#he doesn’t actually but I think he does

[seungisms]

( skz reaction ) condom or no condom .ᐟ 

📂🖇️ who in skz likes to fuck with or without a condom

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, slight breeding kink with chan cause grrrr, humiliation kink, overstimulation, small size kink with seungmin (his dick is too big for you cause i said so) creampies 🗣️🗣️🗣️ note: got super carried away and this is kinda dog but let’s gooooo

방찬. BANG CHAN

condom. he already has seven other kids he doesn’t need one more. mainly uses them cause he can’t be trusted when he swears he’ll pull out and cum on your stomach or tits instead. the faster his orgasm is to approaching the less he’s able to think about what he’s actually doing, every single coherent voice inside of him screaming for him to pull out is ignored as his cock fucks into you deep and sloppy - the promise of finally filling you up until his cum is spilling out past your little hole just makes it far too appealing to stay buried inside of your tight pussy, determined to leave you a sticky used mess once he’s done. hates himself for it but his breeding kink is dangerous, this man has to battle himself everyday to not fuck you until you’re full and pregnant, so convincing him to ditch the condoms will take some work. beg cutely enough and he’ll give in. swears he’s only doing it to shut you up but the second he sinks his bare cock into you he’s losing every lousy ounce of self-control he might’ve had, mouth drying up and eyes trained on the way your cunt struggles to take him. and he can feel every single nook and cranny of your plush cunt in ways the condom just doesn’t allow and he just can’t find it in himself to rid himself of the pleasure of finally filling you up the way you so desperately crave.  he can normally hold his orgasm out for a few good rounds, ensuring you’re completely fucked out when he finally does cum - but the first time you go without protection he’s busting inside of you within minutes. always buys you the morning after pill though and apologises for cumming inside of you, trying to ignore how good it felt to fuck your pretty pussy with no barrier.

리노. LEE MINHO 

no condom. when he cums, he cums hard. so wearing a condom just makes no sense to him and he’ll just end up ripping it off mid fuck, filling you up over and over until it’s leaking out of you, cussing under his breath that he should’ve fucked that stupid thought out of you for even suggesting to wear one in the first place. prefers having you on some type of brith control instead cause with the amount of cum this guys feeds into your pussy a condom isn’t gonna do shit. he’ll wear them when you first start dating just cause he wants to make sure you feel safe and comfortable with him but the second he catches wind you like it RAW?? he’s taking a lighter to every single condom he’s ever owned, in the trash, never to be seen again. and anytime you try to suggest using them again he’ll act so fucking offended, knowing fine rightly how much you love receiving the loads of cum he gives your greedy little pussy to even humour the idea. far too addicted to the feeling of filling you up over and over until your pussy is left all creamy and sticky and you’re crying that you can’t take anymore to ever think about going back, especially not when he’s felt the addicting press of your cunt smothering his dick and milking him for all he’s got, he couldn’t even fathom the thought of wearing them again.

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

both. he’ll always try to remember one but gets such a bad case of pussy tunnel vision that most of the time he’ll forget about the stash he keeps in his bedside drawer. tries to keep one on him cause the amount of times you’ve found yourself getting fucked in some random empty supply cupboard or bent over his studio desk have been too many to count cause this man can’t keep his dick in his pants for the life of him, only realising he doesn’t have one when it’s far too late and he’s already painted your pretty pussy sticky with his cum. he’s far too impatient and just can’t ignore the feeling of needing to get his dick wet no matter how hard he tries, somehow always manages to convince you to let him fuck you raw when he doesn’t have a condom, swearing he’ll pull out but he wasn’t prepared for how much he’d love filling your little cunt up again and again until you just can’t take anymore of him. hates the part of him that gets off on seeing you stained and dripping in cum, and might even start telling you he ‘forgot’ to buy more while he was at the store - just to have the sight of your cute cunt all used and spilling over marked into his brain. 

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

no condom. nothing gets him off like fucking you with no condom. he loves the risk of it all and the fact that he can turn you into a pretty mess with just a few pumps of his dick. loves fucking you raw so much that he’ll have videos saved on his phone of his cock stretching you out - soft praises of, ‘taking me so well angel,’ hardly audible over the sloppy sounds of his cock pumping into your pussy. needs to be as close to you as humanly possible so wrapping a piece of rubber around his dick to devoid himself of the heavenly feeling of your cunt suffocating around him just makes no sense. completely loses himself in the heat of your pussy, locks his jaw and rests his forehead on your shoulder when he’s fucking into you - just so he doesn’t lose all sense of sanity just from the mere feeling of your cunt milking him for all he’s got, and he’s prepared to give you it all. in the early stages of your relationship he’ll try to at least pull out for your sake, but the more he did the more he noticed your thighs locking around his hips to keep his dick firmly planted inside of you, forcing him to empty his loads into your greedy cunt and he just has to thank whatever god there is out there for blessing him with a girl that’s as eager for his cum much as you are. 

한. HAN JISUNG

condom but he forgets half the time. jisung gets so pussy drunk so quickly that protection will be the last thing on his mind, especially when he gets the chance to finally bury himself deep into his favourite place - your pussy. he likes the idea of being safe and protected but his hunger for your pretty little cunt to be wrapped around his cock any chance he can get just stands in the way of actually doing so. it’ll get to the point where you’ll have to carry them instead cause this man is prepared to fuck you nearly everywhere you go, doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, he’s gonna beg to have your sweet walls wrapping around him near daily. if you actually do make him wear them it won’t last for long, he’ll whine and beg and near damn cry cause it’s just not the same :( and you have him so pussy spoiled that he might actually get blue balled all thanks to the rubber separating you both, might even pull out and take it off just when he’s fucked you dumb enough that you won’t notice, slipping back in and near sobbing the second your pussy swallows him up again, every raw twitch and spasm making his dick swell up even more. likes making a mess of you far too much to commit to condoms so they’ll become an increasingly rare occurrence in your relationship. 

필릭스. LEE FELIX 

condom. as much as he wants to he’s just far too paranoid about accidentally knocking you up to actually fuck you raw. also likes knowing you feel comfortable during sex and as appealing as thought of making your pussy all creamy with his cum is, he’d be a worried mess afterwards. makes sure he always has one in his wallet, cause with the amount you beg this man for his dick he’d rather be safe than sorry. even when you’re being all needy and he’s teased you to a state of being completely fucked out, whining about how much you need him to fuck you when the heavy weight of his cock bumping against your clit just isn’t enough - he’ll still find the will to ignore the painful swell of his dick to pull away and go grab a condom, chuckling and kissing away the cute pout of disappointment that sits on your lips when your hope of having him fuck you raw was once again shattered. tells you to stop being so goddamn ungrateful and take what he gives you :( with or without a condom this man KNOWS how to work his dick so he’ll fuck you stupid no matter what. the further you get into your relationship the more willing he’d be to finally ditch the condoms, but the second he slips into you with no rubber for the first time is the second he loses every ounce of control - fucking into you like an animal and suddenly your sweet, doting felix is gone and is now fucking you deeper and harder than he ever has before, wondering how he’s went all this time without the feeling of fucking you raw. 

���민. KIM SEUNGMIN 

no condom. this man will laugh straight in your face if you ever try to make him wear one. he knows fine rightly how greedy you are for his cum so he won’t take you seriously at all, fully arguing that a pussy as cute as yours shouldn’t be left all empty and sad without a cock in it and would look much, much prettier if it was dripping in cum. and he’s more than happy to be the one covering your little cunt in it. anytime you try to suggest using a condom he’ll make sure you regret it, forcing you to sit on his dick and fuck yourself over and over until that stupid thought was completely rid out of your pretty little head - pumping load after load into your pussy until it’s left all messy and sticky and begging for a break. loves reminding you how much you’d miss the feeling of his cock filling you up if he actually used one and deep down you hate that he’s right. sometimes he gets a little carried away cause the sight of you covered in his cum just goes straight to his dick, likes fucking you in public and making you walk around after with his cum dribbling down your thighs, knowing if you bent over just a little everyone around would get an eyeful of your cute ass painted in it peaking out from under your tiny skirt. and he’ll just have to fuck another load into you later that night from the thought alone. his cock is too big for you, and he gets such a nasty kick out of this fact, watching the way his cum from earlier that day trickles out of your pussy when he’s fucking you - only for him to push it back in with his cock and force you to take even more of it. loves seeing his cum drip to of your used cunt when he’s done and no amount of condoms is gonna take that away from him. 

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

condom, but he’s easily persuaded to ditch it. jeongin is just there for a good time and as long as he gets his dick wet he doesn’t really care. he’ll always have one in his wallet just in case but the second he gets a taste of your pretty pussy he’s only able to think with his cock and completely forgets the concept of protection. this man needs you almost every hour of the day and most of the of the time wrapping a condom on his dick is the last thing on his mind, he’d much rather it be your pussy instead. can’t think straight when he’s turned on and the only fix is you. you’ll literally have to pry him off you when he’s this eager, lips chasing after you with a small whine of protest when you pull away from him in the backseat of the company car he’s somehow managed to squeeze you into after the rest of the boys and managers were busy setting up for rehearsal, trying to get him to focus long enough to grab a condom but he’s just too busy rubbing the fat head of his cock into your cunt. he’ll be so pouty when you stop him again, ‘forgetting something jeongin?’ and he’s just like, ‘uhhh, no? i remembered to turn my computer off this time,’ and just gets right back into trying to stick his dick into you finally. only realises he forgot a condom when he’s already fucked a load into you, letting out a small sigh of relief once he pulls his softening cock from your used pussy, watching the way his cum follows and dribbles out past your folds. but he can’t find it in himself to care cause you’ve never looked prettier. always helps you clean up after though :( 

© seungisms - all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated. 

[luveline]

hi 🙈 would u do a request of steve with a reader that’s an emotional drunk? love ur work 💖

thanks for requesting lovely! fem, 1k

“I think that you think you have a way higher threshold for getting drunk than you actually have.” 

You nod emphatically. “Yeah!”

Steve grins. You’re sitting on the high stool next to his slowly attempting to spin yourself around. He’s holding the chair steady with his leg under the bar. A milkshake and a burger sit in front of you largely untouched. 

Steve takes a sip of his own milkshake and feels the frozen vanilla hit the roof of his mouth as you fill the silence. “‘Cos I always drink a bunch right at the start of the night thinking it won’t get me, and it does!”

Steve doesn’t drink at all anymore. He doesn’t like the idea of being inebriated, whether of his own will or not, but he doesn’t mind being your guardian for the night, any night you want. Robin got you plastered because you’re drinking for two, a joke she insists on and nobody finds all that funny sober. If she said it to you now you’d crumple off of your seat to the floor and cry tears of joy. Everything is heightened. Your excitement, your boredom, your hunger. You’d pleaded with Steve to buy you a burger, and have quickly forgotten it’s there. 

He takes your knife and cuts the burger in half, then again into quarters. “Here,” he says quietly, more subdued than he means to be in the face of your freneticism. “Before it gets cold, baby.” 

He likes all of the pet names now he’s with you. You’re a sweetheart, an angel, his bub, babe, baby, it doesn’t matter how corny the word is, if he thinks about you in the right way he can say it with full sincerity. Babygirl was a bad phase, but baby sticks. 

“Thank you,” you say, reaching under his arm to link you together as you pick up one of your quarters, lettuce and tomato and sauce spilling out the sides. 

“You’re welcome. You know that.” 

You smile around a huge bite and wipe your appled cheeks clean with the side of your hand, giving him these looks you’ve perfected, not shy but almost, I’m so lucky unsaid but felt. Steve can’t really understand why you’d feel that way about him, he’s a loser, he’s not pretty, he doesn’t work out anymore, but none of that stuff matters because why should it? He doesn’t care that you’re a lightweight, that you snore like a freight train, that you pull your lip in between your teeth whenever you’re thinking too deeply and accidentally look like the victim of a botched face lift. It’s all inconsequential. The stuff that matters is your arm like a weight through his and how happy you were when he paid for your burger and fries. 

He squeezes you under the chin as you chew to hold you still for a kiss. “Love you. You look beautiful.” 

“I do?” you ask through burger. You try to cover your mouth best you can, but Steve doesn’t care. 

“You do. Tonight was fun, yeah? I had a great time with you, like always.” 

Your eyebrows pinch up. Your eyes begin to swim. Steve blinks in shock as you swallow and grab onto his wrist, your lips shiny with what might be ketchup as you begin to pout. “Steve…”

That’s his fault. My bad. He knows what kind of drunk you are but he knows how much it means to you regardless to hear that you’re appreciated. He shouldn’t have said it yet, maybe a little later when you’d calmed down and your fries had soaked up the beer in your stomach, but it’s too late. He lets his gaze soften. “I mean it,” he says, rubbing your chin with his thumb swiftly, before wrapping his arm around you, lest you feel wobbly again. “Spending time with you is my favourite thing to do.” 

“What’s your problem?” you ask, eyes filling with tears, the biggest one he’s ever seen flushed over you waterline as you screw up your face. “That’s so nice. I love you, too.”

“I know,” he says, and if he dips into a babying tone, well, that’s his business. 

“You had a good time?” you ask through a shuddery sob. 

“I had the best time.” 

You turn your face into his arm. Steve ignores the waitress staring at you both to smile into your temple. “You’re not supposed to cry, it’s a good thing!” he says lightly. “I just wanted you to know I had a good time tonight.” 

“I had a good time too!” you splutter. 

“I know,” he says, “I know you did, why don’t you try and eat some more of your food? You’ll feel less… like this.” 

“Sorry!”

“No, don’t be,” he says, firmer now, “it’s okay, I don’t mind, I just don’t want you to be upset–”

“I’m not upset! I love you!” 

He can hear the girls in the booth by the door giggling. Steve laughs into your head, ushering your face into his neck to give you some time and a space to calm down. “I love you too. Even if you’re, like, ninety percent bud light right now.” 

It takes you ages to calm down and he can’t blame you. You’re super, super drunk, and despite your best attempts at dinner you’ve basically got an empty stomach. He’s trying to save you from puking with the burger, so after a couple of minutes of you saying that you love him and that tonight was really fun, he pulls you out of his neck to meet your eyes. “Can you eat some more for me?” he asks, smiling, knowing it’s ridiculous. 

You love it, digging in with your cheeks still wet. Steve wipes at them with the back of his index finger. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you say around a crinkly bite of romaine lettuce. 

“I’m not, but I don’t mind.” 

You sniffle. “You have to eat too,” you say. 

He offers his hand for holding. You take it, letting them swing between your two chairs, returning for now to your meals. Steve’s opened the floodgates and he’s expecting another bout of crying before bed. Hopefully not while he’s holding your hair back over the toilet bowl. 

[pettysreverie]

Kinda really obsessed with the idea of him becoming super obsessed with you after fucking you…

CW: AFAB!Reader, stalking, obsessive behavior, yandere-esque behavior (if I missed something, pls kindly let me know!)

Like, I imagine that maybe he’s just come back from deployment? Would explain why he’s so starved for a good fuck, ya know?

Probably meets you in a pub (bc duh) and after a few drinks between the two of you, you both decide to go back to his place.

He figures it’s gonna be nothing too big of a deal. Certainly nothing he hasn’t done before.

Who hasn’t taken a bird back from the pub for a good fuck?

But the moment he slides into your cunt, he knows that he’d been wrong.

Whatever he’d been doing before was not fucking. Was not having sex. Because sex with you—with your slutty cunt and those heavenly sounds you make—is bewitching.

As if your cunt is putting him deeper and deeper under a spell with every twitch and clench.

A spell he gladly welcomes.

Your body is so soft and beautiful. And you…you’re so pliant and willing—batting those pretty lashes at him with that dazed, fucked out look in your eyes.

And that’s when the spell cements.

When a flip switches inside of him.

When something…changes.

He grips your ankles and hoists your legs over his shoulders to drive his cock even deeper inside of your quivering heat.

Your back bows off the bed and your hands grapple the sheets, moans tumbling from your kiss swollen lips as your eyes nearly roll all the way back.

