#i love the relationship we got going at the moment

[aurorawritestoescape]

ALL THE GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL

Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,7k

part 3 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: you can't stop thinking about your stepdad so you do something risky to have a little more of him. But Joel is not the "little more" kind of guy.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's POV, reader’s pov, still technically dub con but reader's very into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, possessive!joel, f!oral, both holes pronouns, cock pronouns, corruption, object insertion, fingering, creampie, degradation, anal, praise kink, daddy kink, pussy spanking, cum eating, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Joel can lift reader.

A/n: huge thank you to my love @milla-frenchy for this inspiring ask, for beta-ing and for the title. ILYSM❤️ also thank you to everyone who enjoys this naughty series, I’m grateful for your love, your asks and your thots! I hope you’ll enjoy this part❤️‍🔥 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

”Joel, wake up.”

Joel opened his eyes, startled by a figure standing next to the bed in the darkness of the bedroom. He cursed under his breath when he realized it was just you.

“Hmm?” all he could muster to say, groggy with sleep.

“Can you — can we talk?” you whispered and beckoned him with a hand.

Joel was blinking at you for a few seconds and then his eyes slid over your barely clothed figure. Even in his half awake state he realized that it wasn’t normal - you, standing in his and his wife’s bedroom in your tiny pajamas like a slutty ghost, your voice shaky with nerves.

Joel got up, moving carefully so as not to wake up his sleeping wife. As he was following you downstairs a scary thought passed through his mind - what if your guilt brought you to him in the middle of the night? Did you feel bad for sleeping with your mother’s husband and decided to break your thing off? No! He’d just found a perfect fuck toy in his own backyard and he wasn’t going to let you slip out of his paws. So he decided to intimidate you and remind you that he had you by the pussy.

You

You thought that Joel was hot the moment your mother introduced you to him but when you started living under the same roof, his rough nature, gruff voice, piercing eyes and broad frame became your obsession. You wanted him to be with you, not with your mom. It was so filthy and naughty to think like that about your stepdad and your heart skipped a beat every time he was staring at you. You were scared that somehow he had read your mind and realized that his stepdaughter was a cock-craving freak. Needy and desperate for him.

You would have never confessed your feelings but somehow you got what you wanted anyway.

Yet your thirst wasn’t satisfied, instead it grew and grew until it took over your mind and body. You couldn't sleep any more - your nights were spent tossing and turning, sweating against the clingy sheets and thinking of Joel. Remembering his hands greedily exploring your body, his lips, too mean to give you a long kiss, but hot enough to brand you as his, his cock so deep inside you, it was hard to take a breath.

Tonight was especially hard. He hadn’t fucked you in three days - you were busy with the college, he worked late and your mom always seemed to be around. You were dying to get filled by his him, to feel his body pressed to yours. But most of all you craved to be degraded by him. Whenever you saw each other, he was cold, indifferent, looking through you and it was understandable - he had to keep your sick relationship a secret, especially in front of your mom, but it elevated your need even more. You wanted him to be mean, to call you a slut, to manhandle you, to give you anything to satisfy your twisted thirst for his attention.

All you had was your pink dildo; after Joel prohibited you from getting some on the side, the toy was your only respite. The one that still had Joel’s fingerprints on the shaft. No way you’d wash him away. You were so desperate you slept with it like with a damn teddy bear, it was always in your hands when you were alone in your bedroom, feeling empty without your stepdad’s cock plugging you, cold without his arms around your body.

You’d been fucking yourself sensless every night but all in vain. Your body and mind demanded him, your attraction turned into a fixation. You must have gone completely crazy with ‘the horny’ but on the fourth day in the middle of the night, surprisingly even for yourself, your feet carried you to his bedroom.

Joel

You led Joel to the kitchen and when you both entered, you turned on a little light over the cooker and stood a few steps away from him. Joel shivered, feeling chilly only in his boxers and a white tank top, and grumbled with an intention to intimidate you,

“What’s up?”

You looked anxious as hell, shifting on your bare feet, chest heaving under your cute pajama top, restless hands fidgeting with the lace on your shorts. You looked so small and vulnerable in front of him, that Joel’s cock twitched.

“I— Joel — sorry for waking you up but — I can’t sleep.”

Your stepdad furrowed his bushy brows.

”Want me to sing you a lullaby or some shit? How the hell is it my problem?“

He glanced at the clock and then glared at you, his hands on his hips.

“I have to get up in 3 hours.”

Avoiding his stare, your eyes slid down his broad torso and landed on his bulge. He followed her line of sight and smirked at his hard cock creating a glorious tent in his boxers.

“What a little slut. ‘s called morning wood. Don’t be flattered, jus’ nature.”

You quickly looked away, but he didn’t miss the way you bit your soft lower lip and pressed your thighs together.

“Wait...” His breath hitched. With his eyes narrowed he took a step towards you.

Could it be…? No way! Did you wake him up because you were horny?

Suddenly Joel was 100% awake.

You shifted back and pressed your body to the counter, looking embarrassed. And there was something else in the way you moved. Need.

‘Fuck. Me.’ Joel thought, staring at you, as a mixture of triumph and relief expanded his chest.

The bitch didn’t want to break up with him, she wanted him to break her back. A wolfish grin twisted his face as he cooed, inching closer,

“Aww, someone needs daddy’s milk to sleep better?”

He grabbed himself by the heavy balls and gave them a shake, stepping up closer to you. “Have it all right here for ya.”

Now there were mere inches between you and him. You looked so delicious - your eyes downcast, your body almost trembling out of your clothes, fast breaths making your chest flutter.

“My cock-hungry girl,” he whispered.

You shook your head, still not daring to look at him, but stayed silent. Yes, it must be hard for you to deny the obvious — you were madly horny for your stepdad.

Joel tilted his head and his smile faded. He shifted his jaw, suddenly serious and concentrated. There were so many ways he could ruin you tonight and he had just a few hours. Why did he always have so little time with you?

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispered in your ear and bucked his hips against your lower belly, making you gasp. “Your pussy keeps you up at night?” —his hands slowly pulled down your shorts— “She wants my meaty cock?”— he lightly slapped your folds and you moaned his name — “Poor thing.”— He massaged your wet pussy —“Hungry cunt, always drenched.”— Slap!

“Ahh!” you cried out. Slap—slap—slap!

“Joelllll….”

Your hands grasped his strong biceps, nails hurting him like a little kitten would, while he was spanking your damp folds with his paddle of a hand.

“A few days without daddy’s dick and you run to him —,” Joel pushed his index and middle fingers between your folds —”in the middle of the night…riskin to wake up your mother.”

Joel shoved his thick fingers inside you and started fucking you slowly and steadily. Soon you were whimpering and shaking, eyes shut, lips parted, almost drooling.

“What if you woke her up, huh? What’d you say? ‘I need daddy to fuck me to sleep?’”

“Nooo, Joel—“, all you could do was to moan.

“You know what I like to be called.”

“Daddy -ohh, daddy…”

You spread your legs wider, watching his hand work your pussy until Joel spat,

“Eyes on me.”

You followed his command and he almost came in his boxers.

“Look at you, dirty slut, you love it. Love bein finger-fucked by your stepdad.”

Your beautiful face was twisted with pleasure he was giving you and he pressed his lips to yours and licked possessively into your mouth.

Joel was rubbing his clothed hard-on against your side, working himself up, and then pushed your clit with his thumb and started rubbing it up and down in rhythm with his fingers, that were knuckles deep inside you. You mewled into his mouth and soon your pussy began clamping on his digits hard and fast.

Joel parted from your lips and watched you closely, reveling in the way your body was succumbing to his dirty actions. He still couldn’t believe that he got to do that to his hot stepdaughter. Corrupting you felt so damn good.

When you fell into his arms, exhausted from the hard climax, he lifted you and helped you to wrap your weak legs around his waist.

“Daddy’s turn, sweetie,” he huffed, carrying you to the door, and after checking that the coast was clear, stepped into the hall.

“Lie down,” Joel ordered, locking the laundry room door behind you two and turning on the dim lights. There wasn’t much space but it was enough for him to have some fun with you.

“Right here? On the floor?”

“Damn! Ain’t ya a fucking princess,” he grumbled. “‘k, I guess my knees could use a little padding too.”

He grabbed a basket with dirty laundry and unceremoniously dropped its contents on the floor. Then he scattered the clothes with his bare foot and motioned for you to get comfortable.

You looked at the messy makeshift bed with a pout and then at Joel but his dark eyes told you to do what he’d said and soon you were lying on your back in front of him.

“Good girl,” he sneered, palming himself at the sight of you. Then he kneeled down with a grunt, settled between your legs after spreading them wide with his bear paws.

“Oops, daddy ruined your shorts, babydoll.“ A dark spot between your legs made him salivate and he quickly slid your bottoms off.

The view of your naked cunt, wet and pretty, was the last drop. His desire skyrocketed and took control over him completely. He didn’t care about anything else at that moment, he wanted to grab, thrust, squeeze, bite, eat you whole. He’d never felt anything like that before, the animalistic need to claim your every inch.

“Top up. Show me the girls.”

You exposed your breasts and he ogled your body for a few moments.

“Fucking ‘ell. I hate you. You can’t be this fuckin hot.”

Your little smile was cute but soon your lips parted and you gasped when he leaned down and pushed his nose right between your folds. He took a deep breath and growled, sending vibrations through your tense body. You jerked with overstimulation but Joel didn’t care. Keeping your thighs apart with his palms, he was busy sliding his nose like a credit card up and down your cunt, coating his face with your juices, collecting some with his plush bottom lip and tasting you greedily.

It didn’t take long for your thighs to tremble and when Joel sucked in your clit between his lips with a loud slurp, you came again. Joel drank everything your pulsating cunt had to offer, then sat back admiring the way your pussy clamped around nothing.

”Fuck. This cunt. Wish I could put you in my pocket and carry you around. Fuck you whenever I want. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Your eyes were closed, chest heaving, and Joel lightly slapped your mound to get your attention.

“Ouch… Yeah, yes, daddy.”

Joel’s cock was rock hard, his boxers soaked with prefuck juice, but he wanted to keep playing with his stepdaughter as long as he could.

“Ya know I still have your panties. They were handy when you were studyin. Jizzed all over them. Now they’re ruined.”

He glanced at the stacks of clothes on the dryer and picked up one piece.

“These yours, right?”

You nodded slowly blinking at the pink lacy thong in his hand. He pressed it to his nose and mumbled with disgust,

“Clean.”

Suddenly his face lit up.

“Let’s make a souvenir for daddy, uh?”

“What?”

Joel answered your question when he brought the thong between your thighs and began wiping your pussy with it, soaking the fabric with your cum.

“Here we go, now they gonna smell of your tasty snatch.”

You were mewling, jerking again and again when he’d graze your puffy clit with his hand, but your legs stayed open for him. At one point Joel slid the panties over your entrance, that was stretched by his fingers, and without any thought in his mind he began pushing the thong into your glistening hole.

“What are you doing?!” You gasped, lifting yourself up on your elbows, your eyes wide.

“To soak ‘em better,” he mumbled, inserting the panties into your soft hole with his thick fingers. “Nice ‘d wet.”

He tilted his head, admiring the view of your cunt sucking the lace in, fluttering around the fabric, while you both were panting, aroused to the max at the sight.

When his hand was working, Joel’s eyes would fall on your asshole, winking at him from time to time.

It was calling to him - ‘Fuck me, Joel. Stick your fat cock right here.’

Joel stopped stuffing you with your thong only when the side string was sticking out of your hungry pussy.

He took a deep breath and looked up at your face.

“I’ll let it sit for a bit, ‘k? Ya pussy full now so… I’ma fuck your ass, baby.”

You

Joel looked crazy— eyes blown out, curly hair disheveled, mouth parted, lips and chin wet with your slick, so when he announced that he was going to fuck your ass, all your holes clenched extremely hard. You’d never done anal before but you could imagine that taking such a huge cock would split your ass in two. And you loved your ass. You didn’t want to go to the ER in the middle of the night.

‘Help me, doctor. I ...I fell on my stepdad's cock.’

Yet Joel was too hot to say ‘no’ to. His broad chest, stretching his tank top with every mighty breath, his monstrous bulge between the thick thighs, his handsome face, his muscular arms, his veiny hands…you could come just from staring at him. And the best part was that he wanted you. So much that it made your head spin and your knees buckle.

He probably noticed your scared expression, you weren’t really hiding it, and gave you a faux sweet smile. Then he cooed at you with the weirdest tone of voice — sugary and calming, that was so not like him, it made you even more anxious.

“I’ll be careful, sweetie.”

Suddenly he got up and went to the door.

“Joel?” you called but he pressed a finger to his lips, opened the lock and went out.

Joel came back a minute later holding something in his fist. He took his place between your legs, your pussy still full with your panties, and you saw a little bottle in his hands.

“Got us some lube, sweetie. Bought it the next day we fucked. For your ass. And we both know your pussy can drown the whole neighbourhood.”

A pathetic ‘aww’ almost escaped your mouth. You were down bad for him but you couldn’t show that you took ‘buying lube to ruin your butt’ as a sign of affection.

Meanwhile Joel was already opening the bottle and pulling his hard cock out. You almost moaned when you saw it. He was throbbing, his veiny thick member looked engorged and ready to destroy you. Your asshole clenched and pussy squeezed the wet thong.

”Daddy, fuck my mouth instead. Please.”

Joel, who was already pouring the slick liquid on his palm, shook his head.

“Nah, babydoll. Been there, done that. You woke me up so now face the consequences. Or rather let the consequences fuck your ass,” he chuckled and you whined, slowly closing your legs. Your inner thighs clamped against his hips and Joel froze, his eyes boring a hole in you. He clenched his jaw and his expression turned dark. A cold shiver ran down your spine. ‘He’s gonna make me,’ you thought in panic, ‘he’s gonna make me do it.’

Joel

‘Fuck! Joel thought. The bitch was about to say ‘no’. She woke him up, made him hard, made his cock leak like a fucking fountain into his boxers and now she was gonna leave him high and dry. Two orgasms spoiled her. Why the hell was he always so generous to this ungrateful brat?’

Yeah, your pussy was bomb. Yeah, you let him stick a dildo and his cock inside you, ate his cum like crème brûlée and at that moment were lying in front of him with your panties sticking out of your hole. You were a perfect slut. And yeah, your fear was valid - his schlong was huge and intimidating. But Joel knew that your ass would be heaven-like so he had to do a little ground work. Anal was worth it. You were worth it.

Joel sighed and glided his hand over your thigh.

“Ya scared?”

You nodded with your eyes glossy, lips trembling.

He sensed that you needed some sugar. So he could get your sweet ass.

