power must always watch their back—especially if they rule alone (a consort doesn’t change that, assuming he even has one, since in some endings he could end up completely alone). And if he’s truly so blinded by his own glory and magnificence, thinking he’s untouchable and immune to consequences, someone will eventually take advantage of that to usurp or destroy him.

I’m not saying it will happen. I’m just saying that even Ascendant Astarion has to deal with the consequences of his choices and actions. He’s not automatically exempt from that—no matter how much he may not care. But I think that just makes him more vulnerable in the end.

From here, I want to connect directly to something AA says near the end of the game about wanting to build relationships and alliances with the influential people in Baldur’s Gate. And that brings me to another aspect of the whole “I don’t give a fuck anymore, I say and do whatever I want without a filter” attitude.

If he really intends to pull off this delicate work—keeping in mind that to AA, the people in the city are nothing more than cattle—then he absolutely cannot say and do whatever he wants. On the contrary, he’ll be forced to put that charming mask of courtesy back on and carefully work those people to gain their support: flatter them, win them over, offer them something in return, etc. You don’t just rule by sheer force of will.

Unless, of course, he intends to bend everyone to his will with brute force or threats—but in that case, even if he gets some submission at first, in the long run it’ll only bring him more enemies he’ll need to watch out for.

So, Ascension doesn’t automatically open every door for him, nor does it make him “free” in every possible sense. He still has to follow certain rules to get what he wants—or face the consequences.

And I’m only talking from a practical, realistic point of view. That said, I have no trouble imagining this vampire, after the initial euphoria fades and a couple of centuries go by, sitting bored and dissatisfied in his grand palace, wearing his fancy clothes, while the same old issues he buried deep inside start bubbling back up again to say, "Hey, remember us? We’re still here!"

Which, in my opinion, could lead to two possible outcomes:

He becomes increasingly twisted, petty, and small—just like Cazador.

He starts a new path of transformation to escape an unbearable situation, similar to the way spawn!Astarion begins a healing journey in the good ending.

But I’m not sure how realistic the second option is, given that AA has now fully internalized the teachings of both Vellioth and Cazador. In this case, unlike Spawn Astarion, Ascended Astarion is indeed a more static character.

As for AA’s personal relationships (not professional ones, lol), I completely agree: it’s all about utility. After all, isn’t he the one who says something like, “I know everything about love—it’s all about power and control”? I might not recall the exact words, but that’s basically the gist of it. So yes—as long as you’re useful and agree with me, we’re friends/lovers/etc.

And honestly, I find it pretty unsettling when I see people saying, “Well, if you don’t contradict him, he’s not that bad.” Like… what? In my own marriage, contradiction is part of everyday life—we challenge each other constantly and eventually meet in the middle. That’s compromise, one of the fundamental pillars of a healthy relationship.

Which, of course, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the fantasy of the sexy evil vampire—go ahead and indulge! But constantly excusing him? That feels like a bit much.

For me, the Spawn ending means trying again to live a normal life, after a long Depression, while the Ascension is a complete break—a total "I don't care about anything anymore." Like a golden shot.

That's why the Ascension feels like a form of salvation, like an absolute surrender of oneself. Kind of: I do what I want, I don't worry about anything anymore. In contrast, the Spawn ending means experiencing things like friendship again. love, but therefore responsibility.

A total end vs a new beginning.

Both is tempting tbh

_Its time to try living again

_I feel alive

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion

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skzartemis · 3 days ago

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𝒰𝓃𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜𝓇𝓈

Day 7 of To.X

Pairing: Hyunjin x F!reader Genre: Fan x idol, Friends to lovers Warning: none

Artemis' notes: Happy birthday my prince!!!

Y/N had always admired Hyunjin from afar. His face lit up the stage, and his body seemed to speak the language of the music itself. She had been a fan of Stray Kids long before she landed an internship as a visual artist. Her work had always been inspired by the energy and emotion of the dancers she’d watched, but now that she was working alongside them, something changed.

Y/N was assigned to help with a special project—creating a series of art pieces for Stray Kids' upcoming concert tour. The very idea made her heart race. She'd be in the same room as him, and while she tried not to let her nervousness show, there was a strange flutter in her chest whenever Hyunjin was near.

The first time they truly spoke was an accident. Y/N was setting up some of her sketches in the studio when she heard his voice behind her.

“Is that your work?” His voice was warm, deep, and it made her heart skip a beat. She turned around quickly, startled, to find him standing just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the large sketch she was working on.

“Oh, uh, yes. It's part of the project for your tour. I—I'm just getting started," Y/N stammered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She wasn't sure if she was ready to show him her art, let alone have him look at it so intently.

“That's amazing,” he said, his smile softening his sharp features. "I can already feel the energy from it. The way you capture movement—it's like I can almost hear the music just by looking at it.”

Y/N blushed at the compliment, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

There was a brief pause before Hyunjin shifted his weight, glancing at the other dancers who were preparing in the corner. "Maybe we could… collaborate sometime? You know, with your art and our choreography? I think the two could work really well together."

Her eyes widened. "You want to collaborate with me?"

He nodded, a slight glint of mischief in his eyes. "Yeah, I think it could be fun."

After that, everything changed. They began spending more time together. Hyunjin would stop by the art room during breaks, watching her paint, and sometimes offering suggestions, though his presence was enough to leave her distracted. She never imagined that the idol she had admired from her computer screen would show such genuine interest in her work, let alone in her.