“Yer mine. All mine.”And there’s a stutter in his breath as he moans, his hips momentarily stuttering in their otherwise relentless movements. “Say it fer me, love.”

But with the way he’s got you practically folded in half—knees all but bent to your chest with your legs draped over his back—replying to him is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

He angles his hips, driving long and deliciously thick cock directly into your sweet spot over and over again—seemingly determined to drive you insane with pleasure.

Seemingly determined to fuck you positively dumb.

“Say. It.”He grits out, his voice taking on an almost animalistic, growling tone.

There is something so primal about his command. Something about it brings out such a fundamental instinct in you that you cannot help but to comply—to submit.

“Y-Yours…”You manage to utter amongst your incoherent babbling and moaning.

One word.

You only speak one word.

But one word is all he needed to hear.

He fucks you well into the morning. The sun rises, its light shining through the cracks in the curtains by the time he turns you loose and allows you to rest.

And rest you do.

When you wake up, it’s practically evening!

You’re quite embarrassed. But like the gentleman he is, he assures you that he does not mind. In fact, he even offers to pay for your transportation home.

You decline, too embarrassed about your faux pas.

And for you? You assume that, while this was an amazing experience, it was a one time thing. You don’t expect to see him again.

But you do.

You run into him again and again and again.

At the market. At the park. At the coffee shop.

It’s fate! It’s the universe! It’s gotta be something, right?

It’s…him.

You really thought he was going to let you go after that world altering fuck? The way you blew his mind? The way your cunt hypnotized him?

Silly, beautiful, stupid woman.

Just the thought of someone else having you like that…no, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

How could he let you get away?

No, he had to hack your phone.

Not like it was hard…sure he’s more of a “field” agent. More used to having a gun in his hand and his boots on the ground, but he’s no stranger to some lines of spyware code.

Besides, you made it quite easy for him by sleeping in as long as you did…not that he minded of course!

You look so peaceful while you sleep. So beautiful, actually.

And really, he was so very glad he’d hacked your phone. How else was he supposed to know where you lived when you rejected his offer to pay for your transportation home?

But now that he’s in your phone, he’s practically in your life already.

Every contact you have saved, he knows.

Every place you go, he knows and can go there too. (How do you think your two have been running into each other so often?)

Every post you like. Every pin you save. Every song you playlist. He knows it all.

Not that you know it…not that you ever will.

He’ll let you believe it’s fate. Or the universe. Or whatever. Doesn’t matter to him, really.

Besides, you’re already his.

You even said so yourself…remember?

(Oh you don’t? Then why doesn’t he just remind you?)

[moonstruckme]

Hello icon ✨Could we have a poly!wolfstar x reader where she thinks that they are mad at her for something (or they could actually be a bit miffed) and it just a bit of hurt comfort with cuddles and kisses at the end😔🙏🏻

Thank you for requesting <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re being weird. 

The three of you are doing a puzzle, which usually captivates your attention but never Sirius’, which is how he’s so very aware of how little attention you’re actually paying to the puzzle. You keep glancing at Sirius, at Remus, like you’re nervous about something. You’ve been like this all day. It’s in and out, sometimes waning like you’ve forgotten to be anything but normal, but Sirius has a keen gauge for tension. He can sense it every time it ticks back up.

You’re pretending to look for sky pieces, though Sirius suspects you forgot what color the sky in your puzzle was a while ago. He feels like you’re building to something, and it makes his skin itch. Remus is too absorbed in his tree bark pieces to notice—the nerd—so it’s up to Sirius to get it out of you. Luckily, James has always said that Sirius is a master of tact. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You were halfway to sneaking another glance at him, and you react as though you’ve been struck, jumping a little where you sit on the rug by the coffee table. “What? Nothing.” 

“Well, that was very believable.” Sirius smiles to take some of the bite out of it. “Come on, you have me on the edge of my seat. What’s got you all worked up?” 

“I am not worked up,” you insist, though your expression says otherwise. 

Remus appears confused, but he notices your guilty eyes as well. “What’s happening?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say again. 

“Clearly something,” Sirius counters. 

Your lips press together, corners downturnt. You’re not looking at either of them.

“Hey.” Sirius softens his voice. “What is it? You’re freaking me out, babe.”  

This only seems to distress you further. “I wanted you not to freak out,” you say.

“Sweetheart, about what?” Now Remus sounds worried too, though the look he gives you is more patient than anything Sirius could ever manage. He ducks his head to catch your gaze. 

After a moment of looking at him, your shoulders droop. “Okay.” Your voice has quieted. “Just a second.” 

Sirius’ anxiety ratchets as you stand, going down the hall towards your room. 

“Why does it feel like she’s going to bring us back a school report?” he murmurs to Remus. 

Remus shakes his head, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “No idea.” 

When you return, it is with papers, though Sirius doesn’t at first know what they are. 

“This came this morning,” you say in that same resigned voice, laying them down on the coffee table as you sit back down next to Sirius.

With Sirius and Remus on opposite sides they can’t both read the text at once, and Remus picks them up first. Sirius spots you bringing your hand to your mouth and reaches for it silently, drawing it away before you can start chewing your fingernails. Your nervousness is making him nervous. He pushes his thumb up the lines of your palm. 

“Oh,” Remus hums. 

“Remus,” Sirius says, in a tone that clearly communicates if somebody doesn’t start talking I’m going to throw a wobbly. 

“It’s the gas bill,” says Remus. He’s making his old man face, where he leans away slightly and squints like he needs glasses. Ordinarily Sirius would tease him for it, but he’s not in the mood. “Bit high.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say in a small voice. 

Sirius looks at you. Frowning, your hand still trapped in his. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Is this…” One glance at Remus, and it’s clear Sirius is now the one lagging in understanding. “Is this because you left the oven on?” 

Your expression says enough. 

Oh, well. In fairness, Sirius had thrown a bit of a wobbly over that. 

It was weeks ago. You made cookies just before bed. They were warm, gooey, the perfect precursor to sleep and an excellent excuse, in Sirius’ opinion, to trade chocolate-flavored kisses until all three of you were snoozing on your pillows. It hadn’t been until he and Remus were making breakfast the next morning that Remus smelled the gas. You’d come out of the bedroom, confused, to find them throwing open windows and calling the fire department for advice. Your gas oven had been left on all night. 

You felt awful. Your boyfriends gave you an appropriate amount of shit for it, but it was only thoughtless, not malicious. Your apartment hadn’t blown up. The smell drifted away within a few minutes, and in all honesty Sirius was left feeling a bit bad that what began as you trying to make them all happy had resulted in you being so thoroughly chastised. But it had been let go. 

Until now, evidently. 

“I can pay it,” you offer meekly. “The difference, or all of it.” 

Remus sighs, rubbing his brow. “Dove…” 

“Let me see that.” Sirius reaches with the hand not holding yours. Remus gives it to him. He finds the total quickly. “This isn’t even that high.” 

Okay, it’s a bit high. But genuinely, Sirius was expecting worse. 

“It’s my fault,” you mumble. 

“Baby, is this what you’re all wound up about?” Sirius sets the papers down to gawk at you. “Really? I thought something happened.” 

You’re shrinking, your hand tense in his. “Something did happen.” 

“Yeah, a whole month ago!” 

“Sirius,” Remus murmurs, in a tone Sirius knows to mean you’re not helping. He asks you, “Did you think we would be angry with you?” 

Spiderweb cracks spread through your expression. Your mouth wobbles. 

“Oh, you absolute moron.” Sirius grabs for you with both hands, hauling you into his lap. 

“Pads.”

“You ridiculous, sweet idiot.” He kisses your head. Once, twice, three times. “Why’d you have to go and get all worked up? You got me worked up, silly thing.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly. 

“Alright, that’s enough apologizing,” Remus says gently. Underneath the coffee table, a socked foot bumps into Sirius’ leg before presumably finding yours. Sirius grins. Remus is tactile in the oddest ways sometimes. Like a cat. 

He loves you both so very much. God, you really had him going. He feels liable to squeeze the life out of you. 

He satiates the urge by kissing you all over your face until you look significantly less upset. You look at Sirius with tentative relief, the beginnings of a smile curled up in the corner of your mouth. 

He’s about to ask you again how you could be so stupid, but Remus speaks first. Probably for the best. 

“It really won’t be so much more for each of us once we split it,” he says, looking again at the bill. 

That guilty look is back on your face. Sirius gives you a squeeze in hopes of banishing it. “I can get it,” you say. “It wouldn’t be there if I hadn’t been so…if I hadn’t left the oven on.” 

“You don’t need to punish yourself,” Remus tells you. “It’s all right.” 

You fidget. “I feel like you should probably be angrier with me.” 

“We already have been angry with you,” Sirius points out. “We got over it. Time to move on, babe.” 

“It was a mistake.” Remus’ gaze is steady. Knowing. “It was scary, but it happens. You shouldn’t be angry at yourself for us, lovely.” 

You look to be gnawing the inside of your lip. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

Sirius scoffs. “I can be angry without anyone’s help, thank you.” Then, at your wary look, “But I’m not angry about this.” 

Slowly, the tension Sirius has been sensing seeps out of you. You relax in a way you haven’t all day long. 

Remus notices, too. “Sweetheart,” he sighs, in a soft, fond voice. “Talk to us next time, okay?” 

“I know, sorry.” You give him a sheepish look. “I was going to. I just really thought you’d be upset.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sirius kisses your head, sharing an eye roll with Remus. “Shows what you know.”

[navydoves]

Cyborg!Caleb and his strange affectionate habits

you love your part-robot boyfriend, but he’s a little strange!

✎ᝰ a/n: he was supposed to be a puppy for this series… but then this happened, so now he’s a cyborg. i think you all will like this one. enjoy!

cat zayne bunny xavier mermaid rafayel dragon sylus

ִ ࣪𖤐

❥ he's always scanning you. day or night, awake or asleep, caleb will take it upon himself to check your vitals and health on a normal basis. just a quick little holo-scan from his eye is all he needs. and from the amount of time he already spends staring at you, this is a pretty easy feat.

he knows things about you that you haven’t even figured out yet. you’re gonna catch a cold soon, but he already knows from your white blood cell count. you might not know your period is coming soon but caleb has always got your back and tells you when you’re ovulating or preparing for a period. of course, you ask him not to do it all the time. and of course, caleb is insane, so he doesn’t listen all the time. it’s very intimate to him to know the inner workings of your body.

❥ he can’t sleep next to you (and he tries to fix it). caleb does not sleep in a normal human bed. instead, he sleeps in a tube where his charging port is and asks (begs) you to sleep with him there. and while you do indulge him, it’s very uncomfortable for your human body. even after he tried to enlarge the tube by rebuilding, it’s still not ideal.

he’s so upset that he can’t sleep with you in your bed that he’ll charge himself during the day just so he can be next to you at night. except, he can’t sleep without his port, so he just stays awake next to you, exhausting his energy by admiring you. he talks to himself and you during this time and if you ever stir awake from his murmurs, he’ll apologize and lull you back to bed.

❥ he makes modifications for you. caleb doesn’t wish to be any less than perfect for you, so he’s constantly making tweaks and refinements to his system and body to better adapt to you. like the time he installed a heating system inside of him because you always flinched at how cold he was. or maybe the time he installed more sensors in his wires just so he could better feel your touch.

and while to an extent it is sad, caleb will find a way to make it more fun. he’ll adjust the size and feel to his appendage for your pleasure and he’ll also install vibrations to his fingers if you really ask. or maybe he’ll do something silly like add confetti to his hands so that he can pop them out at celebratory moments.

❥ he forces himself to eat for you. caleb doesn’t really need to eat to keep alive. in fact, he prefers not to because sometimes it’ll make his metal tummy feel weird. he’ll never tell you that, though. he loves you too much to let you know that all the meals you prepare for the two of you are actually making him a little sick.

but he’s gotten better at keeping them down. he modifies his stomach to hold food better and slowly he’s working up toward more intolerable foods—such as spices. one day he hopes to be able to stomach everything you make, but until then, he’ll lie day and night to keep you happy and to bond with you.

❥ he’s very picky at his face. the face is the only thing caleb has that’s human-like. because of this, he’s constantly picking at it; snipping at his hair, shaving, cleaning the skin there, everything he can do salvage what he can of his human form. he also prefers it when you touch his face rather than any other part of him, simply because that’s where he can feel skin to skin contact.

he’ll constantly ask you if he looks handsome as a joke, but it comes from a deeper insecurity within him. he wants to ensure you still enjoy him even as he is, and once he gets your reassurance, he’ll start to remind himself every day that he doesn’t need to worry as much about his looks. because you love him anyway.

❥ he takes secret recordings and photos of you. there are two sides of this, the sweet side and the suggestive side. he loves recording your laughs and photographing your smiles with his system so he can rewatch them when the two of you apart. especially if he’s on a mission and away from you for an extended period of time, he’ll make to stock up on your beauty before he goes.

the suggestive side is more like… a few cheeky pictures of you dressed down or right after sex. maybe even a video of your butt while you’re walking away from him. he’ll never want to take videos or pictures of you during intimacy without your consent, but these small provocative pictures of you are more than enough to satisfy him. if you ever do give him consent to make what is essentially robo-homemade-porn, he’ll play it holographically and watch with you after the fact.

❥ he flies you everywhere! come with caleb on a joyride in his arms. he’ll fly you across town or just around the neighborhood! not that he can’t drive you, he just thinks this way is more fun and special because you’re clinging to him the whole way through. no need to be scared of heights because he’s got you tight in his grip and has 8 backup protocols in case he malfunctions mid-air.

you found it a little embarrassing at first, being a spectacle in the air for everyone else, but now it’s fun! you’ve grown so accustomed to being in the air because of him. and since you have such a fun time, anytime you’re down in the dumps or need fresh air, caleb is always there to take you on a little ride to cheer you up.

❥ he has you engraved. it was part of his hardware modifications, but he once asked you to write your name on a piece of paper, and a week later, he has that same writing etched onto his nape. you couldn’t believe it at first, but it was an exact copy of your handwriting now just seared into him.

he tells you it’s so that he can feel more comfortable in his “skin”. knowing that you’re a part of his new robotic body makes him much more accepting and happier of it. he doesn’t hate it as much, not when you’re always in the back of his mind. ִ ࣪𖤐 hey gals: @chersyluvs , @otomegamesforlife

[swtheartz]

i loved your little drabble of the “breaking up with mark doesn’t work” post and i’d really like to hear your thoughts on how that would go down with some of his variants if you have the time pretty please🫶✨

ohh of course dear !! been thinking abt it and this req inspired me even more info : obsessive behavior, mentions and acts of murder, stalking, he’s crazy in every universe. gn!reader a / n : this is a gift to you guys for 348 followers. i’m soo grateful n happy <33

SINISTER MARK

he thinks it’s a joke at first. you’ve no real reason to actually want to leave him, right? he’s utterly convinced that there was nothing wrong with the relationship. and to be fair, there wasn’t. other than the fact he was possessive as shit and always had tabs on you. would scare off your friends and constantly linger around you whenever he wasn’t terrorizing the masses. the second he realizes that you’re serious? he doesn’t take it very well. you won’t ever find someone better than him. he won’t let you. just what human could ever be better than him?

“You’re not very good at jokes,” Mark says—voice and expression both hauntingly blank. It sends chills down your spine for the simple fact he’s never had such an empty tone. The way he looks at you is something that you can’t exactly put into words. Maybe he’s disappointed. Maybe he’s annoyed, or expectant, or some other emotion that you cannot be bothered to decipher. Not when there’s blood staining your clothes and his, the floor, your cheeks and his hands. Whatever ‘friend’ you were hanging out with was dead before they’d hit the ground. It’s been twelve days since you had gathered the courage to tell Mark you wanted a break, and it took him this long to take you seriously. Thought, it hadn’t taken much effort for him to take a life. “I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea. . .” He hummed, tilting his head as he crouched down in front of you, watching you tremble like a deer in front of an incomprehensible creature. ”But let’s not do this again, hm?”

