#half of this was written at 2am

[fruityfroggy]

Some over analysis of the poses in this TS promotional art, because I can (I think)

(Also, this turned out sooo damn long, so be warned)

Okay, so I had this thought about their hand positionings alluding to a general idea of their (initial) intentions.

There seems to be a pattern with the general placements of the Lis hands that splits pretty evenly. Said placements are: holding out their hand (Ais and Kuras), having their hand on the side of their face/head region (Vere and Leander), and hands that aren't really doing much (Mhin).

Holding out your hand tends to have a more welcoming and helpful association and feeling to it. So, Ais and Kuras holding out a hand could signify an actual sense of wanting to help MC find a cure. This makes a lot of sense for the two of them since they do seem like the least toxic ones from what we’ve been able to get from the demo (of course, Mhin doesn’t seem very toxic either, but their situation is a little different). Also, I did take into consideration that Kuras is kinda…suspicious in a way, but I think that that could be conveyed by his hand not being held out directly toward the viewer. This might mean that he isn’t necessarily as genuine about it as Ais in some way, but he is for the most part.

Putting your hand(s) on the side of your face/head when posing tends to bring more attention to your face. You’re bringing interest to that area by having your hand do something that could enhances how your face region looks. So Vere and Leander on the other hand (pun intended), having a hand placed in said area could represent how they’re planning on “helping you” in a way that prioritizes benefiting them. Vere wants to be free from his magic-bound leash, and he sees that MC is very determined to get involved with the Senobium. He thinks that if he plays his cards right, then MC’s empathy could bring them to help him break free. Promising guidance for MC’s mission is the first step to playing his cards right. Leander’s route though, is clearly going to end in betrayal that would cause some sort of benefit for him. It’s just not as clear when it comes to what it is exactly.

With Mhin’s pose, there’s a clear difference from the others. They’re not doing anything extra with their hands. They’re not posing in a way that purposefully tries to grab your attention, which could represent how they don’t have any particular intentions toward MC at this point in the game. Mhin doesn’t want help, and they don’t want anything from MC either. I don’t even think that they know about MC’s curse yet (unless I’m forgetting something), Mhin truly doesn’t have much of a reason to interact with them again unless MC approaches them first. Mhin could likely not be the one who starts an interaction between the two for a good while in their route. MC is the one that has to try and get Mhin's attention if they want to romance them, not the other way around like the other Lis. MC has to convince Mhin to come with them, as there's no willingness from them (yet).

Another thing I've noticed is that Mhin's pose is compact compared to the rest of the group (all shoulders back, one arm up in one way or another). Of course, it's a fairly casual compactness. They're not completely hugging their knees to their chest or anything. But looking at the image altogether, Mhin does seem to be an outlier of sorts. I mean, they're the only one sitting, they're the most compact, they're the only one who's not being attention seeking to any degree. All of this conveys their closed-off personality very well, yes (it's like they didn't wanna be there and just wanted to quickly get it over with), but maybe this says something about their route too. Like I mentioned before, MC will have to try extra hard for Mhin to gain a sense of fondness toward them. So, the lack of fondness and desire to be around MC at the start could also be a reason that they barely fit in with the pre-established posing conventions (is that a phrase?). No other Li has shown signs of this except for Mhin, possibly making a big difference in how you play their route (as opposed to the rest).

I feel like this is most likely the only actual intentional symbolism that I mentioned so far, but I do want to point out that the mini Eridia at the bottom is heavily scooched to the left so that it barely touches Mhin. I just like this little detail because it's quite a clever way to sneakily remind you that they're an outsider too (if that was intentional). But the fact that we needed to be reminded of that, especially in such a sneaky way. It's almost as if it's emphasizing the fact. I haven't thought of a possible reason for it, but I feel like there could be something in there.

Okay, this was all that I could find and think of. If anything else comes to me, I may do another part. But I think this is enough hidden stuff for an image of Lis to promote a visual novel.....right?

[kevin-day-is-bi]

i just saw that halloween ask game you're doing for this month 👀👀

so trick or treat, dealers choice on ship 🥰🍬

- mel 💜

Dick absentmindedly pressed on the cut on his arm as he watched his target. The man was standing in a small office in a warehouse, talking on the phone. He didn't look happy. Dick could relate.

"Nightwing, report. Your tracker is offline."

Ah, that had been an argument and a half. Of course, if Bruce would stop sneaking tracers onto Dick's suit, Dick wouldn't have to keep ruining them. They couldn't be cheap.

"I'm on a case."

"Your tracker should be online. I need to know your location."

In the window, the man hung up the phone. He was smug now. He had never made that expression, before.

"No, you don't," Dick responded, before pulling the comm out of his ear. He glared at the device in his hand before gently tucking it away in a pocket.

The man was gone. Dick straightened. This could be a chance to place a bug in his office. Not really Dick's style, honestly. He preferred the physicality. But with any luck, he wouldn't have to get physically near the man ever again. Without fully meaning to, he pressed on his wound again.

He heard the footsteps a split second before the voice spoke.

"You're getting awfully snoopy, dick."

Dick stood from his crouch slowly, hands out and low. He turned head first, the sight of the white streak of hair still sending a wave of shock through his heart.

"Jason."

Jason had a gun aimed at his head. Not particularly surprising. Dick had been trained out of being startled by guns a long time ago, but that didn't mean he was stupid. It was still a loaded gun.

"You have ten seconds to say what you're doing here."

"I wanted to...to see you." Dick was a little unhappy to be so truthful so early. He wanted to fire a quip off, maybe some clever wordplay.

Jason cocked the gun. He wouldn't shoot Dick. Maybe.

"Why."

God, Jason looked...he looked exactly how he was supposed to. The rage that had been present in his fifteen-year-old self had looked so out of place, but now the hard line of his mouth fit him perfectly.

"I want you to-"

Come home. No. Dick didn't, really. The Manor hadn't been his home in a while, longer than it hadn't been Jason's. And what would that achieve? An argument ending in a fight ending in a trail of bodies. Dick didn't want Bruce to have Jason. He wanted to have Jason.

"I just needed to-to make sure it was..."

Jason tilted his head, looking every inch the villain that the Red Hood's file painted him out to be.

"I'm sure the old man ran a dozen tests to make sure it was me."

No, that wasn't what Dick meant. He couldn't find the words, didn't really want to find the words. Jason had sliced open Dick's arm. Dick had felt him, felt the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his body. Dick...missed that, maybe? Having Jason close again had felt like a drug, and now Dick was pretending he wasn't craving it.

He hadn't touched Jason all that much before his death. Too much teenage angst, not enough clear roads between Blüdhaven and Gotham. There was no precedent for this.

"I missed you," Dick said, aiming for honesty. As close to it as he felt capable of getting.

Jason laughed. It was a creepy sound that died too soon in the cold air.

"Last time you saw me I beat your ass. Time before that you didn't know it was me. Time before that I was fifteen. You either have a death wish or haven't gotten the message yet. Robin doesn't exist anymore." Jason's shoulders stayed low and his voice remained even. He sounded a little bored, actually. It felt like there was a hook behind Dick's ribcage, yanking him forward. He needed to be interesting. He couldn't have Jason leave again.

"The first thing," Dick said before he had really planned to say anything at all.

Jason scoffed. Dick kept going, distantly aware of the fact that he was tripping down sentences without actually knowing where he was going. "Maybe you're just really good at fighting. All my bad guys this week were too easy."

Jason's chin dropped. Dick had been rubbing the bandage on his arm against his hip without realizing it.

The gun wobbled. Jason's chest rose and fell.

"Take off your mask."

Dick blinked. This felt like a test. Slowly, he reached up and peeled the mask off. It hurt like hell, and he was left blinking in the altered light. Jason kept the gun trained on him.

"Say it again. Look at me and tell me again why you're here."

This was Dick's chance. Honesty could win. He still wasn't sure what winning meant, but whatever. He would make it work. He stared at Jason's mask and said,

"I miss you."

"What's your goal here?" Jason sounded amused, which wasn't what Dick had been aiming for at all. Annoyance and frustration mixed in his stomach.

"I don't know, okay? I just-" Dick gestured helplessly. Jason's face, half amused and half blank, was no help. "I want...I want you..."

He had nothing else.

Jason's face was doing something complicated. His mouth couldn't seem to agree with what his forehead wanted to do.

"Will you do anything to have me?" Jason's voice was a little too loud now.

Dick hesitated. He imagined Jason pressing the gun into his hand and shuddered.

"No," he whispered.

"No, you wouldn't...let's say for example, shoot a drug dealer for me."

Dick felt sick. There was something about that for me that made him want it horribly. He wanted to do things for Jason.

"Oh," Jason said, and then he started laughing so hard that the gun wavered. "Oh, if only Bats could see you now. That's pretty damn pathetic."

Dick needed to leave. He had well and truly lost control of the situation, and he needed to get the hell out. But when he started to take a step back, the gun went back to being steadily present.

"Don't. I will shoot you." Dick froze. Jason started moving forward, each step solid and loud. "I think we should play a game. You want me, huh? Then let's see what you're willing to do to get me."

Dick contemplated what would happen if he hurled himself off the roof.

"On your knees."

Dick dropped to his knees. This was a very bad idea.

"Take out your escrima sticks and toss 'em over here."

Dick hesitated for half a second before doing so.

"Unzip your suit. To your stomach." Dick's pause didn't go unnoticed and Jason sighed. "You used to wear that stupid suit where the neckline when halfway down your torso. Don't get shy now."

Dick undid the hidden catches and pulled the zipper down. And then, for good measure, he pulled his arms out so he was topless. He needed some sense of agency.

Of course, now Jason was masked, armed, fully dressed, and standing above Dick. Dick obviously could fight like this, but there was something...

Jason kept moving until he was right in front of Dick, so close that he had to bend his elbow to keep the gun trained on him.

"Tell me again why you're here. The full reason."

It was so cold. Dick's stomach was churning.

"I miss you. I...I want you."

Jason's breath hitched. He was shaking. The shock of it made Dick's mouth drop open.

"Please come back to me," he whispered, barely knowing what he was saying.

Half certain Jason was going to blow his brains out for it, Dick reached out and laid a hand on Jason's knee. The nearness of him was intoxication. Dick wasn't really sure he would tell Jason no to just about anything right now. He wanted to see Jason's eyes.

The gun moved and Dick shut his eyes. Several seconds after a shot would've happened, the knee under his hand moved, and he opened them again. The gun had been sheathed. Jason crouched in front of him, face inches away. Dick could still feel the shaking.