“I get it,“ Joel sat on his butt and offered you his hand. You took it, looking confused, and he gently pulled you up and manhandled you to sit on his lap, your knees pressed to the floor. Your stuffed pussy snuggled up to his hard cock and Joel clenched his teeth and gathered all his will not to stick it in any hole that would be close enough. He needed to fuck something soon or he’d explode.

“It’s ok. I won’t make you do it. I'm big.”

”Yeah, so big, daddy,” you mewled, nuzzling the crease of his neck. His hands were gliding over your juicy asscheeks, soothing your nerves but also intentionally turning you on. You whimpered and he smiled in his mind. The slut was getting needy. Already feeling the tight squeeze of victory around his dick, he cooed,

”But listen… I know how to make it easy, sweetie. Know how to make it feel good for us both. You’ll feel so fuckin good, I promise.”

“Mmm,” you hummed against his skin, the sound unsure. Joel wrapped his arms tight around you and pulled you closer to his torso. Your thighs spread wider around his hips, your back arched and your butt stuck out more. Perfect.

“I also know that —,” his hand shifted to the crease of your ass and you jerked in his arms when his lubed up finger caressed your asshole, ”— she wants me too.”

Joel glided the pad of his finger over your tight ring, teasing it, spreading the lube over your puckered hole while you were moaning softly, probably fighting the urge to beg for more. But you will. Bet your cock-fearing ass you will!

“All your holes were made for me, babydoll. And this one too,” — his middle finger gently pushed on the ring — “I’ll work her open, carefully, sweetie, don’t worry, and in no time she’ll be able to take me.“ Pouring sweet honey into your ears, he inserted the tip of his digit in and your body tensed.

“Shh, relax, baby, relax. Gimme those sweet lips.”

Joel knew that you loved kissing him, always melting in his arms when his tongue was fucking into your mouth. So he gave you what you wanted - a long and passionate kiss while working your tight asshole open slowly but steadily, relaxing your muscle, making room for his fat cock.

When Joel was deep inside you to the knuckle, he moved his finger in and out a few times until you broke the kiss. You parted from his lips and searched for his eyes, almost frozen in his embrace.

“Oh, fuck, you’re inside me, Joel… daddy… I..”, you were choking on your words, your voice breathy, and he gave you a saccharine smile.

“Yes, tell me, sweetie, what do you need?”

“I need … need your cock there. Please.”

That was almost too easy but after playing with you for so long, Joel’s jizz wanted out and he was happy that your cock hunger took over your fears.

“ ‘course, babydoll. Get back down.”

He wanted to see you take him in your little ass lying on your back, wanted to see your pussy chew on your panties when his cock would neglect her and instead fuck another hole.

You were trembling, probably still scared but your eyes were screaming for a good fill.

“Hngg, like that. Hold your knees—yeah, good girl.”

“Please, be careful, Joel,” you asked with a timid voice.

Joel didn’t reply, busy applying more lube on his cock and groaning at the sensation.

“Daddy, please, be gentle.”

“I will, I will.”

Joel was hovering over your torso, his cock finally at your asshole, his wet hand guiding it. His head was empty, occupied only by you. All his being was taken over by the instinct to pierce his stepdaughter with his cock. But at the back of his mind a tiny voice reminded him that he needed to be careful with his favorite toy so he could play with it as long as possible.

Wanting you so badly that his balls were buzzing, Joel bit his lip hard to stop himself from busting just from the sensation of his cold cock-head pressed to your warm skin.

“More lube.” Yeah, he needed more.

Only when his schlong was slippery enough to fuck a whole cheerleading team, he stopped lubing it up. Your ass was worth it and he really needed you to enjoy it.

Joel pushed the tip against your hole but you weren’t letting him in.

“Babydoll, relax. Breathe deeper.”

You nodded but your chest was heaving, panic swimming in your eyes. You needed him close so Joel leaned down and covered you with his body, not putting his weight on you, just sharing his warmth.

Your eyes were inches from his, nervous, glossy, turned on.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, fuck being sorry. Just relax. Enjoy it.”

Enjoy my cock in your ass.

His tip knocked at the heaven’s door again and you finally granted him the access.

“Yeah, oh yeahhhh, baby, ahhhh—“

Joel didn’t care that he sounded needy and ecstatic, that was exactly what he was feeling at that moment. His tip was inside your glorious ass, your warm ring squeezing him hard, and to stop himself from coming, Joel closed his eyes and imagined his wife. He’d been imagining you whenever he was fucking her for some time now and he could have chuckled at the irony but at that moment only grunts and moans were leaving his mouth.

Your nails were digging into his biceps, widened eyes darting between his, your lips parted in a silent moan until you whimpered loudly, too loudly for a quiet house.

“Ahhdaddydaddydaddyyyy!”

He shut you up with a kiss and rocked his hips forward, slowly nailing your ass with his stiff cock.

If anyone had stopped him at that moment, he’d cry, that’s how amazing he was feeling. He’d fucked a fair amount of asses in his life but yours was definitely in top three.

“Need to see her take me,” be mumbled feverishly as his lips left yours and you whined.

“Quiet, needy slut. I’m still here.”

Joel was careful as he sat up and lifted your hips, wishing to stay in your tight hole and also not to rip you in two. When he dropped his head, his hands on your juicy asscheeks spreading them wider, the sight made him curse,

“Fuck— you seein it?”

He was mesmerized, watching your tight ring flutter around his glistening shaft while your stuffed pussy was squeezing the drenched panties. Your thighs began trembling when he fumbled with the wet fabric sticking out of your hole.

“Shit, baby. You’re somethin else.”

Joel slowly moved his cock, in and out, dipping it further with every forward thrust. You were watching him ruin your butt, breathing fast, and then murmured, choking on air,

”Oh my god—I feel like I’m gonna explode— don’t go deeper— please.”

Joel really wanted to push further, wanted to feel your tight ring hug the base of his cock but he was already on the verge of ecstasy, ready to empty his heavy balls. He was a glass-half-full person so half of his cock in his hot stepdaughter’s ass was enough for him. Yet wishing to keep you on your toes, he growled, “Don’t tell me what to do,” and slapped your pussy. The hit was light but his hand grazed your puffy clit and it electrified you like a bolt of lightning. You cried out through your teeth, your body tensed up and you squeezed him hard.

“Hnnnggg, yeah, choke ‘im, c’mon,” Joel grunted at the feeling and slapped your folds and clit again.

Slap- slap- slap!

“Daddyyyyy,” you moaned as you came, shaking in his arms, both of your holes contracting fast.

A string of curses left Joel’s mouth as he was watching your soft pussy nibble on your thong, making it dance over his cock.

“She’s droolin even gagged, fuckin ‘ell.”

While the orgasm was still rippling through you, he pinched the string of your panties with his thick fingers and began slowly pulling them out. It seemed to be prolonging your climax as you rolled your eyes at the sensations and kept jerking against the floor.

Joel immediately brought them to his lips and licked the fabric, breathing in your scent.

The sound he emitted was animalistic. The taste and smell of you, your asshole gripping his fat cock, the image of you, ruined and fucked out, finally made him let loose and explode inside your ass. He grabbed your hips tight and began fucking you with shallow thrusts, staying half-cock in just like you wanted. His balls were bouncing, slapping your asscheeks as their contents were flooding your channel like a tsunami.

“Take it— take it — take it,” Joel chanted through clenched teeth and you did take it — your asshole sucked in and swallowed every drop of his hot cum.

Joel slowly pulled out and dropped your butt on the pile of clothes. He tucked his cock back into his boxers and got up with a grunt, knowing well that his knees would hurt like hell the next day. It was worth it. As always after playing with his favorite fuckdoll, Joel felt greatly satisfied. As always after being fucked by him, you looked completely wrecked.

He offered you a hand and helped you to stand on your trembling legs. Then he pinched your chin and tilted your head up, searching for your hazy eyes.

“Ya good?“

You nodded with a drunk smile and he sneered. He really found a perfect slut.

“‘k, clean yourself up and go to bed. You’ll sleep really well now, babydoll.”

He pressed his body to yours and snaked his hand to your naked ass. He found your hole and gently prodded it. It was leaking his cum.

”Say ’thank you for the milk, daddy,’” he whispered, looking into your eyes with a sneer.

“Thanks for the milk. Daddy,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath.

Joel brought your panties to his face and took a deep whiff.

“And thank you for the souvenir, little slut,” he winked at you and then left the room.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who were interested in pt 3; no pressure to read, bbs: @tateypots @amyispxnk @filetofishfan @lilac-boo @toxicanonymity @sunshineispunk @thundermartini @arcanefox207 @tammythr

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life. 

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not. 

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really. 

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit. 

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o��, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away. 

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him. 

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter. 

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple. 

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year. 

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer. 

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore. 

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer. 

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach. 

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.���

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take. 

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change. 

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards. 

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina. 

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time. 

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately. 

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call. 

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him. 

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it. 

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier. 

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour. 

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child. 

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

I know this is just a difference of opinion but I find it a little weird when people get so up in arms about Maria not getting her speech in movie 3. Because like... do I prefer the dying speech as a character moment? Yes absolutely. It really shows something about her that her last act in life was to protect her brother and beg him to protect other people despite what had happened to her. But I can also see the point in having her die suddenly and without a chance to realize what's going on. Because that's also incredibly real, and it's part of this Shadow's trauma that her death was so out-of-nowhere and violent. That one minute they were happy and calm and the next she was gone forever. It's also an incredible character beat to have Shadow come to the conclusion that he should protect the planet on his own, rather than just doing it because Maria told him to. Heck, I've seen people talking about the games saying that they want him to gain a motive outside of what she told him to do, but when that happens in the movies we're mad??

Like. It's different, and we can have our favorite versions, but it's not automatically culling Maria's character to have her death be so fast. I 100% get the argument about removing her agency in sacrificing herself for Shadow. And a sudden lack of agency is definitely a bit of an issue when it comes to writing female characters, esp with her being the first female game!character to appear. But at the same time. Isn't that the point? That she was an innocent, playful, kind child who loved her brother and was killed for no reason? Without a chance to say goodbye? Not to mention that this movie gave us a crapton of personality for Maria outside of her relationship to the men in her life– that she's a little artist, that she doesn't really care for rules, that she likes monster movies and playing guitar and talking about astronomy and roller-skating. That she wasn't a perfect martyr figure, that she was someone who caused problems and didn't always think ahead and was a child who never got her chance to grow up.

Maria's character is ALWAYS a tragic figure, it just depends on the universe how exactly that comes about.

[waynes-multiverse]

Eeeeek, I'm bursting with excitement! I wanna know so badly what happens next. I've been hurrying to get the kid to bed to read this 😂😂

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Goosebumps... 👀

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣

I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Nooo, but you shouldn't follow him either... With the broken ankle 👀

“If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

A week?!?!?! *gasps*

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom.

Oh God! I'd die worrying... 🙈🤣

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor.

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

THANK FUCKING GOD!!!!!

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please… He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty. He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process.

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!!

It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

“I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him.

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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🤍Him & I🤍 (Mafia! Roman Reigns X Black Reader)

Summary: After marrying Roman Reigns, you find yourself not only bound to him for life but also firmly entrenched in the powerful Samoan Dynasty. Though you never anticipated being drawn into the mafia lifestyle, your commitment to Roman means embracing everything that comes with him. With wealth, protection, and an unbreakable bond, your life is filled with both the luxuries and dangers of the world. This story contains a mix of romance, family loyalty, and intense tension, weaving together love and the high stakes of life that come with the Samoan dynasty🤍

CW: Mention of blood, guns, and violence, HEAVY SMUT, unprotected p in v, mature themes, orgasm denial, crying (from pleasure), nudity, mature language, bondage, choking, just…yeah it’s a lot going on basically 😭

Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said, "Be true", I swear I'll try

In the end, it's him and I

The air was thick with luxury, the kind that only comes from being married into one of the most prestigious and feared families in the world. Roman Reigns, the man who dominated both the ring and the criminal underworld, stood at the altar, waiting for you in his tailored black suit with tribal print covering it. His hair was wrapped behind his head in a neat bun, while his beard was trimmed sharply but neat. While he was a mafia boss, there was something different in his eyes as he waited for you to walk down the aisle.

You had never planned on living this lifestyle. Never dreamed of being part of the mafia. But Roman, with his deep voice and intense eyes, made you believe in something you didn’t know you wanted—family. His family. Your family now.

The moment you stepped into the grand hall, the world around you seemed to disappear. All you saw was Roman, staring at you as if you were his entire world. His family surrounded you, everyone’s eyes glued on you as your black dress dragged on the ground. Your veil blending in with it as the edges were decorated with designs and soft roses. His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability shining through his otherwise stoic demeanor. You were about to say “I do” to a man who commanded empires, yet, in this moment, he was just yours. Your fiance, soon to be husband. For life.

The vows were exchanged in a blur. You were married now—protected, wealthy, and happy. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Happiness was a complicated thing when your husband’s life was one of constant danger, surrounded by enemies who wanted him gone. But for Roman, there was no question. He was the protector, the provider, the pillar of his family. And with you being his wife, he’d never put you in any danger of course but you weren’t the type to sit back and let your man go it alone. If he needed anything, you were right by his side. Even if he didn’t you were right there. If he told you to shoot, you wouldn’t hesitate. If he told you to jump, you’d ask how high. That was the type of relationship, no, that was how committed you were to this man.

“It’s you and I”, Roman whispered as the priest pronounced you husband and wife. You could hear the promise in his voice. He wasn’t just talking about your marriage. He was talking about his world. And you were his world.

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love, the crazy kind

I am his, and he is mine

In the end, it's him and I, him and I

Married life was a whirlwind, and not the kind of whirlwind you imagined when you fantasized about your wedding day. The first few weeks were filled with lavish dinners, expensive gifts, and intimate nights at his mansion, tucked away from the world. You were currently on your back with your arms tied behind your back the soft cotton rope massaged against your skin each time you moved. Your curves were slightly squeezed from the rope but not enough to where it would hurt you or make you feel too uncomfortable, they were restraints after all. Your legs were spread wide open showing off your pussy as if it were an open invitation…to only Roman of course.

Speaking of Roman, there he was making his way back into the room, switching out his striped suit he had on earlier to a regular custom midnight black one. A dangerous yet delicate color. His hair wasn’t pulled back in that neat bun he always had though, it was lengthy and free. The dangling ends moving back and forth on his shoulders as he walked, the serious expression he had on his face yet the contrast of softness he had in his eyes, and those hands…god those hands that accompanied it all completed you. As he slowly dragged his fingers on the bed while he stalked toward you, your breath hitched as you looked up at him. “You look so beautiful waiting for me, babygirl.” He said before running his hands over your cheek, the cold band of his wedding ring massaging against your skin. “You remember our safe word beautiful?” He asked gently before you nodded. “Rose.” You don’t know why you were so nervous like this when you and Roman did this several times over but this still didn’t make it any less nerve racking.