And the more they spent time together, the more Y/N found herself looking at him in a way she hadn't expected—differently. She noticed how his eyes would soften when he smiled, the way his laugh was contagious, and the way his presence seemed to command attention without even trying. There was a charm about him, a magnetic energy that made it impossible to be near him without feeling her heart race.

But something else started to happen that Y/N couldn't ignore. She noticed the little ways Hyunjin's behavior began to change around her. He would ask about her day, not just the art, but her—her thoughts, her feelings, as though he genuinely cared. He would bring her coffee after long hours, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed her the cup, and though his touch was brief, it sent electric shivers up her spine.

One evening, after a late rehearsal, Hyunjin found her in the studio, still working on some final touches. The studio was empty, save for the two of them, and the soft hum of the lights above them.

"You should take a break," Hyunjin said, stepping closer to her.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes tired but grateful. "I don't mind, I'm almost done."

He shook his head. "You've been working all day. You need to rest."

He didn't wait for her to protest before gently pulling her away from her easel and guiding her to a nearby couch. The warmth of his hand on her arm sent an unexpected rush of heat through her. As they sat together, the silence between them felt comfortable—so comfortable, in fact, that Y/N almost forgot to breathe.

For a moment, they simply sat there, watching the city lights flicker through the windows. Then, to her surprise, Hyunjin spoke, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I know I'm a public figure, and I'm usually surrounded by people, but… being around you feels different. You’re not like everyone else.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She wasn't sure what to say. Her feelings for him had grown so quickly, and the idea that he might feel something similar was overwhelming.

“You make me feel like I can just be myself,” he continued, his voice steady but sincere. “Like I can just… be Hyunjin, not the idol. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t treat me like a star. I like that about you.”

Y/N felt the room close in around her. She couldn’t contain the smile that tugged at her lips. “I like you, too,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

There was a long pause. Hyunjin’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, Y/N saw something in his gaze—something vulnerable, something real. He leaned in slightly, the space between them growing smaller, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers.

It was soft, tender, as though he was giving her the time to process, to pull away if she needed to. But Y/N didn’t want to pull away. She kissed him back, slowly, as if they were both savoring the moment they had been dancing around for weeks.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Hyunjin looked at her, his eyes full of warmth. “I've wanted to do that for a while.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her heart still racing. “I think I've wanted it too.”

From that moment, their connection only deepened. The lines between idol and fan, artist and muse, began to blur. They spent more time together outside the studio—quiet dates in cafes, walks around the city, late-night talks under the stars. Hyunjin became more than just the idol she had adored from afar; he became someone who knew her, understood her, and saw her in a way that no one else had.

And for Y/N, every moment with him felt like a masterpiece, a living canvas of love and connection. Their worlds had collided, not in the way she’d always imagined, but in a way that was even more beautiful than she could have ever dreamed.

Because in Hyunjin, she found more than a crush, more than a dream. She found a reality—one she never wanted to let go of.

Taglist

@toasty0703 @j-ji-jia

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz

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mandoalorian · 2 days ago

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phasing into love (ava starr x gn!reader)

Pairing: Ava Starr/Ghost x Gender Neutral reader

Synopsis: A story in which Ava Starr realises that maybe, just maybe, she was never as invisible as she thought.

Dedicated to: @ava-starrs-girlfriend - my beautiful wonderful fantastic best friend. Writing this was very impromptu but I wanted to do something for you. I love you 3000.

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

Ava Starr could phase through walls, disappear at will, and survive in between dimensions. Yet, asking you on a date? That was an entirely different battle. Ava had fought for survival her whole life. She had trained under S.H.I.E.L.D., faced off against superheroes, and endured the painful instability of her own existence. Yet here she was—pacing in front of Bucky Barnes and Yelena Belova like a soldier planning an impossible mission.

Sitting at the end of a worn-out couch in their makeshift Thunderbolts base, Ava folded her arms, scowling. Across from her, Yelena Belova stretched out lazily, boots resting on the coffee table, while Bucky Barnes leaned against the wall, sipping his coffee like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Yelena interrupted the silence by shoving a handful of Doritos in her mouth, the crunch making both Bucky and Ava shoot daggers.

“Ghost girl,” Yelena said, swallowing loudly and offering Ava the bag of chips. Ava shook her head no, pulling a face. “You need to calm down, you’re taking this way too seriously.”

“I don’t get it,” Ava muttered, crossing her arms. “I can handle missions. I’ve infiltrated high-security facilities. But when it comes to asking them out, I—” She exhaled sharply. “I freeze.”

Yelena smirked, lounging across the worn-out couch. “I love this. You, Ghost Girl, are scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Ava snapped.

Bucky, leaning against the wall with his ever-present cup of coffee, raised a brow. “Then why are we having this conversation?”

Ava clenched her jaw, staring at the floor. “They’re… different.” Her voice softened. Even just thinking about you lift a weight that was burdening Ava. “They’re kind. And funny. And when they look at me, I don’t feel like some experiment gone wrong. I feel—normal.”

Yelena let out a dramatic groan. “Ugh. Gross. You like them.”

“Yes,” Ava admitted, tension in her shoulders. “Which is why I need a plan.” She looked between them, expectant. “So? How do I ask them out?”

Bucky and Yelena exchanged glances with each other, and Yelena finally put down the bag of chips.

Bucky hummed, taking a sip of his coffee. “You could just—ask.”

Ava gave him a flat look. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s direct,” Bucky pointed out nonchalantly. “Worked in the ‘40s.”

“That’s terrible advice.” Yelena scoffed. “No wonder you’re single.”