OMNI MARK

calm. at least, he seems calm. but he also doesn’t take you very seriously. acts as he usually does, even asks you when the next date night is. as if he’ll even be able to make it with his schedule and how often he cancels on you. looks at you as though you’ve said something ludicrous when you answer that there isn’t a date night—you’re not together anymore. surely, you don’t know what you’re talking about. if you wanted him to plan the next date, you could have just told him. he’s usually the one that does all the thinking, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. honestly, what made you think you could walk away from him? the one human he cares for, and you’ve the nerve to try and separate from him? funny.

“We’re not dating, Mark.” The way the two of you stare at each other for a few tense moments is a little awkward, though he doesn’t seem to care. He holds eye contact with you before sighing—like you’re a child who doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Like you’ve garnered the nerve to tell some dry joke. “If you have a problem,” Mark starts, arms crossed against his chest as he ignores your exasperated expression, “we talk it out. Like a couple is supposed to do.” “But we’re not a couple anymore. That is what I’m telling you.” You’re attempting to be reasonable, you really are, but you swear up and down he’s making you feel like the crazy one. This has got to be the third time you’ve had this conversation with him, and it hasn’t even been a week. There isn’t any way you can get through to him and you just don’t understand why. Mark scoffs, again, ignoring you. “I’ll make sure I’m not busy. Crime’s been going down, so it should be fine. They’ll manage without me.” “Just kill me already.” You mutter to yourself, unable to decide whether or not you’ll be able to ever get your point across. . . . You’ll just try again tomorrow.

FULL MASK MARK

more pathetic than mainstream mark. this man is like a wet cat in the rain. tries to maintain distance, but ends up following you everyday, texts you without thinking about it while he attempts to reason that it’s okay. you just need some distance and time, and maybe you’ll both get better. ends up outside your window after a particularly bad fight with a villain he had. he didn’t do it on purpose, he just sort of ended up here. call it muscle memory if you will. all he knows is that he’s a mess without you—needs you like oxygen, can barely think or focus on anything without you. probably the only one that tries to be the best he can be for you outside of the main universe. and probably the only one you didn’t really want to break up with.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“Markus.”

“ ‘m sorry,” Mark sniffles, face tucked into your neck as he clings to you. You’d think of it as pathetic if it were anyone but him, honestly. He’d shown up with your favorite candy and drink, bloody and looking like a stray abandoned on the side of the street. You practically had to drag him through the window when he tried to turn back around. It took a bit of insisting and a med-kit to get him cleaned and patched up, despite him reminding you that he technically didn’t need it. You snapped at him to shut up before inevitably pulling him to your room again—letting him stay the night was an easy decision, almost too easy. As of right now, he was simply listening to the sound of your heartbeat, your soft breathing, enjoying the way your gentle fingers tangled in his hair. It was sweet. Familiar. Something Mark had missed so much it made his heart ache and hurt, to the point felt as though it was being ripped apart. Though, if it were done by your hands, he wouldn’t mind.

a / n : i liked writing this, i might make a part two to this and i’m gonna make the healer reader thing a series if you guys are up to reading that. mwah mwahhhh

taglist : @lxkoluvsu // @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha // @tokoyamisstuff

[bejeweledinterludes]

still got the blues.

OR on one quiet night spent in the bunker, you discover that the notorious, god-fearing, big, bad ‘n scary, six-foot badass hunter that is dean friggin’ winchester (aka one of your closest friends) isn’t as tough as he seems.

well.

in bed, at least.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : sub ! dean x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 8.8 k. (FAITH BE NORMAL CHALLENGE LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS 🤺🤺🤺 GET BACK! AWAY!later seasons sub dean winchester x fem reader (yes i have a problem, no i don’t care thank you!). masterbating, handjob, unprotected sex. yeah this may be the horniest thing i’ve ever written in my life.

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

HELLOOOOO THE LONG-AWAITED SUB!DEAN SMUT IS FINALLY HERE 🙂‍↕️🙏‼️ shoutout and thank you to @supernotnatural2005’s drabble / oneshot for the inspo on this one <3 because i think we all want to catch dean like this— which is why i wrote about it!

ALSO @figthoughts’ post from the other day too… yeah idk guys we’re just horny and ovulating connected or something when it comes to mr. jensen ackles and his characters. love you figgy pudding!

𖤐 ─────────────────────────

being on the road with sam and dean for god knows how long now, you’d gotten used to all the sounds each idiot knucklehead brother would make in their sleeping state as you passed their rooms— so much so that it was basically white noise at this point, and you just tune it out.

yeah, tonight was different, though. sam had left much earlier— he and elieen were finally going on a real, live, actual date, much to your joy. which meant you and dean were alone in the bunker together. that doesn’t happen often, but when it does, you usually stay up watching 80s movies and arguing over niche things like whether or not they used real flames in back to the future (they didn’t).

that was yet another reason why tonight was different: you hadn’t seen dean all day, much less tonight. he’d been out doing god knows what— and you barely even heard him come back a few hours ago.

but you didn’t push. actually, you didn’t dare to set foot past dean’s door— taking the long way down the hall to get to the kitchen or the library throughout the evening, secretly hoping he wouldn’t come out of his room or even acknowledge your existence.

because… honestly?

living with two other men?

who the hell were you kidding. you could use a night to yourself.

and not to your knowledge or anything, but so could dean.

no disrespect though, because dean really was wishing you were there— or, rather, he was imagining you with him, which was the only acceptable option at the moment.

…but this was definitely a new low. even for him.

see, while you were actually attempting to be productive with your night, dean was not.

like, at all.

while you were doing your laundry, putting clothes away in your room, watching a show on your laptop with your airpods in— thank god, otherwise this whole thing would blow up in dean’s face…

…for the most part, figuratively.

because dean— and how does one say this without sounding like a complete and total creep?

well, dean was jerkin’ it in his own room.

fappin’.

beatin’ da meat.

whatever the male version was of flickin’ the bean.

oh, and the (best) grossest part?

he was thinking about you while doing it.

yeah, yeah, it’s sick, it’s definitely wrong on so many levels— and it sure as hell feels downright illegal and a sin to be doing it while you’re in the fucking bunker.

it’s the lowest of the low. weird. pathetic.

but then again, dean’s always been a little… pathetic when it comes to you.

don’t let anyone know you know that, though.

so, back to dean being pathetic and horny. he’d been at the bar in town for hours earlier tonight, trying to find someone to satisfy the strain on his pants— and that someone needed to look a whole lot like you to get the job done.

how hard could it be?

well, apparently, in lebanon, kansas, finding a look-alike clone of your best friend so you could fuck them silly? it’s really goddamn hard.

and so was dean.

so here he was—did i say pathetic already?— jerking off in his bedroom like some horny teenager. he’s on his fourth, maybe fifth time cumming to the thought of purely just you.

that’s right, no porn, no nudie mags, not even a goddamn picture in his free hand— because dean was wound up so freakin’ tight, he didn’t need anything. just his hand and his filthy imagination.

it’s humiliating. dean’s literally bucking his hips up into his hand as of right now, imagining it’s yours and not his— all while letting out these little noises that do not sound like they’d be coming from a six-foot, tough as nails hunter. but they are.

and they’re all for you.

dean winchester does not whimper. hell, no. but the broken sound that rips from his throat, tossing his head back on his pillow after he tugs a little too hard on himself was anything but.

and maybe dean should be making less noise— but he knew you so well, too well— you’d have your airpods on noise canceling, anyway. and he can’t even think about if you didn’t. he’s too wrapped up in a haze right now. he’s so distracted. by-god intoxicated.

because dean’s imagining you after that one hunt in virginia. yeah. the moon had been out that night, and god, the way it hit you— a combination of this deep blue and silver and it just lit up your skin, illuminating you like you were one of those ancient goddesses, like the ones he’s only read about in old myths and legends when he’d been so bored he actually did research in the library.

dean’s imagining you, just you, right there with him, and it was your hand, not his. imagining you pulling those sounds from his throat while he’s breathing so heavy, his chest heaving up and down. and the sheets covering only his bottom half were shifting with him as he was moving what seemed like his entire bed along with him as of now.

dean was trying to be quiet.

but his body was not letting him.

and poor you— oh, sweet, innocent you. because as far as dean knew, you were completely oblivious to what was currently occurring in his bedroom at the moment.

but what dean didn’t know was that your airpods had died over an hour ago.

and you’d made the mistake of not taking the long way back to your room this time, thinking that dean had gone to bed due to the late hour.

you had stopped in your tracks in the hall coming back from the kitchen— because you heard dean. heard his little broken groans, damn close to whimpers.

and you genuinely believed that dean was just having a nightmare at first— because hell, with the shit you guys encountered on the daily, it wasn’t uncommon for any of y’all to make a goddamn racket in your sleep.

drawing that conclusion— because it was the only one that was realistic, you start towards your room again, already starting to tune out dean’s weird-as-hell noises.

but before you even take two more steps past dean’s room, you hear something else— a little muffled through the door, but clear as day. because it sends a jolt straight through you.

your name.

he’s having a nightmare, you remind yourself. he could be just calling out to you in that sense, because that would be logical. but then he says your name again. and again.

and it’s just your name.

not sam’s.

not cas’.

just. yours.

and dean sounds like a man possessed at this point. his eyes are squeezed shut, as if he’s trying to banish the image of you from his mind.

but he can’t. and he never would.

he just can’t do it. can’t keep himself in check anymore.

so that’s why dean groans your name at the next motion of his hand on his dick— saying it for the fourth time since you’ve been stopped outside his door.

and it wasn’t a ‘i’m-in-so-much-pain-and-scared’ groan, the kind when someone has a nightmare— no, dean’s groan sounded like a ‘oh-that-feels-so-fuckin-good’ groan, like the kind someone makes when…

oh.

oh.

dean knows he sounds pretty close to, if not completely pathetic. not at all like the good ol’ badass hunter of lore, not that you’d believed him to be. you’d think he’d sound more in control, or at least not whimpering.

dean’s battled both heaven and hell. purgatory. angels, demons, monsters, even sometimes, just people, you name it— he’s fought it and kicked its freakin’ ass, even god himself.

and his one fault? his only weakness?

you.

it’s always been just you. your stupid pretty face. the way you laughed at his jokes, even when they weren’t that funny. the way you stood by him and his brother’s side— and in the hunting world, associating with the winchesters meant a death sentence. you didn’t care, though. you never did. it was in the way you were always there, especially when it counted.

and here he was. jerking off and thinking about you.

this had to be rock bottom. right? if not that, purely a whole new level of scumbag. even if you couldn’t hear him.

oh, but you could. and you’re lingering outside dean’s door— because you didn’t even have to put your ear on it to hear the noises he was making, clear as day.

dean feels like he’s drunk, delirious. this always happened whenever he fantasized about you. a pathetic, groaning and whimpering mess. hell, in this state, he’d damn well beg.

and oh, he was.

“fuckin’— please— god, i need you, please—”

damn, you could almost see it— dean’s hand, hidden by the dark of his room, but the way the sheets move makes it obvious just where his hand is. and it’s a blur.

yeah. there was no more holding out, no more being strong. not now.

because dean feels like he’s on the edge of his own personal hell.

and you? you’re stuck.

dean was… well, fucking doing that. and you’re just… stuck. you would have just kept walking past his door, putting your pillow between your ears and teasing him about it tomorrow morning.

because instead crying or groaning out the name of some random girl or even farah fawcett— dean was currently begging.

for you.

and you’re still stuck. dean feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. he’s gonna cum again, he knows it. he also knows he should be quiet, but the words and your name just keep spilling out of his mouth, and he’s too far gone to stop them.

“ah— fuck. please. please, please, goddamn it, i need you, i need you, i need you…”

yeah, dean’s brain’s not in charge anymore. honestly? it hasn’t been since he met you all those years ago— with your stupid pretty hair, and your stupid pretty mouth, and the stupid soft sounds you make in your sleep that drove him insane whenever you used to share a motel room.

dean needs you.

and you needed a fucking cold-ass shower.

because the way dean was sounding right now? he only sounded like that in your dreams. your deepest, darkest fantasies. it was making your knees buckle.

yeah. there’s absolutely no way any of this was real. this was straight out of a porno. this had to be the trickster’s doing, or something.

because the real dean didn’t act like this. and yet, here he was. and here you were, your stomach flipping each time a sound leaves dean’s mouth and bounces off the wooden door that was still splitting you two apart.

and right then and there, you wished you had the balls to just open it.

because you wanted to be right there next to dean, pulling those noises out of him yourself.

“need you—need you right there, need you, right, right, oh, god, there—”

even in dean’s own fantasies, the ones that drove him to insanity like right now, he’d always thought about this. you actually being there, him actually saying all this to you.

dean would’ve given anything, then. anything. just to have you right next to him in his bed.

yeah, well, you’re still just stuck.

because what the fuck do you do.

do you walk back to your room? pretend you didn’t notice? pretend it never happened? not listen to the sounds dean was making?

or, do you open the door? go in his room and just show dean how you’d really felt about him— for years now?

and lately, it seemed like you all you could think and dream about was being in the same bed with dean, touching every part of him.

because if you were in there right now, you’d touch dean’s skin that you yourself had deemed forbidden, because it’d be seen as crossing a line, breaking a boundary.

hello? reality check, anyone?

come on. dean was your friend.

but the noises he was making in your name— because of you? that was anything but.

yeah. if you were in there, you’d start with your hands on dean’s chest, going lower, and lower, until he started making the sounds he was making now, gasping and begging right in your ear for you, not stopping until he completely just—

yeah, that was it.

you knew your answer.

and dean needs exactly what you’re about to do. because god, he’s thought about it. in the dead of night, when he was alone, or when you’d been just out of reach sitting next to him in a dive bar, he’s wanted this. wanted you.

dean wanted to know the way your hands would feel against his skin, how your body would feel against his own. he’s thought about it. hell, he’d dreamed about it. fantasized— just like he was doing now.

and dean was still fantasizing when you throw away every single rational thought you had at the moment and manage to open his door without making a noise— thank you, hunter skills.

this was crazy. right?

eh. you’ve done crazier.

no. not like this.

and not with dean.

but still, you managed to cross the threshold of dean’s room— and you even sit down on the edge of his bed.

okay, the more you thought about it…was this awkward?

maybe.

oh, but dean doesn’t even notice you— his eyes were screwed tightly shut, mouth parted and huffing out pants and broken noises as one of his hands continues to move fervently. his hips are wild, bucking into his hand— and his body is shaking his entire bed frame.

dean’s too far gone to notice anything, lost in a fantasy that’s been haunting him for longer than he’s willing to admit out loud. the only thing that could even remotely stop him would be—

hold on.

dean’s hit by a familiar scent— the one he’d been imagining this whole time. but that really does smell like— and its now so close, so real, it practically envelopes him. and his eyes open to—

you.

right there. in his bed. within reach. looking at him like he’s always wanted you to look at him.

and there’s no disgust or anger on your face as you look down at dean, still frozen in place. no, just a hint of amusement, mixed with something else—

something dangerously close to pure want.

you don’t say anything, even though you know you should by now. because now dean knew that you knew exactly what he’d just been doing— more importantly, you were now aware of who the focus of it all was.

and goddamn if the look on your face doesn’t have dean pausing, too. he’s never seen it on your face before. and it’s too dark in his room for him to really make it out, but he thinks he sees—

you weren’t disgusted. you weren’t grossed out, or even angry.

you’re just… looking at him like the fantasy he’s been chasing isn’t a goddamn fantasy anymore— but instead something he could reach out and touch. feel.

dean has to swallow whatever excuse he could come up with to talk himself out of what you’d just walked in on. what you’d just heard. and his mouth is dry.

a part of you wants to pounce onto dean right now. to kiss him silly, touch him everywhere and make him gasp your name again— only with you being the sole instigator this time.

but the annoying other part of you halted that urge.

and why?

because of your stupid morals.

your goddamned feelings.

and you had to ask dean, had to know— even if the answer hurt you.

“how long?”

dean’s brain almost completely flatlines for a long moment. though, he knows what you’re insinuating, of course.

how long dean has been thinking about you in that way? how long and hard had he fantasized about his hands on your body, his mouth on your skin, and his dick buried so deep inside you, he gets hand cramps almost every night he’s alone?

yeah. it scares him, just how goddamn long it’s been.