That night in itself ended with his strong hands gripping around your body, whispering in your ear, wrinkling the sheets beyond recognition, and an overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through your bottom half. The ropes left slight intentions in your skin, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to know something was restricting you. You two didn’t always do shibari, but when you did those sessions were something else. Roman was a man that liked taking charge but he let you have your fun too, even your way…sometimes. Outside of your dangerous life, Roman always took care of you in bed and made sure you felt every inch of him.

But all the sex, wealth, and luxury couldn’t hide the tension that crept in with every phone call Roman received.

You’d never seen him like this before. Cold. Calculated. On edge.

“Everything okay, baby?” you asked one night, as Roman set down his phone with a furrowed brow. You had learned to read his moods by now—he wasn’t the kind of man who hid his feelings, but when it came to business, he kept things locked away.

“It’s just business,” he said with a sharp tone, but when his eyes met yours, the softness returned and his voice lowered. “Don’t worry about it. You’re safe.”

You wanted to believe him. You had to. But you knew it was more than that, more than what he was letting on.

His business wasn’t just any business. Roman was the head of one of the most powerful mafia families in the country. His loyalty to his family was unshakeable, and you soon realized that when Roman said “family,” he meant the people who had his back in life and death. You were part of that family now, but you were also a target. And he’d do anything to keep you safe.

As the weeks turned to months, you found yourself falling deeper into a world you never asked to be a part of, yet it was impossible to stay away from Roman. He was everything you needed—strong, protective, and utterly devoted. But with devotion came a certain level of danger. You didn’t necessarily like it, but you couldn’t help but love the way Roman made you feel and you’d do anything for him. You had also learned that since you were going to be in this lifestyle for life, you had to protect yourself too in case Roman wasn’t able to be there. Roman was the one who taught you how to shoot, grapple, fight, strap up, and come up with a few tricks to deceive anyone. The number one rule this family had was don’t trust anyone outside the family. Family is all you got.

He made sure you never felt alone, even when the weight of his world pressed down on him. The mafia life was ruthless, but in his arms, you were safe. He had his secrets, and he kept you close enough to know just enough to stay out of harm’s way. From the wild goose chases in his black Lamborghini and getting high in his master bedroom to the lap dances you’d secretly give him in the private VIP section in the club and making love to each other all over his mansion, you were together through it all.

“I told you we’re in this together, babygirl” Roman said one night as he pulled you close, his hands lingering on your waist. The heat between you was undeniable. The chemistry you shared wasn’t just passion—it was trust. Roman’s hands, though rough from years of violence, were always gentle with you.

“I know, you know I’m not going anywhere” you whispered, your hand resting on his chest. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your palm, a steady rhythm amidst the chaos of his life. “I still don’t understand this lifestyle fully yet, but I trust you.”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. “You don’t have to understand it. You just have to trust me.”

“And I do”, you replied. In that moment, you understood that trust was all that really mattered in this world. And it was something you were willing to give him completely. Because, despite the dangers, the unpredictability of it all, you loved him. Deeply.

But love wasn’t enough to shield you from the reality of the mafia. You could see it now—the cracks in the perfect world Roman had created for you. There were whispers, meetings behind closed doors, and a constant fear that one day, someone would try to take him down, take you down, or both.

One night, Roman’s worst fears became a reality. The call came in the middle of the night. Roman’s eyes were dark when he hung up, the urgency in his tone sharp.

“There’s a threat,” he said, grabbing his jacket, his hands steady but his face tight. “Stay inside. Don’t leave this room.”

“I’m coming with you,” you said, moving toward him, not willing to stay behind while he faced danger alone.

He turned to you, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern. “What’d I just say huh? I can’t protect you if you’re right there with me. I said stay here and I’m gon’ handle it.”

You hated the powerlessness that surged through you. You were his wife. His partner. In the world he inhabited, women were more often shielded from danger, kept out of the crossfire while the men handled the danger itself. You understood that, but it didn’t stop the ache in your chest.

Roman’s eyes softened for a moment. “I’ll be back before you know it. Trust me”, and with that, he left, the soft click of the door left nothing but silence.

Hours passed, and anxiety gnawed at you. The silence in the mansion felt suffocating. You could hear Roman’s voice in your head, telling you to trust him, telling you to stay behind. But when the clock ticked past midnight, you couldn’t sit still anymore. Fuck this. You quickly opened the bedside drawer grabbing a spare gun before making your way out of the room quietly.

You moved down the hall, a shadow in the quiet, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to know if he was okay.

As you reached the study, you heard voices—Roman’s, calm but authoritative, and another, lower, pleading. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Something felt off. But then suddenly a loud bang went off.

You jumped from the sound, but didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open, your gun drawn as your eyes instantly scanned the room. The man who had been pleading was now slumped in the chair, still and lifeless. His eyes were wide, staring vacantly, but there was no movement. The faint scent of iron lingered in the air.

Roman stood beside the chair, his back to you, his posture stiff, but there was a coldness to him that made your stomach churn. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to you as you stepped inside.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low, almost warning.

You stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the finality of it. Your breath caught, but you didn’t look away. You slowly lowered the gun before putting it down on the table.

“Roman…” you whispered, your voice trembling despite yourself.

He turned toward you, his face hard but the familiar softness in his eyes that always calmed you was gone. “What’d I tell you huh? I told you to stay in my room.”

“I couldn’t,” you replied, your voice steadying. “I wasn’t going to sit there while you—while this—happened.”

Roman took a step toward you, his eyes searching yours, but there was something different now. Something that weighed on him. “I did what I had to do. I did it for you. For us.”

The words felt heavier than usual, as if the burden was more than just the weight of the moment. You swallowed hard, the reality of it sinking in, but you didn’t back away.

You stepped closer, reaching out to him. Your fingers brushed his blood-streaked hand, and the warmth of his skin felt like a stark contrast to the cold in his gaze. “I know, give me the gun. Slow” you breathed out before slowly clutching the still warm barrel, prying it from his hands before putting it on the table beside the both of you.

He didn’t answer immediately, just stood there, his breath slow and even. Then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, he spoke again.

“I did what I had to do for the both of us. You know I’d do anything for you. I love you Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered, stepping into his embrace. “And I’ll always stand beside you, in front of you, and never behind you.” You replied, your head leaning against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you too.”

The tension between love and danger would always be there. But with Roman, you knew one thing for sure—you were his and he was yours. No matter the expense.

The shower after the situation felt so relaxing, the warm water hitting against your skin. Your hair was out, curly and coiling from the water hitting it as you didn’t even bother putting a shower cap on. Then there was Roman who was behind you, his toned chest dripping with water and his strong tatted arm pinning you against the wall of the walk in. You could only look up at him as his dark eyes stared into your own. “You didn’t follow my instructions earlier, so you know what that gets you right?” Your free hand lingering from your legs up to your waist, and then finally finding itself around your neck as he squeezed.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

His hand slowly made its way from the shower wall and onto your shoulders using it to turn you around towards the wall, the hand on your waist only leaving it for a brief moment before returning. “Cummin’ without my permission is gon’ earn you an agonizingly slow release beautiful." He paused giving you time to process everything before continuing. “Because I’m gon’ go slower and slower every. single. time.” He breathed into your ear, the sound of the water beginning to become a blur as you concentrated on his words. With each word your body had some type of reaction.

His words felt so commanding, but no matter how they sounded you’d answer every time. Your pussy was already wet from the water but also because of the way he talked to you, it was creating a wetness of its own; it’s like he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. The pressure you felt against your folds before your insides expanded was more pleasureable than painful, the stinging sensation was there but it was almost dull because of the fact that you’ve felt this dick before. You felt what it was like to take Roman’s length inside of you whether he was gentle, rough, happy and even angry. “You’re so tight f’me, this pussy been waiting on me huh?”

You could only moan in response as your body and face were pressed against the slightly cool shower wall, condensation dripping on the sides as your body and face made a slight outline from the pressure. That didn’t please Roman in the slightest though, which you found out due to his hand making a hard contact against your ass before gripping it. “You don’t hear me talkin’?” You bite your lip before looking back at him before nodding yes. “Yes sir” you replied as he began to thrust forward, his length rubbing against your walls as he muttered. “There she is, there’s my good girl.”

The way Roman switched from serious and dominant to calm and gentle made your pussy throb. His thrusts only got faster and with that, he also got deeper, your body being pressed against the wall with every thrust. The pressure in your bottom half had you moaning out a string of curse words, not only because it felt that good but because it was your man behind you that was causing it.

You couldn’t even hide how wet your pussy was getting as it practically was mixing with the water as a cover up. Maybe if you came, he wouldn’t notice because of the water, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“R-Roman!” you moaned out as his back muscles contorted each time he moved, his tatted arm suddenly gripping your hair as he pulled you back forcing you to look at him. “Who’s pussy is this huh? Go ahead and tell me beautiful”, his voice low and dangerous as his hips met your ass due to him pounding you from the back. His moans rang through your ears as your pussy only grew wetter and wetter the deeper he got, but you made the mistake of letting yourself go a little too much. Because while he couldn’t see it, he definitely felt it. The mix of your fluids with the water that was already dripping down your legs sent him, amused him. “You came didn’t you, you thought I wasn’t gon’ find out about it, hm?” He said before he slightly slowed his thrusts before wrapping his hand around your throat, the water from his hands dripping down your chest. “N-Nooo” you whined. You tried to keep it a secret, but you couldn’t keep anything from Roman Reigns, no matter how hard you tried, he’d find out eventually. And he did. He also never said he’d play fair because within seconds, his other hand found his way down to your clit knowing how sensitive you were. “You just won’t listen, even though I’m punishing you. You get off on this, don’tchu.” He said smirking seeing you squirm under him. “S-Shit! N-No I’m g-gonna c-cum again!” You whined out feeling the coil in your stomach start all over again.

“You can try babygirl but you already now I ain’t having that” his voice was husky and it had so much teasing behind it, but the dangerous type of teasing. The one where he would get his way because of someone else’s mistake. The sounds of the water hitting the titles of the walk in shower, wasn’t enough to drown out the sounds of both your voices and the slapping of flesh that came along with it. His dick was practically drilling you while his hand was overstimulating the most sensitive part of your lower half which caused your hips to buck forward. But he wasn’t letting you go that easy. “You tryna run from me?” He whispered in your ear before his grip around your coils tightened and he purposely pushed your body against the wall where the outline now came to your mid section. Your breaths were ragged and fogged up the glass, your pussy was overly sensitive and the man behind you was owning you and your body. It didn’t help that as your head leaned back against his shoulder blade, your neck was exposed and it gave him access to every bit of it which he took. All of it just sending you over the edge, but just when you felt you were about to crumble, he stopped and started thrusting agonizingly slow.

His strokes were slow and deliberate, which made tears form in the corners of your eyes as you felt the knot inside of your stomach slipping away. “R-Roman p-please…I need i-it….” You begged being completely at his mercy. Just how he liked it because he was the one in control, and oh the face you made when you cried under him. He loved every second of it. “Need what, babygirl. Use those words and tell Daddy what you need.”

“I wanna c-cum! Please I was s-so close!” You begged attempting to put one of your hands towards your clit to chase that orgasm that was almost long gone, yourself. But Roman wasn’t having any of it and grabbed your hand, his hand on top of yours intertwining them together and pinning them against the shower wall. His ring band right next to yours. “Bad move, princess”, he said going even slower.

“Roman please-“ you begged having tears in your eyes. “How much do you want it huh?” He whispered into your ear as his hips grinded against yours, his cock pushing through your walls expanding them slowly as he went. “R-Really bad. P-Please I c-can’t take it anymore! Make m-me cum and n-nut in me” you begged looking at him with pleading eyes as tears fell. How could he say no to this? With all that begging and crying, his hand tightened around your neck as he sped up again but he immediately found that spot. “Y-Yes! R-Right there baby!” you screamed out as your eyes rolled in the back of your head and a slight smile crossed your face feeling satisfied your man wasn’t teasing you anymore but giving you exactly what you wanted. Your pussy clenched onto him like your life depended on it which caused a drawn out moan to erupt from him. “Mmm, just like that beautiful. This pussy wants all of me huh”, he said as his other hand slid back over your arm before going back down to your clit. You couldn’t resist the urge of grinding against his hand because you wanted that release that bad and you felt it. Combined with him slamming against your g-spot over and over and the fact that he was rubbing against your clit, your orgasm hit you like a wave as your juices started to drip all over his cock and run down your legs.

Your moans came out as silent gasps from how good it finally felt to have another release. “Look at you crumbling f’me, so fucking beautiful” he mumbled feeling the muscles inside of you contracting before hitting that sensitive spot inside of you again one last time before letting himself loose inside of you, covering your insides in strings of white.

As both of you came down from your high, Roman wrapped his tatted arm around you; his hand resting on your right breast. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And as the night faded into dawn, Roman wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re mine. It’s you and I, don’t forget that.”

You smiled up at him, your hand resting against his chest. “And you and I. Always.”

Together, we were inseparable, whatever came our way—no matter what, it would always be him and I 🤍

Divider Credits: @kimjiho1, @thecutestgrotto, @firefly-graphics, @enchanthings

Taglist: @punksyeet @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy @uceyliyahh @partypoison00 @empressdede @luvrsluxe @luvrgirl4roman @marsstyles @mselenalovebug

[neerons]

Some of Yves Kloss’ best quotes

"He caaaaaaaaame! " (—Yves screaming about Clavis)

"You're the most common commoner I've ever seen. You have no redeeming features to speak of. Why should I accept someone like that?"

"Choosing me shows how sophisticated you are. You won't regret it." (—Yves' changing route quote)

"Y-You call that a CAKE...?" (—Yves reacting to Clavis' gift)

"If this shameless behavior goes on any longer, you’ll find out what happens if you test my patience. I suggest that you don’t." (—Yves defending Emma in front of a noblewoman that bullied her)

"ExCUSE me? What on earth are you doing hiding in my closet?!"

"Excuse me? And why not?! I’m going to tell everyone, so we can figure out how best to punish her for what she did to you! (…) Huh?! Hey, no, you’ve got it all wrong! This isn’t kindness! I just know I’d end up with the worst stomachache if something happened to you because of me!" (—Yves defending Emma)

"Why should you have to be the one to carry such a heavy burden? This is a problem between two nations. It’s not the sort of thing a simple, kind-hearted woman like yourself needs to get involved in."