"Are you cold?" he asked. He needed Jason to see that he cared about him, noticed the shivering, wanted to help.

"Always," Jason said, barely an actual word. Dick's heart broke, and then his thigh felt like it was on fire. He yelled, unprepared for the sudden pain, suddenly leaning on Jason as the pain spread. Jason's mouth was parted slightly. Dick looked down to see a knife embedded in his thigh. Jason wrenched it free and Dick made a breathless noise of horror. Jason ripped one of his gloves off and sliced the knife across his fingertips. Dick hadn't processed what was happening yet, his brain still stuck on "Jason stabbed me?", so he just watched as Jason shoved his bloody fingers into the wound. Dick screamed, the pain mounting and spreading in waves. He hadn't been prepared, he was usually better than this.

"You want me?" Jason asked, fingers still pressed into the gash. "Fucking have me."

His other hand came up to pull Dick closer, digging his face into Dick's neck, and then just as suddenly he stood, leaving Dick hunched over and breathing unsteadily. He held up his bloody hand.

"I'll treasure this. Maybe make a painting with it. The Failure of Yet Another Robin. Every time I see it, I'll remember how the original came crawling to me, thinking he could fix me."

Dick didn't understand what was happening. Jason's blood was inside him.

Jason brought his hand up to his face and his tongue flicked out, tasting the blood. Dick's stomach roiled. He was really beginning to think that wasn't disgust.

"Mm." Jason grinned. "Taste's like B's disappointment. I can't even tell our blood apart now."

He turned and walked away. Dick was starting to hyperventilate a little. He heard Jason's steps pause, and then, from a small distance away,

"Next time you come a-stalking, I'll see if you look this pretty with a bullet hole inside you."

[inkedinshadows]

Yesterday I saw this really cute British guy with a 5/6 years old child (probably his brother), and I might have been staring because they were really cute and it warmed my heart to see them play together and then baby fever kicked in...

ANYWAY

The smutty fic is coming tomorrow, but after that, expect a fluffy one with Azriel as a dad because why not

[lostandbackagain]

this is one of my favorite theses in the inkworld each way it plays out is so!!

elinor's dad valued his books over her and her sisters to the point she internalizes it and becomes the same kind of hermit he was, before and after the folcharts come back into her life. basta was groomed into believing he was inherently unlovable except by capricorn so he'd do anything to keep that small remaining amount of love. brianna realizes if dustfinger wasn't dead then he had to have abandoned her, so the next person to give her their full attention? she'll throw away every other relationship she has for them, the same way she was thrown away. the verbal abuse violante endured as a kid (and currently, because 19 is still a kid) influenced the kind of mother she is and she doesn't even realize until it's almost too late that she's done to jacopo what the adder did to her! and I've already talked about the physical abuse from farid's birth family influencing how he forms severely anxious relationships.

and none of these are just character padding! all of these characters influence the plot so heavily by becoming traumatized and by working through it and I don't have any idea how she pulled it off

[mxltifxnd0m]

guys someone please take away my laptop and my internet connection away from me PLEASE

[meggannn]

My Fic

my ao3

my writing tag (finished/fic update posts)

fic snippets (WIP excerpts, stuff I may or may not continue)

Some personal favorite fics:

Mass Effect: Tides, Receding (Shakarian ME3 get-together)

Dragon Age 2: Matters of Course (Fenris gen)

Spiderverse: @heyitsspiderman (post-ITSV gen)

Most recently updated (September 19, 2024):

Dragon Age 2/Inquisition: A Crow Flies Down (Fenris/Hawke)

[anonyanonymouse]

Going into the notes app to add another two paragraphs to the wip before I pass out and die wish me luck

[leatherbookmark]

being thirsty for kpop lads feels so organic, so right. so this guy has shoulders; i notice the angle of them and feel Pleased. those shoulders are not flexing right now. soft curves, just like the top of my dog's head looked specifically engineered for the purpose of me putting my hand on it, so are those shoulders. another photo, another gifset, another guy is moving his arms but they're not the stringy dehydrated marveyguy arms, they're still soft-looking, begging to be bitten. yet another guy's sporting some, and i have no other way of calling them, real nice pillowy bing bongs. again, they're subtle. not in your face (although can you imagine) -- they're under his shirt, but it's loose and gives you an idea of what's underneath. healthy, supple. you're like "ooh nipples", i say bite the whole tit. tits = good mouthfeel. things that are soft but don't break under your teeth = exquisite, ten out of ten. it's very nice, making observations like these. that's one, and two, i feel like i am in a way Doing What Human People Do; finding other people* attractive. business and pleasure, as they say. it's all very neat and cool i think

*although, as they also say,

[nochedie]

sleepless | dean winchester 🌙

pairing: dean winchester x reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 689

summary: after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep

a/n: actually wrote this at 3am last night because i couldn’t sleep! i haven’t written for dean yet and i really wanted to show him love so here’s a short little drabble! listened to simulation swarm by big thief while writing 🫶🏼

2am.

your bare feet lightly padded across the laminate of the motel room floor, and you felt around to help you navigate the poorly lit room.

you flinched as your hip bumped into the table, making a bit of noise. you turned to look in the direction of the bed you got out of to grab a drink of water, and through the slight illumination from the moon through the sheer curtain, you could see dean stirring slightly and you hoped you hadn’t woken him.

the motel you were staying in had a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, and you had put a water bottle in there earlier in the day to cool. you grabbed the water bottle and savoured the feeling of the liquid on your dry throat, instantly refreshing. you took the bottle back over to the bed and placed it on the bedside table before trying your best to get back into bed without making any noise.

“you okay, baby?” dean spoke, voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

“yeah, i just needed a drink. go back to sleep, love.” you placed a hand on his hair, brushing your fingers through until you heard his breathing deepen as he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

you stared up at the ceiling, willing your eyes to shut.

3am.

you were still wide awake, having not slept a wink. you turned to dean, still fast asleep. you could just about see his silhouette in the darkness, and you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

3:30am.

dean began to stir beside you when you moved to grab the water bottle from the bedside table.

almost instinctively, and still half asleep, he reached out an arm to drape across your waist.

you paused your movements, frustrated with yourself for making too much noise and disturbing him.

“c’mere.” dean tugs your form slightly, prompting you to put down the water bottle and slip back down beside him.

“can’t sleep?” he tries to suppress a yawn.

“not really.” not at all, in fact. you hadn’t slept a wink all night and you didn’t even feel close to falling asleep.

one of dean’s hands found yours, and he placed a gentle kiss to your neck. “anything i can do?”

“no.. it’s alright.” you turned your body to face him, shuffling as close as you could as dean wraps you up in his arms.

“have you slept at all tonight?” he questioned.

“no…”

“baby…” dean brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “is there something wrong?”

“there’s nothing wrong, really. it’s just… i don’t know, i guess i’ve been a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” his tone was soft and concerned. he wasn’t berating you, but rather worried that he had done something wrong or that you didn’t trust to tell him about any of your worries, big or small.

“i didn’t want to bother you with it…”

“you couldn’t bother me if you tried, sweetheart.”

“i worry about you. i worry about sam and cas. i worry about everybody we’ve ever known. i don’t think i could cope with losing anybody else…” your brain was full and it wouldn’t turn off. countless scenarios playing in your head on a constant loop.

“i worry about that too, baby… but you need your sleep. you must be tired.” truthfully, you were exhausted. but everything was just so loud.. it wouldn’t grant you peace.

dean knew you loved to hear him sing, even though he would only do it once in a blue moon and never in front of anybody but you. feelings of content smothered you as soon as the first note left his lips.

“i close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moments gone…”

after a few moments, the sound of his voice, his touch, his scent, him, muted the sound of your crushing thoughts.

it didn’t take you long after that to finally allow sleep to engulf you. by the end of the song you were fast asleep, your breathing deepening with each passing moment.

“sweet dreams, baby.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[hischierhoney]

I Know Places

Jack Hughes x actress!reader // masterlist

title & inspo from I Know Places by Taylor Swift. written for the Eras Tour fic challenge! thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this on!

Summary: When the press catches Jack leaving your place, things seem set to crumble. But Jack has different ideas. 4.2k words

Warnings: mentions of press/pressure from the media, some mild angst but it’s fixed by the end!!

It’s past 2am when you stumble your way into your New York City townhouse, eyes bleary and tired, limbs even more so. The lights are off, besides the one in the hallway, and you don’t bother to turn any of them on. You just shuck off your jacket and shoes, shuffle your way down the hallway, up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. There’s one thought in your brain, and it’s bed. Warm, cozy, soft, full of blankets and pillows and a man-

You nearly scream at the sight, the gentle slope of shoulders under your fluffy comforter. You press your hand to your racing heart as it all comes flooding back. You, on a layover between Los Angeles and New York, stuck in an airport for longer than planned, on the phone with your boyfriend Jack Hughes.

Jack, who’d promised to pick you up from the airport until your flight got delayed. Jack, who has morning skate at 7am and needs his sleep. Jack, who, in a moment of sleep deprived, airport lounge tequila induced delirium, you had told about the key you keep in a potted plant, and suggested that he let himself in. Suggested he crawl into your bed and fall asleep. Just in the interest of sleeping next to him, of maybe having a couple moments with him in the morning.

You don’t get much time with him. Not nearly as much as you’d both like, at least. The two of you are too busy, too full of your own obligations, with his job and your job. Star hockey player and America’s sweetheart actress- it’s like a pairing from one of those Hallmark movies, the ones with perfect houses draped in fake snow that look like they’d smell like warm cookies. Except this is real. And he’s here.

He looks peaceful, you think, as you pad across the room to be closer. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, on his stomach on the bed, laying in a spread eagle position that’s going to leave it difficult for you to find any space. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths puffing out between them. Jack sleeps like the dead, you’ve found, from the now many times you’ve slept in the same bed. He says he’s trained himself into it, with hockey and all. You’ve witnessed his pregame naps, watched him fall asleep in seconds flat. It’s impressive.

You make your way to the bathroom, doing what little you can muster of your nightly routine. When your eyes start to close on their own accord, you shuffle your way back to the bed, in your pajamas now, and study the scene. How best to handle the boy in your bed, how to fit yourself against his body so that you can finally fall asleep like you’ve been aching to do.

Before you get the chance, there’s the shrill sound of a phone alarm, and Jack sits bolt straight up in bed. You stumble over your own feet, hand over your heart again, breath stolen from your lungs. Jack scrambles for his phone. It’s 2:30 am.

He’s rubbing at his eyes when he scans the room and finds you. Then he mirrors your position, eyes wide, hand over his heart.