“…years.”

that was all you needed. in reality, you don’t actually pounce or anything, but you do move closer to dean on his bed, tossing one leg over both of his to straddle his lap before meeting his gaze again.

“you have no idea,” your voice is barely above a whisper to dean as you keep his gaze, making yourself comfortable in his lap. “how much i wanted to hear that.”

and dean can’t help the groan he lets out, at feeling your weight, your body, straddling his lap. he’s spent too many nights dreaming of exactly this. his hands automatically go to your hips, as if they’re on autopilot.

because he’s not in charge anymore.

and honestly?

he doesn’t think he ever was when it came to you.

and a small smile tugs on your lips when you feel dean’s hands on your hips— your own fingers start to trail from his wrists and up his arms, your pace slow, but deliberate.

because you were going to memorize every inch of dean that you could.

oh, dean’s just barely managing to keep his hips still, to not buck up underneath you. he can feel you, now that you’re straddling him, the heat there, where he’d wanted to feel you for so, so long.

and when your fingers trail up his arms, dean shudders. because it’s so gentle, tender. he can’t remember the last time anyone touched him this way, if at all.

your hands eventually reach dean’s face. oh, his gorgeous face. you cup both sides, taking in everything: those green eyes of his, the freckles you could see only if you were up close dusting on his nose and cheeks—his features were illuminated only by the dim light of his desk lamp, but you could see so much because of how close you both were now.

the slight smile is still on your lips as you look at dean— because you were still a little sure you were going to wake up at some point.

but this wasn’t a dream, you had to remind myself. dean was under you. he wanted you, in the same way you’d wanted him for as long as you can remember.

and dean feels like he can’t breathe properly. he’s been slapped, punched, cut, beaten, tortured, everything violent under the sun done to his face— but no one’s had their hands on it like this.

he feels too exposed, too vulnerable, but he doesn’t move.

because it’s you. it could only ever be you.

dean keeps his gaze locked to yours, even as he has to stop himself from just completely melting into the palms of your hands on his face. he wants to look at you for forever, keep you just like this— and his expression is so open, so bare.

your thumbs gently graze across both of dean’s cheeks as you hold his face in your hands.

and you can’t look away.

so you don’t.

but you do lean a fraction closer to dean in his lap, breaking the silence in a hushed whisper— because there goes your stupid doubts and feelings, again.

“you want this?”

even though he almost wants to, dean can’t laugh. not when he knows you’re being serious. it kills him, a little— that you’re still doubting it.

because how could he not want this? you?

“god, yes.” dean’s not even sure if he says that out loud, or just thinks it— but he’s nodding regardless, and with the movement bringing his face even closer to yours.

and your gaze softens almost completely when dean says that— but there’s one doubt that sticks, even when his words wash all the others away from your mind. the one that’s been there almost the entire time you’ve known him.

“de, i…” you don’t take your hands off of dean’s face when you try to speak again— but the words die in your throat. you swallow a little, averting your gaze.

and god, when dean hears you hesitate, he’s already on edge.

dean doesn’t know what you’re about to say,— all he’s aware of is that you’re now looking away from him. and he can’t have that, so he brings his hand (non-jerking, of course) to your chin, gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him again.

he tries to keep his voice even, but he can’t.

“tell me.”

you’re forced to keep dean’s gaze when his hand touches your face— and his fingers are so warm, you almost lose your train of thought completely.

you’ve wanted dean for so long— but you had to make sure he fully felt the same way you did.

not just lust. not something to walk past awkwardly the next day.

“i— i can’t do this… just for tonight,” you swallow hard again, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flick between dean’s. “but i… i think you know that.”

even with the worry that had been coursing through his veins, dean couldn’t help but be impressed at the fact you think there’s a chance in hell he’d be able to have you once and just… let you go afterwards. his hand on your chin drops a fraction, resting on the side of your throat instead. he swallows, then finds his voice.

“i know.”

your gaze softens a little— and it’s a little embarrassing how much weight felt completely lifted off your chest when dean says that.

you had denied your feelings for dean for years now. and now knowing that he felt the same way, it was getting harder and harder to control the urge to just do what you wanted.

“well, good,” you bring your hands to tilt dean’s head up more to you as you’re in his lap, eyes flicking down to his lips— because you so needed to know what they felt like. “that’s— that’s good.”

and damn, if dean isn’t already struggling. nothing’s even happened yet, and he’s trying his best just to keep still, to resist all his natural impulses and desires to just grab you and never, ever let you go. when your eyes flick down to his lips, his follow suit almost instantly. his voice is almost a damn croak when he responds.

“yeah?”

all your senses were filled with just dean. and you needed more. you’d denied your feelings for far too long— years now, in fear of him not reciprocating. but you couldn’t deny your feelings or your urges anymore.

“yeah,” you echo back in an exhale, your thumbs grazing on dean’s cheeks. your gaze is still on his lips, but you look back up at him. “you— you’re all i’ve ever wanted.”

hot damn.

dean feels like he’s going to wake up at any second at those words that just came out of your mouth. because he never dared to let himself hope that you could feel the same way he did. and it’s been so, so goddamn long of wanting you with every fiber of his being, wanting to touch you and hold you and never, ever let you go.

oh, he’s too far gone to even feel sheepish about how he’s almost shaking now, hands trembling and breath coming fast as he’s barely keeping the reins on his self-control.

dean’s trembling sends a shiver down your spine. even after you just said all that, he still wanted this.

you might die.

or you were already in some version of heaven that jack made up.

because dean wanted you.

“just lemme kiss you,” dean would be embarrassed of how desperate and out of breath he sounded if he could give two damns. he says your name again: “please—”

dean can’t even think straight anymore. yet, never could when it came to you. his hands go to your thighs, gripping tight like it’s all he can do to resist the urge to just flip you over right that moment.

you can’t hold back anymore.

neither can he.

so you don’t.

you close the final distance between you both, taking his mouth in a kiss that’s hard, desperate and full of years’ worth of emotion.

and dean’s lips felt like home. and that’s a weird thing to say, but it was true. you’d never kissed him before this, but it really was him that you’d been missing all this time.

your hands on dean’s face trail into his hair, and you could feel yourself completely melting into him when you pull myself closer to him in his lap, hips fully slotting with his own— and you both groan a little at the feeling.

dean kisses you like a goddamn starving man, his hands gripping at your thighs so hard he’s afraid he’s leaving marks. but he can’t bring himself to care, because he’s finally kissing you. finally having you in the way he’s only dreamt of.

dean hasn’t been touched— kissed like this, ever.

like he’s something precious. to be loved. it makes him feel weak. but he can’t really bring himself to care about that, either.

all you could think about was how good dean smelled. and as his lips danced with yours, he even tasted good. like whiskey and something you couldn’t place— but it sure as hell was definitely dean.

and god, it’s perfect. dean’s trying to swallow the little noises his mouth is threatening to make again as you kiss him back, kissing him like you feel the same— he thinks he’s losing his mind for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

dean’s grip on your thighs tightens even more. he couldn’t help it anymore— he rocks you against his lap, his hips bucking up against yours in an involuntary but much needed movement. and a little sound pretty close to a whimper does escape him this time, hitting your lips as you grind your own hips down onto him.

you had to break your lips from dean’s to get stupid air, but your forehead rests against his as one of your hands unlatches itself from his hair, trailing downward on the fabric of his henley as you’re in his lap.

and you’d tease him about the noises he’s making— if it wasn’t leaving your underwear a complete and sopping mess because of it.

dean’s mind is hazy, lost in the feel of you against him and in his lap, his mind trying to keep up with all the things happening.

he’s a hunter, goddamn it.

he needs to get a freakin’ grip.

but he can’t.

because of the way your kiss felt like a drug. the way you’re so close he can feel your breathing, and the way you’re grinding up against him like you mean it—

and then dean feels your hand on his shirt, sliding further down past his stomach, and he feels like he’s about to go insane. he’s hallucinating, under some sort of spell that shows you what you’ve always desired. that’s the only plausible explanation.

but this was real. oh, so real.

dean’s hands were still holding on for dear life on your thighs, but your own was still going farther and farther down the fabric of the henley he was wearing, stopping at the hem and tugging on it, talking against his lips—

“put your arms up f’me, dean.”

goddamn, if that doesn’t make him literally shiver when you say his name like that, all breathless and pretty.

and dean follows the instruction, raising his arms and letting you pull the shirt over his head, revealing his the skin underneath.

he’s not even embarrassed of his scars, the marks on his body from over the years. not with you. the uneven skin told their own tales he wouldn’t dare open his mouth about, even after three whiskeys deep.

you discard dean’s shirt somewhere in his room without another thought when he lifts his arms up.

you’ve actually only seen dean shirtless twice— once after a hunt, and if you count that one time when that motel room with shitty air conditioning that got too hot last summer. you kept your eyes glued to the lore in front of you then, not daring to look.

this time, however, you couldn’t look away.

not even if you tried.

your lips are parted in what could only be described as pure awe while your eyes and fingers rake over every inch of new skin revealed while still in dean’s lap. first trailing a path up his exposed arms as your eyes continue to drink in all the details of him you’d never thought you’d see.

dean has never, ever been looked at the way you’re looking at him right now.

your fingers continue to trail up dean’s arms, fingertips grazing on the scars you could see in the dim light of his room. you actually knew some of them— having been there when he sustained the wound that made the scar, but a lot were new to you.

and you wanted to memorize it all.

it’s almost embarrassing how he feels like something to be worshipped under your touch. like someone to be taken care of. to be cherished.

as your fingers trail up his arms, he has to bite down on a whine in the back of his throat— forcing himself to keep still under your gaze as you rake your gaze over him. his voice is rough and hoarse when he manages to speak, but all he could get out was your name.

your hands found themselves resting dean’s shoulders while you take in the breathtaking view that is him under you, meeting his gaze when he says your name, voice just as quiet as his.

“yeah, de?”

your touch feels like dean took the jumper cables he had in the back of baby and put it against his skin. but it’s so soft, so gentle. it’s also making his whole body ache, yet he just wants more. and he can’t keep his eyes off you, either. the way you’re looking at him, at his scars like they’re nothing to be ashamed about… it’s almost safe.

dean swallows, hands coming to rest on your waist now that he’s topless. his voice sounds wrecked, broken.

because he’s begging.

“touch me.”

dean’s hands on your waist were making your heart beat all out of rhythm— and you almost completely lose your train of thought looking into his green eyes, wide and blown out.

for you.

you just nod at dean’s words— and your fingers continue their journey downward from dean’s shoulders, trailing over his skin until you eventually reach the waistband of his boxers, and you keep your hands there on the fabric when you look back up at him.

because you still needed to know:

“can i take these off?”

oh, for the love of—

dean nods rapidly before you’re even done asking, because he’d do anything, anything, to have you touch him like he had been not just a few minutes earlier— in fact, he’s already lifting his hips off the bed to make it easier for you, because he’s not about to hesitate. he needs you. he’s needed you for too goddamn long.

and when you manage to pull off dean’s boxers, discarding them in one fell swoop after he confirms and lifts his hips for you, your eyes widen at the sight of him completely exposed beneath you on his bed— and a quiet ‘jesus christ’ escapes from your lips before you can stop it.

and your reaction makes dean’s breath hitch. because it’s not a disgusted one— it’s the exact opposite. he feels vulnerable like this, exposed to you in a way he’s never been to anyone else. he should feel embarrassed. but he doesn’t, oddly enough.

his voice is so goddamn quiet when he bites down on another whine.

“please.”

and you just nod again. then both your hands find dean’s chest once more— and you start trailing a path down his lower torso with your fingers.

dean can’t help the way he lets out a strangled moan at your touch against his bare skin. with no clothing in the way to block it, he’s so much more sensitive. every single touch makes his breath hitch, his head spinning with how perfect it feels.

it’s too much.

and yet, he needs more.

dean’s hands find your hips again, gripping, trying to get you even an inch closer to him.

and as your fingers get lower and lower on dean’s stomach, you hesitate your hands. not because you weren’t sure— but it felt… well, wrong not to at least ask him for permission first.

so you look back up and meet dean’s gaze, eyes searching his again as you whisper, shifting closer to him in his lap.

“can i go lower?”

and at your question, a sharp shiver wracks through dean’s whole body— he’s half convinced he’s going to to just cum right there, even if you don’t end up touching him.

dean’s practically trembling under you now, hands gripping tighter on your hips. he tries to speak again, to say something— but his voice comes out in a strangled moan.

all he can do is nod against his headboard.

a soft exhale escapes you when dean confirms. you nod— and don’t hesitate again.

not when he was like this.

you take all of him in one of your hands— but you don’t even try to look away from his face while you do so. because you had to see his face for this.

and dean feels like the air’s getting ripped from his lungs at how good your touch feels. he’s never felt anything like this before. it could be the fact that he hasn’t had actual sex in a while (apparently, he’s considered old now), or purely just because of you.

yeah, but dean’s never been touched like this before. so goddamn gentle. but it’s still perfect. his eyes are still locked to yours, and his expression looks pained. it’s all too much, after wanting this for so long.

and all he can do is whisper your name before your hand starts to move.

you start starts slow— not too slow, though, because dean had already fucked his palm tonight more times tonight than he’d like to admit.

dean’s eyes actually flutter shut for a moment when your hand starts to move, a moan catching in the back of his throat. because it’s barely even started, and it’s so good. too good.

dean’s hands on your waist are close to shaking now, but he has to speak— even as it comes out in a hoarse croak.

because he needs—

“more. jesus, i need—”

you don’t even entertain the thought to tease dean or not do as he asked— because the sounds he was desperately trying to keep in were making you want to keep going, to not stop.

so you don’t stop. your hand speeds up, going back and forth on dean’s dick— and your gaze still doesn’t leave his while in his lap, touching him in the way you’ve always wanted to for so long.

and when you pick up the pace, dean’s breath hitches even more— god, it’s so good, but he still needs more. his hands are shaking as they grip tight on your waist, and his eyes somehow keep your gaze, even as his head feels like it’s spinning right into his headboard.

dean manages to get out his next request, in a begging whisper of a breath. he’d be ashamed if he wasn’t so desperate.

“please— please, i need—”

“its alright,” you nod before he can finish this time, leaning your head and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “i gotcha, de.”

and that’s it. you say those words and dean feels like he could cum right there. he’s already so close, just from your touch, the way your hand’s moving so beautifully up and down on his dick. the way you’re looking at him. he tries to keep his eyes open, too— to keep looking at you, but everything you’re giving him is starting to overwhelm him, he can hardly even breathe anymore.

dean glances down at your hand between both of you— big mistake, because the sight of your fingers around his dick and covered in him makes him let out strangled whimper. he bites down on his lip hard, his head falling back against the headboard and his eyes screwing shut. because it’s embarrassing how close he is to cumming in your hand.

you notice, of course— your hand doesn’t let up, but your other hand on dean’s shoulder goes to the side of his face, thumb grazing on his cheek. it’s a stark contrast to what you’re doing to his dick.