"…Emma really is amazing. I could never do anything like that. I always wanted to be a bridge that could bring Obsidian and Rhodolite together… But I was despised just for being half-Obsidianite, and I accepted it all, like it was completely normal. I never did a single thing to actually improve the relationship between our countries. I didn’t even think I could. It takes courage and resolve to approach someone when you’re completely at odds with them. It’s not easy, not in the slightest. I bet it’s left Emma in tears countless times. But even so, she’s still here now, holding her head high and taking that first step towards peace. She really is… amazing. (…) She’s so beautiful it’s dazzling. (…) I’ve spent my whole life with my head down, seeing nothing but the ground at my feet. I really need to change—I need to learn from her example." (—Yves talking about Emma to Leon)

"Fhwhwh...?! Oh my god. How is my little brother this adorable?!" (—Yves talking about Licht)

"Know this: Yves Kloss loves you, and he's always thinking about you. There's not a day you're not in his thoughts."

"You do realize you're pretty, no matter what?"

"For the record? Each time you make me happy, I swear I'll make you even happier."

"H-Hey... Have you really not noticed that I, Yves Kloss, am waiting for the right moment to talk with you?"

"U-Um, Emma... Don't tell me you're... with both of them...?" (—Yves talking about Emma holding Gilbert's and Clavis' hands)

"Just the thought of being tossed into a den full of women sends a shiver up my spine..."

"Did you just say... LOVE?!" (—Yves to Licht and Leon)

"I guess you captivated me. You were always striving to be perfect, and... that's the Emma I fell in love with."

"Y-You think you can just be all cute and get away with it, huh?"

"Please don't cry, Emma. When you cry... my heart aches so badly I don't know what to do."

"I'm not a prince to be pitied. It doesn't matter if no one accepts me. The only one I need acceptance from is me. (...) It doesn't matter what other people say. What's the point, if you can't trust yourself, and believe in your own worth? Even if they trample you under their filthy, worn boots—so long as you hold your head high and believe in yourself, it'll only make you stronger."

"Okay, which of you gave Licht wine?! How many times have I told you not to?!"

"There are so many people in the world who hate me. But... I hate me more than any of them."

"Aww, Licht, don't be so down. Failure is an unavoidable part of cooking!" (—Yves reassuring a sulking Licht)

"I'm never making dessert for any of you ever again!! You're all horrible and you can eat dirt for all I care!"

"I am NOT a cat!!!"

"...I know that kindness of yours is probably a virtue, but I can't help worrying that you're going to kindness yourself to death one day."

"What? No! I didn't meow. Why on earth would I meow?!"

"You're my goddess of happiness. I... thank you for coming, Emma."

"He's such a brazen fool! Not a principled bone in his body, and he's incorrigible to boot!" (—Yves talking about Nokto)

"Listen, you didn't hear this from me, but... Licht made almost five hundred attempts before he baked an edible batch of cookies. (...) That boy really loves you a lot. So much that it gives me heartburn just thinking about it."

"I often get told that I don't have luck. But when I talk to you, I feel like my life isn't all that bad."

"I hope she comes soo... WAHH! W-Warn me when you come!"

[derww]

the thing that bugged me the most after watching the wormhole video is actually that we never got the proper ending for the main plot line that was in it: parrot and spoke's personal relationship.

even though spoke showed that conversation from the end of wormhole, where parrot stood in front of spoke, clutching the handle of the hyperion, and said that he refuses to let people down even if it means he has to sacrifice something very important to him, this does not answer the question hanging in the air. from the point of view of the narrator, after losing op, parrot seems to lose his autonomy, both as an antagonist and, more importantly, as spoke's best friend, after spoke himself talked almost exclusively about their friendship for an hour, both as characters and, first of all, as real people.

"i didnt just exploit a game, i exploited a friendship i had built over the years.". speaking about both parrot and mapicc, spoke mentions several separate times how much it went beyond just playing on the server, that he abused their real, actual relationship in order to achieve his goal. at the same time, spoke does not tell what happened between them – both characters and people – after him receiving an op. in the jungle part, parrot literally has almost no lines – he just stares and stares and stares and stares. until the very end of the story, he follows the path that spoke paved for him, living in the conditions created by spoke.

we see only glimpses that everything is actually – at least relatively – fine. not only because parrot continues to play within the game, but also how he complains to spoke about the unfairness of using teleportation and that after the season ending he even suggests for spoke to become the new lifesteal owner. grains that do not reflect full image. was parrot horrified and shocked, was he angry, at least for a moment, when he realized how far spoke's manipulation extended, did they have to somehow solve and discuss it, or was he immediately like, "wow, you made a lot of awesome moves, there will be cool content!" and everything was fine? sure, parrot loves risk moves and adrenalin, but wasnt it too far?

can it even be "okay" if your best friend has been manipulating you for months for a personal goal? does this cross the line of what is truly acceptable, even in a lifesteal setting? even if it's all for the sake of shared content, even if the community has the right mentality, even if no real harm has been done, even if you're willing to trust a friend that he won't cross the line, does all this change the fact that it's, in general morality, just plain cruel?

although this is undoubtedly too personal to just insert into the video, it should be noted when the whole story is about abusing irl friendship. although i absolutely understand this decision, this is by no means a critical review, from the point of view of storytelling it is strikingly incorrect, as if in the middle of writing a book the writer threw out all rules.

of course, this is an important conversation to be had on the whole – with the rules never mentioned out loud, with an unspoken agreement that everyone understands what's going on here and how, and what everyone is signing up for, when the price is friendship and connection, how far is it too far? lsers are friends, to a greater or lesser extent, but it's almost inappropriate to answer "everyone has their limits" when a relationship is at stake. everyone, including spoke himself, agrees that what he did in s4 was too much, but there were many, many other moments where everything was not so clear, and, moreover, there was no discussion, even in private, which never solves the essence of the problem.

lifesteal is not unique, but it is a very rare system in how far people can be willing to go in a war against others, despite the fact that everyone is friends: most of the pre–lifesteal stories of this approach took place on public servers and against strangers, and friends' servers either remained frivolous to one degree or another, or were scripted. post-lifesteal, many servers of a similar kind have appeared, but only a small part of them are comparable in terms of the proximity of the players and the rigidity of the approach, because it is incredibly difficult to simultaneously allow yourself to get involved as deeply as possible and, at the same time, having received a knife in the back, not want to bury the traitor underground. It's about trust, and it's about content, and it's so strikingly different for different people, and there's obviously no right answer here.

when playing league of legends, one of the important skills that every player needs to develop is not to tilt. at the same time, take the game seriously, but be ready to let go of defeat, no matter how much effort you put into the game. don't go crazy when you lose a line and die ten times, and jungler yells at you as the worst possible being. it took me a few years to stop tilting, and it carried over to minecraft too – where my friends got upset, angry, and gave up, i learned to just shrug my shoulders and try again. but that didn't teach me how to deal with betrayal, even in-game, because the worst thing about betrayal is that it always comes from someone close to you. not from an accidental co-player in a match, and not as a simple accident, but as an intention to harm, even if only in the game. it is a lot to take, and the cost is too high. and, while parrot and spoke are still good friends, parrot left owner role because of the distress it gave him, so doesn't it show the presence of a real impact.

i like that we got only half-truth tho. because it is who spoke is. when he needs you to believe him, he says something actually truthful, and then – his lie and manipulation, and you eat it because believe everything to be true. even now, spoke continues to metagame. he's fine with showing that he was a dick, and he's using that to cover a part he never wants to explain. and he wouldn't.

spoke tells the truth saying he liked to do the impossible, but it is not a full answer. while s4 ending was supposed to be a relief for him, an opportunity to stop lying and being a villain, there remains something else – not only the showdown, but the guilt, the realization that you were so wrong that you hide huge chunks and you refuse to get them for another year and a half. when everything ends, when there is nowhere else to run, reflection and awareness remain. a year and a half later, from the season 6, spoke can end the video on a positive note, but for that long-time spoke, who had just released the god from his body, covered with lightning scars everywhere, absolutely not feeling like a winner, it was a bad end, and perhaps for his character, it couldn't be good.

how old was spokeishere when he did all this, 16? there is an irony that he is the worldender, the trickster, the manipulator, and he's the youngest of them all. sometimes i want to call him dumb for not being careful enough or anything else but then i do remember how he played everyone in s4. not in a big picture, but in smalltalks, toying people while they thought him to be completely harmless. spokeishere being smart is like lifesteal having its unspoken rules – you need to be too attentive to see it. often it is like a... circles on the water. you can't see a fallen pebble, but you can see the waves radiating from it. and, in the end, he is the one who did it, who succeeded, and who am i to judge him?

minecraft roleplay can do something very wrong with you, how any acting sometimes can break you apart and turn inside out. because while you are letting yourself feel like it's real, it is, at some capacity, can be real. and while it is a known factor of being an actor, it's not something you do think about when you go to play a game with your friends. sometimes it changes something very, very important in you, and sometimes you look back on that experience and realize that it hurt you. or not. everyone has their unique experiences, as always.

also, we finally found out the reason the fishing spot was so important. not only a place of friendship but also a place of the exploiting! yay!

[hug-me-hard-so-i-dont-forget-you]

Plot points I hope to see in season 8b/9

(this is long because the writers have a lot to make up for)

• Airport scene

• Eddie gives Buck his St. Christopher necklace

• Buck's coping mechanism of briefly turning into slutty Buck 1.0 after Eddie leaves. Only this time it's with guys that resemble Eddie but he doesn't notice. Maddie does. And she wishes desperately that she wasn't pregnant so she could drink

• Buck actually uses the word bisexual or bi to describe himself

• Finally getting to see Eddie's sisters. And maybe while he's in Texas he facetimes Buck and they come into frame. And in true little sister fashion, they embarrass him: "Oh, Edmundo! Is this the Buck we keep hearing about? He IS cute!"

"I never said that!"

Buck: "...you don't think I'm cute? 🥺"

• Maddie, Sofia, and Adrianna meeting and bonding over their dumbass brothers

• Everyone else finds out that Buck is in Eddie's will and they all just stand there, mouths agape cuz how THE FUCK do they not know they're in love?? Everyone else can see it!

• Buck tells literally everyone at the 118 about his feelings for Eddie because he needs advice. And Chim makes a joke like,

"He already has everyone crushing on him! Why can't someone have a crush on me for once??"

"...dude, you're my brother-in-law."

"So?? We don't have to tell Maddie!"

• Buck admits his feelings but Eddie ends up not leaving so Buck avoids him out of embarrassment like jk pranked ya!

• Buck NDE because I NEED to see Eddie lose his shit

• Or they both have a close call and later have a serious 'spousal' discussion about what would happen to Chris if they both died. And then they share a moment of comradery, trash talking Helena & Ramon and hoping they never get custody again

• Speaking of Shitty Parents 2.0 (Shitty Parents 1.0 being the Buckley's) we need more screen time hating on Helena. Ramon got multiple scenes showing how awful he is and Eddie calling him out on it. But Helena is a selfish woman that keeps trying to manipulate Eddie into giving her Chris. And even when Eddie tries to keep in contact with his son while he's in Texas she just brushes him off and doesn't try to get Chris to talk to him. All because she got her way so she doesn't care, pushing Eddie further into his pit of self-hatred. And for that she must be punished

• Eddie talking to Bobby about his Catholic guilt in relation to his sexuality. And then going to Michael for advice about the transition of believing he's straight and having a heterosexual marriage and family to where he is now. The 3 of them need to go on a fishing trip or something. They'd have it all sorted out within the weekend

• Eddie and Maddie having ANY kind of interaction on screen. The writers know that if they teamed up they'd be besties instantly and they're keeping that from us!

• Chris needing dating advice but as soon as his dad tries to help he cuts him off like: "Not from you, you're obviously gay and all of your straight relationships sunk like the Titanic. But thanks anyway. Hey Buck!"

"Wtf? His relationships weren't great either!"

• Eddie having more discussions with Hot Priest™️ about his guilt and he just smiles fondly at Eddie, "I don't know about you, but my god doesn't judge. Not when someone lives their truth. I think you're more afraid of your family's judgement. If I were you, I'd go back and think of every time I thought God was judging me and consider the possibility that I was putting Him in place of my parental figures." and Eddie just blue screens for many minutes as Hot Priest™️ patiently waits for him to catch up as if he hadn't just changed his entire fucking life

• A scene where either Hot Priest™️ or Bobby or Buck asks him: "Would you judge Christopher if he questioned his sexuality?" "What? No." "Would you tell him to go to confessional or try to pray it away?" "Of course not!" "Would you ever discourage him to be anything less than who he truly is? Or stop him from doing something that makes him happy?" "No!" "Then why do it to yourself? Why set that example? Even if it turns out your parents or Abuela aren't comfortable with you exploring your sexuality, you can always do better than them. Break the cycle for the one person who matters most to you. Be happy, be yourself, be what you want to be, not what others expect from you. And I know you, you won't do it for you. So do it for Christopher. Show him that it's okay, great even, to be you."

• Josh getting all giddy while talking to Eddie like he did when Buck asked for gay dating advice

• Eddie talking to Hen and Karen about how they coped with their foster kids leaving. Like, how do wake up every morning to a quieter house and empty bedrooms, knowing the breakfast table is going to be lonely? They exchange bittersweet looks and hug him

I will accept no less than 80% of this becoming canon. Thank you and good night.

[fashionteahouse]

Ooo I got one can u do one where reader and Paul r in a long distance relationship due to the reader being in uni and they always have phone sex or sexting and reader surprises Paul at his surprise birthday party and they end the night with uknow and Paul’s like the real thing is better ❤️

ofc ! hope you enjoy :)

crushed velvet - paul x reader

His grumpy face was still cute in your eyes. You hug him again.

“When am I going to see you again?” he asks.

“Soon…Really soon.”

“Your next break isn’t until the summer.” he says sadly.

You rub his back as you both look at each other. He kissed you, not caring that people were looking. He had to savor the last bit of feeling of you.

You wave to him as you walked off to go on your journey back to school.

It was hard. It was always hard.

That night as you held the phone to your ear, his deep voice rumbled through the device.

“I miss you…What are you doing?”

He already asked it already but you smile a bit as you tell him again, “I’m in bed.”

He goes quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“What are you wearing?”

Your heart speeds up as you know where it’s going to go.

“Just a night shirt.” you say quietly.

“Just that?”

“Yes.”

You hear him hum out a response and then he speaks again in that devilish voice that made you do unholy things.

“I miss touching you…”

“I miss touching you too.” you whispered as you heard his breath start to go heavy.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Close your eyes.”

You do so. He instructed your hand to trail down your stomach and into your underwear.

It was your turn for your breathing to become heavy.

Soon, you were crumbling apart as your fingers were the substitute for his. Your quiet moans as you pleasured yourself, were right in his ear as he groaned while stroking himself.

“Don’t be quiet….” he speaks.

“Louder..For me.”

It drove you almost insane and you wanted him there.

“I need you so much.” you whine out as you climaxed.

Night and day felt so lonely without him.

Paul was surprised with a picture of you in your desk mirror. The golden hour let your body shine that he almost drooled. He closed his eyes as he wanted to so badly touch the skin that was teasing him.

He sends you a video. You watched in the dark before you went to sleep.