“Why th’ fuck are you already here?” He mumbles out.

You choke on a laugh. It’s a hell of a greeting. “What?”

He groans. “Set an alarm. T‘go pick you up.”

You blink at him, half his face illuminated in the pale moonlight that spills in through your window. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and makes him shiver- he’s left the window open slightly, the way you like to sleep. Goosebumps raise on his bare skin. You tear your eyes away.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, bewildered. “I told you to just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, but. I set an alarm,” he repeats. He digs the heel of his palm into his cheek, his lips pulled into a pout. “For 12:30. So I could pick you up.”

You cock your head. “Well, it’s 2:30, so I think you set the wrong alarm.”

He groans loudly, brows furrowed, and then lets out some string of gibberish. He checks his phone again, then sets it down on the nightstand. You watch with curiosity as he flops back down onto the bed, on his back this time, blankets pooling around his waist. He’s bare from the waist up. Not for the first time, you have the urge to press yourself against every inch of his skin.

He seems so untouchable, here. Like in this room, he’s only yours. It’s a heady feeling, to watch him sigh and pout about missing his chance to pick you up from the airport. It’s private, normal, domestic. So few things in your life fit any of those descriptors. It tugs at your heartstrings.

“C’mere,” he calls out, spreading his arms across the mattress again. “Come cuddle.”

You don’t argue. Sleep tugs at your bones the second your head hits the pillow. He tugs at you until you’re plastered against him, the heat of his sleep warm body spreading over you. When he ducks his head to kiss the crown of yours, you sigh happily.

“How was th’ flight?” He asks, his voice still laden with sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re not really in the mood to talk about it. “Missed you.”

He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling with it under your head. “Missed you more.”

You feel his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. You blink through your exhaustion to meet his gaze, and you sigh happily when he kisses you, for real this time. His lips are warm and soft, his little bit of stubble scraping against your skin in an almost hypnotic fashion. This is why you told him about the key. You wanted to come home to him.

The rest of the world melts away, and you’re left with just Jack.

….

You wake up at 11:30 the next morning to an empty, cold bed, a hoodie folded neatly on the end of the bed with the number 86 on the shoulder, and a barrage of notifications on your phone. They’re still rolling in, chiming every so often. Your heart lurches.

There are a billion from your manager- something about being careful and bad look and you didn’t even get in until 2:30 so why was he there- and your stomach sinks even further. When you open twitter, there it is. A grainy, blurry set of photos, of Jack’s shoulder and back as he leaves the townhouse, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his white sneakers bright in the blue early morning light. You can’t see his face in any of them, the hood of his jacket pulled up around his head, which is topped with a beanie and sunglasses. He’s almost unidentifiable, but you know the internet. They’ll figure it out.

It’d be easier if you’d never been seen with him in public before, but you have. Months ago, now, at a charity event hosted by a mutual friend. There’s been a photo of you and Jack from that night, chatting away near the bar in the venue, smiles on both your faces. There’d been a barrage of posts and notifications, then, too- eager Devils fans who were excited to see you talking to him, eager fans of your own who had similar feelings, the other way around. And a text from your manager, reminding you of your upcoming movie, of your male costar who you were supposed to maybe-potentially-possibly be in love with. For the press. For the ratings. But Jack had captured your heart that night, with a teasing joke about Hollywood and a soft little grin on his face, and you’d been unable to forget him.

Now you’re here, in your empty bed while Jack is at practice or meetings, or something in between. It’s not the first time. But it feels like it could be the last.

Jack’s a private person. You are, too, when you can be. When you’d first gone out with him after that first night, he’d seemed wary of all the precautions you took to hide from the press. You’d smiled ruefully and told him that if this was going to happen, he’d have to get used to sunglasses indoors and private rooms and stay at home dates. You’d expected it to scare him off. It usually did- you can’t blame any of them, really.

But it’s been months now, and Jack woke up in your bed this morning. So the scaring didn’t really work as planned.

Text me when you wake up.

That’s the text from Jack. No emojis, a period at the end, no life to it. You fight the urge to roll over, press your face into the pillow, and go back to sleep. Try again later. Hope this is a nightmare.

You text him back, something equally as lifeless. He’s probably busy, he probably won’t have time anytime soon, so you’ll have to wait until then to figure this out-

The phone rings. It’s an echo of Jack’s shrill alarm hours ago, except he’s not here to rub at his eyes sleepily and smile at you and make you feel better. Now it’s his contact, the simple “Jack” flashing across your screen. You sigh and swipe to answer.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks on the single syllable, gravelly from stale plane air and travel and disuse.

“Hi,” Jack echoes. His tone is warm. Soft.

You swallow. “I’m-“

“-sorry,” Jack says, talking at the same time as you, saying the exact same words. You blink up at the ceiling above your head.

“What?” You ask, a bit bewildered.

“What?” He repeats. “Why are you sorry?”

You blink again. “Why are you sorry?”

He lets out a huff, one you can almost picture. “I fucked up.”

And this is how it goes. You’d thought of all people, Jack would have the decency to do this in person. To wait until you’re not seconds past waking up. That maybe he’d give you a bit to process before he called it quits, before he says what everyone else has said before him.

It’s too much.

You’d warned him, back when you’d seen him for the 7th time. You’d been laying in his bed, half on top of him, drawing patterns on his bare chest with your pointer finger. He’s asked about labels and how serious this was and if you were seeing anyone else, and told you he wasn’t. All very brave of him, really. You’d been afraid to say anything for weeks.

“Not seeing anyone else,” you’d admitted. “Where would I find the time?”

He’d huffed out a laugh and tucked you close. “Can we maybe keep it that way?”

It should’ve been a red flag. Not on his part, but on yours. You know how this ends, you’ve been down this road before, and you’d known, even then, that this wouldn’t end any differently. Things go smooth until the media catches wind, and then they figure out who he is, and then everyone picks apart every little bit of him until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto. You can’t blame them, all the people you’ve lost to this curse.

You hate the media enough yourself. You can’t imagine subjecting anyone you care about to it.

You’d tried to warn him. About the secrecy that would be required, about how if anyone ever caught wind of it, he’d be subject to the worst scrutiny of his life. He’d tried to insist he understood, that nothing could be worse than his rookie year, that this mattered enough to him to put up with the pressure. But now the pressure is drilling down on the two of you, and he’s crumbling, just like they always do-

“I knew better than to leave out that door,” he says. “There’s always a pap there, you’ve told me about it before,” he says. “I was just. I was in a rush, because I was so comfy this morning, and I forgot, so. I’m sorry.”

You frown. “It’s okay, Jack.”

You’re the one who told him about the key. Who let him stay over, fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to see him, even just for a little bit. You’ve gone and contributed to your own demise. God, you were going to let him pick you up from the airport. What kind of idiot are you?

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “They don’t even know it’s me.”

Your gut twists, again. “They will.”

“Mm, maybe my powers of camouflage have worked,” he says. “Maybe I’ve stumped them.”

You don’t bother pointing out that if the press haven’t already figured it out, his fans will. Someone’s bound to point out the grainy Devils logo on his hoodie, the characteristic swoop of his hair. Someone’s bound to have followed him to his car, and they’ve probably already looked up his license plate. They’re probably running it through whatever system they use, and even if Jack is leasing the car he’ll still show as connected to it, and then they’ll dig their claws into him.

“They’re never stumped,” you tell him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“I know,” he says, voice softer this time. “So. What do we do?”

You pry your eyes open. What do we do? We.

“We?” You choke out.

Jack scoffs. “Yeah, we. I mean. Do we come out and tell everyone, just to take it away from them? Do we lie?”

We. It’s never been a we, before. Not like this. It’s always been flight, never fight. Like everyone before Jack hadn’t thought it was worth it to even try. Had thought you weren’t worth it.

“Jack, you don’t understand,” you tell him. “They’re gonna tear you apart. They’re gonna tear us apart.” Until there’s no us left, you think. “We- we don’t do anything. There’s nothing to do.”

“Not to stop them, no,” he agrees. “But you’ve had this before. How did you and those people handle it? I mean- I can avoid interviews for a while. Nico will take them, he’ll understand. And the All Star break starts soon, so then-“

“They didn’t,” you cut in.

He pauses. “Who didn’t what?”

You sigh, again. “They didn’t handle it, Jack. They broke up with me and left me to handle it and kept going on with their lives. So. Nobody will blame you if you do the same, let alone me. I get it.”

Jack stays quiet for a few moments. The silence hangs between the two of you, heavy and thick. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say it. Because you always let them do it. No matter how much you’re to blame here, you can’t be the one to end it over this. Not when things were going so well with him.

“I’m coming over,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Just- stay put. Stay there. I’m on my way,” he says. You hear the jingle of his keys.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You tell him.

“Me neither,” he says.

You don’t bother to warn him that there’ll be added media attention, that the place is probably swarming with people with cameras. You don’t think it’ll change his mind- Jack is stubborn when he’s set on something. And it’s a little late, anyways.

He shows up an hour later, probably having had to fight through insane traffic to get there. You’re back in bed, having only gotten up to brush your teeth before retreating to the safety of it. He lets himself in with the key, and you hear him come up the stairs and shuffle over to your bedroom door.

He stands there, haloed by the hallway light. You roll over to look at him, barely able to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Maybe he’s just waited to do it in person. Maybe he’s trying to let you down easy. It’s never easy. To lose a relationship like this, before you’re ready.

Things were going so well. You think of nights spent in your kitchen, making dinner together, sharing a bottle of wine. You think of all the hockey games you watched from hotel rooms while you’ve been doing press, and the way Jack answered all your questions on the phone afterwards, never letting on how exhausted he really was. You think of breakfast delivered to your door while he was at away games, and the way he spoke so fondly about his family and friends, how they’d all love you and you’d love them. And now, you’ll never get the chance.

Jack, standing in the doorway, sighs.

He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches a hand out to rest against your cheek. You sigh in response. Wait for him to open his mouth, for it to hit. You wait, and wait, and-

“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options,” he says. You blink up at him. “We can just go public, take away the hype about it. We could pretend we have no idea what they’re talking about, just ignore it. We could wait for them figure it out and handle it then. Or-“

You sit up slightly, and he pauses. You know the confusion is written on your face. His gaze softens, blue eyes warmer than they’ve ever been.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says. “I don’t run when things get tough. Come on, you know me better than that.”

You want to tell him you’d thought that about everyone, only for them to run from it all, run from you, at the drop of a hat. But you don’t, because you can tell from the hard set line of his jaw, from the determined bend in his brow, that he means it. That he’s not going anywhere. At least, not without you.