“de, its okay,” you reassure dean as his breaths become more and more unsteady, eyes flicking over his face. “you can let go if you wanna.”

and that’s it. that’s all it takes.

as soon you give him permission, dean’s gone.

his body suddenly goes rigid, then he’s bucking his hips into your hand so erratically and sloppily you would’ve been knocked from your position on dean’s lap if he hadn’t buried his face in your still clothed chest, tightened his arms fully around you and pulled you closer to him. he cums loud and hard, a mixture of soft groans, whimpers, swears and pants of your name spilling into the fabric of your shirt.

you’d never heard him like this before, ever.

but dean winchester— the man, the myth, the hunter god, was whimpering as you’re in his lap.

for you.

because of you.

and because it’s all too damn much— the way your hand feels, the touch of your thumb against his face, the look in your eyes when you said that it’s okay for him to let go of the tight rein he’s been holding onto for so long.

dean can feel himself shaking and still coming apart under you as you guide him through it, his face buried in your shoulder as you pull every last bit of pleasure out of him that he has with your fingers. he’s never felt so goddamn free before. he’s never come apart, not like this— not completely exposed like this.

dean’s hands are still shaking as they rest your waist, his entire body almost trembling with it being still so overwhelming. but it was perfect. and he needs to say that, to tell you that it was everything he’d ever wanted—

“please— please, just kiss me.”

and that comes out of dean’s mouth instead. you’d barely started to wipe your hand when the words spill out in a plea— a beg into your shirt. you’re a little surprised that was the first thing he said post-orgasm.

but still, you lean back just enough after dean says that, bringing your free hand to the side of his face while still in his lap, your gaze flicking between his in the dark of his room for just a moment before you lean back in, pressing your lips onto his again.

dean doesn’t hold back now. he doesn’t care about the mess he just made, the way he sounded, or the fact that he begged you to kiss him after you just made him cum.

he kisses you like a starved man, like the air he was breathing needed to come from your mouth and not any other source. his hands move to the back of your hips, gripping your shirt tight and pulling you even closer to him on his lap, now that your hand wasn’t between you both anymore.

dean tears his lips off of yours— and he is still just barely coming back to himself. his brain still hazy from pleasure, from you, but he tries to get out words because he needs to tell you how much he still wants, needs you. his hands grip tight on your hips, like he’s afraid you’ll just get up and leave if he lets go. his voice is still wrecked when he only manages to whisper your name again.

you don’t move out from dean’s lap, though. you stay pressed against him, his skin so warm and flushed against your own. neither of you had to say anything to know how intimate this all was. dean should be attempting to at least do something besides burying his face back in your shirt.

but you don’t let dean stay like that for too long. your hands go to the sides of his face, holding his head as you tilt it back to look up at you, searching his gaze as you continue to straddle him. and your own voice is a whisper, too.

“y’okay?”

and god, dean feels like his entire body’s just come apart again at that single word, because how do you answer a question like that.

dean has to take a breath, because he still feels the aftermath of it. everywhere. he nods, once— because he’s better than even alright. then again, because he has to tell you that, too.

“yeah,” he manages to get that out, and it’s still so damn wrecked, so out of breath. “more than okay.”

“okay, good,” your gaze softens and you nod when dean confirms that he was okay— and your other now-clean hand finds the side of his face when he looks up at you. a small smile tugs on your lips as your thumbs graze on his cheek. “just checkin’.”

dean’s blown-out eyes are still locked to yours as you brush your thumb against his skin, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of feeling you touch him like this.

it’s so tender. so soft.

and dean’s just… lost. in you.

but dean does finally manage to speak again, his voice still hoarse as his hands release from your hips start to trail down, calloused fingers rubbing gently on your exposed thighs and saying your name like a prayer. “god, i need—”

you keep dean’s gaze still— but not before glancing down to see his hands on your bare thighs in his dimly-lit bedroom as you straddle him.

dean’s hands looked like they belonged on you.

felt like it, too.

one of your own hands reaches down from dean’s face to his on your thigh, grasping on his fingers with yours.

“tell me what you need,” your voice is still a hush of a whisper, but remains completely and utterly genuine as you search dean’s gaze. “de, tell me what you need me to do, and i’ll do it.”

holy goddamn.

dean’s breath actually stutters a little at that, because you sound so ready, so willing— he can’t help but let those last three years of pining, of wanting you, of hoping show as he looks up at you.

“ride me. please.”

the words come out in a half-choked plea. dean’s so damn desperate for you, he’d beg. hell, he was begging in the darkness.

and you weren’t about to say no.

your hands take themselves off of dean’s face and hand, lifting your leg to discard your sleep shorts, then your (soaked) undies— then going to the shirt that you’d still been wearing, grabbing the hem of it and tearing it off, discarding it somewhere in his room before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

and when that finally comes off, too, dean’s entire damn body tenses. because he felt like the air had just been ripped from his lungs.

again.

he’s seeing you more exposed to him, for him than he’s ever seen you before— and the sight of you like this is goddamn perfect. you’re so perfect.

dean’s hands tighten on your thighs, his eyes taking in the view of you like a man starved.

“holy—”

there’s a thousand words he has for you right now. things like beautiful, perfect, mine. but he can’t get them out yet. because his brain is still trying to catch up from the fact that you’re actually here and naked in his lap.

both of dean’s hands reach for your hips as he’s still staring up at you in awe, his fingers gently but almost greedily gripping on you— because he wants to touch you so bad that he wants to let out a goddamn sob. because no one has ever felt like this for him.

because no one has ever come close to the way he craved you.

your eyes meet back up to dean’s green ones once again. you didn’t have to tell him anything or even say something else.

so that’s why you just nod, then reach down between you both once more, starting to fully sink yourself on dean’s dick— all while still keeping his gaze while you let your hands rest on his shoulders, a exhale escaping you both.

you not even halfway on his dick, and dean thinks he might bust again right then and there. his fingers dig into your hip, all while a groan escapes his parted lips: “ah, shit—”

and oh, he’s big. it takes you a second, but you sink down completely on top of him, your pussy sucking him all up— dean feels like he can’t breathe. again. the sight of you like this is gonna fuel his jerk off sessions for the rest of his goddamn life.

dean’s not sure if it’s possible, but he uses his hands on your hips to gently just pull you even closer against him— which ended up being a mistake, because you involuntarily clench around him. his head drops in between your tits at the action.

and.

he.

whines.

“f— fuck—”

yeah. dean just whined at the feeling of being inside of you, eyes screwed shut and everything as he buries his face deeper between your breasts— you can feel the pant of air and his lips on your skin.

dean’s fingers lace together with yours fully, holding your hand tightly while his other is still gripping tight on the meat of your hip, finally taking his face off of you to look up at you above him.

and oh. you’re a goddess, at least. not something heavenly though, because angels are dicks— but you look unreal as you look back down at dean, your mouth just a little parted from feeling him.

dean twitches a little inside you as he tries to find words, just a few, to tell you how much he wants this— or at least to tell you to move.

all he can get out, though?

“p— please.”

you don’t have to ask for clarification.

you know what dean’s asking for.

so you give it to him.

you grind your hips—and dean whines a little again at that— down onto his just once, testing the waters before you find a rhythm.

and dean feels his entire brain just go on complete and total motherfucking overdrive. because this is it. he’s finally getting the most intimate part of you, the part he’s been wanting for so damn long— he literally can’t see straight anymore. that’s how good it feels. how good you feel.

dean’s head goes in between your tits again, still holding your hand as you move your hips on top on him, grinding down on his dick. his other arm goes around your waist, pressing himself against you and gripping you tight in an attempt to steady himself— but it barely helps. his eyes screw shut again, and he’s letting out another whimper before he can stop it.

“fff— oh, fuck—”

a moan drops from your mouth, too, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds dean’s making, gasping and groaning into your skin as he fucks up into you, meeting your movements. his dick is brushing on that spot that makes you groan— and kickstarts your urge to go faster.

so you do.

dean can’t control anything right now. his hips are bucking up into you erratically, the movements only being stunted a little due to how strong your thighs were around him as you straddle him.

your hand not holding dean’s goes into his hair as you’re both pressed together for a better grip— and dean almost sees stars. he groans a little again, his breaths coming in hard pants on the skin between your breasts.

and the praise falls from your lips onto dean’s ear before you can stop it—

“you’re doin’ so good, de.”

dean feels like he’s gonna cry. just from how perfectly good you feel on top of him— and he’s making the most delicious noises that sound like words but it’s just broken moans mixed with whimpers. his hand on your hip tightens to the point it’s almost painful, but you don’t mind all that much.

“ah, don’ worry, i gotcha,” you whisper against dean’s ear again, your hand tightening on his as you let out a rough exhale, chest heaving rapidly against his as your movements don’t falter once. “you’re doing so good f’me, dean.”

dean’s not in control of the sounds that come out his damn mouth anymore— the praise goes straight to his dick, straight to the familiar burning building low in his tummy. it’s just all swearing, sounds of your name and incoherent begging being said into your skin.

“ah— shit, fuckin’— please—”

dean’s not even trying to stop the words from rushing out of his mouth right now, even if he sounds pathetic. because it all feels so goddamn good, and he’s being so good— for you.

and dean can feel nothing but you right now, in every sense possible. everything else has been long gone, and he’s been so goddamn wrapped up in how good your pussy feels around his dick.

dean gasps for air, because wants to tell you that you’ve ruined every living thing for him in the entire goddamn universe forever.

he wants to tell you that he’s about to cum— again.

“jesusfuckin’christ— oh, please—” is what comes out of him instead.

the words are barely intelligible, and dean’s whole body is starting to tense underneath you as he manages to choke out a ragged cry of your name. your hand is still gripping hard onto his own, the other burying itself deeper his hair. you needed to hold onto him right now. shit, you needed a sec.

because dean winchester was begging to cum inside of you.

you almost stop grinding down on him for a second— the keyword being almost.

you just nod against dean’s head still buried in your tits, holding him against you as you talk into his ear again.

“go ahead, baby.”

dean almost sobs again when you say that. he lets go completely just as before, his hands’ grips becoming painful on you as his whole body shakes and convulses against yours, the movements of his hips becoming so erratic once more as he’s painting your walls with his… sixth? seventh? load of the night— only this time, it’s inside of you. and he’s making every sound in the book: whimpers, groans, a whine here and there, too.

you came, too— but honestly, if you didn’t, you would’ve been fine either way. seeing and hearing dean come apart like this was enough to last you a lifetime.

you don’t know how long dean and you stay like that, pressed into each other and panting, fluids mixed together, spilling out and sticking all over your thighs— but even as you pull back just enough to look down at him, dean’s still trembling under you, long after both your orgasms had surpassed their high, melting into a thick haze between you two.

dean can’t look at you— or won’t, but either way, your hand in his hair trails to the side of his face, and you gently force him to look up at you.

dean swallows hard, and his face flushes. the embarrassment was finally, finally starting to set in now that he’d fucked you and himself out. he braces himself for the teasing, the jokes— and the look on your face.

but you weren’t looking down at dean like he was pathetic, or weak. you never did— and you sure as hell weren’t about to start now, after he’d just shown you every side you’d wanted to see of him.

no, you just smile a little, eyes flicking between dean’s as your thumb grazes on his cheek. he can’t help but lean his head into your palm as you exhale your next words out in a breath—

“that was really fuckin’ hot.”

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you now have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

heyyyyyyy guys… soooo how we doin’? LMFAOOOOOOOO this has got to be the longest i’ve ever spent on a fic (only for dean wbk!)

and i know i said this last time, but on a real note: if you have stayed to the very end— first, THANK YOU FOR READING! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write (again). i would love to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina + i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[no1blacksapphirefan]

Another Self-Aware CRK AU thought

(Can be seen as romantic or platonic) ((Reader is unaware that they’re unaware))

Can you imagine how funny bait teams would be? Especially the ones where it’s just a single cookie on their own.

Like imagine Pure Vanilla flattered that you trust him to defend your arena. To fight off those who come close, to secure even just a bit of trophies for you so you can rise up. Then a full team of all the beasts pop up and beat his ass. He thinks he’s failed you, it was unfair. He hopes you’re not ashamed of him, he’s tried his best he swears…now that he thinks about it, his code doesn’t even let him fight back. When he does find out the reasoning for him being a solo team? Well, he’s at least glad he helps you gain trophies, he just hopes you choose someone else for this “bait” team soon

On the other side though? When he’s made to fight bait teams, he feels so bad. Just watching poor ginger grave fly away to witches know where, as he gets absolutely beaten up by all the enemies he’s made in the past.

Shadow Milk bait team is less used but when it is he usually wins ((I think)) at the very least he has a nice ratio of managing to actually win against other teams which he does use as bragging rights to others. He gets so peeved when he actually looses. As if he doesn’t expect to loose against a full team with fully ascended and levelled ancients. I think he’d love the reasoning why you did it, trick people to fight you so you can hit them back harder? That’s kinda funny

If he were to also he on your main attackers team, he’d love to see the faces on the other teams face as they see him again. Like yes you may have beaten me on my own, but with the power of friendshi-

Burning Spice is the same that he also enjoys your reasoning for doing it upon finding out. Specifically the hitting them back harder part. Extra points if he’s still on your main team for attacking. It just means he can join in on the “revenge” and help you gain those trophies. He loves the tactic you use and if it works then hells yeah.

He’s willing to help, though he’d prefer to win more fights defending, he doesn’t mind too much loosing if it means being able to get back at that team

Black Sapphire just solos full stop…okay all bias aside, I don’t think he’d be too too happy with being the one used for bait teams, especially since his in game role is that of a support. Sure he can do some damage but being programmed to mainly boosts others can only do so much. He hopes you change cookies soon, he can’t stand having to fight his boss for the nth time for your trophies, even if they make you happy ((I would never do that to you mwah))

He’d prefer to be on the team of cookies who fight the bait ones, watching them try to fight back when they got no chance is quite the entertainment, perhaps he could spin a kind of rumour on it

.

.

.

We won’t talk about how they all feel if they LOST to a bait team…

- #1 Black Sapphire Fan/Listener Out ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[munsonsmixtapes]

Just One More

virgin!eddie x fem!reader

You literally fall into Eddie's lap and after doing you a favor, you somehow become his first.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

The party is in full swing when you get there. This is the first one you’ve gone to alone since your messy break up and it feels weird but oddly freeing to not have anyone by your side. You had no one to answer to, to wait on and you didn’t have to worry about being abandoned so he could go talk with his friends and pretend like you didn’t even exist. 

But because you have the most terrible luck, you spot him in the kitchen, flirting with the exact guy that he always told you not to worry about. This all has to be some elaborate joke that life has decided to play on you, that’s the only thing that makes sense. Well, good for them. They deserve each other. 

You swear you see Johnny look your way and hurry into the living room, backing up as quickly as possible to make sure that they can’t see you, but of course, because this is all still some joke, you end up falling onto something, or rather, someone. A cute someone at that. He’s got curly, dark brown hair and the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize quickly. Instead of being offended like you assume he would be, he just smiles and it’s pretty. 

“I’m not,” he says, his voice taking on a flirty tone. Maybe life is actually starting to be kinder to you. 

“You’re not?” You ask, sitting up and the stranger just smiles wider. 

“Not at all. It’s not everyday a pretty girl literally falls into my lap.” Your cheeks heat at his compliment and you shyly turn away, only seeing that Johnny’s eyes have locked on yours. 

“Can I ask a huge favor?” He doesn’t even know you but is sure that he’d do whatever you asked. You’ve already bewitched him and he doesn’t even know your name. He always falls fast and hard and it never seems to get him anywhere. His heart always gets broken in the end. 

“Anything,” he breathes, not even caring how desperate he sounds. 

“My ex is over there and I really need you to kiss me,” you say, leaning closer and Eddie is standing to wonder what kind of dream he’s entered because surely something as perfect as this wouldn’t be real life, right?

“Sure,” he nods, his lips parting, and you slot yours between them as your arms wrap around his neck. One hand rests against your waist as the other cradles the back of your head. 

The kiss is soft and sweet, everything you could have ever hoped for. It’s like what you’ve seen in the movies but didn’t think was real. There’s a spark there and you already feel sad knowing that you’re going to have to break the kiss eventually. 

You stay like that for so long that you completely forget why you initially asked him, so caught up in his lips that you forget about everything else but him. And Eddie’s not even sure how he’s able to kiss you back since his mind is so fuzzy, no thoughts going on besides your lips. 

You’re straddling his waist now, kissing his neck and all he can do is whine, wanting more, needing more. You’re whispering the most filthy things into his skin. He wants to do everything you’re asking of him. He wants to fully submit to you. To be your good boy. 

“That’s a nice sound,” you tell him, your lips finding his again. “You wanna make it again? Maybe somewhere more private?” 

He wants to, he really does. But he’s never done that kind of thing before. Hell, he’s barely even kissed anyone before tonight so he’s sure that he’d have no idea what to do. You clearly seem to be much more experienced than him and he wouldn’t want to disappoint you. 

So he’s not sure why he agrees and lets you lead him up the stairs to an empty bedroom. His heart is pounding as you close the door then push him onto the bed. He knows he should say something, but his mind goes blank as you start to undress, your lacy bra making his cheeks flush. 