By the time he was done stroking himself, he looked like a child who had spilled milk all over himself.

The ache was deep inside of you. No matter how much masterbaiting that one did, it wasn’t enough for you. You just wanted him. He just wanted you.

Especially when he was fresh out of the shower, he hung out as you wanted to know how that veiny flesh felt inside of you as you stared at the picture.

“So are you coming?” Emily asks you over the phone.

A surprise party for Paul was being thrown. You had no classes and you had a free weekend.

“Of course! I miss him so much…Don’t tell him I’m coming.”

“Of course, of course. He’s going to go crazy.” she tells you. Your smile was bright.

You send him one last picture at midnight before you were about to leave. Showcasing the finger that touched the wetness.

“Happy birthday”

You were impatient as you were traveling to go back to La Push. He texted back.

“I miss you. This is going to be the worst birthday ever.”

You look at your phone with a smile. The sun was starting to rise.

You finally made it to La Push.

Emily pulled you into the home with a big hug. She was finished baking the cake.

“Help me put the icing on?” she asks you. You nod.

As you do, you gush to her about how you have been. It mostly contained of how much you missed Paul.

“That’s all we hear from him. How much he misses you.” Emily says with a smile.

The pack started to come in one by one. They grinned as they seen you, giving you hugs of love. They missed you too but not as much as Paul. The balloons filled in the air.

Paul was the last one to come in and Emily made you duck behind the island.

They turned on the lights and everyone yelled surprise.

You decided to stay hidden for added effect.

“I’m going home.” you heard his voice say.

Soft groans filled the home.

“Come on, Paul. At least have some cake.”

“I don’t want no damn cake.” he grumbled.

You cover your mouth with a hand to keep yourself from laughing.

“Paul. Get some cake and stop acting like a baby.” Sam says.

You heard footsteps and you rise slowly up.

“Surprise?”

He dropped his fork.

Scooping you up in his arms and kissing your face.

“You’re here.” he kept saying happily.

He didn’t dare to let you go throughout the party.

“I’m going home”. he says after the time started to get late.

He rises and your arm is still around his back.

Your feet follow him as you heard the pack argue among themselves about who is going to clean up the mess.

You chuckle to yourself and Paul lifts you in his arms as you both make your way to his house.

You laugh again as his lips touch your ear. It tickled.

You slide down his body as you both made it inside of his home. He brushed against you and captures you in a sensual kiss.

Your hands dance in his hair as he moves you both, “Here or the bed?” he asks against your lips.

“Your bed.” you whispered.

He lifts you in his hands, your legs around his waist and you felt your back touch his soft bed. You looked up at him and he almost came right then and there.

You both waste no time to become naked. He lays on his back and grabs your wrist to bring you over him. He scoots you up his body, his breath was soon blowing against your wet center.

You gasp at the sensation of him eating at you. Your hips slowly rolled against his tongue before they started to rock in rhythmic motion that made you roll your eyes so hard.

After trembling for so long, you slide off of him to ride out the high of your orgasm. You whisper his name as he continued to touch your shaken body.

He hovered over you as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your ear. You felt him line himself up with you as your head turned to the side, seeing his clenched fist in the sheets. You hold onto his strong wrist as he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

You both moan out loud. He rolls and rocks his hips as you turn your head side to side. It was overwhelming but in a good way. He snakes his hand forward and around your stomach, trailing downward, making small circles that made you moan out incoherent words.

He grunted in your ear. He grunted how good you felt. He grunted how the real thing was better. With that, you’re flipped over, your knees are pushed beside your head as you look at his animalistic expression.

His tongue made you quiver as he ate at you again. This time, his grip on your legs made them impossible for you to move. The only thing that could move was your hips that pressed against his face. You felt like you were going to die. But in a good way.

He finally sinks back in, his hips snaps to reach all of you, making sure you felt all of him. He squeezed his eyes shut. It felt like he was in heaven as he felt tingles throughout his body like electricity. The crushed velvet pulsated around him and he moved faster to get the last bit of feeling before he, himself came as well.

You both lay side by side. You both catch your breaths.

“This was the best birthday ever.” he says quietly.

You chuckle quietly.

“This…This is what I’ve been missing.” you whisper.

“Me too. The real thing is always better.”

You give him a smile as you give each other passionate smooch and you lay on his chest as he holds you.

[lvnleah]

https://www.tumblr.com/lvnleah/771226075282997248/anyone-got-any-requests-for-steph-i-really-want?source=share

Of course! Meeting her after she broke up with her boyfriend, when she thought she doesn't want a relationship again, going to parties, until she met yn in one of those parties, (yn maybe can be a cousin from one of her teammates or not) so after they spent the night together, she tried to know who yn is, and the team is like playing detectives, only knowing Yn's name, so it's like going to Instagram, searching for her, and if you write to yn be someone teammates's cousin, that person can be like after an hour, I have a cousin with that name, so when she show her a picture, they laugh about it and of course, Steph started to follow her on Instagram.

new years twist | steph catley.

thank you for this request! :)

Steph didn’t think she wanted to go out that night. A New Year’s Eve party seemed like the last thing she needed, fresh off a breakup that had left her drained. But her teammates had insisted.

“Come on, Steph. You deserve a night to let loose,” Beth had said, practically dragging her out of her flat. “You can’t just sit in your flat, Steph. It’s New Year’s Eve. Start the year fresh.”

Steph had grumbled and muttered something about being too tired, but here she was. She nursed a drink and hovered near her teammates, pretending to be engaged in the conversation while her eyes wandered around the room.

That’s when she saw you.

You were at the bar, leaning casually against the counter, your laughter ringing out above the hum of the room. Your confidence drew her in like a magnet. She didn’t know you, but she wanted to.

“Who’s that?” Steph found herself asking Beth, who was standing beside her.

Beth followed Steph’s gaze. “No idea, but she’s cute. You should talk to her.”

Steph scoffed. “I don’t even know her.”

Beth grinned, nudging Steph’s arm. “Exactly. Go fix that.”

Steph hesitated for a moment before draining the rest of her drink. “Fine,” she muttered, heading toward the bar.

As she approached, you turned to look at her, your eyes meeting hers with an ease that made her stomach flip. “Hi,” Steph said, a little unsure of herself.

“Hi,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

Steph laughed, a little surprised at your observation. “You’re not wrong. My friends dragged me out.”

“Well, I’m glad they did. I’m Y/N,” you said.

“Steph,” she replied, shaking your hand. It was warm, and she found herself reluctant to let go. “So how come you’re here?”

“Oh, I'm with my cousin!” You smiled, “Her friends have arrived so she’s gone to see them.”

The conversation flowed naturally after that. She learned that you were visiting from out of town, and staying with family for the holidays. You told her about your job, your interests, your love for sarcastic banter—which you demonstrated by teasing Steph every chance you got. And Steph, to her surprise, loved it.

Hours passed in what felt like minutes. The countdown to midnight crept closer, and Steph didn’t want the night to end. She was caught up in your laughter, in the way your eyes sparkled when you told a story, in the way you leaned closer to her as the night went on.

“Ten seconds!” someone shouted, and the room erupted in cheers, everyone counting down together.

Steph turned to look at you. You were already looking at her, a small, knowing smile on your lips. “So, are we doing this or what?” you asked, your voice teasing but your eyes soft.

Steph didn’t hesitate. When the room shouted, “One! Happy New Year!” she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that stole her breath. The world around her disappeared. It was just you, your hands resting on her waist, your lips moving against hers like you’d done this a hundred times before.

When you finally pulled away, Steph was speechless. You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Happy New Year, Steph.”

She smiled, her heart pounding. “Happy New Year.”

Later, you both found yourselves back at Steph’s apartment. Once inside, the two of you didn’t waste any time. Kisses turned heated, hands exploring everywhere, laughter morphing into gasps and strings of moans. Steph didn’t remember the last time she felt this alive.

When she woke up the next morning, the sun streaming through the curtains, her first instinct was to reach for you. But the other side of the bed was empty. Your scent lingered on the pillow, but you were gone.

Her heart sank. She sat up, running a hand through her hair, replaying the night in her mind. Had she misread things? She shook her head, chastising herself. It was one night. Maybe that’s all it was supposed to be.

Training resumed a few days later, but Steph couldn’t stop thinking about you. She mentioned it casually to Caitlin as they stretched before practice.

“She just… left,” Steph said, frustration creeping into her voice. “I didn’t even get her number.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask for it?”

“I didn’t think I needed to!” Steph groaned. “I thought we’d at least talk in the morning.”

Caitlin smirked. “Well, what’s her name? Maybe we can find her.”

That caught Beth’s attention. “Wait, wait, wait. We’re finding someone? Who?”

Steph sighed, realizing she’d just made things worse. “Her name’s Y/N. That’s all I’ve got.”

Beth’s eyes lit up. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Give me ten minutes.”

What followed was the most chaotic, ridiculous investigation Steph had ever witnessed. Beth, Caitlin, and a few others scoured Instagram, typing in your name and cross-referencing profiles.

Occasionally, they’d show Steph a photo. “Is this her?” Beth would ask, holding up her phone.

“No,” Steph said for the fifth time, her patience wearing thin.

“Maybe she doesn’t have Instagram,” Caitlin suggested.

“Everyone has Instagram,” Beth countered. “We just haven’t found her yet.”

The commotion attracted Leah. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re trying to find Steph’s mystery girl,” Beth said, grinning.

Leah raised an eyebrow. “Mystery girl?”

Steph sighed. “It’s nothing. Just someone I met at the New Year’s party.”

Leah frowned, then seemed to freeze. “Wait. What’s her name?”

Steph told her, and Leah’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“What?” Steph asked, confused.

Leah started laughing, pulling out her phone. “That’s my cousin’s name and she was with me at that party.”

The entire room erupted into laughter. “No way!” Beth said.

Leah scrolled through her phone and pulled up a photo. “This her?”

Steph’s face turned bright red. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Leah shook her head, still laughing. “I can’t believe this. You kissed my cousin?”

“It was a good kiss,” Steph muttered, which only made everyone laugh harder. “And night…”

Leah took Steph's phone before she handed it back. “Here. Just follow her on Instagram. I’ll text her and let her know to check.”

Steph hesitated for a moment before hitting the follow button. Within minutes, you followed her back, and Steph’s phone buzzed with a message.

“Small world, huh?” you wrote, followed by a winking emoji.

Steph smiled down at her phone, her heart racing. Maybe it had started as one night, but something told her it was just the beginning.

[soft-pine]

spn20rewatch: 2.20 what is and what should never be

this has got to be in my top ten episodes of all time! there is so much i love about it! it has my favorite favorite scene and then my other FAVORITE FAVORITE SCENE!!!

but before we get there it has some wonderful dean character moments.

dean's confused, withdrawn, performative kiss with carmen!

this whole scene watching his face go from performance to confusion and worry and back and forth! he is so funny and i love him so much!

but this is also a cruel foreshadowing that the next two kisses dean has are him specifically sacrificing himself and his body as a means to an end.

but we're not there yet so let's just bask in THIS!

DEAN: Well, who'd'a thought, baby. We're civilians.

or THIIISSSSS!!!

DEAN Dad's dead? And the thing that killed him was a... MARY A stroke. He died in his sleep. You know that. DEAN That's great.

or the way dean is so fucking happy to see jess and it's heartbreakingly sweet!

there is also so much that can be said about how even in dean's "dream world," he's the family fuck-up. he's never really thought much about his own future or himself but the best thing he can picture is his family (or most of them, HA!) alive and happy and safe. and i think there's a component of this where he has to remove himself (and John) in order to imagine it being possible. gutting honestly.

season two opens with dean yelling at john (though john can't hear him) and ends with dean crying at john's grave. i'm interested in the shared threads between these two iterations.

2.01

DEAN: I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I have given everything I've ever had.

2.20

DEAN: Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but... "So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right?" But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?

the speech in 2.20 is actually one of the very best explanations i feel we ever get for dean's relationship with john. because the issue is not only that john forced dean into hunting, it's that hunting saves people. like dean can rail against john and against his childhood that was stolen and against his future that will be stolen and against all the cruelty and harshness and ways he was parentified and it was subtly reinforced that his life literally mattered less than sam's or than strangers. but hunting does save people, goddammit and dean both cares so deeply about that on his own that many of these sacrifices would be freely chosen and he cannot fully hate or distance himself from his father because so much of what john did was actually just straightforwardly good.

abuse is messy. i think john winchester's characterization is perfect, actually.

dean can much more easily put to rest a father who played softball than a father who "got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad." (8.12)

like dean has to remove himself and john from their family's lives to picture their family getting a happy life. but for it to feel easy, he also has to make this father one who just worked at a body shop (i'm extrapolating) and played softball.

so yes, okay this episode is a nonstop thrill ride of beautiful, cute, wonderful dean moments and utter heartbreak. so of course, the next thing i have to say is THAT THIS SCENE IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!!!! i can't stand it! (rip to the "I know how it sounds" that i didn't squeeze in because it was too long. because that line just kills me !!!!!)

but look look look!!!! he's so smooth and cunty AHHH

so it follows that what comes next is heartbreak. dean wants a future where mary is alive, where jess is alive, where sam is happy and safe and in college and alive. and it's not real and he can't have it and it will kill him but he wants to stay. so he stabs himself in the heart.

and in the next episode sam dies anyway.

... well here we are, this is already so long and i haven't even talked about my actual favorite scene. which also, i think, happens to be my favorite scene in all of supernatural....

Dean realizing one of the other of the djinn's victims is still alive and catching her as sam cuts her free.

DEAN: I gotcha. I gotcha. We're gonna get you out of here, OK? I gotcha. I got you.

the way the fact that he's in pain and weak and drained is layered throughout the desperate care in his voice here.... besties i don't have words...

all hail 2.20

[kalinara]

So this post, by @rei-ismyname, got me thinking of how I see Logan with regard to the Logan/Scott relationship specifically. This was intended to be a reply, but it got away from me, so I thought I'd turn it into its own post.

This is going to get long and very incoherent. And possibly not all that flattering to Logan in parts. Sorry.

I don't know if I see Logan as quite so Freudian myself, though I think it's a fascinating analysis.

I think for me, there's an element of the Scott-Logan and Jean-Logan dynamics that start off interestingly separate. Maybe it's because, initially, Jean never really seemed to return Logan's feelings. But there wasn't as much of a sense of "triangle" back in the early Claremont issues for me.

Logan was attracted to Jean, went after her, was rebuffed, and kept going. He had moments with Scott, like when he was judging Scott for not grieving her enough in the Savage Lands, when she and Hank were presumed dead. But generally that seemed to be a separate thing.

Whereas with Scott, we had the sort of maverick vs. leader dynamic. Scott is younger, more uptight, less experienced (in a military capacity, anyway), less traditionally macho, and Logan clashed with the idea of taking his orders. But pretty quickly, they did fit into a sort of bickering respect - Logan threatening Hawkeye when the latter insulted Cyclops, going to Scott during the whole demerit thing in general.