“I wanna run away from it all,” you tell him. “I want to take you somewhere they can’t find us. I want-“ you cut yourself off with a wry laugh. “I just want you, that’s all.”

A smile creeps across his lips, and he leans forward to press them to your forehead. Warmth spreads over your body, all the way down to your fingertips and toes.

“We can make that happen,” he says. You can feel the smile against your skin. “If that’s what you want. I know a place.”

You let out a laugh, one that’s mixed with tears. But when he lays down in the bed and pulls you close, you’re inclined to believe him.

…..

The “place” Jack knows takes hours of travel to get to. It takes packed bags and ditching responsibilities on both of your parts, and dodging questions from your friends. But as he pulls the car into the driveway, you think it’s worth all the hassle. The house is blanketed in soft, fluffy snow, hanging off the branches of the trees and over the edges of the roof. He opens the garage and pulls in, and when the door closes behind you, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

When he’d suggested his Michigan house as the getaway location, you’d been skeptical. Anywhere that was linked to him would be a risk once they figured out who he was. But he’d told you about the security of the neighborhood, the gate at the entrance, and that they’d never been bothered there before. He’d suggested that the two of you could just stay in the house the whole time, and it wouldn’t matter. The press finding out about Jack is inevitable, at this point. But as you walk into his house, you remind yourself that they can’t touch you here. You’ve left them all chasing their tails in New York City and disappeared.

Besides, the snow is coming down harder now. Even the paparazzi wouldn’t brave the weather.

Jack insists on carrying your bags in, and then he shows you around. The living room is first, decorated with photos of him and his brothers. The house is full of hockey memorabilia, you realize, as he shows you around. But it’s also warm. Personal. Home. There’s a photo of him and his brothers as little kids hanging over a fireplace. It makes you smile, the way you recognize the light in Jack’s eyes, the determination on his face. He hasn’t changed a bit. You’ve been in his apartment in New Jersey, but you know now that this is what he considers his real home.

He takes you up to the bedroom before the rest of the house, so you can get settled. You change into even comfier clothes than your travel ones while Jack heads back downstairs and tells you to meet him when you’re ready.

You call out to him a few minutes later when you pad your way down the stairs, and he calls back from a room you haven’t been in yet. When you walk in, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, setting out a bottle of wine. There are fresh flowers in a vase- Jack had said he’d ordered groceries to be delivered, and he must’ve gotten those, too. It’s a sweet touch.

You walk into the middle of the room and look around, a bit in awe. It faces towards the lake, with a large sitting area connected to the open concept kitchen. The lights are low and warm. Along the back wall, there are floor to ceiling picture windows, giving you the perfect view of the icy lake, the snow covered sloping bank, and the houses that dot the shore all around you. Like a postcard, or a hallmark movie. Jack pads his way across the room to you.

“Oh, wow,” you say, quietly.

He nods, his hands falling to your hips from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Pretty, right?”

You nod. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Still. Quiet. A billion other words pass through your mind. But most of all, it feels safe. Like the whole world could be chasing after you, but here, it’s just you and Jack and the snow. You could run out into it, fall flat on your face, and there’d be nobody there to see it. Or to care.

“Can we go out in it?” You ask him, carefully. Not wanting to break the calm. “It looks so-“

“Yeah,” he agrees, eagerly. “I think we’ve got a pair of boots that’ll fit you.”

Ten minutes later, you waddle through snowdrifts that cover your calves in boots one size too big. You can’t bring yourself to care about the snow in your socks, or the notifications on your phone, or the fact that by now, they’ve probably figured out who Jack is. Because Jack is standing in front of you, and you know who he is far more than they ever will.

He’s the kind of person who stays.

He lobs a snowball at you. It hits your shoulder and crumbles, and he laughs. Pure, loud, happy. You reach down with your mismatched mittens, stolen from their bin of miscellaneous outdoor gear, and form one of your own. You look at him, lining up your aim. Look at his flushed cheeks, his wide grin, the way the snow sticks to his hair and melts on his nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, taunting, arms spread wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”

You drop the poorly formed snowball at your feet and launch yourself at him instead. He’s laughing again by the time you both hit the ground, the snow cushioning his fall. He laughs more when he rolls you over and pins you under him. There’s snow seeping down the back of your shirt, and it makes you shiver. And then he kisses you, and the cold doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does, except this.

He’s never kissed you anywhere close to the public, both of you too cautious. So much of your relationship has been hidden away. You’d never had a chance like this in New York- no kissing in the rain, under streetlights, no cheek kisses between glasses of wine at fancy restaurants, no holding hands while you walk down the street. But now you’re out under the cloudy sky, surrounded by peace and quiet, and he’s kissing you. You never want to leave this place.

You shiver, again, and he laughs into the kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You think yours are too.

“Come on,” he says. “We should get you warm before you catch hypothermia.”

He suggests a shower. You agree eagerly and pull him under the spray with you. The cold melts away, along with the rest of your worries.

Later, you’ll drink wine and make dinner and watch some old movie he’s been insisting you need to see. Later, you'll curl up basically on top of him in bed, surrounded by him, feeling more at peace than you have in months. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up before you do, and come back with coffee from his favorite place in town, and wake you up in bed with it, made just the way you like. And you’ll look at him and thank him. Not just for the coffee, but for bringing you to a place that means so much to him. For letting you in on his little bit of comfort.

You won’t have to say it out loud. He’ll already know.

[rueclfer]

smau request- maaaybe tomura trying to convince reader to wake up and hang with him super late bc he’s def a night owl & they end up staying up until sunrise; flirtation & heavy petting etc as we love to see it

i wrote this at 2am my brain is fried but waow loser/slightly more confident shiggy ily+ enjoy this mix of written and smau <3

twilight zone // tomura shigaraki

"oh my fucking god, knock much?" tomura exclaims, spinning around towards you in his swivel chair.

"shut up." you yawn, rubbing your eyes away from the bright PC screen illuminating the room. "like you weren't expecting me or something."

from his desk, tomura watches you click the door behind you and crawl into his bed. you pull the comforter up to your chin and nestle into his mattress as if he was the one that intruded on you in his own bedroom.

"wasn't half-sure if you were even going to come." he murmurs before shutting down his PC, diminishing the only light source in the room.

you feel the bed shift beside you as he stiffly lays down. "might as well light some candles too while you're at it." you tease.

despite how groggy you sounded, tomura could hear you signature smirk in your voice- the one that never failed to irritate the fuck out of him. he hadn't thought this far ahead- wasn't even expecting you to respond to him this late at all. all he could think about was how quick his late-night confidence was dwindling into nothing, making him squirm a bit in his own bed.

"i'd prefer to not have to look at your face." he mutters.

owch.

you don't respond. the exhaustion was ready to take over once your head hit the pillow. you think about the last time you had been in his bed like this.

it was about a month ago when you found yourself too drunk to even form a cohesive sentence. he didn't understand what you were blabbering about, but once he saw your swollen lips, flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, and handle of whiskey under your arm, he just assumed the worst.

you were drunk, touch starved, and desperate, but of course he knew better than to let you sloppily smash your lips into his like you intended two when you stumbled into his doorway. he spent that night half asleep in his gaming chair, periodically reaching over to make sure you were still breathing with his trash can pulled up next to your side of the bed.

once you sobered up the next day, he scolded you. relentlessly. strings of obscenities dripping from his mouth.

from that point on, he made sure to always find a way to keep you two at bay- something that he himself wasn't even sure how to go about. elbow nudges. kicking your feet under the dining room table. laying your legs over his lap on the couch without you asking. pats on shoulder. all to make sure that night never repeated- unsure if he could handle you throwing yourself all over him again.

"are you fucking falling asleep?" you feel a jolt on your shoulder as he shakes you awake. "wake up."

"i'm tired." you whine.

"well stop. i didn't invite you here to sleep in my bed." he huffs.

"the fucks got you up, then?"

"nothing."

you go silent for a moment.

"don't be annoying or else i'll leave." you deadpan.

"don't ask stupid questions then." he returns the attitude. "isn't it obvious? i can't sleep. can't even game right now. i just want to..." he voice falters at the end.

"...hang out with you, i guess."

oh.

your jaw slightly gapes open in surprise, spikes of heat crawling up your neck.

you tightly grip the fabric of the comforter. "well, when you say it like that, it sounds like you actually like me." you chuckle.

"didn't say that. we live together. bothering you is my only option."

"lucky you, i love when you bother me." you scoot closer, noses onto a few inches away from one another. "and even more when i bother you."

"yeah, i know. it's like you can't resist me or something." he pulls the comforter up over his mouth, shyly muffling his words.

"i should be thanking you then, right? thank you so much, tomu, for letting me lay in your bed with you. please. i want you. i need you. it's all i can think about when i'm just across the hall from you. " you roll your eyes.

he scoffs. "wouldn't be the first time you were pathetically begging for me either."

"as if." you spit. "i'd never."

"but you have."

a beat of silence passes. you press your lips together as hotness comes over your body while the events of that night surges back to you.

"you said you'd never bring that up again." you clench your teeth, cringing at the memory of tomura retelling that night's endeavors to you the morning after.

"needed to humble you a bit." he chuckles. "told you it's not a big deal though if you're still embarrassed about it."

"no shit, i'm still embarrassed." you tug the covers up to your nose. "i tried getting at you and you rejected me. i'll never live that down, tomu."

tomura goes quiet for a moment. he must've been thinking. he does that often- retreat back into his head when he isn't sure about what else to say. or maybe he had finally fallen asleep.

you glanced over his shoulder to the analog clock sitting on his desk.

4:27AM.

it was late- or early. maybe these past few sleepless nights had finally caught up to him, hopefully to save you from having to relive an embarrassing moment.

to him, tomura's brain was malfunctioning. crashing. blue screen error.

"uh. wait." he begins, breaking the silence. "reject' isn't the right word. you were drunk. i just did what anyone else would have."

"call it what you want. i just wanted a smooch and you weren't with it. it's whatever, i'm over it, you heartbreaker." you dramatically sigh.

"well, i'll give you one now if it'll get you to shut up."

it was your turn to error and crash now.

"really?" your eyes widen.

tomura's breathing stops. he wasn't sure what gave him the confidence to say that outloud. maybe it was because he couldn't clearly see your face. it was almost like you weren't there- like he was speaking out into the void that made it so easy for those words to slip out.

he didn't mean it. right?

"yeah."

fuck.

"-if you want though." he quips.

please shut the fuck up.

"last month wasn't a rejection. i just didn't want you to only want me when you're drunk, you know."

stop talking.