Bucky frowned but stayed silent, his dark eyebrows knotted together.

Yelena turned to Ava, grinning. “What they like is confidence. Just walk up and say, ‘Hey, you. You are very cute, and I will be taking you to dinner now.’”

Ava blinked. “…That’s kidnapping.”

Yelena shrugged. “It is assertive.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. Just be honest. Tell them how you feel.”

Ava groaned, rubbing her temples. “So my options are ‘be direct like it’s 1942’ or ‘threaten them into a date’?”

Yelena grinned. “Threaten is a strong word.”

Bucky sighed. “Look, just—keep it simple. You like them, right?”

“Yes.”

“You want to spend more time with them?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell them that,” Bucky said plainly. “This isn’t like you’re going into battle or preparing for a war. No weird tactics. Just honesty.”

Ava stared at him, then huffed. “Fine. No kidnapping. Just honesty.” She exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. “Thanks, I guess.”

Yelena patted her shoulder. “Good luck, Ghost Girl. Try not to pass out.”

Ava shot her a glare but turned on her heel, marching toward the training room where she knew you’d be.

Yelena grinned at Bucky. “Ten bucks says she phases through the floor out of panic.”

Bucky smirked. “You’re on.”

—————<3—————

You were in the training room when Ava found you, hands wrapped as you practised light sparring against a punching bag. The steady rhythm of your punches filled the space, and she hesitated at the door. You looked… focused, and determined. A small crease formed on your brow.

God, she was doomed.

“Ava?” You turned, smiling as you caught sight of her. Her brown hair was pinned up and she had a nervous look on her face.“Hey, what’s up?”

She swallowed. “I… um.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

Ava clenched her fists, inhaled sharply, and then—“Would you want to go out with me?”

Silence.

Her heart pounded. She prepared herself for rejection, for awkwardness, for you to—

“Like… a date?” you asked, eyes brightening and sparkling with excitement.

Ava nodded, forcing herself to meet your gaze. “Yes. A date. Dinner, or whatever you like.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “I’d love to.”

Ava blinked. “…Wait, really?”

You laughed. “Yeah, really.”

She let out a breath, half a laugh, half sheer disbelief. “Huh.”

You grinned. “Took you long enough.”

You took a swig of your water and walked over to Ava, unable to hide the smile on your face.

Ava narrowed her eyes. “You knew?”

You shrugged, your smile teasing. “Yelena isn’t exactly subtle. She may have dropped some hints.”

Ava groaned, covering her face for a second. “I’m going to kill her.”

You laughed, stepping closer. “Not before our date.” You bumped your shoulder against hers. “Pick me up at seven?”

Ava found herself smiling—an honest, warm smile. “Yeah. Seven.”

And as she walked away, she felt weightless—not from her phasing, but from something even better.

Bucky and Yelena were still in the lounge when Ava returned—except this time, instead of walking in like a normal person, she skipped.

Bucky blinked. “Did you just skip?”

“I did it!” Ava announced, barely containing the triumphant grin spreading across her face.

Yelena’s jaw dropped. “No. You are lying.”

Ava smirked. “Oh no, I’m very serious.” She leaned in dramatically. “In fact… they said yes.”

Bucky, grinning smugly, held out a hand toward Yelena. “Pay up.”

Yelena scowled but begrudgingly pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, slapping it into Bucky’s palm. “This is stupid. I demand a rematch.”

Ava laughed, feeling lighter than she had in years. “Too bad. I win.”

Bucky smirked, pocketing the bill. “Told you she had it in her.”

Yelena huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But if the date goes badly, I get my money back.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “It won’t.”

Yelena leaned back, smirking. “We’ll see, Ghost Girl.”

But Ava wasn’t worried.

For the first time in forever, she had something to look forward to.

#ava starr #ghost #thunderbolts #mcu #marvel #Bucky Barnes #yelena belova #ava starr x you #ava starr x reader #hannah john kamen

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geopsych · 9 months ago

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Reminded by someone else's post so here are some pictures from Glastonbury Tor in 2015. The Tor is often associated with summer solstice and the 3rd photo is from the midsummer gathering of a druid organization called OBOD. The horn player turned and played in the 4 directions calling the opening of the ceremony. Happy solstice, everyone!

#glastonbury #glastonbury tor #obod #midsummer #summer solstice #solstice #uk #throw back thursday #my photos #friends offered to take me and I said yes

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boomerang109 · 6 months ago

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i’ve been telling my school for at least the last six months to hire me as a stage manager. now that rehearsals officially start THIS WEEK, guess who came crawling back

#and obviously I said yes!!!#im going back to see all my frens in [redacted]#im so sick of living with my mother (not even cause of her. cause of my inability/lack of effort to make friends)#but yeah I have to talk to my current job about it tmrw and be like sooooooo know how you keep telling me you don’t know how this place ran #without me? peace out good luck!#(jk im gonna offer to work remotely and PRAY they take me up on it cause I need the income and the job is easy as shit)#then I’ll supplement with babysitting and finally get to see friends again and bing bang boom depression cured #the place im thinking of moving doesn’t allow pets tho so i need to see if i can afford anywhere else cause like. kitty babies #life of a boomerang