He just stays there, staring up at you as you move onto your jeans, giving him his own personal show and he’s not going to dare to tell you to stop. Especially not when he feels his pants getting tighter. 

He’s adorable, you think. He’s staring at you with drool practically falling from his lips and you wonder why he’s here alone tonight when any woman would be lucky to have him. He’s sweet and kind and you feel so grateful to have fallen into his lap. He’s unlike any guy you’ve ever met and you just know that he’ll be nothing but a gentleman when he finally gets you into bed. 

He’s staring intently, his pupils getting bigger so that his eyes look almost black and you decide that you need him and you need him now. and he needs you too considering how hard he is right now. 

You’re now just in your bra and panties and you make your way for him, placing yourself on top of him, kissing him until he’s breathless. Your hands slide up his shirt as your lips move to his neck again, pushing the shirt up slowly until you can get it over his head. 

“I-I’ve never done this before,” he says breathily. You’re quick to pull away, reaching for your clothes, but he stops you, taking your hands in his. “But I want you to be my first.” 

“You do?” You ask. “You don’t even know my name.” 

“I’m Eddie,” he replies with that pretty smile and you swear your heart melts for just a second. 

“Y/n.” 

“Y/n,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each syllable and it sounds so pretty coming out of his mouth. ”Now I do know your name and I still want you to be my first…if you want.” 

“I’m not very good, just so you know.” Those were the exact words that Johnny had said to you every time 

“How would I know?” He lets out a laugh and it makes your heart flutter. God, he’s perfect. He’s perfect and you’re probably never going to see him again. That’s why you’ve got to make tonight count. So you pull him in for another kiss, sticking your tongue into his mouth this time and he moans, loudly, a sound he’s only made when he was by himself. 

You begin to grind against him and now he’s whining into your mouth and the sound is intoxicating. You need more. You need to ride him until all he can get out is your name, screaming it until he can’t anymore. 

“You gonna be a good boy for me?” You ask as your hands slip between your bodies, feeling around for the button of his jeans. 

“God, yes,” he breathes. Once they’re off, it’s much easier to see his bulge and how much of an effect you’ve had on him from giving him your little show plus your kisses. He’s never wanted anyone so badly and he’s prepared to do whatever, be whatever you ask of him. 

He sees you pulling something from your purse and immediately realizes that it’s a condom as soon as comes into view. You slowly pull down his boxers and he should be shy about you being the only girl to ever see his cock, but he’s not. 

“I’m gonna put this on you, okay?” You tell him and he nods as his boxers finally come off and your eyes widen at the size of him. You roll the condom onto him then quickly remove your panties before straddling him. 

You settle on top of him nice and slow to get him used to it and the moan that falls from his lips is enough to make you soaked. He’s already coming undone so you’re going to take your time because you know he’s not going to last very long. 

“God,” he whines. “This is far better than using my hand.” You’re moving slowly, your hands pressed against his chest as you continue to move. 

“Yeah? You like that? How about this?” You begin to bounce even faster, moving your hands to grab onto his hips, pushing them against yours until he’s able to do it on his own, mimicking the movement perfectly. 

“Fuck,” he whines again. “Does it always feel this good?” He’s moving slowly, trying his best to keep up with your pace and you watch him come completely undone underneath you, his body pouring sweat as he pushes in and out of you, his words quickly slurring by the second.

“To be honest, not really, but with you, it feels just right. You’re such a good boy.” Those seem to be the magic words because not long after, he’s reaching his orgasm and you feel so smug because of how loud he’s being. You did that and you feel even more confident that you made him feel that good. 

When he comes down, you turn to leave because that’s what you’re used to, but Eddie grabs hold of you and pulls you down to lie beside him. You turn to face him and his eyes are pleading. You know what he wants and even though it’s programmed into you to leave, you just can’t. Not when he’s been so sweet and not when he made you feel so good. He’s not like the others that you’ve slept with. He actually cares what you’re into and isn’t interested in using you just to feel something. 

As you pull him into another kiss, you just know that you’re going to go for another round and you give in. You let him take the lead this time, only with a little guidance and he’s nothing but a good boy. He doesn’t even have to ask to know what you like. He just does. As he makes you orgasm, you just know that you won’t be able to sleep with anyone else after that. And with the way he pulls you into his arms after you come down, he tells you exactly that.

Pretty much everyone is gone when the two of you sneak downstairs and out the door. You head outside hand in hand and Eddie walks you to your car. Kissing you again and again, stalling going to his own vehicle and only leaves when he gets your phone number and plans to meet again for one more, but you both know that it won’t be just one more. Not if you can help it, anyway.

[dckweed]

tiktok made me do it gf! vs tf141 bf

You and your boyfriend had been fighting.

Not screaming fighting, but the kind where the tension was thick, every comment had a bit too much bite, and the silence after was deafening.

So by the time you both got home?

He was fuming.

You were pissed.

And the car ride was basically a scene from a low-budget, enemies-to-lovers road trip movie.

You didn’t expect it to end in the dining room. On the table. With your boyfriend’s head between your thighs.

But honestly? You were just doing your part to deescalate the situation (and thanking the tiktok algorithm for showing you videos of girls doing this because now you know how to win every argument).

Captain Price – “outta your fuckin’ mind—”

Price was seething the whole ride home.

Hands clenched on the wheel. Jaw tight. Not saying a damn word.

You were equally stubborn, arms crossed, watching the passing streetlights like they personally offended you.

And once you were inside, he didn’t even wait for you to take off your shoes before he launched into it.

"You can’t just run your mouth and expect me to—" "John—" "No, sweetheart. Let me finish."

You walked into the kitchen and leaned on the island, letting him get it out.

He paced. He ranted.

You just stood there, thinking: God, his arms look good when he’s angry.

And then he got that tone. That gruff, righteous, maddeningly sexy tone that made you wanna kill him or jump him or both.

So you snapped.

Not with yelling.

No.

With tits.

You grabbed the hem of your shirt and just lifted.

Bam. Boobs. Front and center.

Price—mid-sentence— Froze.

Eyes locked. Mouth open. Brain offline.

The silence was glorious.

He blinked. Slowly.

Then—

"Sweetheart…" His voice dropped an octave. "You think that’s gonna fix this?"

You grinned. "Is it working?"

He took two steps forward. Big hands grabbing your hips. Lifting you up onto the dining table like you weighed nothing.

"You’re outta your fuckin’ mind-“ "Little bit." "And I’m gonna ruin you for it."

His mouth was on you in seconds.

Argument? Never happened.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – “middle of an argument.”

Gaz was pissed.

You’d said something smart in the car, and instead of backing down, you doubled down, which led to the kind of quiet fury that had him driving with one hand clenched and the other gripping the wheel like it owed him money.

The walk into the house? Silent. The door slam? Dramatic. And the way he tossed his keys? Downright unholy.

He followed you into the kitchen, hands on his hips.

"You wanna explain why you always gotta test me in front of people?" "I wasn’t testing you—" "Don’t interrupt, I’m actually mad—"

He launched into a speech. Pacing. Gesturing. Muscles tight, jaw clenched, voice low and full of controlled rage that had your thighs pressing together.

Finally, mid-rant, you had enough.

You turned, lifted your shirt, and let the girls breathe.

Kyle made a noise you’d never heard before.

Kind of like a dying animal and a man getting punched in the chest at the same time.

He staggered backward. Blinking.

"Why would you— babe, no—" "Yes."

"We’re in the middle of an argument—"

"Are we?"

You hopped up on the counter. Spread your legs. Tilted your head with a smirk.

"Still mad?"

Kyle dropped to his knees like a devout worshipper.

"I hate you so fuckin’ much." "No, you don’t."

He kissed your thigh.

"Shut up."

Then he showed you exactly how not mad he was.

Simon "Ghost" Riley – “...Lucky you’re cute.”

Ghost didn’t do yelling.

He did quiet, lethal rage.

And tonight?

You’d pushed him a little too far.

So the drive home had been tense. His hand never left the gearshift. His jaw never unclenched. He didn’t speak a word.

When you walked inside, he followed silently.

And then, in the kitchen—he cracked.

"You can’t just talk to me like that and then act like it’s fine." "I didn’t mean—" "Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, does it? You meant it when you said it."

His voice was low, steady, the kind of angry that made your stomach flip with a confusing mix of guilt and want.

You stood there for a minute. Silent.

Then:

"Simon." He looked at you.

You lifted your shirt.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Hand flexed.

He stared at your chest like it personally betrayed him.

Then— He stepped forward.

Grabbed your waist. Lifted you onto the dining table.

Voice dark and slow:

"You’re fuckin’ lucky you’re cute."

Then he dropped to his knees.

"Real fuckin’ lucky."

(You didn’t even apologize. You just thanked him.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – “babe..what the fuck?”

Soap was livid.

Not because of the fight itself— But because you laughed when he was trying to be serious.

And now?

He was stomping around the kitchen, arms waving, pacing like a man who just found out his team lost the World Cup.

"I try to be serious ONE time, and you—" "Johnny—" "No, don’t ‘Johnny’ me—"

You watched him rant, shirt sticking to his back, arms flexing.

And then, when he hit peak drama—

You flashed him.

No warning. No buildup. Just tits.

Johnny straight up froze.

Mid-word.

His mouth hung open.

"Babe… what the fuck—"

You grinned. "Still mad?"

He walked forward like he was in a trance.

Lifted you right up onto the table.

"You are a MENACE," he growled. "An absolute demon. And I love you so much it’s terrifying."

And then he made very, very good use of his mouth.

(You bought a new dining table a couple days later)

Moral of the Story:

Arguments? Overrated.

Tits? Unmatched conflict resolution strategy.

[lazysoulwriter]

baby fever - pedro pascal.

---

Pedro doesn’t expect much when he knocks on your brother’s door that night—just a quiet evening, maybe a movie with you, stealing kisses while your niece dozes off. He doesn’t think twice when he lets himself in, greeting your brother’s dog, making his way down the hall.

But then he hears it.

A tiny, giggly voice belting out something off-key, followed by yours—so much sweeter, effortlessly in tune.

Pedro’s brows lift. Curious, he peeks into the living room, and the sight nearly knocks the wind out of him.

You and your niece, standing on the couch like it’s a concert stage. She’s gripping a cheap, plastic microphone with a little speaker attached, absolutely screaming some kids’ song while you crouch beside her, harmonizing with exaggerated emotion. When the song reaches its big, dramatic note, she throws an arm around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

Pedro’s heart aches.

Not the bad kind of ache, no. The full, overwhelming, what-the-hell-is-this kind.

You laugh into her hug, pressing a noisy kiss to her cheek before pulling back just enough to dramatically whisper into the mic, “One more song, superstar?”

“YES!” she shrieks.

Pedro huffs a quiet, stunned laugh, leaning against the doorframe. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything cuter in his life.

And he’s seen you every day.

You’re so good with kids. It’s not just your niece—kids have always adored you, gravitating toward you like you’ve got some secret superpower. Maybe you do. Maybe it’s the way you actually listen to them, how you talk to them like they’re people instead of tiny, sticky creatures.

And they love you for it.

Including this one, who is now aggressively trying to hand you a plastic tambourine.

“Sing, sing, sing!” she chants.

You take the tambourine with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know, I’m getting so tired…”

“Nooo, you have to!” she whines, tugging at your arm. “One more song, pleeease!”

Pedro watches as you pretend to consider it, tapping your chin.

Then you grin. “Alright, one more. But only if we dedicate it to Uncle Pedro.”

At the mention of his name, he startles slightly, his heart already pounding from just watching you.

Your niece gasps, delighted. “He’s here?!”

Pedro barely has time to brace himself before she spots him and launches off the couch. He catches her just in time, huffing out a laugh as she clings to him.

“You came!” she cheers, like he’s a celebrity she wasn’t expecting at her show.

“Wouldn’t miss it, superstar,” he teases, ruffling her hair. Then his eyes flick to you, still sitting on the couch, looking at him with that knowing little smirk.

Oh, you know what you’re doing to him.

He clears his throat, trying to play it cool. “Heard there’s a concert going on?”

Your niece gasps. “YES! And we’re gonna do one more song just for you.”

Pedro grins, setting her down. “An honor.”

She scrambles back onto the couch, immediately picking the loudest song possible. You pat the space beside you, inviting him to sit.

He does. And then he spends the next three minutes watching his entire life flash before his eyes.

Because shit, it’s not just you and a kid singing a dumb song. It’s you, loving this tiny person, making her feel important. It’s her looking at you like you hung the moon.

And Pedro feels something shift inside him. Something that shouldn’t.

Because you’ve already talked about this.

No kids. Not ever.

It was one of the first big conversations you had in your relationship. He brought it up early, just in case, because he didn’t want to get attached if your futures weren’t aligned.

You were clear: you loved kids, adored them. You just didn’t want your own.

And that was fine.

Is fine.

Except right now, Pedro’s heart is doing something stupid, something dangerous, something that makes him feel like maybe he wants things he shouldn’t.

He swallows hard.

You notice.

You always do.

After the song ends, your niece finally starts to wind down, yawning as she curls into your side. Pedro watches as you brush her hair back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Sleepy?” you murmur.

She nods dramatically. “But I wanna sleep with you.”

Pedro laughs, leaning in. “What, am I chopped liver?”

She giggles but doesn’t let go of you, tucking her face into your neck.

You meet Pedro’s gaze over her head, and—shit.

You know.

Of course, you do.

You hold his stare, a soft little smile playing on your lips. Then you whisper, “Help me put her to bed?”

He nods wordlessly.

Together, you tuck her in, smoothing her blankets, whispering goodnight. And when you step back into the hallway, closing her door behind you, Pedro finally lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

The silence lingers for a beat before you cock your head at him. “So.”

He exhales. “So.”

You cross your arms, looking way too pleased with yourself. “That was a lot of heart eyes back there, Pascal.”

He groans, rubbing his face. “Don’t.”

“I saw you,” you tease, stepping closer. “All soft and melty.”

“I was not melty.”

“Oh, you were. Don’t even try to deny it.” You press a finger to his chest, grinning. “You were sitting there, watching your entire life flash before your eyes.”

Pedro lets out a defeated laugh, tipping his head back against the wall. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He sighs, tilting his head to look at you. “Yeah, I do.”

Your teasing expression softens. “I know.”

He tugs you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m not about to change the plan on you.”

“I know that, too,” you say, squeezing him back.

And the thing is, he won’t.

Because he meant it when he said he was fine with your decision. He still is.

It’s just…

“Just what?” you ask softly, reading his mind again.

Pedro chuckles against your temple. “It’s just really fucking beautiful to watch you like that.”

You hum, pleased. “Well, lucky for you, I have an adorable niece who thinks you’re the coolest guy ever.”

“And what about her aunt?”

“She thinks you’re alright.”

Pedro laughs, pulling back to kiss you. “Good enough for me.”