"but you're sober now and we're talking about it and i just-"

your lips crash into his. it catches you off guard as much as it does to him. despite how much you enjoyed listening to him ramble out his nervousness, you couldn't risk losing another opportunity to kiss him.

your hands crawl up to the side of his neck, rubbing the tender skin below his jaw as you draw him closer to you. the floodgates have opened now. tomura met your lips with the same eagerness.

you were pressed up against one another, legs intertwined, sharing a breath and heartbeats as your hands glided over each other's bodies.

your stomach was twisting with anxiety. how long had you been waiting for this moment? all of those shy glances around the apartment, subtle touches, and hidden affections had clearly not gone unnoticed.

his hand runs from the nape of your neck to your lower back where he slips his hand under your shirt, causing you to pull away in surprise from the sudden contact.

"your hands are freezing, tomu." you gasped. "what the fuck?"

"sorry." he sheepishly mutters against your lips. he keeps his hand against the soft skin of your back, lightly rubbing the area as an apologetic gesture as it warms against your body.

"sorry." you repeat, humiliation starting to creep up your neck as you two settle with the realization of what line you two had just crossed.

a beat of silence passes.

"um. so." he coughs.

"so...yeah." you respond.

it wasn't long before you two started giggling to one another like a couple of children.

"shut up." you laugh, hiding your face into the pillow.

"guess i did say you coukd have anything you want if you came over." he breathlessly chuckles.

"please. shut. up." you squeak out. "i'm going to sleep. it's already like..." you peer over his shoulder. "almost 5:00AM, tomu. good fucking night."

you turn around, letting your back face him. you could die right now. melt into this mattress and into nothing. thank god it was dark and thank god he shared this humiliation with you.

he slings his arm around your waist, bringing himself flushed against your back.

"i'm not tired." he mumbles into the back of your neck, peppering kisses into the soft skin. "stay up with me."

you mentally kick yourself. because you do- not that there was much left of the night to get through, anyways, but because when the night's haze dissipates, you'll be dealt with a bigger issue that you wouldn't be able to pass off as a drunken mistake.

[withleeknow]

whiskers.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; reader has whisker dimples bc this is self-indulgent as hell, written in one sitting and v unedited lol it is once again 2am and i am half asleep. the fake cut mimo has on his cheek in the pics is kind of exactly where my whiskers are lmfao word count: 0.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

"whiskers," minho says, pulling your gaze away from the laptop in front of you.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, though you do put the device to the side to give minho your undivided attention. he's looking at you expectantly but patiently, like he's just asking you to give him a little love.

this isn't something that you've always liked about yourself, your whisker dimples as the internet has so lovingly deemed them these days. they would come out when you smile, or when your face twists into an unpleasant scowl. as a kid, people often found it odd how you had dimples so high up in your cheeks when others had them around their smile lines. you always felt a little different, a little weird whenever someone pointed this out even if it was only in harmless fun.

when minho first became aware of it, he was absolutely fascinated. he'd made you laugh so hard that you couldn't contain the bright grin that spread across your face as complete and utter joy took over you. you were clutching his arm, giggling at the story he was telling you when the dimples showed themselves, the cute indentations settling on top of your cheeks as if they were the physical manifestation of the happiness you felt inside.

you remember what minho did. he had cupped your face gently in his hands, then traced the soft lines with his fingers as he marveled at you. "you look like a cat," he had said, and you didn't really know what to make of it. it was so early in your relationship that you weren't sure if he was complimenting you or making fun of you like the others had.

but then the stars in his eyes twinkled a little brighter, the delighted quirk of his lips expressing his wonder better than words could. he had kissed you right there, softer and sweeter than he ever did in the short time that you had known each other back then, and you quickly learned that oh, maybe this little detail about yourself that you were embarrassed of your whole life was a good thing after all.

you still don't know the reason minho likes them so much. to you, they've always been something to ignore as best as you can, something to not draw attention to because you don't want people to highlight that maybe you're a little different from everybody else.

even as you sit here, years later with the love of your life who's got a very particular request for you, you're still not entirely sure why he's obsessed with your odd dimples enough to want to see them almost every day. it's a mystery to you and yet, it makes you feel all warm and bubbly inside whenever he sends this simple demand your way.

you adhere to his request nonetheless. when the dimples appear, you watch as a smile blooms on his face, growing bigger and bigger until it makes his eyes crinkle. like an instant boost of serotonin, you think.

minho traces them with gentle fingers, gazing at you in awe as if it's the first time he's seeing you like this. when he leans closer, you can't help but meet him halfway until his lips are tentatively brushing your cheeks. you can't help your own smile either, when it deepens and only accentuates the small moon-shaped dents which he kisses. five times on each side, and then he's peppering kisses all over your face while you laugh and accept the sudden burst of love.

sometimes he calls them whiskers, sometimes he calls them moons.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 31.05.2024]

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: Haechan x fem!Reader x Jaehyun

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Poly ilichil. MLM behavior. Breast feeding. Lactation kink.

| wc: 1.6k

| aurora's note: originally written for my poly!ilichil x fem!oc fic. edited as much as possible to be reader friendly. also wrote this in the middle of the night, so i apologize for any errors

It was beginning to piss you off, the uncomfortableness from being so full throughout the morning. The baby'd woken up in the middle of the night, maybe around 2AM, screaming and crying, an obvious tell that she was hungry. Jungwoo brought her to yours and Mark's room, gently woke you up, then handed her over for you to feed. You were half awake the entire time. Mark was dead asleep, Jungwoo was brushing your hair with his fingers to comfort you, and the rest of the house was quiet. You were beginning to hate the fact that you were the only person in the family who could feed your daughter-- Sure, she would wean off eventually and move onto bottles, and then the boys could take turns; Until then, you were all she had.

But once she went back to sleep around 3AM in Jungwoo's room, you couldn't sleep. One of your breasts was still full and tender... The other was sore from being suckled, and as the sun rose, it began to feel full too. You tried to distract yourself. Watching movies in the living room, scrolling through videos on your phone, making a snack in the kitchen. Nothing worked. So you crawled back into bed, this time with Johnny who rolled over in his sleep to embrace you in his arms before the two of you crashed. And then there was more crying around 6AM. The whole house woke up finally, Jungwoo and Doyoung bringing the baby into the room while Johnny helped you sit up and get comfortable before taking her in your arms. You tried to help yourself by having her latch onto the opposite breast than before-- However, she wanted nothing to do with you. She was crying like she was hungry, but no matter what you did, she just wouldn't give in. So Doyoung took her back. Jaehyun and Haechan entered, both of them visibly exhausted, Haechan rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"Oh, sweet girl, what is it, hmmm?" Jaehyun cooed while Doyoung handed her over to him. "Why're you giving your mom so much trouble?"

"Maybe she just had a nightmare?" Doyoung theorized.

"Maybe."

Slowly, she calmed down in Jaehyun's arms, the crying turning into coos that turned into snores. Doyoung offered to put her in the crib in his room since it was the furthest down the hall, so if she started crying again so early, no one else would be bothered by it. He and Jungwoo left with the baby, Johnny slowly slumped back into his pillows, and Haechan and Jaehyun turned like they were ready to leave.

"Wait--" you called out to them.

They both stopped.

"Please... It hurts..."

They turned to look at you, worried. What hurt? Did you need something? Whatever it was, they were always willing to help, just say the word and they would turn back time for you. So they approached you slowly while watching you struggle to get comfortable in bed, Johnny making more room for you to sit with the two of them.

“She won’t drink from the right side,” you whined. “It fucking hurts now.”

Haechan climbed onto the bed to settle between you and Johnny, his hands drifting upwards to massage your sore right breast. Jaehyun sat on the edge of the bed at your left side.

“They’re uneven. They’re full. It hurts like a bitch to have her just sucking on it for hours and have nothing happen. I’m so fucking over it. Please, just do something…”

A direct request was unnecessary by that point. Jaehyun and Haechan were like sharks lured into bait the way they were staring directly at your tits, both of them eagerly trying to free you again from your maternity clothing. Haechan was the first to do something— The second you were free from the restraints of your bra, he leaned in to wrap his lips gently around the sensitive nipple of your right side which hurt the most. You moaned with relief. It wasn’t sexual, not this time at least… In the past, especially when the boys first came home from tour to see you so, so pregnant, Jae and Hyuck couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, they were always trying to fuck you or at least suck on your tits. Now that there was a baby taking everyone’s attention and all of your physical wellness, they had retreated slightly in order to let you focus on getting better… But you needing them so badly that you had to beg for their help made it impossible for them to hold back anymore; and once Jaehyun began sucking on your left nipple, you couldn’t help but feel completely as peace with the fact that you were finally being given the aid you so desperately needed after weeks of nothing but diapers, baby vomit, and having issues getting her to latch on to you.

Jae looked up at you through his lashes. He could tell that the baby had drunk from that side earlier so it was more sore than full, which meant that he had to be more kind to you than Hyuck who was eagerly sucking and massaging, moaning quietly as he did so. The fullness that kept you up all morning was finally fading… You felt tired all of a sudden. They did you a favor by drinking up everything stored away inside of your body just so you could get another few hours of rest before inevitably waking up again with that same, unbearable fullness and a crying baby down in Doyoung’s bedroom.

Between the two of them, Haechan was more into the idea of the milk aspect. He loved the taste, and the intimacy of having his hair played with while he suckled, drinking every single drop until both of you were satisfied. As for Jaehyun, the attraction came out of wanting to help you. Knowing that he was the one rushing to your aid, the one watching as you melted and thanked him for getting rid of the soreness, your body slumping against his, all of it made Jae swoon. He’d do anything for your family. It was the most important thing in the entire world to him— Helping you out, no matter the request or the cost was the best thing you could ask of him.

Hyuck pulled away first to catch his breath. As he did so, a bit of milk dribbled out of your nipple and slid down your breast. He immediately went to catch it with his tongue, licking up the trail of liquid to make sure he got every bit of it before returning to sucking on you. Your hands found warmth in his long brown hair that he refused to cut ever since the baby was born because he loved how she would reach up to tug on it when he’d play with her.

Jae pulled away next, his hand still cupping the underside of your breast, fingers gently kneading the fat. “Feeling better?”

All you could do was nod in your state of tranquility.

He quietly chortled. “Should’ve woken one of us up earlier.”

“I felt bad,” you replied.

“Don’t,” Hyuck said. “We’d rather lose sleep than see you in pain.” And then he went right back to his task with a satisfied groan and a roll of his hips into the bed.