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pinoruno · 26 days ago

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😁

#not to still be on this sorry guys. but i guess what is making me Sad sad is like #everyone else's birthday regardless of who they are or how active they are in the group/groupchat. it's always someone at 12midnight on the #dot giving birthday cheer/wishes/etc #like literally even if the person has never spoken a word in the chat or if they aren't really friends anymore #and i'm active and supportive and i give so much and i literally got nothing. i waited all day and i watched people have discussions about #widget apps and fuckin. cheese.#all the while every time a notification popped up i thought “oh maybe this is it”#so it was just repeated disappointment. yes i set myself up for it and i take responsibility for that #i'm just so tired of not feeling (or frankly being. based on all this. and the 3 consecutive years of it. like last year i only got birthda #wishes after i said in the group chat that i bought myself something for my birthday)#valued at all beyond what *i* can do for *them*. i'm not a priority and i never have been and thats fine but like. goddamn. okay #maybe this is just my quote unquote wakeup call to stop offering so much of myself and my time for hashtag nothing #and i feel so childish and stupid to even still be thinking about this like who cares i had a really fun day/weekend #but it just would be nice. is all.#and i'm upset with myself for comparing the few nice individual messages i got eventually with the group cheer onslaught everyone else gets #bc those are valuable too.#but like. the last message in our announcements channel where ppl say happy birthday is literally a whole string of happy birthdays for thi #girl who has been making our lives Worse via making bad choices and then getting defensive when we say that for like. coming up on five yea #shes my friend and i support her but like. thats the thing i guess. that i'm getting at. shes my friend and i support her and i see Nothing #to suggest anyone else feels that way i fucking guess! idk again i feel stupid & childish here and i definitely need to just get over mysel #and i only got individual messages after i once again mentioned that it had been my birthday. like fully the day was over.#whatever it is not like i even care. i'm over it now this is me being over it #at the end of the day. they just forgot. i understand #i too forget things

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kuiinncedes · 1 year ago

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asgkjdfghk

#bro whyyyyyy did i offer this guy my number if he needed more help on projects for this class #and whyyyyyyyyyyyy did i say yes to helping him today lmfao TT #i told my friends and not the first thing they said being like omg like insinuating relationship or whatever and im like bro wtf #and then i just realized that might be a possibility that i didn't think of bc i was just being #too nice for some reason why did i offer him more help beyond the one time he happend to be at my friend's place when i was too #ajsdkfngslfdgwfdkf lmfao bro #i just fucking zoomed w him and he was like if u wanna get smth to eat or smth bc u helped me so much w the project and i was like #AHHHHHHH FUCK NOOOOOOOO WHY DID THIS HAPPEN #lmfao rip #next time im just gonna say im busy as fuck #bc im busy as fuck 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀 idk why i even said yes today #i saw his text and my first thought was no i have way too much other shit to do #why didn't i just say that #but i felt bad lmfao but then that goes back to WHY DID I OFFER HIM MY NUMBER AND MORE HELP IN THE FIRST PLACE LMAO #goddammit i think it was bc i needed so much help in this class that he's taking so #bro when i offered him my number to lmk if he needed any help tho like #was that a fucking like possible relationship things kinda move wtf TT #🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡 lolllll my fucking clueless i think aroace asssssss #anyway imma forget abt this man and listen to my music and do so many readings for tmrw :'')#jeanne talks

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kindnessoverperfection · 2 years ago

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Some recent wins:

-Sang loudly and off-key with my partner. We were both laughing to tears. I was sober.

-Found myself actually thinking about musical theatre today. For myself, for my own interest in it. I wasn't chasing it for a narc high, nor avoiding it due to a crash. It's been a long time since I've thought about my interests for my own sake.

-Invited my friends to hang out

#(btw to the person who reblogged my last post w/supportive tags. ty<33 that made me smile c:)#i've invited my friends to hang out before but have been rejected multiple times #i decided today to start a journal for this. that way i'll be able to see when my friends actually accept offers to hang out #and my brain doesn't just go ''they'll always reject the offer they don't like u''#they said yes this time it worked out rly well!#the journal will also be able to show me if it's one specific person/group of ppl who keep rejecting me (so i cant over-generalize)#and if maybe i just need to change my approach (e.g. i think i come off confident but in reality #ig my insecurity and apologetic attitude come through. so asking people in a really insecure way might make them anxious or may make them #feel pressured. )#(ive also gotta be mindful to not turn that into an identity thing. like. being insecure doesn't mean i'm unlovable. it's fine! ppl get #insecure. i can change my approach without taking it personally if smthn doesn't work)

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menlove · 1 year ago

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like can you imagine if you, as a housed person, said "oh man im really struggling financially right now I can't pay my bills- my electric is going to be cut off, my car might get repossessed, and I definitely can't afford to get a new laptop after mine broke"

and someone who had a lot more money than you said "I can help you!" and you were like"oh my god great thank you so much-" and then they just offered to take you to olive garden. and you say "hey man that's really nice but I'm actually okay on food right now, I really just need to pay some of these bills. I already got food somewhere else (foodstamps, friends, food pantries) and I really just need money. if you can't do it that's fine but I don't need food"

and the rich person said "you must not really need money or be poor then or else you'd take me up on my offer. I bet you were going to use that money on drugs anyway"

that's what yall sound like when you refuse to give homeless people money & just offer to buy them food

food is great! if you need it and that's what you're asking for. unfortunately food doesn't buy clothes, hygiene products, shelter, pay a phone bill, or yes even buy drugs or alcohol if you're going into detox and can't do so safely without literally dying

#this kind of post on here is a bit like preaching to the choir I feel but it's fine

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willyoubemycherryy · 2 months ago

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“Who’s your new friend?” (Salesman x reader)

Summary: Your dad’s dark stranger is the one for you. Too bad about his cruel streak….