They do fall pretty quick into that "I'll follow you to hell, bitching all the way" sort of dynamic. And most of that seems to develop without Jean present (she wasn't, after all, officially part of the team at first, then she was presumed dead, then she was actually dead.)

In the 90s, things get a bit murkier, because the love triangle heats up and becomes a little more reciprocal on Jean's part. But Jean and Scott had gone through all of their real emotional turmoil in X-Factor, when Logan wasn't around, so by the 90s, they were pretty solid. Then you get things mashed together a bit.

And also during the time apart, Logan's had his own shift from stab-happy wild man to that more noble drifter cowboy meets Kurosawa type. So we get a shifted dynamic, where Logan's attraction to Jean becomes a lot more overtly romantic, in a certain courtly way. We get a lot more emphasis on the "she makes me want to be a better person" element of their dynamic here too.

Meanwhile, the 90s also give us Scott at what's probably his most emotionally and morally stable place. He's past his trainwreck stage (and Logan didn't get to see most of that), and has settled into a confident upright leader.

So we essentially end up with a kind of Lancelot, Guinevere, Arthur thing. (Honestly, I've always thought Jean made the better King Arthur, but we're talking Logan's perspective. And honestly, I've always thought that Logan has a bit of an issue with toxic masculinity and overly-rigid gender roles.)

So while there's still the sparky bickering between Logan and Scott, for the most part, it's comfortable. Any attraction Logan feels gets sublimated into respect (kind of like his dynamic with Captain America. I tend to assume most people are at least a little in love with Steve Rogers, and Logan's no exception.).

But it all sort of melds together into Logan being romantically in love with Jean, sublimated attraction-into-respect for Scott, and then ultimately idolizing their relationship on a whole. Which has the awkward effect of putting Scott on a pedestal, because he's the man Jean chose over Logan. So of course, he must be a paragon of virtue.

(The fact that Scott's trainwreck tendencies are still there pops up occasionally, but generally goes unnoticed.)

But then we get Apocalypse - and a Scott stripped bare of his illusions. But still possessed of his moral code. Mostly. He's wounded, but still pretty forthright. Then we have the situation with Emma. And Jean's death. And that's when things get a lot...sparkier. The bickering starts getting a bit more heated again.

Honestly, they're probably the slashiest they've ever been during that period between Jean's death and the Schism. And Logan seems to have a weird sense of judgmental entitlement over Scott during this time. He still respects him though, but things are starting to fray with Utopia and X-Force, and everything crashes down in the Schism, when the last of Logan's illusions about Scott shatter.

I've said before, I think that their whole dynamic would have been a lot healthier if Logan had realized that Scott, beneath the facade, is a lot more like Laura Kinney than he'd ever been like Steve Rogers.

But he didn't figure that out and now he's heartbroken, angry, and can't sublimate the fact that he kind of wants to fuck him into that whole Captain America/Paragon of Virtue veneration anymore. Nope, dude, that stirring in your loins doesn't come from the fact that you're in the presence of one of the Truly Good Men. You just want to fuck that trainwreck.

And honestly, I think Hank has a bit of the same thing. But Hank/Scott is a whole separate essay topic. I think Hank and Logan kind of fed off each other at this time. So we get things like the Cyclops-dartboard. When we both know that's not the penetration they really want to do.

What? I was talking about claws? What did you think I was talking about?

(Okay, that too.)

I think the post Schism/pre AvX dynamic is fascinating adolescent on the part of Logan (and Hank). I can't help but maybe conflate this a bit with the fact that Logan only relatively recently regained the full memories of his life, while Hank has that whole arrested development child soldier thing that most of the O5 have deep down. And they both start acting a bit like the bitter dorks in high school, watching the Homecoming King and Queen.

Which is a little bizarre considering that Scott and Emma are holding Utopia together by the skin of their teeth and intentionally trying to present it as a lightning rod for anti-mutant sentiment in order to keep the school safe. But things aren't necessarily rational there.

But then we have AvX. And everything goes from hilariously adolescent to absolutely tragic.

Because no one makes it out of that mess okay or whole. And Logan, in particular, has to go full on aggressor, because if he stops and thinks about it, he might well realize that if any one person could be the cause of this mess: it could be him. HE's the one who went to the Avengers, after all. Scott's plan with the Phoenix was batshit, but it might have been resolved differently if the Avengers hadn't gone in there all OOC heavy handed, guns blazing.

Scott, meanwhile, has lost some of his Utopia edge, and found a new easily romanticized role as suffering martyr. We start to see events that might lead to a resolution: Kitty and the O5 switching sides, a lot of realizations from a lot of people that Scott isn't the villain he's playing on television, and so on. (There's also the O5 putting a human face on the man that Logan's convinced himself he hates. And a version of Jean that's completely horrified and disgusted by him...)

And then Logan dies, and his role's taken by a dude from a side comic with no connection to any of these characters of events. And no, I'm not bitter about Old Man Logan at all.

(Sure, he was fun in his OWN comic. But there's shit going on here and he's not a part of it!!!)

Then there's the fucked up weirdness of Scott's death, his unspoken terrible acts (that eventually amounted to destroying a cloud), and so on.

Once both characters have resurrected, we get an interesting return, almost, to that post Jean's death dynamic. They're again in a foxhole, desperate. Scott's relying pretty heavily on Logan at this time, even as they rebuild the dregs of the team for their last stand.

Then Rahne leaves, dies. Logan skips the funeral to go after her murderers. And then when he returns, covered in her murderers' blood, he and an angry Scott have it out and he storms off, with the unfair accusations all over again. (This time, it's more apparently that Wolverine's lashing out because of his own wounds, but it's not very pleasant to experience.) He does make up for it a bit by coming back for their last stand. Which is, maybe, a bit romantic in its own right.

And then...Jean and the original team reappear and Jean immediately shoves her tongue down Scott's throat while Logan and Emma both look a little bitter.

And then we have Krakoa, and I know I've bitched about not seeing the foundation of the Throuple. But in a weird way, it does kind of work for me. The euphoria of their new sanctuary, the realization that death is no longer a thing, the return of lost loved ones (like Alex, who'd died recently in Rosenberg's run), and so on - it made a place, and a moment, where the sublimation can just be the truth.

Scott and Jean are Scott and Jean. They have their family again. Logan is welcomed into the family as occasional partner. Nate's "Uncle Logan". He gets to come on family vacations.

Logan still gets to be Logan, though, and do his own thing. As much of a romantic as he is, I'm not sure I buy him ever actually settling down to domesticity. But this works out fairly well.

There are still some hints of tension though. I like bringing up the "Scott in a Speedo" scene, not just for the expression of attraction - I've seen it dismissed as a "joke", but I still don't see how that works as a joke either of them would tell - but also for the actual scene.

In it, we see Scott, conflicted over the Crucible and his mixed feelings about the more...religious elements of Krakoan society, looking for something from Logan - maybe reassurance, maybe just commiseration? That the latter isn't willing or able to give him. "Go find a priest." He says.

Everyone's going to have their own interpretation, but my read on it, in the context of their complicated relationship, is that Logan's happy to enjoy the idyllic interlude that Krakoa's given them, but he doesn't want to go deeper. He doesn't want to talk about their underlying issues or be the support that Scott needs at this time. It's an emotional commitment that he's not ready to make.

In his own comic (or possibly X-Force, they blur together for me), Logan expresses dislike regarding Krakoa, feeling like it's fostering a false sense of safety and security.

I feel like that might be why Logan is the way he is in this scene. They haven't resolved their issues, and where Scott's overture might indicate that he'd like to, Logan isn't open to that now.

And I think that's the Watsonian reason that we don't see very much with these two beyond a couple of Pride issue panels of the trio having a good time together.

I don't think the Throuple really lasts that much beyond this either. We have that funny bit where Teen Nate has called in a favor to have Logan comfort his parents after his departure. We have a few Jean/Logan moments in X-Force, but they're pretty shallow, all things considered. Some light making out. A single scene of sex in a hot tub.

Beyond that, we have that bit where she's trying to help him telepathically in X Lives of Wolverine, but she'd have done that for him even if they weren't banging.

And then, nothing. Scott and Jean are doing fine in the X-Men (eventual Brood argument notwithstanding), Logan is doing fine in his own book. But the Throuple seems...done.

Oh, maybe that bit in AXE where Jean is having issues for failing her test and Logan's all "anyone who'd fail you and pass me..." bit of reassurance. But again, that's the sort of thing he'd have said even if they weren't fucking. (I also wish he were able to comfort her without making it all about HIS issues, but that's a separate essay!)

There are a few parts that annoyed the shit out of me though. In both X Lives of Wolverine and later toward the end of his own comic, Logan lists Xavier and Jean as members of his found family. Saying shit like how their broken edges come together to make a more profound whole.

Scott, who is Xavier's son, Jean's husband, and the man whose house Logan STILL LIVES IN, doesn't get a mention.

(Doylistically, I theorize that maybe Marvel wanted to downplay the Throuple implications already. But I don't know.)

Nor does Storm, Kurt, Kitty, Jubilee, or a lot of other people who'd fit into that category too, including his actual children, mind you. But this isn't an essay about them.

And then there's Fall of X/Fall of the House of X. We do know at one point, Logan was involved in a rescue mission for Scott which fell through because Xavier called Rasputin away to go help him kill a thirteen year old.

Then there's nothing but a mostly civil exchange in X-Men #1, where Logan decides to go off on his own to run with wolves after he's rescued, and then that snide comment in Uncanny.

Scott's not really mentioned Logan either, except maybe that bitter little "everyone likes HIM" as a response to Magneto's amazing accusation of "logan behavior".

So...I don't really know how I see their relationship dynamic now. I was hoping for some interaction in Raid on Graymalkin, but the closest we got was Logan saying to attack if Scott touched his temple.

(Doylistically, that may be all we get. If Marvel thinks interaction might fuel the Throuple implications, we may not get anything else for a long time, which sucks.)

Watsonianly, I think maybe it's as simple as the idyllic Krakoan interlude being over. Jean's in space and unable to smooth things over. (Also, I'm not actually sure how I think Logan will take the whole Phoenix side of Jean's personality. They'd been considered two separate entities by the time the triangle really started up...). And whatever attraction that Scott and Logan have for each other is back to being sublimated in unnecessary antagonism and bitterness.

It's a shame, really.

(I do think if the Throuple does end up rekindling, Logan shouldn't get to join back up until he actually apologizes though. Hmph.)

[brynnsasha191]

(Tldr at the end) Okay here goes.

People really misunderstood Callum in episode two, s7 (that's okay, the writers didn't do a great job of conveying what I'm about to say, no hate to them though) Callum did not betray Ezran

I see a lot of people criticizing Callum for prioritizing Rayla instead of Ez and saying Rayllum is toxic because it got in the way of familial relationships. But that's not what Callum's actions were really about, they weren't about "oh rayla is upset so I'm going to burn down all bridges for her" like a lot of people seem to think. His actions had a lot to do with Rayla but they also had a lot to do with the fact that Callum genuinely believed what Ezran was doing wasn't right.

(btw I'm writing this with Callum's opinions in mind, I'm not just projecting mine on Callum. I believe Runaan did something wrong and deserved punishment for it, and I believe both Rayla and Ez were both right and wrong. I am on everyone's side)

In the beginning of the episode, we see Callum trying to reason with Rayla and defend Ezran by telling her to give him a minute to process what recently happened to him. And he says "he [runaan] did kill it's king" but he never actually said he agreed with Ezran, he was just trying to get Rayla to see Ezran's side.

Ezran and Rayla's fight during the council meeting was understandable upsetting for Callum, his two favorite people were fighting. And when he tried to follow Rayla to get her to come back, Ezran commanded him to do otherwise, as the king, Ezran has a right to do that. But that moment probably felt uncomfortable and belittling and frustrating for Callum, it's the same unhealthy push and pull dynamic that I talked about in my 'why Callum shouldn't be high mage' meta. It made Callum disinterested in the council meeting, and while that's not Ezran's fault, it is the same corner that the broyals keep walking themselves into.

Callum goes outside and sees Rayla crying, that is also understandably distressing for him, but he doesn't blame Ezran at all. He apologizes for his choice in that moment, he says he should've gone after her, not "Ezran shouldn't have done that or said that", if Callum was completely choosing Rayla over Ez, he easily could've deflected the blame to him, but he didn't, he apologized for his own actions which to me shows that Callum isn't the type to blame Ezran unnecessarily.

When Callum goes to Ezran and calls him a jerk face (very uncool thing of him to say to Ezran, Ezran didn't deserve that) Rayla and Callum already finished their conversation where Rayla decided to secretly get Runaan out, there wasn't a point to try to convince Ezran to let Runaan out then. He went to Ezran, not to convince him to free Runaan, but to convince Ez he wasn't doing the right thing. As the scene progresses, Callum's voice gets softer and he starts speaking sensibly and reasonably without ad hominem attacks. He acknowledges Ezran's feelings about Katolis being destroyed but also acknowledges that that particular part of Ezran's pain isn't connected to Runaan. And Ezran has no problem sharing his true feelings with Callum, Callum doesn't dismiss them once. He puts his hand on Ezran's shoulder and validates his feelings, also not to mention he apologizes immediately after calling Ez a jerk face. And when Ezran says "he killed our father" Callum doesn't know how to respond because he isn't completely siding with R&R. He knows Ez has a point.

Rayla and Runaan could have been seriously injured during the fight with Soren and the soldiers. Aanya was going to shoot them, and Ezran was going to let her. It's really weird that this fandom seems to think Callum should've sat by and not stood up for them. Callum absolutely shouldn't have condoned Rayla breaking Runaan out without permission, he should've told her to stop and stay put until he had a chance to talk to Ezran's more. But that's not what happened, what happened was a messy game of tug-o-war between two people who love each other that nearly killed people and almost destroyed relationships. Callum didn't choose Rayla, he chose what he thought was right, and that was not Ezran at the time. People get so mad at him for not standing by Ezran's side but he wanted to, but standing by someone's side doesn't mean sitting back and letting them do something that you believe is wrong.

He gave up his role as High Mage because he knew he couldn't continue to play that role after this, for him and Ezran's sake. He can't be his High Mage but he'll always be his brother.