Jaehyun moved one of his hands down to your thighs for him to massage that too in tandem with your tit. With nothing else dribbling out or left to suck on, he knew that you were tapped out on his side, so all he could do was try to keep you relaxed while Haechan played the catch up game on the other side in order to even you out like you asked for.

“We’ll start weaning her off this week,” Jae said. “Need to give you a break so it doesn’t keep getting this bad. We’ll make a schedule for bottle feeding, too, that way it’s fair.”

You thought about how all of that was already decided in your mind hours ago when you were sitting on the couch watching TV, but hearing Jaehyun say it out loud with Haechan and a half-asleep Johnny as witnesses made you feel like it was real, that the boys would finally get to chip in so you could sleep for an entire night.

Hyuck pulled away while licking his lips and sighing heavily. He was done, too, the pain in your breasts subsiding at a rapid pace.

“Thank you,” you whispered, sinking into the bed some more.

Hyuck kissed you passionately, the taste of your milk on his hot tongue.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, can you do it in one of your rooms,” Johnny grumbled as he rolled onto his stomach and stuffed his face full of his pillow.

Jae pulled Hyuck away from you, muttering something about how you looked too tired to have sex, and that you needed to rest before the baby would wake up again. Haechan seemed a bit disappointed, but he was also incredibly understanding. So despite his hard-on in his pajama pants, Haechan adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose then slid off the bed after Jaehyun leaned in to kiss your cheek. You wanted to ask for them to stay or at least help you into one of their rooms where the three of you could cuddle together, but exhaustion hit you like a truck in a single instant, preventing you from forming a coherent sentence. They just laughed at how cute you were when you were that tired. Then with another kiss and a quiet series of “I love you,” they left, and Johnny reached to scoop you into his arms again.

[lunaxstrange]

Can we talk about love in orv?

[SPOILERS]

Okay so, I am aware that Kdj loves the "story" but I really wanna point some things out individually because it's 2am and ORV is on my mind.

Kdj had the easiest way out of the 1863rd turn. The most perfect turn (at the time) but he really went I'd let the world burn for Yjh? Yeah, everything is "part of his plan" but let's talk about the 73rd Demon King arc. My man would do anything to make sure Yjh finishes his story. Apart from this, it's the fact that while everyone else dislike any other version of Yjh (even he hates himself lol), Kdj loves every. single. one. I mean 3rd turn (1864th) Yjh? Yes. Hsy's 1863rd turn? Yes. Frickin' Secretive Plotter? Got off to a rough start but yes. You simply cannot make Kdj hate his beloved protagonist. I mean, this man risked his whole existence to make sure the 0th turn is actually the most perfect one. He didn't want Yjh to regress but became his sponsor anyway because it's what Yjh wanted. He would do anything to see Yjh happy. This type of love isn't romantic or platonic or anything else, it's the most inexplicable form of love. Love in its purest form. I'd like to take the time to compare it to Achilles and Patroclus because while we can fight over whether these two were gay or not, we cannot deny the sheer love they had for each other. No strings attached. Kdj is in awe of Yjh.

Yjh. The regressor. The protagonist. The person Kdj loves the most. Yjh had everything (0th turn) but he really gave it all up just to meet Kdj. Suffered the "Hell of eternity" just to see him. Bro didn't even love Lsw the way he loves Kdj. Tbf, 0th turn Yjh didn't know what the real struggle of passing the scenarios without help was but I'm sure he got the gist. Okay, sure, you can call it "curiosity" that led to Yjh keeping Kdj alive during the 3rd (1864th) turn. But my guy didn't choose Kdj to go to Peace Land because he had "someone he loved" like bro, YJH!? THE COLD REGRESSOR??? HE DID THAT FOR KIM DOKJA! Not to mention the fact that Yjh didn't even care that his whole life was a mere novel. He just despised the fact that Kdj chose the 1863rd turn over him. I'm gonna cry. Bro wanted Kdj so bad that he kept fighting the Secretive Plotter. Not only this, he gave up the 3rd (1864th) turn for Kdj too. Went from Supreme King to terrorist just to save Kdj. When everyone else - even Hsy - gave up. After all, what is a protagonist without a reader? The whole astronaut ordeal might've been to "find his purpose" but we can't ignore their connection. He gave up everything he could ever ask for twice (0th and 3rd/1864th turn) for Kdj. The attachment these two have with each other is insane.

I could go on about them for eternity but we have another person to talk about - Hsy. This woman spent 10 years exhausted, stuck in a world-line and body not her own for one person. Even if it's only Hsy with half her memories, she gave up her perfect world-line because she missed Kdj. Just like Kdj loves Yjh, Hsy also loves every version of Kdj. She wanted to meet him, no matter what the world-line. My girl had only a few hours where she was in control and decided to use off all those hours to write TWSA - a story she herself disliked. Hsy wants to see Kdj happy, every part of Hsy loves Kdj. There is nothing a writer could love more than an avid reader who loves their story. And let's talk about the fact that Yjh and Hsy absolutely hate each other. He is literally her creation (more or less) but their relationship is questionable. Why? Because a protagonist has no value without a reader. Kinda like Asuka Ren and Kyrgios Rodgraim. They have no special relationship despite being creator and creation. Since there is no reader, Asuka and Kyrgios are as distant as two people can be. Alternatively, what brings Hsy and Yjh together is Kdj.

I just can't get enough of the way ORV relationships are written. If I had to describe love as a writer, I'd cite ORV as an example.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter One

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Smut, Name calling, Two fools arguing, somewhat public smut

Chapter Words: 2,727

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

Bucky stood in the kitchen shirtless, I swore quietly to myself as I stopped at the doorway, it was 2am, I hadn't expected anyone to be awake, but of course, he was. I had been an Avenger for a little while, my skills with in hand to hand combat matched Nat's, I was also very skilled in using a rifle. And being Nat's best friend, she got me a place on the Avengers, whilst also getting Tony to let me live at the compound. Which was a nice change, I lived in England my whole life, so being in a new country was scary, but Nat made it less scary for me. I got along with everyone, except Bucky. It had been near a year, and we hated each other... Which sucked, because he was so hot, I hated myself for thinking that... 

I sighed and walked fully into the kitchen, he turned around facing me. 

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice low and annoyed. 

"Nothing from you" I mumble walking to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. His eyes were still on me. 

"Then what are you doing up?" He asks, his eyes rolling. 

"None of your business" I mutter. I should of just left, gone back to my room, but arguing with him, it was additive. He steps closer to me, still an arms length away from me, but close enough that I could smell his cologne. 

"It's my business if you're prowling around this place at the dead of night" He answers, his arms crossed over his chest, I rolled my eyes, I knew he liked arguing with me too, that's why our arguing was usually over stupid things. 

"Says you" I snapped "You're doing the same thing" 

I watch as Bucky raises an eyebrow, I put my bottle of water down on the kitchen counter and step closer to him, challenging him.

"I live here doll, I can do what I want" 

"So do I!" I yell.

"Watch how you're talking to me doll" He scoffs, his eyes narrowing at me. 

"Why should I" I answer stepping closer to him, I crossed my arms copying his stance, our arms brushed against one anothers. Bucky tilts his head, he moved closer, his arms pressing against mine. 

"Because I don't have the patience for you right now" He says, his voice a low rumble, almost a growl. 

"You think I have a patience for your bullshit?" I snap back. I watch as a ghost of a smile flickers on his face as he lets out a quiet scoff. 

"You're the one who started this! Be careful who you pick a fight with doll"

"Me?" I hissed "I didn't fucking start this, god you're always so ready to yell at me"

Bucky clenches his jaw, his nostrils flare, he looked extremely pissed off at me now. Good.

"You're always on my case! You just won't shut up, will you? Just have to make a comment about anything I say" He towers over me, making him look more intimidating, but so fucking sexy. 

"Fuck" I say laughing slightly "I think you're enjoying arguing with me, you know, so fucking annoying" I hiss, trying not to eye his muscles. Bucky let out a laugh, that arrogant smirk coming back. 

"You're the annoying one, always sticking your nose in my business, and trying to get on my last nerve" His gaze travels down my body as he spoke. "God you're pissing me off"

"You're pissing me off!" I snap. 

He steps forward, pushing against my body, I sneer as my back hits the kitchen counter. 

"Oh yeah? You've got a lot of guts for a girl who's half a feet shorter than me" He laughs, his body pressed against mine as he looks down to me. 

"Doesn't matter, I can still fucking pin you" I snap, I could pin him, and I have done. 

"Oh yeah sweetheart? I doubt it" He answers with a huff. 

"What you gonna do Bucky? You've got me pinned, gonna hit me?" I taunt him, he usually walks away when I taunt him, daring him to snap, he never does. I watch as he leans down slightly, his breath hot on my face. 

"Don't tempt me doll" He says low and deep. 

"Fucking do it" I dared, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He leans his face closer to mine, his eyes darkened with lust and anger "You really want me to? You really wanna know what I'll do?"

"Fucking nothing I bet" 

"You think I won't? You think I can't put your smart mouth in place?"

"No I don't think you will, Stevie isn't here to stop you, so come on Barnes, what's gonna be?" I laugh slightly, my voice deep as I spoke. I watched as Bucky's eyes darkened even more at the mention of his best friend, Steve was always breaking up our fights, not this time... 

"You think Steve's the only thing holding me back from arguing with you?" He asks. 

"Yeah I do, you always do as you're told when he's around" I smirk. 

Bucky huffs through his nose "Always doing as told? Doll, you're really pissing me off, you think you know me?" He lowers his voice into a growl, almost a whisper as he looks right into my eyes. "You think I don't have a mind of my own?"

"I don't know, do you?" I snapped, my eyes not looking from his, I hated his eyes, his perfect, Ice blue, lovely eyes... Ugh, I shook the thoughts from my head. 

"You're really playing with fire here doll...You better watch your smartass mouth, before I shut you up myself" 

"Fucking do it then" I snapped. He stares at me for a few seconds, a mixture of anger, lust and annoyance in his eyes. And then suddenly his lips slam onto mine, his body crushing me against the counter, the kiss was rough and hard, almost dominating. 

Shocked I don't move for a second, before I close my eyes and kiss back. Bucky's hands grip onto my hips, holding me hard, his tongue licking into my mouth, exploring me, a low moan escapees his throat as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing against mine, his hips moving pathetically against mine. 

I kiss back harshly, my hands moving to his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. I hear him groan, his hands move from my hips to my thighs, he picks me up with ease, sitting me down on the counter, he steps closer standing in between my thighs, his hard length pressing against my leg, his flesh hand moves up to my throat holding me as he moves his lips away from mine. 