Contains: sit down chicas this is a LONG one, plot but gratuitous p+rn, dads!friend au, rough sex, edging, pussy spanking, he’s mean :( , choking, drugging, everything IS consensual bc I’m tired of everyone writing him as a domestic terrorlzing rapist, he’s still psychotic and unhinged tho, just not psychosexual because psychotic traits don’t always translate to sexual violence, your dad is sweet but trusting and naive, squirting, pussyspanking unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy, wrap your gummy) begging, degradation, praise, cursing, reader is a bit of a bitch, light dom/sub dynamics, his cock is stuuuupid fat bc I said so and have eyeballs, ur 22 in this period and he’ll spit in your mouth in the next installment of this series :)

A/N: Yeah, he got me y’all😔 Gong Yoo sexy, fine, tall, handsome ass got me😞I’ve been tripping out for 17 days straight over this man sooo…

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ _ _

_ ➵ ✩ ◛ ° . +

You knew your dad often had strange friends but this one takes the cake.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow at the tall man your father was currently introducing you to. Standing over 6 feet in a pitch black suit he was extremely easy on the eyes with full lips, perfectly styled hair, relaxed posture and not a wrinkle in sight paired with the darkest almond eyes you’d ever seen. You rove your eyes over him once more before looking back up to find him staring back at you…

Yes, he was perfectly lovely but was it too soon to assume something about him was..off?

You feel your face warm at how strong his gaze is but you stare back defiantly, mentally cursing your too trusting dad.

“…and since we chat almost everyday during our commute to work- would you guess that we’re both in sales and marketing?- I thought it’d be great to invite him over and talk more in a more comfortable setting!” Your dad says excitedly, smiling as he tells you all about his new friend. The man smiles alongside him, cheeks faintly dimpling and despite your distrust, you can’t take your eyes off of him as you feel your heart beat harder in its cage.

“I was going to call to tell you I was bringing company but you know I forget to use that thing.” ‘That thing’ being a modern phone to a man who was awful with tech. You scoff but nod to let him know you don’t mind (completely) and because you already know how your father is and he continues,

“Oh right! Speaking of forgetting, I don’t remember if I ever mentioned my daughter even though I know I probably did-“, you listen to your dad introduce you and the man smiles even wider as he steps forward, offering his hand to yours in a shake.

“How pleasant to meet you.” Holy shit. His voice is a lot deeper than you expected and you absentmindedly place your hand into his waiting one. The way it completely encases your hand due to its sheer size makes your heart stop before it melts down to a warm pool in your lower stomach, settling in your core like hot tea as you breathe out a shaky exhale. His hand is also rougher than you thought it’d be for a simple businessman as it squeezes yours and a quick flash image of that same hand around your throat has you snatching your hand back as you shoot him a tight smile.

“Right. Back at ya. Um, how old are you again?”

“Ah. Isn’t that improper to ask new people?”

“I’m just curious to how you maintain a career as developed as my dads because you seem so young.”

Oh. You’re quick witted; that makes things a potential hassle for him.

“Well, I’m much older than you. I’m certainly older than your father.”

“Ha! Are you also the Emperor of China-”, You’re cut off as your dad says your name in the way he does when you’re being rude but you ignore it, glaring at the man.

“Be polite! He’s older so you should speak respectfully”, you barely hide the roll of your eyes but your fathers new friend catches it and you swear you hear a huff of amusement from him, the low sound makes you shiver as you turn on your heel to go back upstairs, your dads scolding calling after you.

“Aish! Spoiled! Brat! You were so much cuter when you were younger!”

“Whatever!”

“Bellybutton lint!”

“Old man!”

“Oh yeah?! You won’t be 22 forever!”

The only response he gets back is the sound of your bedroom door slamming while you’re all too aware of the eyes on your back when you’d left. Your dad sighs as he runs a hand down his face. The salesman simply stands quietly, grinning as always as he observes your little spat. Something about it caught his attention though.

“She’s young.” And your father agrees, insisting that’s part of the reason for your behavior, you apparently were “much nicer” and he nods in understanding.

“College age is tricky. I met her mom around her age and things are so much more different than they were back in our day so I try not to be too hard on her but sometimes she’s so-!” He tilts his head as he waits for your dad to find the word.

“Difficult!”

Ah. How cute. A little attitude problem.

That honestly doesn’t surprise him because most pretty little things almost always had one- you were no exception. Though, you yourself were a pleasant surprise. He’d maintained a friendly relationship with your father on a mere whim, finding him to be…nice unlike most he considered nuisances, so when the man invited him over one day he accepted and as he trailed through the door behind him, taking in the warm tones of your house when he spotted you. Standing near the island by the kitchen in shorts so tiny the wide waistband made them look like a mini skirt, the words ‘PINK’ on the back and a snug white tee shirt, the blue of your bra peeking through, you walk towards them smelling of fabric softener and cold vanilla. Your hair was down as you stared at him like you were both scared and wanting with big eyes full of suspicion. The gloss of your lips shining back at him as your lips curl during your inspection of him, lightly arched brow raising as you gave him a thorough once over, eyes flicking back up to his when you were done. You were absolutely delicious to look at. Short, smart mouthed, pretty and prissy.

He didn’t mind the rude way you spoke to him- no- because your eyes tell. You were weary but interested; cynical in all the ways your father wasn’t but that was perfectly fine.

His smile slowly shifted into a smirk as he followed your father to the living room, humming whenever he would speak, but his thoughts were preoccupied.