----

[jungwnies]

sfw alphabet | max verstappen (mv1)

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for max verstappen

୨ৎ : word count : 1483

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

not overly affectionate in public, but very touchy in private

loves casual touches...

like a hand on your back, fingers playing with yours, resting his arm around you

shows love in quiet, consistent ways rather than big romantic gestures

instinctively reaches for your hand or pulls you closer in his sleep

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

chaotic, competitive, and fiercely loyal as a friend

will challenge you to literally everything (even things you don’t care about)

loves to tease and roast you, but in a way that’s lowkey affectionate

likely met through mutual friends or the f1 world, but once he trusts you, you’re stuck with him

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

selective cuddler tbh

only cuddles when he’s in the mood or exhausted

prefers being the big spoon but will let you lay on his chest when he’s feeling soft

loves lazy couch cuddles after long days, usually while watching something

if he falls asleep on you?

good luck moving...he’s not letting go

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

100% sees himself settling down but probably later in life

absolutely useless in the kitchen...will either burn something or order food

not messy, but not overly tidy

his version of "clean" is "organized chaos"

will attempt to help with chores but gets distracted easily

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

hates confrontation but wouldn’t ghost you, he’d be direct

tries to keep it short and emotionless, but if he really loves you, he’ll struggle

might distance himself beforehand to prepare for it

avoids drama, doesn’t believe in dragging things out once a decision is made

bro wants to be "nonchalant" but the nonchalant def isn't in the room with us LMFAO

f ⤖ fiance (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

i think we ALL know this man is NOT in a rush to get married

but he definitely takes commitment seriously

if he’s all in, he’s all in

wouldn’t rush marriage but once he knows, he knows

doesn’t care about a huge wedding, but he’d want it to be private and meaningful

would probably propose in a low-key, intimate moment rather than something flashy

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

physically? very gentle when it matters, especially with you

emotionally? a bit rough around the edges but gets softer over time

will check in on you in his own way, even if it’s just “did you eat?”

protective rather than soft

he expresses care through actions rather than words

h ⤖ hugs (does he likes hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

not a big hugger with most people, but with you, it’s different

back hugs are his thing

he’ll wrap his arms around you randomly

hugs you tighter when he’s stressed, like he needs to recharge

quick shoulder squeezes when he’s busy but still wants to show affection

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

takes his time

won’t say it unless he truly means it

might show it through actions first before actually saying the words

when he finally says it, it’s unexpected but sincere

prefers proving it over saying it constantly

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

competitive by nature, so he gets lowkey jealous but won’t admit it

if another guy is flirting with you, he’ll hover nearby and make his presence known

gets grumpy and sulky, but instead of arguing, he’ll just claim you with casual touches

if it really bothers him, he’ll confront you privately but won’t cause a scene

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

slow and deep kisses rather than rushed pecks

loves forehead kisses when he’s feeling soft

jawline/neck kisses are his go-to when he’s feeling playful

likes when you kiss his shoulder or temple

it makes him feel secure

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

surprisingly good with kids (penelope literally loves him), but he’ll never admit it

would be a fun dad but also slightly panicked when they cry

gets super competitive even in kid’s games...will not let them win on purpose

protective over his own kids, will be the type to coach their karting career if they’re interested

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

not a morning person unless it’s race day

grumpy and groggy for the first 15 minutes... prob longer than that tbh

needs coffee before human interaction

if you wake up before him, expect a sleepy arm pulling you back to bed

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

winds down with gaming or watching sports

loves quiet moments

just being next to you is enough

gets weirdly philosophical late at night

sleeps better when you’re beside him

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

takes time to open up

he’s naturally guarded let's blame jos for this

won’t talk about feelings unless he trusts you completely

expresses emotions through actions more than words

if he does open up, it’s late at night when he’s relaxed

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

short temper, especially under stress

gets frustrated quickly but calms down just as fast

easily annoyed by small things, but he’s not one to hold grudges

if he gets mad at you, he needs a moment alone to cool off

bro is just a chill guy ... but he definitely has his moments lmfao

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

surprisingly good memory

remembers random facts about you

might forget small things like dates, but remembers what actually matters

can recall your order at any restaurant

will bring up something you said months ago, proving he listens more than you think

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

probably the first time he realized he wanted to be with you seriously

a moment when you comforted him after a rough race

some random, quiet memory that doesn’t seem big but means a lot to him

s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

very protective but not overbearing

keeps an arm around you in crowded places

will 100% throw hands if someone disrespects you

prepares for every situation

makes sure you’re safe before himself

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

not a grand gesture kind of guy, but he makes an effort in his own way

remembers important dates, but don’t expect anything over-the-top

his idea of a good date is something fun and casual

like karting, a race weekend getaway, or a quiet dinner

when he gets you gifts, they’re usually thoughtful and practical rather than extravagant

u ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

terrible at texting back

sometimes leaves you on read for hours (or days)

stubborn as hell...once he’s made up his mind, good luck changing it

can be emotionally closed off, struggles to talk about feelings

terrible at sitting still

always fidgeting, moving, or doing something

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

lowkey vain without admitting it

takes care of his appearance but acts like he doesn’t care

hates bad hair days...if it’s not sitting right, he gets annoyed

wears team gear constantly, even outside of f1 events

secretly likes when you compliment his looks, even though he plays it cool

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

wouldn’t admit it easily, but yes, you’re a huge part of his life

when you’re apart, he gets restless

doesn’t know what to do with himself

hates sleeping alone once he’s used to having you around

if you ever broke up, he’d pretend he’s fine but would be absolutely miserable

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

obsessed with winning at everything

even dumb games like mario kart

takes you on late-night drives just to clear his mind

collects race helmets like trophies and would 100% gift you one of his as a sentimental gesture

gets pouty when you beat him at something, but secretly loves that you challenge him-

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

hates unnecessary drama

if you’re constantly picking fights, he’ll check out fast

doesn’t like overly clingy behavior, needs his personal space sometimes

fake people piss him off

he values honesty above all

dislikes when people try too hard to impress him...he def prefers authenticity

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

moves a lot in his sleep

sometimes ends up half on top of you without realizing

needs to sleep in complete darkness, otherwise he gets annoyed

prefers falling asleep with you next to him bc he finds it comforting

if you wake up before him and try to leave, he’ll instinctively pull you back into bed

2021-2024 © jungwnies on tumblr | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[wren--bee]

Wynne is so interesting when you see the “wise old mentor” thing as a facade. Which it is because… she’s not even 50. (The doylist response is to discuss the writing of older people but that’s far less interesting imo.)

She can’t seem to connect to any of the group as an equal, she has to find a way to be detached, and it’s extremely interesting with Zevran. Possibly the first banter you get with them (and it’s most interesting when it IS the first) is her immediately berating Zevran for murder. This is someone who was purchased as a slave, unable to leave without being hunted down and killed, and doesn’t receive much of the money at all from his work. He’s… you know. A slave. And Wynne can know this! The fact that he was purchased and says he wasn’t paid at all for the job for the Wardens comes up before he’s even a party member- which Wynne can very easily be present for, especially since the game gently pushes you to do Redcliff first, which then gently pushes you to the Circle, and if you follow that series of events you have just recruited her when you meet Zevran. So… she knows and goes straight in with the moralising, because what wisdom could she actually offer him? There isn’t any. He doesn’t need wisdom, advice, or guidance- he needs kindness and acceptance.

The irony is that Wynne’s personal quest is about how she failed to offer those things to her first apprentice, and as a result she pushed him away. And she does the exact same thing with Zevran, who needed that kindness- and was ready to accept it, for all that he brushes it off when he receives it from the Warden he also gains approval. So what does he do when he’s moralised at? He pushes her away. Except he’s not an apprentice she has power over, he’s a grown man who is able to do what he can to piss her off.

I think a lot of people take Zevran’s behaviour at face value, and I think that’s a mistake. He’s learned to use flattery, charm and distraction to achieve his ends- and he’s using it during the game too. He’s not trying to seduce Wynne- he’s trying to annoy her enough to get her to leave him alone and stop preaching at him without actually paying actual consideration to his experiences, imo. And we see such an interesting side of them both on display when they’re together.

DAO companions are all about nature vs nurture. And Wynne is trying to be the wise mentor she wants to have learned to be- but she’s trying to fit into the box she’s built for herself every bit as much as Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana and Zevran. And that’s way more interesting to me than a companion who really is just a wise mentor!

“Fenris is so mean to the companions” this “Morrigan is a bully” that. You are all sleeping on the real savage in this series.

[enhaflixer]

don't tap out now

childhood bsf! riki x f! reader - playfighting to ......

smut, crack, fluff

-

You say it so casually it shouldn’t mean anything.

“I could definitely kick your ass.”

Riki freezes mid-bite of his cereal, spoon suspended in the air like gravity just forgot what to do. He looks at you like you’ve personally offended his honor.

“I’m sorry—what?”

You lean against the counter, sipping from your water bottle with mock innocence. “You heard me.”

“Say it again.” His voice is already low and dangerous, but you know that tone. You grew up on that tone. That tone is about fifteen seconds away from him tackling you to the ground.

So, obviously, you double down.

“I could kick your ass,” you repeat sweetly. “Anytime, anywhere, Nishimura.”

He stands slowly, chair scraping back. “You literally cried during Karate Kid.”

“And I’ll cry again. Over your broken pride.”

The rest happens fast—always does. He throws the cereal box (you dodge). You launch a couch cushion (he tanks it). And then you’re both lunging at the same time, colliding in the middle of the living room like idiots with no impulse control.

You shriek as he tackles you onto the rug, both of you wheezing through laughter, knees and elbows knocking painfully as you try to wiggle out from under him.

“Get off me, you heavy ass—!”

“You started it—ow! Did you just bite me?!”

“You said no rules!”

He yells, and you scramble free—but not for long. He grabs your ankle and yanks hard, dragging you back across the carpet while you scream bloody murder.

“LET GO—”

“Say you surrender!”

“NEVER—”

He flips you again, pins you with a grin that’s all teeth and smug satisfaction. “You’re not getting out of this one.”

But he lets you. Just for a second. He lets you think you’re winning.

You squirm up, shove his chest, straddle his waist like it’s a power move and not the worst decision of your life.

Because the second you plant your palms on his shoulders—breath heaving, your thighs on either side of him, skin flushed and shining—

everything changes.

His hands go still on your hips. His gaze drops to your lips.

The air thickens like molasses.

And you realize—he’s not grinning anymore.

You’re still smiling, barely. “What?” you whisper.

Riki’s voice is hoarse. “You gonna let me win?”

You blink, throat dry. “You gonna kiss me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just stares at you like you just asked him to give up oxygen.

And then he moves.

He surges up, one arm around your back, the other cupping your jaw, and kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs.

It’s not sweet. It’s not soft. It’s everything he’s been holding in for years—the teasing, the tension, the nights he couldn’t sleep thinking about you on the other side of the wall.

You moan into his mouth. He groans into yours.

He flips you without warning—slams you flat to the floor again, his body heavy over yours, grinding down just enough to make your hips jerk.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your lips. “Talking all that shit just to get fucked like this?”

“Riki—” you gasp, nails dragging down his back. “God, you’re such a—”

“Yeah?” His mouth moves to your neck, licking a stripe up your throat before biting down, just enough to leave a mark. “And you’re such a fucking liar. Acting like you haven’t been wet for me since high school.”

You whimper. Actually whimper.

He grabs your thigh, hooks it over his hip, grinds down again. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Can feel how warm you are. Through your shorts. Jesus.”

His hand slips under your shirt. Up your ribs. Around your back.

“Take it off,” you pant. “Take it off—”

He does. Shirt gone. Yours too. Skin to skin now, chest to chest, heart to fucking heart.

And still—not close enough.

“Bed,” you gasp. “Please—bed—”

He scoops you up like you weigh nothing. Carries you to his room like a man possessed. Kicks the door shut. Drops you on the mattress and climbs over you like it’s instinct.

“Tell me,” he rasps, fingers at the waistband of your shorts. “Did you ever think about me?”

You stare up at him, wild-eyed, nodding hard. “All the fucking time.”

He pulls your shorts down, underwear next. Licks his lips when he sees how soaked you are.

“Tell me what you did,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “What you thought about.”

You reach down, palm flat between your legs. “I used to touch myself thinking about your mouth. Your hands. That night you got out of the shower and didn’t realize I was in the hallway.”

He groans, like the wind just got knocked out of him.

“Used to fuck my pillow,” he confesses. “Pretending it was you. Had to sleep with a blanket over my dick for months.”

“Then do it,” you whisper. “Fuck me. Right now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

His boxers come off. Yours are long gone. His cock slides between your folds, hot and heavy, and you both lose your minds when he pushes in.

“Oh my god—” you gasp, clenching around him.

“Shit, baby—” He buries his face in your neck, hips moving already, fast and hard like he can’t help it.

He grabs your leg, pins it high to his shoulder, and just—ruins you.

“You’re mine,” he says, teeth gritted, sweat dripping. “Fucking mine. Always were.”

You choke out his name, claw at his back, arch into every thrust.

“I waited for this,” you sob. “Waited so fucking long—”

“Not waiting anymore.”

And he fucks you like he means it. Like he’s never letting you go again. Like every second wasted not touching you was a sin he’s now making up for with every thrust, every kiss, every filthy word he moans into your ear.

He cums with your name broken on his lips, hard, buried deep.

You follow seconds later, clutching him tight, head thrown back, legs shaking.

And when it’s over—when you’re both breathless and boneless and covered in sweat—he kisses your collarbone and whispers, “Best win I’ve ever had.”

[vinnyvamppp]

I NEED A FIC OF THE NO GOGGLES MARK VARIANT!!!

specifically make him THAT KINDA FREAK we already know he loves to toy with others (from his battle with the Guards of the Globe) and is crazy asf with a sense of dark humor. My fic idea is where he’s with his gf and this is their first time having sex tg and she doesn’t know about his kinks or anything since she would just take his comments of him telling her to ‘try to choke him’ or basically to inflict pain on each other as a joke.

Slap Me Silly

Note: This is yummy, we like this, we NEED this. I've seen maybe two fics have elements of this, so lemme just—slide myself in. (the pic is a hint SOMEONE TIE HIM UP)

Warnings: Nipple play (most male receiving), Switch Lenless!Mark (YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE DOESN'T OCCASSIONALLY BOTTOM), Dom!Reader, Riding, Tit Squeezing, Biting, Dark Humor, Choking, Degrading, "Good Boy", Slapping, Dirty Talk, Porn w a Plot, Smut, and ofc the over usage of 'Dude'.

No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x Dom!Fem Reader

Word Count: 2,303

The apartment is quiet, save for the occasional hum of traffic outside and the soft rustle of fabric as you shift on the couch. Mark is stretched out beside you, legs spread like he owns the place—because, in his mind, he does. His grin is lazy, all teeth, and his dark eyes flick toward you with that ever-present glint of mischief.

“You keep staring at me like that, babe,” he murmurs, tilting his head against the couch cushion, “and I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me.” You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “God forbid.” He chuckles, low and amused, and suddenly he’s closer—leaning in like he’s got a secret to tell. “Nah, I think you do,” he teases, his breath warm against your jaw. “Like, a lot.” You scoff, pushing at his chest. “You wish.” Mark lets himself fall back dramatically, spreading his arms out like he’s been struck. “Right in the heart. Dude! That was brutal.” Rolling your eyes, you reply. “You’ll live,” you deadpan.

“Oh, I always live.” He winks, and for a second, there’s something in his expression, something dark and knowing, a reminder of just how much weight those words actually carry. But then it’s gone, replaced by that ever-present smugness. His fingers drum against his thigh. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Ha. Ha.” He smirks. “No, but really—since we’re both so hopelessly in love or whatever—” You snort, but he ignores you. “—don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t, y’know, done anything yet?” His eyebrows lift, feigning innocence. “Not that I’m complaining. I like a good slow burn. Gets me all antsy and horny.” Your stomach tightens. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Mark is—well, Mark. Infuriating, cocky, always pushing just to see how far he can go. But he’s also magnetic in a way that makes it impossible to look away. And when he wants something? He gets it.

Still, you manage to play it cool. “I figured you’d explode if you went more than a week without getting laid.” Mark grins, tilting his head. “I do like explosions.”

You shake your head, but before you can throw another sarcastic remark his way, he moves. Fast. Not using his full speed—he’s learned his lesson about freaking you out like that—but enough to make your breath hitch as he’s suddenly towering over you, hands braced on either side of your hips. “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You swallow. “That depends.” His fingers trail up your arm, barely touching, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You remember all those times I told you to try and choke or slap me?” You let out a brief chuckle. “You mean when you were being weird?” Mark hums, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “See, that’s the thing—you think I was joking.”

Your breath catches. His eyes are half-lidded now, watching you with something between amusement and hunger. “…You weren’t?” Mark smirks. “Dude. You have no idea.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours. You stare at him for a second, searching his face for any sign that he’s messing with you. Nothing. Just that same cocky, lopsided smirk, like he knows something you don’t. His grin progressively widens as you open your mouth to speak, “You have to be kidding.” Mark tilts his head, feigning offense. “Why would I joke about something so serious? Dude, I’m hurt.” Here he goes again with the dramatics. “Oh, I’ll hurt you, alright.” The words leave your mouth before you can grasp them, but Mark’s eyes light up like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket.