"Doll, you know just how to piss me off, don't you?" He growls, his hand holding my throat tightly. 

"Says you, you fucking piss me off" 

His eyes darken at my words, his hips moved, pressing his hard length into me, his hand tightens around my throat, I gasped a little for air, but it felt good. 

"You know, I could just take what I want from you, just shut you up right here, right now" He growls, looking over my features. 

"Fucking do it, take me" I whisper. 

He growls again, I wanted to make a comment about him being an animal, but I decided against it. He moves both hands down to my hips holding me hard, he moved forward nipping at my neck. "You want me to take you, huh?"

"Fucking yes, before I change my mind" I gasp, taking in a large breath now his hand was away from my throat. A low moan escapes his throat and he kisses my neck frantically, sucking rough marks into my skin. 

"You think you can change your mind doll? You challenged me, and I'm gonna make sure you don't forget who's in charge here" He speaks in between bites. 

"If you don't kiss me in the next 5 seconds, I'll leave, maybe ask Stevie to make me feel good" I teased, my voice dark and low, I knew that would piss him off. 

He stops kissing my neck and looks at me, his eyes full of jealousy "You wouldn't dare" Then he slams his lips against mine again, his tongue pushing past my lips exploring my mouth. I moved my hips against his, being on the kitchen counter perfectly lining me up with his hips. I spread my legs and wrap them around him, pulling him closer to me. 

Bucky lets out a stifled moan, his lips leaving mine and running down my neck. 

"God, you don't know what you do to me" He says, nibbling at my neck, his hips grinding against me, through my thing pyjama bottoms. 

"Yeah I do, I can feel how pathetically hard you are against me" I smirked, my head rolling back as his lips touching my collarbone. 

He growls taking my throat in his metal hand, he moved my head so I looked at him. 

"Pathetically? I'll give you pathetic" He growls, his flesh hand snakes from my hip and to the waistband of my pyjamas, tugging on them, he stops for a second, his eyes on mine, silently asking for permission. I nod, my cheeks flushing. He moves his hand away from my throat, and move them to pull my pyjama bottoms down, he threw them somewhere, his eyes were still on me whilst his fingers brushed over my inner thigh, his fingers were rough, calloused leaving tingles as he traced my skin. 

Now naked from the waist down, I shivered at the cold air, I moved forward capturing his lips again, Bucky moans softly against my lips, his fingers moved to my clit, slowly circling his fingers a few times, before he took two fingers and slid them down, parting my lips and dipping down to my hole. 

"Fuck, yes" I whispered against his lips, he swallowed my moan, his tongue licking mine, he spread my wetness over my pussy, his two fingers entering me slowly. I moaned breathlessly enjoying the warmth of his flesh fingers, a small part of me thinking about his metal fingers, and how they would feel inside of me. 

"You're all hot and bothered for me, aren't you doll?" 

"Watch it, I'll happily walk away" I hiss, lying through my teeth of course, but he didn't need to know that. His metal hand moved holding my jaw within in his fingers. 

"And I'll drag you right back here doll, you're not going anywhere" 

"Fuck me, dickhead" I sneered, his fingers fucking into me, spreading me open, I needed him. His fingers still fucked into me, whilst his metal hand moved from my jaw to his jeans, undoing them, I reached forward and undid them for him, reaching my arms to push them down, his cock sprung from his boxers as I pushed them down. 

I gasped slightly at the sight of his cock, it was beautiful, it annoyed me how beautiful, cocks weren't supposed to be pretty, but here he was. I muttered a fuck under my breath. 

"Careful how you speak to me, I could bend you over this counter and make you shut your mouth real fast" He says, leaning forward, his hot breath on my ear as he speaks. 

"Yeah?" I whisper "Do it? Please?"

Bucky bites my ear, his voice lowering to a deep rumble "Say please again" 

"Please?" I say, gritting my teeth. He grips my thigh with his metal hand, his fingers slowing inside of me. 

"Such a good girl, asking so nicely" He laughs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes his fingers out of my pussy, I whine at the emptiness, he then grabs my hips pulling me off the kitchen counter, he turns me around and bends me over the counter, he lets out a low growl and pushes his cock inside of me, I moan loudly, my head moving down to rest on the counter. 

Once fully inside of me, his flesh hand moves to my throat, holding me tight. "You like being bent over? You like having me in control?" He taunts me, his hand tightening around my throat, his hips moved backwards, nearly taking his cock out of me, before slamming himself back into me. 

"Fuck" I groan, my breaths ragged as I struggle to breath, the force of his hand holding my throat making the feeling of him fucking me even better. 

I lift up slightly, so my back was flushed against his chest, my moans quiet as he slams his hips into my arse. Anyone could walk in, my eyes dart to the open doorway. Sure it was early morning and in theory everyone was asleep. 

"Anyone could walk in doll" He speaks as he fucks me "They could walk in, see you, see me taking you like the perfect slut you are" He whispers, his lips against my ear, I nod slightly, unable to talk anymore, his metal fingers circle my clit pushing me to my edge, I come hard my legs shaking under his body. 

"Jesus doll, you've got no idea what you do to me, do you?" He asks, moaning loudly in my ear. 

"Yeah? Harder" I whimper, my voice strained. 

"You want more, doll?" He growls in my ear, his hips move faster, fucking me harder, his thick cock stretching my tight pussy. I was grateful for his hand around my throat, I'd be screaming the compound down otherwise. Bucky lets out a low moan of pleasure, his hand clenching around my throat. 

"You like that doll? Like being taken by me?" He asks, his lips moving against my ear, his teeth scraping the shell of my ear, his thrusts into me became sloppy, he fucks harder into me, whines coming from his lips as he finished hard, spilling completely into me. 

"Fuck" I mutter as I feel him pull out of me, stepping away. 

He lets out a long breath, I turn around to see him pulling his jeans up, he looked up to me, his eyes dark with a hint of possessiveness. 

"You good?"

"Yeah...fuck, that was good, I still dislike you however" I smirk, my legs feeling weak. He lets out a snort, a smirk on his lips. 

"Oh doll, don't act like that, you loved that I gave it to you" He smirks, I shake my head, I grabbed my pyjama bottoms, pulling them on. I walk past him, my shoulder knocking into him. He grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks, spinning me around to face him. 

"Where do you think you're going doll?"

"To bed, that alright with you Barnes?" I ask, more harshly than I should of. 

"Alone?" He smirks. I roll my eyes, I wanted him to come with me, I found myself wanting to sleep next to him, he wouldn't...Would he?

"Not going soft on me, are you?" I asked, smirking. He smiles and presses his body to mine again. 

"It's not going soft, it's called being a gentleman"

"You've never once been a gentleman to me before" I say, my eyes looking over his face. 

"True, but I can be, when I want to be" He smiles, letting out an amused huff, running his hand down my arm, his fingers trailing over my skin. 

"Fine, sleep in my bed with me?" I say, trying not to sound pathetic, like I was begging. A look of surprise and smugness came over his face.

"Is that an invitation?" He smirks. 

"Jesus, take it or don't, I don't care" I say shaking him off and walking out of the room, he follows me. "Fuck, you're annoying"

He chuckles, watching me open the door to my bedroom "Says the one who's inviting me into her bed doll" He smirks. 

"Fine, invitation revoked" I say, stepping into my room, I watched as laughed following me. 

"Oh no doll, You can't invite me and then take it back" He grins, shutting my bedroom door. 

"Whatever" I say as I walk to my bed and crawl in. I watched as he follows me, crawling into my bed, he lays on top of the duvet, looking unsure on what to do. I smile softly and shut my eyes, ready for sleep to take me. 

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: BIG SMUT - fingering, PinV, essentially just a chapter of p*rn

Chapter Word Count: 2997

—-MDNI—-

A/N: basically just a whole chapter of smut. Hope it doesn’t suck ass as it’s 2am an I’ve been trying to proof read for half an hour but fuck knows what I’ve just written. But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 pt. 1

Chapter 8 pt. 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep failing to whisk me away. I tossed and turned for several hours; kicking the covers off in frustration before pulling them up to my chin, then kicking them off again before pulling them back up - repeating this horrid cycle until two in the morning. Thoughts kept racing through my mind and I couldn’t get the image of Dean looking at me with those dark lustful eyes out of my head. The way he watched me move around Sam, witnessing how I caressed his younger brother and made him squirm where he sat. I could only dream of what was going through his mind in that moment - of what I hoped he was thinking. Heat prickled my skin and bubbled in the pit of my stomach as I remembered my daydream from earlier; Dean fucking me into his mattress as he held my hips and sought nothing but his own pleasure. A groan left my lips as I threw my covers off and sat up, rubbing my temples in a weak attempt to dismiss my attraction to the obnoxious man wreaking havoc in my mind. I placed my feet on the cold floor and stood up, deciding a glass of cold water was the best remedy for whatever it was that I was feeling. I rubbed my eyes as I padded towards my bedroom door, tugging on the old T-shirt that barely covered my behind. I grasped the handle and opened the door, jumping in surprise at the sight of Dean leaving his room. A startled noise left my lips as I placed a hand on my chest, not expecting to see him standing there.

“Shit, Dean, you scared the crap out of me.” In response Dean mumbled a half hearted apology, taking a step closer to me.

“What are you doing up? It’s late, you should be in bed.”

“What are you, my dad?” I scoffed, not sure how to feel about the reprimanding. He held his hands up in defence, only bowing his head slightly, not saying anything else. I sighed.

“I just can’t sleep; I’ve been tossing and turning for hours but no luck. I was just on my way to get a glass of water.”

“You didn’t think to put any more clothes on?” He asked, and it looked like he was trying desperately not to look me up and down as his eyes wouldn’t leave mine.

“I’m sorry - how many people do you run into at TWO AM? I wasn’t expecting company,” I tugged more on the bottom of my T-shirt, trying harder to cover up what little dignity I had left in front of Dean Winchester. All of a sudden we were stood in total silence, neither of us knowing what to say as we now avoided eye contact and I played with the hem on my shirt. We stayed like this for a few awkward moments before I opened my mouth to say something right as Dean decided to speak.

“I can’t get you out of my head, (Y/n).”

My eyes snapped up to meet his, and there was an almost pained look about his face that was hard to place in the dim lighting. My mouth opened and closed a few times, not knowing what words to pick. Luckily for me, Dean kept talking.

“That shit you pulled earlier - the way you… danced… for Sam - made me genuinely jealous of my own brother. I mean come on, we’ve already done the deed, why didn’t you pick me?”

“Because how would you have known how good I was if you couldn’t see everything?”