Thinking of smooth legs on a cute face he’d love to see wet with tears as he spanked your smart ass raw.

•

When you went upstairs the first thing you did was grab your headphones and tune out.

What the fuck was your dad thinking??

You huff as you flop on your bed, scrolling through your favorite apps while you tried to slow your thoughts.

Everything is fine.

Your dad always has the most unconventional friends and acquaintances so this was probably just that and you were freaking out more than usual because he was unfathomably attractive. That’s it. You just needed to get a grip. But fuck would you love to ride him through the weekend if only he didn’t have such a concerning aura…and wasn’t pals with your dad of-course.

About 2 hours later when you go downstairs to get food and bring it back to your room-answering curtly when your dad asks if you want to join him and the hot stare of the suited man you’re trying to pretend isn’t there.

“Hard no. Do I look like a nurse? You two senior citizens can play amongst yourselves.”

You sigh when you get back up to your room, FaceTiming your friends as you eat, talking about whatever and whoever before you remember you need to organize some of your class notes and say goodbye before you hang up.

It takes less time than you thought it would so when you’re done, you go about your night routine. Teeth, skincare, oversized cotton shirt, lights off as you put on a movie you’ve seen a million times. It’s harder for you to fall asleep when you can still hear his deep voice through the walls talking and laughing with your dad, shaking your core as you toss and turn- physically fighting the feeling- until you fall asleep.

Another few hours later, you wake with a start. Something’s not right.

You can still hear the tv downstairs but no voices. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and as you turn your head towards your door- pulling the covers off your legs, the sight of a tall dark figure rips a blood curdling scream from your throat. In that same second the figure steps closer, the light from your tv illuminates him and your heart races as you stare back wide eyed at your dads suited stranger friend. You’re still gasping and reeling as he sits down on your soft bedding, watching with rapt eyes at you trying to calm down from the near heart-attack he almost gave you.

“W-what..what the fuck?!” He smiles as you get up to yell in his face, gesturing wildly.

“Why the hell are you in my-“, you cut yourself off as another realization dawns on you completely and he can’t help the compulsion he feels towards you.

“How long have you been in my room- wait where’s my dad?!” If you knew who he was and what he did for a living, you’d be much more agreeable…or maybe not and that’s what fascinated him about you. You were so unusual. Wanting to steer clear of him instead of on, even though he’d piqued your curiosity, you didn’t blindly follow like every other nuisance did; instead he was the inconvenience and the way you let him know via sharp words and distrusting looks was something he hadn’t gotten in a while. The way you brushed him and your hard working dad off with no more than a pretty glare while probably never having actually worked for anything in your life made him itch to correct you. Make you say sorry- break you back into the sweet girl he knew you could be.

“I swear to god- WHERE IS MY DAD-!“, before you can raise your voice anymore, turning to go find him yourself, he’s pulling you back by your wrist, covering your mouth with his other hand as he hooks his chin over your shoulder cooing at you to calm down - listen to him a bit.

“Shh. Your father is alright, had too much to drink so he’s passed out downstairs but safe nonetheless.” You feel your body relax against your will at his words but you still bite his palm for scaring the hell out of you. The pain that blooms up his wrist from his hand makes him hiss against your ear and you wish it didn’t sound so good before it trails off into a light chuckle.

“I’m going to move my hand. You won’t scream. Understand?” You roll your eyes but nod anyway and a few seconds later his hand is lowered but he keeps you sitting up against him.

“Look- if you’re some kind of extortionist or blackmailer, my dad only works for clean honest compan-“,

“I’m none of those things.” Huh. You’re even more confused but the silence that follows he doesn’t break instead he waits for you, enjoying your discomfort as you shift against him.

“Then what the fuck do you want? Nothing better to do in your ancient age on a Tuesday night besides creep around?” Your mouth would be the death of you and this might very well be the moment as you mouth off to a complete stranger who could be (and actually is) very dangerous but bravado was all you had. You’d seen and heard more than enough to know that an older man in a suit visiting a young girl he didn’t know in the dead of night never ended well.

“I want to chat for a bit.” You tilt your head a bit in confusion but he takes your silence as the go ahead, making your heart pound when he shuffles even closer causing you to feel his firm pecs through his expensive smelling dress shirt; the heady combination makes your pulse race as you fight yourself on whatever it is exactly that you’re feeling but shouldn’t be.

“When your father mentioned you, you sounded like such a nice girl…”, the low way he speaks resembles a purr, words vibrating his chest, thick arms holding you tight to him as his warm breaths coast across your chest and neck.

“Imagine my surprise when I meet you and you’re nothing more than an ungrateful little princess with a pretty face but very nasty attitude.” You feel your face warm in shame at the blatant way he calls you out, immediately defensive as you shoot back,

“What’s it to you? If you want to see some obedient thing then get a boarder collie-!” Enough of that. His hand claps down over your throat, squeezing not enough to hurt but enough to make you shut up as your heart rate spikes, nerves going haywire at the sudden cut of oxygen. You get dizzy quick. Blood rushing through your ears like a current of cotton, hand flying up on instinct to pull at his muscled forearm but it doesn’t budge and you whine- biting your lip as your heart beats liquid fire through your body. You were so fucked up, clamping your thighs shut as if that will stop you from getting wet but it’s hard to pay attention to that with a tight hand around your neck and mean lips against your ear.