TLDR: Callum actually did handle this situation maturely. The problem didn't lie with Callum or anyone else. This situation was an ugly and messy one that anyone would have a hard time navigating especially a kid who the people closest to him in the entire world were actively hurting each other. He's willing to do anything for Rayla, but this isn't about choosing Rayla, it's about what he thought was right.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic. (Part Thirteen)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Thirteen: Cillian's sons spend the evening with them, with a takeaway, and Y/N can see he loves their presence. But when their plans to have 'the talk' are thwarted, Y/N gets confirmation from Cillian that the love is there, their relationship is enduring, but that he knows they have issues to discuss. [Fluff/Comfortable - no sexual scenes but some sexual language]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @strangeions

“Ah, shut up!” Aran sticks up for himself as Malachy makes yet another joking dig, and you can see Cillian's face as he tries not to laugh. The rarely used dining table is awash with cardboard boxes, half finished pizzas, and the greasy but somewhat addictive smell of takeout fries that always taste better than homemade food. You lean back into your chair, holding your glass of Coke, and splutter a laugh over the mouthful you attempt to sip from it when Aran follows up his moan with a skillfully hidden middle finger directed towards his brother, that Cillian failed to catch, and Aran is grinning as he looks across at you when you laugh. You wink at him with a smile over your shared secret.

It falls quiet for a moment, but for the music coming from Cillian's Spotify playlist pulled up on the TV, and it's in that quiet moment that Malachy switches from their playfulness into something a little more serious. “You're flying back over to England in the morning, Dad?” He asks.

Cillian is sitting with his elbows on the table and his chin resting in the palm of his right hand. He's been fiddling his fingers in and around his mouth for a while - it's often a mindless sort of idiosyncratic quirk, but there are times you've watched him soothe himself this way when anxiety is high. He straightens a little and drops his arm down. He's wearing his glasses and he looks a mixture of blissfully happy at the family chaos and utterly exhausted by life in general. You are both a little hungover - and you'd finally gotten from him that morning the extent of his and Enda's additional drinks! - and you can tell he's still feeling it compared to you feeling better. “Eh, evening flight.” He answers and there's a smile that forms that is sweet. “I've a week or so then I'll come back for a few days, and then I'll be there until, um, a week before Christmas. And youse are welcome to stay when I'm back, you know that. Sure youse can stay here if I'm not, it's your house too.” he says with conviction and Malachy nods his head. Right then, you can't tell if the young lad is melancholic or just not particularly expressionistic. “I'll ring your Mum myself, but did youse mention Christmas to her at all?” He asks.

Aran nods, finishing a mouthful of pizza before he replies, wiping the side of his mouth as he speaks. “She said it's up to us.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I don't want to not see either of you for Christmas.” Malachy says, and you decide, by the tone of his voice, that he is fairly melancholic. “If we stayed with Mum, though, you'd come over or something?”

“I would, of course,” Cillian nods and he's frowning earnestly behind the specs. “I'll be here, like, and we can see one another whenever youse want. If you want to stay with your Mum, then do, it's fine. We can pick another day, and cook here or get a table somewhere. Honestly boys, it's fine. Same as last year.” He's reassuring them, you know, but you can see that same battle in Cillian that you know for sure the boys are having - their own feelings versus everyone else's.

“There's plenty of time off school and work ahead, you'll be able to come and go as you please,” you say quietly, and Malachy gives you a genuine smile, even if it is small, that you take as a thankful acceptance of your words. There's a quiet that falls again and you awkwardly look from one Murphy man to the other. Cillian's playlist seems to fall silent for a minute too, but when it restarts, it seems much louder. It booms the folky guitars of Lemon 7s by ‘A Lazarus Soul’, and you can see Cillian slowly and silently mouthing along.

“There's a video of you being passed around, Dad.” Aran speaks up and you know it's going to both amuse and disinterest Cillian to learn about it.

“Is there, yeah?” He raises his eyebrows and brings his glass to his lips. As he draws it back, he licks his lips and nods in Aran's direction. “G’on, what is it?” He humours his son.

“Ah nothing strange, just from last night, saying about us studying the book. Obviously it's way before you got locked.” Aran says offhandedly, and Malachy laughs at the declaration.

Cillian smirks and shakes his head. “I was not locked.” He weakly defends himself, but laughs a little when he looks up at both boys who are both making faces either at him or pretending to be ridiculously drunk. Malachy had picked up on his Dad's obvious delicate temperament the moment he'd got into the car when Cillian had picked them up, according to both boys, and had been slagging him on it ever since. Aran just found the idea that his Dad was hanging to be delightfully amusing.

“Even Y/N agrees,” Malachy continues his slagging, and gestures across at you. “Was he pissed last night?”

You chuckle as they all turn to you, and Cillian's subtle wink is amusing and also a sign that you're fine to slag as much as you like and he'll not get arsey over it. “Out of his mind,” you tease with a laugh. “Nah,” you say, “I mean he wasn't sober or anything, but there wasn't any falling asleep at the island with his shoes as a pillow.”

Malachy's eyebrows rise up and Aran's head whips to his Dad with gleeful expectation at your breadcrumbs for a story. “When was that?” Malachy laughs loudly.

“Easter last year,” you laugh. “We went to a birthday thing for a friend in Balbriggan, I think.” You smile as you look at Cillian, and you're glad he's smiling. “He learned his limit on the beer that night, and for three days after.” You laugh. He had been in a bit of a state the days after this particular party. While he had a drink or two fairly often, it was rare when he let the alcohol be the guide, so times like this one, while good for slagging and remembering, weren't anything you'd ever use as a resentment or a punishment.

“Oh! I remember, we came for dinner the next day.” Malachy laughs and points his finger towards his Dad playfully. “Y/N picked us up, she said you weren't feeling too good but you wanted us here for dinner still. Whole time we were here you were on the sofa there.”

Aran looks at you, then his Dad. “That when you were being sick upstairs when we got in the door?” Aran asks, laughing, and Cillian gives them the embarrassed reaction they want by covering his face with his hands, but as he drops his hands back down, he's laughing at the jibes. “You need a downstairs toilet.” He laughs.

“That's the one,” you say. “I don't think you went near any food for two days.” you laugh, and reach out your hand across the table and pat his hand. As your hand lifts off his, he turns his palm over and lovingly captures your fingers, holding you there.

“Laugh now,” he says and looks at his boys in turn, “When youse are out with your friends and coming rolling back home to your Mum, you'll be on your arses the next day yourselves. And, sure I'll laugh!” He says lightly, chuckling. He rubs his thumb back and forth slowly across your fingers in his hand. “You all done, or still eating?” He asks, and he releases your hand as he stands up. He pushes his chair back with his legs and starts collecting together the empty containers on the table.

Both boys begin pushing away half finished food and empty boxes, sliding them towards their Dad. You get to your feet and help with the clearing away, “No, stay there,” you say as Aran goes to stand up and help with the cleaning. “Finish your drink.” You smile.

“Ah, give over, the two of you get up there now and help,” Cillian says with amusement. “It's your home, you help with the jobs. C’mon. Mal, will you bring the empty glasses into the sink there? And eh, Aran, grab a dishcloth in the kitchen and give that table a wipe.” He says, piling the pizza boxes and containers into a neat stack. He's light hearted, but he is keen, as he always has been, that the boys are helpful around the house when they're here. Not that he'd have them scrubbing or anything, but it isn't the first time at all that he's had them clear up after dinner. “I'll throw these out in the outside bin,” he says, glancing at you. As he takes the tower into his arms, he peers around to see where the lads are, and leans towards you for a gentle kiss. You smile as he steps back again, “Dessert.” He says, cheesy and tacky and smiling like an idiot. You can't help smiling back, then you shake your head as you watch him head toward the front door to leave the containers into the recycling bin.

“Thanks, you two,” you say, entering the kitchen, where you find both boys loitering after finishing the tasks Cillian had set for them. “Slave driver, your Dad.” you joke and Malachy offers a smirk but you suspect it to be one of pity. “School tomorrow?” You ask, looking between the boys. Aran was approaching his leaving cert and Malachy was in a college you didn't know too much about.

“Study day tomorrow,” Malachy replies, and pulls his phone from his pocket. “If Dad isn't leaving early then tomorrow, can I stay here tonight?” At the age his was, Cillian did expect to see a little less of Malachy these days even if it hurt him, so hearing that he actually wanted to spend the night was a surprise.

You raise your eyebrows. It's been a long time since Malachy stayed over. You don't want to tell him no, but your stomach drops at the suggestion for one reason - that morning you and Cillian had agreed that you'd sit and talk this evening, and you were desperate to get it done. But turning Malachy away was the last thing you'd do, and you push a smile to your lips. “Yeah, I don't mind. I'm sure your Dad'll be happy.” You say, “You can stay too, Aran. I can always drive around and collect your things for school tomorrow from your mother, and Cill will drive you in the morning." Like summoning the devil, Cillian arrives in the kitchen, pushing up the sleeves of his thick jumper, and looks at you all in turn. “Cill, Malachy wants to stay,” you say, your eyes following him as he walks to the sink to wash his hands.

With his back to you all, he turns his head over his shoulder to his eldest son. “Grand, yeah, stay,” he smiles at him. “Sure I can drop you home before I leave tomorrow, or earlier if you want.”

“And you'll take Aran to school in the morning if he stays too, yeah?” You ask. Disappointed that your conversation is now on hold, you replace the feeling with the joy of the boys staying over for the first time in a long time, and the wonderful mood that you know it'll put Cillian in.

“I will, yeah,” Cillian says, turning off the tap. He turns around, drying his hands on the dish towel, and looks at Aran. “Do you want to stay or go home?” He asks, noticing he's a little quiet.

Aran shakes his head, “I'll go,” he says quietly. “I didn't finish some homework,”

“I can go out to your mother's and pick your things up.” You repeat your earlier offer.

Aran shakes his head again. Cillian reaches out and claps his hand onto Aran's back, “No bother, it's grand. Sure whenever you're ready I'll bring you home. You want to go now?” He asks and you can see a little bit of preempted separational upset creeping into his expression. Aran nods his head, indicating he's put up his walls and it's ready to return to his mum. Your anxiety questions whether it's something you've said or done that's suddenly seen Aran close up, but you can't think what. Cillian nods his head slowly. “Okay so,” he says quietly. “Let me get my runners on and I'll drop you home.”

By eleven pm, you and Cillian are curled together in bed, with the just audible sound of the TV in Malachy's room carrying through the upstairs. You lie with your head on his chest, in the region of his heart, and his arm is wrapped around the back of your shoulders to pull you in closer. His free hand is up on the pillow beside him with his fingers moving back and forth through his short hair. You keep your palm flat on his pyjama covered chest, but move your fingers a little, caressing against him gently. It's quiet and comfortable, and you're both exhausted, but you don't feel able to turn away and fall asleep.

“Sorry we didn't get to talk this evening,” Cillian says quietly, his voice a husky whisper.

You shrug your shoulders a little, “It's alright, Malachy being here is a good excuse to hold off.” You say, and consider that it is perhaps the only reason you two wouldn't talk tonight, knowing it was important.

“I didn't want to say no, it's rare he's about these days,” he continues and you agree fully. "And he's been gas craic there this evening, can't get over him and Aran growing up so fucking fast."

You hum softly at his sentimentality, and move your fingers softly against his chest again. “No, it's okay, I completely understand. We can talk another time.” You say with a soft sigh.

“It's important.” He says and you're glad he feels that way. “You were right with what you said yesterday, we need to talk about it all.” Despite wanting him on board this much, you also allow your anxieties to win as you wonder why he's so eager. What could he possibly have to say now? “Sure it's not like it's a discussion on splitting up, or that we don't love one another, fuck sake,” he says, “But I know it's a discussion that we both need to have and get united on.” You admire his confidence, and you sincerely hope that this is the case - reaching a point when you and Cillian feel the need to separate was a daunting idea - and you're so glad he understands that this needs to be aired and done properly. His arm tightens around you, pulling you closer in against the left side of his body. He smirks into the darkness of the bedroom but you can hear the small breathy laugh that accompanies it.

“What?” You whisper.

“Just after getting a flashback of last night,” be says and you can hear by how his words form that he's still smiling.

“Which part?” You ask, though you're sure you know well. You tap your hand against his chest where it rests and he laughs a little more. “Could it be the part where you couldn't get your fucking shoes off, or are you being filthy minded?”

He laughs again and it vibrates against your ear pressed to his chest. “I think that's one for the memory bank.”

“The wank bank you mean!” You tease. “If you pull yourself off in a hotel to me, spread-eagle on our sofa, I'll die of embarrassment!”

“Sure I'm away a long while sometimes,” he says, once again tightening his arm around you. “Can't expect me to walk around with the horn.” You laugh a little too loudly, and he shushes you even as he laughs too. He sighs as you both settle and you feel a wave of sadness that once again, tomorrow he'll be gone.

[merbear25]

Since u didn’t include Love and Mashiro in the last Vizards post came we get how they would react to a fem s/o wearing a really short skirt?

NSFW pls my vizard thirst is too real

I decided to add Shinji and Rose to this because I had ideas for them 💀 Hope you like it! 💜💜

You knew exactly what you were doing when you bought it. A skirt that was a glorified set of underwear was bound to turn their heads. When you were alluring all on your own, how could it not? You were just wrapping their favorite treat in a tempting package.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, established relationship, perversion, groping, cumshot, teasing, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie

Wearing a revealing skirt around them (Love, Mashiro, Shinji, Rose)

Love: Re reading the manga he borrowed from Lisa, he kept a certain page open for a little too long. He stared at the panty shot drawn on the pages. The outfit the girl was wearing was something no typical business woman would be caught dead in, but the fantasy of seeing a stern, seemingly cold-hearted woman get flustered and blush a deep red was more appealing than it ought to have been. 

The more he studied this woman’s curves, the more he saw a resemblance between her figure and yours. That outfit would look better on you was a thought on rerun up until you came up to him. He glanced up at you for a moment before going back to his manga. Only a second had passed before his head snapped back up. There you were in all of your beauty wearing an outfit very similar to what he was just fantasizing you in.

He choked a little on his words, so you helped him out. “I saw you were spending a lot of time staring at that drawing, so I went out and bought something similar.” You perked up and showed it off for him. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

The eager nod and soft “yeah” made you giggle. He was so cute when he got flustered, and your playfulness was only making it more difficult for him.

“Why don’t you take a break from looking at that drawing.” You carefully took the manga from him and put it on the side of the couch. You motioned to sit on his lap, but he stopped you.

“Wait, I just want to touch you right now.” His hands found their way to your waist first, wanting to be spoiled with the choice of wandering up to your chest or your hips. He kneaded at the softest parts of your body, adoring the way you felt and needing to make you feel like the most desired woman on the planet.

When he pulled you closer, he kissed your chest and gripped your ass with an increasing lust. Running his fingers under your panty line, he wasted no time in feeling everything you were keeping hidden. With his fingers sinking into your wettening cunt, you moaned sweetly. Gripping his shoulders, you panted softly as he pumped them into you.

Suddenly, he pulled away. Sitting further back on the couch, he angled his head on top of the headrest. Gently ushering you over, you couldn’t stop the thrill budding inside you.