He thought for a second before tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in agreement.

“You’ve got me there.”

“I know what I’m doing, Winchester.”

“You sure do sweetheart,” Dean stepped closer to me, closing the already short distance between us with those forest-green eyes not leaving mine. Our chests were almost touching as his gaze started flicking between my eyes and my lips. I watched as his own lips parted and he chewed on his bottom lip as if deep in thought, his eyes growing darker by the second. My heart started to race and the atmosphere turned thick. What was he thinking about? Why did he have to look at me the way he did - like he wanted to devour me - the intensity of his gaze increasing by the second and making me warm both inside and out. Not another thought ran through my mind when my back thumped against my bedroom door and Deans lips descended on my own - hot and hurried. His large arms circled my waist, rough palms caressing every inch of my back, waist and ass like he was searching for the best place to grip onto - to dig his fingers into my soft skin. I pulled on his hair, bringing his face and body closer to mine, wanting to feel every muscled inch of him press against me.

I released one hand from his hair and reached back, fumbling around the door looking for the handle, soon finding it and twisting. The door swung open and we stumbled in, too wrapped up in every fibre of each other to pay much attention to anything else. Dean kicked the door closed, reluctant to release me from his grasp and his lips still on mine as he hastily backed me towards my bed; my knees hitting the mattress and I tumbled down onto my back, pulling him with me. He gripped me with one strong arm and lifted me further up the bed so I was in a more comfortable position - my head now resting on the pillow and my hair fanning around me. His lips were so soft on mine, his stubble occasionally scratching my chin when his lips parted further and his tongue hesitantly skimmed mine. The action was slow, as if he was testing the waters. I couldn’t stop the moan from leaving my lips at the feeling of him in my mouth and the sheer intimacy of the action, wrapping my arms over his shoulders and surrendering my mouth to him. I subconsciously pulled him closer, my knees parting without a second thought and his hips dipped down, allowing me to feel every well-sculpted muscle in his abdomen and thighs - including the hardness growing in those loose pyjama pants. The ever so familiar sensation of my own arousal began brewing like a storm; twisting in the pit of my stomach with excitement and anticipation. Electric jolts shot through me every time he pressed into my most sensitive area, making my legs twitch involuntarily as breathy gasps escaped me. His mouth quickly left mine and trailed down my throat before he sat up, pulling himself from my grasp. His evergreen eyes, black with desire that pierced into mine with white hot lust held my gaze, and I fought to stop my eyes rolling into the back of my head from the way he looked at me. Without missing a beat he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor, holding himself above me as I let myself admire him - trailing my gaze over every inch of exposed skin, lingering on his tattoo. I reached up and traced my fingers over it, feeling him shiver and groan at my gentle touch, his head dropping into the crook of my neck. With one hand he reached down, those rough fingers delicately slipping into my underwear and circling that sensitive button, making my legs twitch even more than before. He went around and around, tauntingly avoiding contact with it before a desperate whimper slipped from my lips. He smirked like the Devil himself before he finally indulged me, pressing his fingertips expertly to the tender mound, undoing me in a way that I’ve never been undone before. He leaned down as his ministrations continued, pressing soft kisses to my moaning lips. My head tilted back into my pillow as that recognisable feeling in the pit of my stomach began to twist tighter and tighter, my nails digging into Deans shoulders, leaving behind little crescent moon-shaped indents in his skin. My breathing increased and I was right on the edge of bliss when out of nowhere he stopped, the pleasure disappearing in an instant. However before I even had a chance to complain he’d slid two thick fingers inside me with ease, drawing a gasp from my chest. He pumped in and out a few times, teasingly pressing on the hidden cushion of over-sensitive flesh that was hidden deep inside, making me writhe underneath him. It wasn’t hidden to Dean though, no, he knew EXACTLY what he was looking for. Once again this pleasure was short lived as he pulled his fingers out, leaving me cold and empty on the inside. On the outside however I was red hot as I watched the older Winchester stick his fingers in his mouth, circling his tongue around them as he sucked my essence from his digits, not missing a single drop. My heart flipped when he spoke in a low, husky voice.

“Delicious - just like last time.”

Heat spread like wildfire over my cheeks as I blushed furiously, not knowing how to deal with the sexual expertise of this incredibly objectionable man. He placed his hands on my thighs, my knees almost gripping his hips in anticipation.

“Are you ready princess?” He asked, his voice smooth and frustratingly calm, except for his chest rising and falling rapidly with supposedly eager breaths.

“Yes- Dean please-”

In a single beat he pulled himself out of his pants and slid inside me with ease, stretching me as he made every inch disappear. My eyes rolled and my mouth was agape, a pornstar-grade moan unintentionally leaving my lips and making Dean quiver.

“Fuck- (Y/n) don’t squeeze me like that darlin or I won’t last long…” he breathed out, all calmness from his voice now gone.

“I-I’m not doing anything- I swear,” I almost squeak out as he lowers himself over me again, one hand dropping next to my head to support himself as the other gripped my thigh pulling it around him. It was his turn for his eyes to roll.

“Lord have mercy…” he muttered out under his breath, slowly moving his hips, thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over and over again. He was ever so gentle at first, but that soon changed when his own pleasure was there to be chased and gentle thrusting turned to mind-melting pounding. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, his mouth occasionally pressing into the curve of my neck as my lips rested near his ear, my soft moans going straight to his brain. I started to feel sweat pepper his skin, his breathing heavy as his motions became even more rapid and uneven. He was right - he wouldn’t last long. I unwound my arms and placed my palms on his chest and pushed, taking him by surprise. He stopped his pounding and I could feel him flex inside me, bringing a gasp from my lips before I could get my words out. I refocused, his attention on me unwavering.

“Get on your back.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice as he flipped over with ease, pulling out of me for a second and taking my spot on the bed. I flung my leg over him and lowered myself down on him with zero hesitation, hating the cold feeling of emptiness. Deans hands worked on their own as they grabbed the soft flesh on my thighs, his fingers digging in as he groaned in pleasure. His head went back in the pillow, his eyes shut and jaw slack as I started to move, rocking back and forth, his hands softly guiding me. My fingers pushed into his chest as I steadied myself, and he seemed unphased by my weight in his state of ecstasy. I moaned, unable to stop myself from chasing my own pleasure as I looked down at him, loving that I was the one making him lose his mind in bliss. He opened his eyes, lids still hooded as he gazed up, watching me ride him like there was no tomorrow. For a moment his hands left my thighs, reaching up and tugging on the old T-shirt I was wearing.

“Take this shit off,” he growled, helping me discard the item. I lifted it over my head and tossed it to the floor with his garment, dishevelling my hair in the process.

“Better?” I asked, now completely bare to his burning gaze.

“Fuck yes,” he breathed, hands sliding up my stomach to caress the underside of my breasts, sliding a thumb over the silky smooth skin as his palms rested on my ribs. I rocked against him harder, feeling my own wetness on my thighs and mixing with my sweat. In this position it was like his cock was in my throat - he felt so deep, so engulfed by me I felt I could never let him go. I’d never felt so full in my life, it was borderline uncomfortable but I couldn’t get enough - it was intoxicating. HE was intoxicating. The smell of leather and gunpowder on his skin, the taste of beer on his lips and the silky smooth scars that dotted his otherwise perfect body was a drug in itself. I don’t even know if I truly hated him. Especially when he was here giving me the best sex of my life. I’d fuck this mans brains out everyday if I could. If he’d let me.

It didn’t take long for my impending climax to appear on the horizon. It bubbled, almost boiling as I rocked harder, faster, more desperately than before, making the bed creak and the headboard knock against the wall. Deans grip on my ass was assisting my motions as I started to lose control over the sounds tumbling from my lips - the name.

Dean.

I could see the desperation seeping into him as his rhythm started faltering, throwing me off for a split second before we found unison again. My nails dug into his chest once more, Dean totally unphased and too overwhelmed with pleasure to even care. My own pleasure turned to Earth shattering ecstasy as the buildup dropped and the cord snapped - wave, after wave, after wave of euphoria crashed around me, making my eyes roll and toes curl; legs trembling either side of Dean as I moaned his name - temporarily forgetting all other words. Clenching around Dean, it sent shockwaves through him that brought him to his own release, his grip painful on my delicate skin as he came undone with my name on his lips. I instantly felt warmth seep down the inside of my thigh, and the thought of being completely filled to the brim by him made my heart flutter. Dean trembled beneath me, both of us slowing down as we came down from our synchronised highs. After a few quiet moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he was the first to speak up.

“Ahh fuck, (Y/n)…. What the fuck was that?” He ran a hand through his hair.

I tilted my head in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“THAT,” he said pausing to catch his breath, looking up at me with eyes as black as coal, “was one of the most intense moments of my life,” he propped himself up onto his elbows so we were now almost eye to eye. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I hope that’s a good thing?”

“Damn right.”

We stared at each other, clarity returning through the sexual fog, and strangely, regret was nowhere to be found. Deans tongue darted out and wet his lips, and I gnawed on my bottom lip almost nervously. He was still here. Unmoving. Why didn’t he leave?

Why didn’t I WANT him to leave?

We sat in peaceful silence as I stayed on his lap, Dean making no effort to move even though he had started to soften inside me, letting the mess leak out and drip down my thighs and over his hips. I’d have to change the bedsheets before sleeping. Deans eyes were returning to their usual mossy green, his gaze gentle on my figure for the first time since we’d met.

“I should probably get off - let you get back to your room,” I said, my eyes not leaving his, my tone lacking.

“Yeah… I should really let you sleep…” Deans voice was the same as mine. We looked at each other for a few more minutes before we both leaned forwards, Deans fingers threading ever so gently through my hair and I placed my hands on his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum beneath my fingertips. His lips were as soft as silk as they pressed on mine - a great contrast to the bruising make out session earlier. He kissed me with a tenderness I didn’t know he could muster, and it made my heart flutter something crazy. His mouth moved on mine, as soft and warm as a summers breeze and I didn’t want it to end. Eventually he pulled away, a smile on his lips.

“Sweetheart you really need to sleep,” his voice held a kindness I’m sure wasn’t for me.

“I…umm…” I paused and looked away, fighting with myself about whether I should even say what’s in my mind. I decided to be bold, fighting the blush rising from deep within.

“Dean, I don’t want you to go…”

He stared at me, and for the first time ever a pink glow adorned his masculine features. He was still. Very still, and I was starting to scold myself for being weird and out of character. It didn’t take much longer for him to reply.

“Well let's get you cleaned up and head to my room - we can sort your sheets out in the morning.”

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