His lips part slightly, tongue flicking out to wet them. “Please do.” You let out a laugh—sharp, disbelieving. This idiot. He’s always like this. Pushing buttons just to see what happens. You stared, more interested than before, your head shaking. “You’re insane.” Mark doesn’t miss a beat. “And you love it.”

You roll your eyes and, without thinking, lift your hand and smack him across the face. A sharp pop echoed as your palm struck his cheek, snapping his head to the side. Not hard, just enough to wipe that smug look off him. Or, well. That was the intention. Because instead of looking shocked or offended, Mark just stares at you. Slow blinks. Chest rising and falling a little too deliberately. “…Holy shit.” He gasps, making you hesitate.

He lets out a breathy laugh, touching his cheek where you slapped him. Then, with a grin that is way too excited for comfort, he looks back at you. “Dude.” His dark eyes go heavy-lidded, lips parting slightly as he exhales slowly, shaky, and wrecked like you just did something unspeakably good to him, and he’s already desperate for more. You blink. “What?”

“Do that again.”

You pull back slightly in hesitation, wondering how you even scored this crazy fuck. Taking notice, Mark clicks his tongue, shaking his head like you just deeply disappointed him. “C’mon, Dude. Don’t be like that.” He leans in again, voice dipping lower. “I liked it.” Your stomach flips. You open your mouth two seconds away from calling him an absolute freak, but Mark beats you to it. “See, this is why I keep you around,” he muses, like he’s talking to himself. “You get me.” He rasps with an estranged fascination, seemingly savoring the sting against his cheek. “I literally do not—”

“—you do, though.” He gestures vaguely. “Even if you pretend you don’t. Which is, like, really cute, by the way.” He pauses dramatically with a slight sing song “And hot.” You exhale through your nose. Okay. Fine. He wants to be weird? You can be weirder. So, with the most exaggerated sigh you can manage, you lift your hand and slap him again. This time, it’s harder. The slap lands sharp and sudden, a crisp crack that echoes in the quiet room. His skin is warm under your palm, the impact sending a fleeting sting through your fingers, while the faintest thrum of satisfaction lingers in the air between you. Mark's head tilts slightly from the force, but the way he laughs is low, throaty, and giddy. The kind that sends something hot and electric through your spine. His gaze snaps back to you, darker now. “Oh, yeah,” he breathes, voice thick with something you don’t quite know how to name yet. “That’s the stuff.” Your gaze flickered lower, his hips fidgeting. He was hard.

Mark leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your lips. He’s still grinning like he’s just won the lottery, panting like an excited mutt before he whispers, “…Your turn.” You took this as an invitation to explore his other kinks, his willingness empowering you like never before. The space between you ceased to exist in an instant, your bodies pulled together with an urgency that set your skin ablaze, his lips claiming yours like a force of nature. Groans filled the space within your mouths, his sloppy kisses trailing lower over your neck. You deserved such romance for your first time, but his body was already seething for more. His hand reaches forward, fingers tingling with excitement as they curl around your throat. He forces you down against the couch, the pressure against your windpipe causing you to gasp. Before he could do more your hand lashes out, striking his cheek with a resounding slap. He paused, welcoming the change from his usual dominance. "Fuck yeah," he growls, his voice thick and eager. "Don't hold back, babe."

Emboldened further, you push him back and climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. You can feel his hard already weeping cock pressing against your clothed sex, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of your panties. You grab his throat, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. "You like this, don't you? Being used like a little bitch?" You insulted, testing the waters.

Mark's eyes flutter closed as he lets out a shuddering moan. "Yes," he hisses, his hips bucking up against you. "I fucking love it." His hands grip your thighs tightly, fingers digging into your skin.

You tighten your grip on his throat, feeling his pulse jump under your palm. "Beg for it," you demand, grinding your cunt against his straining erection. "Beg me to choke you while I ride your cock." Mark's eyes snap open, gleaming with satisfaction. "Please," he rasps, his voice strained from your hold. "Please, please, choke me while you use my dick. I want to feel you squeeze the air from my lungs as you cum all over me."

A thrill runs through you at his words, at the complete submission and desperation in his voice. You release his throat, only to fist your hand in his hair, yanking his head back. "Good boy," you purr, before crushing your lips against his in a fervent kiss. You rake your nails down his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

You whimper into his mouth, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. You can feel him throbbing against you, his cock leaking pre-cum into his pants. Breaking the kiss, you lean back and hastily remove your top, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His fingers follow suit, bringing his shirt over his head as he refuses to blink even once. "Fuck yes, Mistress." He groans, voice strained as his eyes glued to your tits. "You're so goddamn sexy." His lips nearly prepared to worship you.

It was odd, you stared down at him enjoying the power you have over him. He could easily turn the tides at any moment, but he was so willing to fuck you with such courtesy. Your fingers gently tapped against his throat, just threatening, begging him to make a move that would cause your grip to tighten. Mark immediately sits back, panting and red-cheeked. You lift your hips, his hands shove down your panties and help you kick them off. Then, with a courage-building sigh, you line up his cock with your dripping entrance. Mark groans, his hands flying to your hips. "Need to feel your tight pussy around my cock." Without warning, he slams you down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both groan at the sudden intrusion, Mark's head falling back as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Oh god," you moan, savoring the feeling of him stretching you open. "You're so fucking big, where were you hiding this thing?!"

"I'm gonna fill this pussy up so good," Mark declares between giggles, his hips starting to move beneath you. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it's leaking out of you." The dirty words only spur you on. You start to ride him fast, your hips slamming down onto him as you chase your pleasure, barely allowing yourself to breathe. Your hand never leaves his throat, tightening and loosening in time with your movements. Mark's face is flushed, his eyes glassy with lust as he bucks up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust.

"Harder," you demand, squeezing his throat tighter, his eyes rolling back. "F-fuck me harder." Mark lets out a choked groan, but does as he's told, slamming up into you with renewed vigor. The new angle has him hitting depths you didn't know existed, making stars burst behind your eyelids with each thrust. You can feel the pressure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter as he pounds into your g-spot. Releasing him from your ever-desired grip, he protests, his hips punctuating as you let out a yelp. “Dude..!” He whines, exasperated before a resounding clap echoes against his cheek, his face growing warm as blood swelled. “Again! Again…!” He encouraged, and you followed suit devilering smack after smack. The feeling only rousing him more as his hips pressed further.

Arching your back forward, your tongue finds the blistering streaks left from your nails. Soothing them with the soothing stroke of the muscle, you lick over his nipples, teeth tugging on them gently. The small buds hardened slightly from the cold air, and his grunt echoed from above. “Holy shit... yes!” Coming up for air, he returns the favor, hands leaving your ass and latching onto your tits as he squeezes them like stress balls. It's painful, he knows but he attones as his thumb traces rings around your areolas causing mild pleasure.

Your hands returned to his throat, tightening like a vice. With a strangled chuckle, his cock twitched inside you as he floods your pussy with his hot seed. The feeling of him pulsing inside you, the overwhelming sensations overloading your senses, and the obscene squelching sounds of his cum filling you pushes you over the edge. You throw your head back with a scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your cunt spasming as you gasp. Were orgasms always meant to feel this strong?

Mark groans as he feels you contracting around him. "Milk my cock dry. Take every last drop." You continue to ride him through your climax, grinding your clit against his pelvis until the last waves of pleasure fade away. When you finally collapse against his chest, both of you are panting and covered in sweat.

You could barely catch your breath when he spoke up. "Dude, we're definitely doing that again," you murmur against his chest, exhausted, he chuckles, his chest vibrating beneath you. "Hell yeah we are." He says to himself. Without missing another beat, you're suddenly flipped over, his cock hardened with renewed energy. "Ready for round two?" He asks, tracing patterns against your calves as he spreads your legs over his shoulders. Now it was truly your turn.

Can you guys tell I love submissive or freaky men? Hopefully, this fulfills your request!

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (h.k) ♡

pairing: huening kai x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.7k warnings: mention/description of reader's nudes, mention of reader in lingerie, brief mention of masturbation, implication of sexy time at the end, kai gets a hard-on, everybody’s horny synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | beomgyu ver. | taehyun ver. |

masterlist

──────────────────────

huening kai likes to think of himself as something of a y/n connoisseur.

as your best friend, he knows all your likes, and all your dislikes; he knows what gets your jaw ticking, and what exactly makes you blush.

(he especially knows how to get you to do both.)

huening kai prides himself on knowing nearly all the ins and outs of you, but one thing that he doesn't know, that drives him straight up the wall and keeps him up late at night when he can't seem to sleep...

is whether you feel the same way about him.

to everyone else but you, apparently, it's no secret that kai has quite the crush. but what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to tell you that he wishes it were you he could wrap his arms around instead of the mound of plushies scattered over his bed, or that every time he touches himself, it's only the thought of you that brings him over the edge?

how is he supposed to tell you that you're not just a friend to him? that he wants to be more?

this is what he finds himself pondering yet again as he sits at the drum set in his university band’s practice room, mindlessly tapping the stick in his left hand against the snare, his wandering thoughts leading to half-assed vigor as his bandmate eyes him in mild annoyance from where he sits across the room tuning his guitar.

kai glances at the clock.

she should’ve texted by now… she said 3, right?

his best friend taehyun always jokes that anyone would know huening kai is down bad when he actually checks his phone for someone, and kai has to admit that he’s right.

you’ve got him hooked; how else does he explain the fact that you actually get responses out of him — and much quicker than he’d rather acknowledge — while the guys only get to hear from him, if they’re lucky, about every 3-5 business years? (beomgyu’s exaggeration, not his.)

and yet the only one who doesn’t see it is you.

today he waits for you to show him your haul from the japan trip you just got back from with his sisters — “are you sure i can’t come with you?” “it’s a girl’s trip, kai, and i don’t know how good you’d look in a dress.” — and after how excited you’d sounded over the phone to show him the whole array of plushies and snacks and anime trinkets you’d bought, including some gifts for him, he can’t help but watch wistfully as the minute hand ticks onwards towards 3:27pm.

why is she late..? she didn’t forget, did she?

now, kai is a very patient person; he has no problem with giving people their space.

and with anyone else, he wouldn’t really mind too much if it’s been a while since he’s seen them.

but with you…

he sighs.

you... you’re different.

about 10 more minutes pass and he’s resorted to banging out his thoughts on the drums, almost finally focused on what he came here to be doing in the first place, until he feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he’s quick to halt his practice run and fish it out.

he smiles to himself at the sight of your name on his screen;

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : hyuka, i’m sorry i’m late!! i got caught up with something.. ㅠㅠ here are the main pics for now, and i can show you everything in full when you come over later hehe <3

god, how does she make everything sound so cute…

he clicks on the first picture, a small laugh immediately bubbling past his lips at the sight of your barely visible form squished behind the giant plushie you’d seemingly wrestled into the taxi coming back from the airport — he keeps scrolling, seeing some more pictures from the trip but mainly the ones he figures you’d just now taken: your little haul spread across your bed, displaying all the various items you’d bought and couldn’t wait to show him.

“man, how much did she buy?” he murmurs to himself as he glances at the picture count at the top of the screen and sees that there’s still 8 left.

22/30.

“i thought that was everythi—“

CRASH.

the drumsticks in his free hand slip to the ground with a loud clatter, meeting the hi-hat cymbals on the way down in a jarring cacophony akin to the way his brain feels right now as his thoughts stutter, nearly choking on his own spit, fumbling to maintain a steady grip on his phone and ignoring his bandmate’s question of “dude, are you good?” as he stares with comically wide eyes down at the sight on the screen in front of him.

y-you- s-she- what do i-

kai’s mouth runs dry.

so this is what you were “caught up with”.

the heat that travels down to his unsuspecting cock moves in record time as he takes in the 23rd photo: a selfie angled from slightly above, of you perched on the edge of your bed in a cute frilly set of LINGERIE that leaves hardly anything to the imagination, like something out of a playboy lolita magazine of his dreams — the circuits in his brain are working overtime to keep from shorting as his eyes rove intensely over your dizzying figure.

your accentuated cleavage, the plushness of your thighs, how soft the material looks against your skin…

fuck, his own skin is burning.

he can’t even believe that this is real life when he scrolls through a few more and lands on the image that will hereby without a single doubt be burned into his brain forever — you’d let the straps of the flimsy top slip down your shoulders, and now your boobs are out, a real life anime nosebleed moment about to happen for kai as he gapes and flushes at the visualization of his own wet dreams come to life.

zooming in on your thighs (for science), he then notices the tag still attached to your sheer little panties — so you got this lingerie in japan too, and oh my god —

wait, wait, wait—

he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, forcing himself to calm down a little as he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath.

did she actually mean to send these pictures? should i even be looking? did she really want to show me this too? did she... did she buy it for….

he can’t finish the thought.

kai’s rock-hard cock just somehow got harder.

he doesn’t have to battle through his moral musings for much longer, though, because suddenly his phone starts buzzing with a rapid slew of notifications; he nearly jumps as he sees that they’re all from you, and he swallows hard, feeling like he just got caught doing something bad as he hesitates before sliding back to the chat.

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : KAI WAIT DON’T OPEN THOSE STOP — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : WAIT WAIT WAIT PLEASE — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : KAI JUST DELETE THEM DON’T EVEN LOOK OKAY

he stares frozen at your messages. he knows that you can see he’s read them; he knows he needs to say something.

but now all kinds of new thoughts are circulating through his head.

so it was just an accident? should i try to lie for her sake? do i just say that i didn’t open them yet?

…and if they weren’t meant for me… then who were they meant for?

the irksome twist in his gut is foreign, and he doesn’t like it, not one bit.

but then you keep going... and quickly he realizes that the hole you’ve now begun digging yourself into is finally his ticket to heaven.

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : you’re not saying anything fuck fuck fuck okay — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : okay look — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : you probably think i’m a psycho pervert — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : i probably just fucked up our entire friendship and i’m so sorry — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : i just saw the set and thought it was cute and it made me think of you and i kinda just bought it spontaneously you know and i was just kinda in my feelings so i took the pictures with the rest of the haul but i didn’t mean to send those ones i swear so just pretend this whole thing never happened and we can just be normal okay pls — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : WAIT NO I DIDN’T MEAN IT MADE ME THINK OF YOU LIKE, YOU KNOW LIKE *THAT* THAT’S NOT WJAT I MEANT — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : FUCK I DON’T KNLW WHAT I MEANT

kai’s heartbeat roars in his ears (and his cock) as he processes your admission.

she bought it because of me.

he can’t help but grin.

she feels the same way.

huening kai has never been the best at expressing himself, but he knows this is an opportunity that he’d rather die than not take as he takes a deep breath, giddily lowers his thumbs to the screen, and begins to type.

you pace around your room with your lip caught nervously between your teeth and nothing but dread looming over you as the minutes tick by with no response —

fuck, i’ve ruined everything. i’ve ruined it all.

and when your phone finally buzzes with a text, you almost don’t even want to read it.

but steeling yourself, you take a peek —

a sharp inhale. tingles like fire across your skin.

his calm response:

— hyuka! <3 : can i still come over?

your fingers stall dumbly over the keyboard.

is he… going along with it? pretending nothing happened? or… or is he… does he mean….?!

you gulp.

— you : i mean.. of course, if you still want to.. — hyuka! <3 : okay! :)

o…okay..? what is he-

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the next messages that come through, the flood of warmth that shoots immediately down between your thighs leaving you teetering as you stumble back down into a sitting position on the edge of your bed.

— hyuka! <3 : oh, and you should keep the set on — hyuka! <3 : you said you’d show me everything in full, after all.

huening kai has never moved with such determination than the way he does right now as he rises from the drum set and grabs his things, beelining for the door with his jacket held in front of him to hide the raging hard-on in his pants as he calls to his bewildered bandmate, “sorry, gotta head out!” and leaves the practice room in a heady rush.

he knows how you feel now — and he can’t wait to show you face-to-face exactly how much he returns the sentiment.

──────────────────────

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