“Didn’t your father tell you to respect your elders?” He tuts out and you nod desperately, willing to swallow your snideness if it meant getting air. He loosens his grip enough for you and you gasp so hard you nearly choke, the sound turning him on more than it should; he grabs your chin so you face him with teary eyes and he nearly groans at how weak you look. The sedatives he slipped in your dad’s drink would last for a while so for now it was just you and him.

“Answer me.”

“You first-“, you’re quick to shut your mouth as a smirk grows on his face. A fast learner.

“Smart. But”, he pauses to put you on edge before continuing, “because I quite enjoy your father and his company, I don’t like the thought of him being troubled by anything.” His words are sweet but they also fill you with dread because you know how much you intentionally butt heads with your father. Mouthing off at him just to amuse yourself sometimes. You never meant to stress him but messing with him a little was how you showed your affection.

“That includes you as well.” He rasps against your neck, nipping the sensitive skin there with more teeth than tongue and you choke on a moan, breathing hard.

“Okay. Got it. I need to be nicer-”,

“No, you need a firm hand.” Oh fuck. You bite your lip at that, watching through bleary eyes as he rubs his other hand down your chest, brushing your hard nipples through your shirt as he feels up your soft curves. The hand around your throat tightens when he feels you might move but when you don’t he doesn’t loosen it- instead he rewards you with wet, scalding kisses behind that spot under your ear, suckling down until he reaches your collarbones. Your eyes water from all the sensations as you try to rationalize what’s going on before you lose yourself to how good you feel.

The hand caressing over your body doesn’t stop, threatening to burn you alive with the heat it ignites in you. To make matters worse, you can’t even breathe deeply enough to calm down with the hold he has on your neck and you’re reminded of how pathetically wet you are whenever you move your legs as you’re completely naked underneath your shirt. So much is happening but it’s not enough. Fleetingly scarce touches is all you’re being given but you need more. You shouldn’t want this, want him- or anything having to do with him- but you do and that thought scares you more than any potential repercussions.

He watches you with an unreadable expression as you shift constantly, sliding a hand under your shirt to cup your tits, flicking and twisting the stiff nubs cruelly between his fingers. Laving his tongue over each bruise he’s left on your neck before choking you harder, making the veins on the back of his hand show and your mouth drops open, hoarse broken moans falling as your hips twitch upwards. This was how he liked you. Melting into him so obediently…

“You’re going to be a good girl now?” He asks like it’s a question but the even in hazy state you’re falling into, you know it’s an order. He loosens his grip again so you can answer, voice hoarse,

“..y-yeah.” The softened tone you use when you respond makes him hard beyond belief and he bites your shoulder with a satisfied groan and you swear your cunt has a pulse. The familiar burning ache is so blinding that you listen immediately when he tells you-

“Open your legs.”

He almost didn’t hear your sharp intake of breath. He barely noticed the way your hips snapped up to hump his hand… he was preoccupied with just how wet you were. Your arousal coats his fingers as he slides them between your sopping lips making you keen through shuddering breaths as you try to control yourself. A few hard circles to your clit shatters that control as you cry out, needy sobs falling from your gloss smeared lips while you beg prettily for him.

“Please! I-! I’ll-anything! Just-!” His hand collar tightens again as he slides two fingers knuckle deep in your spasming hole, immediately curling them towards him, grinding them against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you and the fire that’s been steadily burning inside you almost makes you black out from how quick it threatens to consume you. You’ve never felt more out of your mind, your cunt so soaking wet it’s audible. White-searing pleasure shoots electricity through every nerve and you’re screaming. Between the fuzz in your head from oxygen loss or the brutal way he’s fucking you with his fingers- the one thing you do know is that if you cum now, you’ll faint.

“Waittt- mm-! S-stopp!!” It’s the struggle of a lifetime to get the words out but you do and when you do, surprisingly- he listens. Taking his fingers out as the strings of your slick drip from them and you cry at the loss, the ache still there but you could at least breathe. You feel a nip at your ear and you only then notice the way you’ve rested your weight completely against him.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with arousal from how wonderfully you responded to him. So wet he could taste it in the air as you trembled and cried against him. The water in your eyes spilling down over as they rolled back into your skull. Your face was the perfect erotic expression of tormented bliss as he made you earn air and fight off an orgasm so strong it would’ve put you in a vegetative state.

The sound of your weak sniffles make his cock ache as he lays back on your bed, maneuvering your hips over his as he opens his pants, taking his length out he moans at the pressure relief. Swiping his fat head through your messy folds but not inside.

“Well? I need you to answer me. Or do I need to get it out of you myself?” You shake your head, lifting your arms when he moves your shirt up off you and now you’re completely naked while he’s still clothed. As much as his stare intimidated you, his attentions felt even better, moaning at the dirty kisses his cock gave your hole.

“Was gonna cum…but you didn’t say I could yet”, you reach up to use his arm as leverage while you wiggle your hips and your submission drives him mad with how much he wants to ruin you.

“Aw. That’s cute…but if you came before I let you, what then? Are you smart enough to tell me?” He asks sweetly but the condescending undertone makes you feel dumb as heat blooms in your chest and you will away the fuzz that’s making it hard to think so you can give him a proper answer. One that would please him. The fact that you even wanted to please him was something you’d have to get back to.

“I’d be in trouble?” You say it like a question and less of an answer and he finds your uncertainty so cute as he laughs indulgently at you.

“Close. It’s because you’re my good girl. And my girl only does as she’s told, yeah?” The same trickling tingle at the base of your skull is back again as you mindlessly repeat after him.

“Yeah.” He hums, lining himself up with your drooling pussy, sliding in with one thrust. Gritting his teeth with a heavy groan while you choke on a sob.