“Sit on my face.” His breathless request wasn’t something you were going to deny him of.

You rested one of your knees next to his head and eased yourself down. As he breathed in the scent of your arousal, he groaned as his tongue tasted it through the fabric. His hands kept caressing your hips, wandering to your thighs and chest but finding their way back to your backside without fail. 

He tugged at your cotton thong to wedge the soaked cloth between your now swollen pussy lips. Lathering your needy center with his hot tongue and tugging on the strained fabric was leaving you a whimpering mess. The combined friction of the thong and his nose were leaving you restless. Feeling you squirming on his face was becoming too much to bear, but he was desperate to drink up every last drop of bliss you were giving him.

As you rocked back and forth in search of release, he freed himself from his jeans. His moans vibrated against your sensitive skin, while he began fulfilling his own sexual needs. The fast motions of him stroking himself were making the bit of fat on your hips shake slightly. Your silent plea for him to make you cum gave him every reason to give you everything he had. 

Hearing you cry out for him sent him tumbling over the edge after you, leaving hot streams of cum all over himself. His muffled gasps and moans of ecstasy made you rut more roughly against his face to chase the high. 

Easing yourself off of him, the state of both of you sparked even more outfits inspired by his manga.

Mashiro: You waltzed past her without so much as a second thought regarding your attire, so you caught her attention effortlessly. You didn’t need to look back to know she was leaning over to get a better view.

The sway of your hips was done intentionally in hopes of drawing out more of a reaction. However, her eyes were too fixated on your scantily covered bottom to give you what you were specifically after.

“That’s a nice skirt!” Her voice was chipper as usual. “Is it new?” 

You nodded and showed it off a little more for her, doing a seductive twirl that made the fabric fly up even more. The sight of your lacy panties made her lean over so far that she nearly fell out of her chair.

Looking at you all wide-eyed with intense interest to explore, the desire stirring within her came out in an otherwise curious way. Lifting your skirt, she gave herself permission to satisfy her urges. “These are very pretty too.” She hummed as her fingers trailed up and down the wet patch forming between your thighs. “Hmmm…”

“What’s the matter?” The question shook with your uneven breaths.

“They’re in the way though…” Her statement trailed off as she took the liberty of sliding them down your hips. Tossing them to the side, she tugged you gently forward so that you were positioned right above her.

Her tongue darted out against your clit, sending a wave of euphoria over you. The slender fingers you so often imagined in place of your own on lonely nights slid up your hips and squeezed firmly. They held you in place, while the lapping of her tongue left your legs weak. Soft cheerful hums of satisfaction and blissful enjoyment vibrated gently against your sensitive skin. Every moan passing those soft lips of yours were eagerly pushed further, when her tongue trailed along the other, more delicate, pair.

The trembling and panting you were so eagerly giving her had her smiling throughout your orgasm. Her big brown eyes batted up at you with an unmatched adoration. After letting you ride her face through your climax, she gently sucked at your overstimulated clit before pulling away. A thin string of your arousal tethered you to her before she wiped it off with her finger and ran her tongue over it.

“You should wear skirts like this more often.” Her tone was far too pure given what she’d just been doing.

You nodded before dropping to your knees. Your tongues tangled, allowing you to taste your tangy sweet cum still glistening on her pretty face. Her hands clung and clawed at your hips as yours kneaded her chest. Plucking her nipples got her moaning softly against your lips. The heat on your cheeks matched the one between your legs, begging you to go further. 

Listening to your body's desperate pleas for satisfaction, you slipped your hand under her pants to find her own arousal pooling in them. You couldn’t break the lip lock even if you wanted to; each moan and praise she gave you was swallowed greedily as you plunged your fingers into her needy cunt. 

Her trembling hand found its way back between your thighs, feverishly playing with your clit again to lure out more of your sweet sobs. Your shared pants and moans of passion were reaching a fever pitch. As you rutted against each other’s hands, neither one of you stopped until the other was left completely and utterly satisfied.

“L-like I said,” she gasped. “You should wear this more often.” 

You chuckled before planting another more tender kiss on her reddened mouth.

Shinji: A long work day had yet to end, keeping the both of you separated for longer than he would’ve liked. Rubbing his eyes from exhaustion, the familiar sound of your footsteps traveled up the corridor. Cocking an eyebrow at the sight of you, a huff of amusement and a sly smite quickly followed suit. 

What a little tease you were flaunting your body right in front of him, while he was trying to be a diligent and honest captain. 

“Couldn't keep yer’self away I see.” The wink that chased after you could be felt even with your back turned.

“I thought I'd be able to work better with company is all.”

A chuckle came from him. “‘nd what kind a work were ya planning to do wearing somethin’ like that?” He flicked his pen at your attire.

You shrugged, playing coy. “What? This is new and I felt like wearing it.”

He knew you'd never cross his path in something that suggestive without some ulterior motive, but he'd let you have your little moment. He'd be having you begging for him no matter who started this game.

A sigh of relief escaped him as he leaned back in his chair. “That's good to hear. I'm up to my ears in paperwork.”

You could beat him at his own game. Of course, you could! However, as time seemed to drag on that itch you needed to be scratched was getting more unbearable. Lightly biting on the end of your pen wasn’t getting his attention, not even when swirling your tongue around it earned you glance.

“Shinji!” You groaned. “You aren’t even the slightest bit interested?” 

Smiling to himself, he threw you a bone. “Oh, ‘re ya caving already?”

You sat up straight, your flustered expression not even attempting to hide. “I-I’m not caving! I just… I just—” You slumped over the desk in a huff, feeling so sexually frustrated.

He leaned forward with immense self-satisfaction at how easily you got wound up for him. “Ya know all ya have to do is ask.” When you looked at him, that cocky smile you both loathed and adored was beaming back at you.

Grumbling quietly, you swallowed your pride. “Please, captain…” Your eyes hung low from feigned embarrassment, playing the role he wanted you to so damn well. “It’s been too long.” You gripped your already skimpy skirt to flash the wet spot pooling in your panties.

It had been a while since you two were able to be intimate the way you craved, making his usual control slip through his fingers that much faster. When he leaned back in his chair, you took that as an invitation. Sitting in front of him on the desk, you spread your legs at his nod to proceed. The sigh of his own pent-up lust left him without any control of his own.

Seeing you spread for him in that sad excuse for a skirt and your wet patch spreading more over your pussy lips were wearing him down. He nearly allowed himself to give in right there and then, but the look on your face was too darling not to indulge himself.

His fingers caressed you through the soaked cloth, earning himself those heavenly moans he missed so much. You clawed at the desk as his fingertips swirled around that sensitive bundle of nerves. Holding back your moans was in vain because of how much you needed this, needed him. The faint sound of wet fabric squelching was too good for him not to react to. His moans were soft and urged him to find friction for his own release.

Pushing the fabric to the side, he pumped his slender fingers in as he nipped at your inner thigh. The whimpers and begs coming out of you were just what he needed. Planting his face where you needed him most, his tongue worked to make up for lost time together. His other hand gripped his cock and stroked it in rhythm with your hip movements. He moaned into you as you searched for more of him, his hips acting on their own as he craved that sweet release he’d been deprived of.

His tongue piercing hit your clit at the peak of euphoria, causing you to throw yourself back on the wooden desk. He dragged his tongue over you, savoring the lingering jolts of pleasure shaking your body.

“Hope ya don’t think I’m done.” You were already splayed out so perfectly for him, he couldn’t resist taking you like that. He pushed into you without so much as a warning, causing you to yelp. His soft hushes soothed you as his pace started out slow and steady.

It’d been so long since he had you like this, you’d gotten so tight he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Those darling sounds coming from you and the way you looked under him weren’t helping either. He tightly gripped your waist as he pounded into you erratically, his breaths coming out in short gasps.

“Fuck!’ He grunted loudly, while he filled your sweet center to the brim with white hot cream. Coming down from your shared high, he lazily played with your skirt. “Yer gonna have to wear this more often, ya know that right?”

Rose: Fine tuning your favorite instrument with him in the room shouldn’t have been that much of a distraction, but when your soft thighs were on show, there was no hope focusing on anything other than you.

He absentmindedly strummed his guitar, letting the melody climb into a romantic ballad the longer he gazed upon you. Your delicate fingers paying extra care to your second voice with each tuning had him wondering if you knew how beautiful you truly were.

“That’s a lovely song. What inspired it?” Your voice complimented the key perfectly.

“Who else other than my other half?” His eyes fluttered to your concentrated expression. The flattered smile peeking through was all the incentive he needed to continue. “And what was the vision behind your little outfit today?”

“Who other than you?” You smirked at him, crossing your legs so the skirt rode up further. The seam of maroon silk peeked out from underneath. He couldn’t help but feel like a starving man with a piece of the most mouth-watering meat dangling in front of him, just out of reach.

Placing his guitar down, he went over to you. “I think you’ve tuned it enough for today.” Before you could protest against him taking your instrument away, he planted a firm kiss with enough fervor to take your breath away.

His hands slid under your skirt and roughly grabbed your ass. As your lip lock deepened, his fingers played at the sides of those devilishly tempting panties. Gripping them tightly, the force squeezed against your already slick lips. The soft whimper coming from you as a result was like music to his ears, a song that he yearned to further orchestrate.

Slowly, he shimmied them off of you, savoring the way they hugged against your curves. You looked heavenly like this: hot and bothered, ready for him to make you sing your siren’s song. Clenching your lingerie in his fist, he spread your thighs so that the short fabric of your skirt barely covered your soft skin. Your ass hanging out, your pussy dripping with need, your pants growing desperate: a delectable sight that he felt lucky to bear witness to.

Dipping into you, he hung onto each gasp and moan you were willing to give him. Your walls clenched around him from the blissful sensations coursing through your molten core. A shaky, satisfied smile peered down at you, while you gave him a taste of the symphony he’d been thinking about all morning. As he began thrusting, your moans grew louder and needier, fueling his darkening lust for you.

Your damp panties were being squeezed between his hand and the back of your thigh. The sweetened musk mixing with the slight sweat building between you two was clouding his thoughts even more with you and you alone. You were an image worthy of the status of goddess, meant to be worshiped like the gift you were and he was going to do just that.

His movements pushed deeper but kept a steady pace to hit that sweet spot just right. The way you practically sang for him had his head spinning. As your body trembled in signal of your approaching climax, he acted on impulse—bringing your panties to his face to fully engulf himself in every part of you. The lewd sight of him huffing your dirty underwear helped push you over that sought after edge. The sheer intensity of your body cumming along with your sweet scent flooding his senses lured out his own release. 

Such depravity that wasn’t above either of your standards, the mingling scent of sex made you want to pick up more skirts in this one’s likeness.

[prime-adeptus]

1-Up Boy

The arcade is your favourite place. He’s more than happy to tag along for the ride.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀Gender-neutral reader; established relationship, fluff, selfship-coded, sunshine x sunshine protector trope. Touken Ranbu is vaguely mentioned lol // ~0,8k words

A/N.⠀I've fallen and I can't get up.............

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

Caleb doesn’t think you realise how effortlessly you can brighten his day.

You tend to be hard on yourself, rendering you oblivious to the fact that you’re more loved than you think. You have moments where you’re insecure about your never-ending energy and you’ll withdraw, returning to the meek mask you put on. But he enjoys it when you have these little bursts of spontaneity. He loves your curiosity for exploring and trying new things despite the strict routine you put yourself in. You’re unlearning the rigid, disciplined box you put yourself in, allowing yourself to be yourself more freely, and he’s glad to accompany you on your journey.

You’re swinging your joined hands together to keep yourself grounded, your gaze travelling across the area as you find your next destination. Tugging him forward, you bring him to the gaming zone of the establishment. Gashapons line up inside the arcade, all displaying tiny figurines and collectibles from different franchises. You love collecting merchandise of your favourite things, he remembers. Sometimes you’ll craft a project out of ribbons and badges, sometimes you’ll arrange them a certain way in your room. Seeing the way you skip in your step already tells him what your next activity will be.

“Can we play here for a little?” you ask with a sheepish smile, deep dimples visible in your cheeks. “Well, I don’t know if I should, I’m not always so lucky…”

“We don’t come here a lot,” he replies as he squeezes your hand warmly. “I think you’ve earned this moment of spoiling yourself. It’s been a great week, right?”

“I guess…” you say, unsure. “But… Ah, y’know what, you’re right. Is it okay with you?”

He chuckles, nudging you softly. “Of course it is. I’m takin’ you out for a reason.”

The way your eyes seem to twinkle with delight makes warmth rise to his cheeks, a soft smile of his own coming to his face. You’re bouncing in place as you go down each row to find something you like. When you finally stop at one, you nervously turn to look up at him, your bottom lip jutting into a pout.

“What if I don’t get it?”

“We won’t know unless we try.”

After a few moments of pondering, you nod in determination and insert the coin before twisting the handle, muttering something under your breath. As the ball rolls down the slide and reaches the pick-up slot, you quickly slap your hands together, rubbing them in excitement.

“I’m scared,” you whine quietly, curling and unfurling your fingers in nervousness. “Okay, I’m gonna open it now.”

You open the ball to reveal a rubber keychain of a character, pausing for a few moments before looking up at him again, this time with a bright smile on your face. You put your hand forward to show him your new item and make a noise of glee.

“I got it!”

Caleb smiles along with you, ruffling your hair in affection as you get back on your feet. Giddy, you bounce in your spot and hold the keychain to your chest, swinging left and right.

“I think you’re my good luck charm,” you comment, beaming up at him. “I haven’t had any luck with these in a while!”

“You and your sword boys,” he sighs in mock exasperation. “Why don’t I get a spot on your shelf?”

You click your tongue playfully. “We do have one. I didn’t spend all that time organising them for you to say that, mister!”

Putting your free hand in his again, you make your way back to his car with you happily swinging the shopping bag full of new merchandise from your fingers. The smile has yet to leave your face. Every time you glow with joy, he wishes he could frame the moment forever, immortalising it somewhere only he can see. You don’t give yourself enough credit, he thinks. He admires your work ethic, but he loves these little moments just as much—moments where you set yourself free, indulging yourself in the things you love.

“Can we bake cookies later?” you ask him once you’re inside his apartment, easily fitting into your fluffy slippers. “I had a really nice day with you today. We should do something fun! Only if you feel like it, though. We’ve been running around a lot today, so...”

With a soft huff, he nods, lips curling into a smile at the little “yay!” you let out. You smile at him one more time before shuffling to your room, ready to decorate your shelves with the newly obtained trinkets. Content, he leans against the counter before his gaze drifts off to all the photos and magnets on the fridge. There are photos you’ve taken together, some taken on different trips and some taken here at home. Your gummy smile, the bright aura surrounding you and the way he can liken you to a sunflower—you radiate light without even realising it.

As cliché as it is, he swears to himself at that moment: he’ll do anything to protect your smile.