“Fuckin’ tight-!” Deep grunting in your ear overwhelming you in the best way and you lose it from how full you are. You could’ve guessed by his height and frame that he’d be packing but it felt fatter than you would have ever been able to accurately guess, pressing effortlessly against every spot that made you see stars.

You were everlastingly grateful your dad was knocked out because the sounds coming from you and your room were beyond incriminating. Even though he wasn’t moving, every-time you did, you could feel the deliciously heavy pressure against your slick walls. Shivers wracking up your body as wheezing fucked out moans left your mouth and you grind down in messy circles until the hand on your throat stops you.

“Look at you. Desperate n’ wet begging to cum. You’d do anything I tell you, huh? Just like a dog.”

A disgustingly pathetic warble is his reply but he wants more from you, choking you hard as he pinches your sensitive nipples.

“Uhhn! Yes!” The sheer desperation in your shaky voice gives him a sick head-rush.

“Open your legs for me.”

You obey before he even finishes his sentence. Thighs falling apart, cooled air over your center makes you moan wetly as you wait patiently. So patiently that the first heavy slap against your pussy winds you by the time the pain registers. As soon as the sting settles, warmth pools in its place, sensitivity heightened as you wail. The stricken sound makes his cock throb inside you.

“Wha-!”, another slap cracks down on your swollen lips, hitting your clit spot on and again and you try in vain to wriggle away.

“You still need to prove to me that you’re sorry for your behavior earlier.” He says, voice casual but no less mocking and you cry. Tears running down your cheeks as your body struggles to adjust and obey. Before you can shout out however many strings of apologies it’ll take for him to let you cum, he strikes your center again, hissing in pleasure at your screams. He feels it. That somehow you’re even wetter, dripping down his balls and smearing your slick all over the front of his slacks. He has half a mind to make you clean it up when he’s done with with you as he spanks your cunt again, biting your ear hard until it reddens.

“If you cum before I tell you, I promise I’ll make this the longest night of your life”, he groans darkly in your ear. You’re blessed that you can still hear him through the bass of your heart’s beat and the loud, wet connect every time his hand comes down. You were so close. The sharp sting and the pained pleasure of swelling warmth his heavy hand left behind was too much and your poor clit couldn’t take much more. Gasping through your tears, you scramble to find the right words.

“‘Lease- please! Ah-m’sorry!” Your raspy voice breaks halfway through when lifts you only to slam you back down on his fat length, flicking your sensitive nub when he meanly asks you,

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again, little girl.” You night just be in for a long night after all.

You could barely breathe from how hard he was choking you, swollen pussy enflamed from countless spanks, and your center was stuffed to the brim as he was so big that he didn’t even have to try to hit your spots. You scratch and wrestle with his hand until he loosens it, gasping and whining, you pray you don’t come from the instant relief it gives you. The rush settling over you like a fuzzy blanket. He shifts below you and you hurry to get the words out before he makes you come without his say-so.

“I’m- I’m sorry! So sorry! Please Sir, can I-!”

Sir. You called him sir.

It’s less of you apologizing but more of you submitting to him, acknowledging him by title that he held superiority over you that pleases him enough to let you cum. Cutting off your sweet begging with more mean, heavy slaps to your wet pussy, basking in your delighted wails as he fucks up into you.

His hand tightens around your throat and this time, you welcome the suffocating pleasure. Scratchy cries escape when they can but you’re so far on the road to ecstasy that you don’t even care how you look or sound, chest heaving as your eyes water. Your cunt feels like it’s on fire but you beg him in every way you can to keep going even though you can’t take it and he does, groaning against your ear as he rubs messily at your throbbing clit.

“So good, baby- you can cum. Make your little mess before I make you beg some more-”, he does not have to tell you twice as everything you’ve been holding, releases and you do make a mess.

Mouth dropped open as you sob and for the next couple minutes hot unending pleasure is all you know as the stinging slaps get faster, ending with harsh circles on your bud after each one and your hole gets even tighter before you go limp- liquid jetting out of you. He fucks you through it with a tight grip on your windpipe, using you like a snug fleshlight until he’s coming harder than he has in a while at the state he’s put you in. He waits until he catches his breath to slide out of you- who’s deadweight as he lifts you off him.

Rolling off the bed, the silence makes him look over at you only to see that you’re out cold. His eyebrows raise as he huffs out an amused laugh, fixing his pants before brushing his hand over your pretty face. He might have overdone it he thinks as he sees your face return to it’s normal, less flushed hue. Leaning down, on impulse he presses a kiss to your cheek, his gentlest touch of the night before getting up and covering your worn naked body with one of the many blankets on your bed.

“You’re a treat in more ways than you know.”

As he stands, before he opens your door to leave, he pulls a card out of his pocket and leaves it on your nightstand then heads back downstairs to get his shoes and jacket. Turning off the tv where your dad sleeps easily and quietly slipping out the door, smiling the entire way. Now he has even more fun.

You.

•

When you wake up the next morning, you turn with a pleasant ache and stinging between your legs as you stretch, sighing with a blissful smile until you remember why you ache and who caused it.

Pushing yourself up, you stop when you see a card on your stand, rolling to the edge of your bed, you swipe it off and raise it to your face. It’s a picture of lollipop, a simple circle on a stick but the words below it make your chest warm and you don’t even bother pretending to yourself that you aren’t interested in seeing him again.

“Next time I’ll make you even sweeter.”

In part 2…

Or 3…

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