#it will pass and things will be good again

[navybrat817]

Just.... Bucky getting on his knees and begging "honey, open your legs please" like he's a man that's been starving for months, him breathing and tasting through the panties because he's that impatient.

I love this so much, nonnie.

Sweet Like Honey

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky begs to have a taste when he gets home.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Oral sex (f. receiving), implied sex, possessive behavior, established relationship, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: This feels like Feral Bucky. Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You sat on the couch fifteen minutes ago. You closed your eyes five minutes ago. It amazed you that you hadn't fallen asleep with how tired you were from your long day, but Bucky would be home shortly and you wanted to curl up with him before you dozed off. He’d find it sweet, and so would you.

You should've known he’d have other ideas.

“Hey, Bucky,” you mumbled when you heard his deliberate footsteps. When he didn't answer you cracked an eye open. “Bucky?” you asked, watching him toss his jacket away and flex his hands. He had a familiar look in his blue eyes. Not quite feral, but close.

Oh, he was hungry.

He pushed the coffee table out of the way with his foot and bent down to kiss your lips. Soft, but desperate, so it didn't surprise you when he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Honey, open your legs,” he demanded in a dark, deep voice once he pushed your dress up. One that made you grip the cushions when he rested his hands on your knees. “Please.”

“Well, hello to you, too.” You rolled your eyes, but your smile was affectionate. What had him so wound up? “At least you said please.”

“I did, now please open your legs,” he demanded again, but it wasn't as forceful. You heard a hint of desperation, the same kind you tasted on his lips when he kissed you. “I’m already on my knees.”

“You are,” you agreed and you loved how badly he wanted you. “But why should I open my legs for you? I’m pretty tired.”

His mouth fell open. You never passed up an opportunity for him to pleasure you, and you’d let him eat as much as his heart desired. But you wanted to hear him beg a little for it for no reason at all.

“Because I'm horny and hungry and your pussy is the only thing that’ll satisfy me,” he answered, looking at where your legs were still together. “C’mon. Pussy’s so good. I need it. I crave it. Soft as silk, sweet like honey.”

You moaned. They were good reasons. “Tempting, tempting, but you just ate my pussy yesterday,” you reminded him, which earned you an offended look from the love of your life.

“Yesterday. An entire day ago. Your pussy needs me,” he snarled, his fingers sliding to your thighs and digging in. “Or should I say my pussy?”

“Easy, tiger. We both know it’s yours,” you teased, burying a hand in his hair and making him groan when you tugged on the strands. His words could turn you into molten lava, and you were wet the second he dropped to his knees. “But opening my legs doesn't address the fact that I'm tired. You understand that.”

He smirked when your legs opened an inch. “I’m sorry you're tired, but making you feel good is the perfect way to get you to sleep. I’ll get you off on my tongue and fingers… Make you pass out when I get my cock in you.” He sounded wrecked as your thighs parted more, your core . “And I’ll carry you to bed and wrap you in a warm blanket.”

“And you’ll cuddle with me, too? If you’re demanding that I open up, I demand some cuddles,” you said. He’d cuddle with you even if you didn't demand it.

“Cuddle, snuggle, curl up with you, spoon you, can even keep me cock warm while I hold you,” he rattled off, smirking when you bit your lip. “Just let me eat, please.”

You hummed. It was tempting. And how many people could say a super soldier begged for just a taste of them? To fuck them? “Just how hungry are you and for what reason?”

Bucky licked his lips when you completely opened your legs and showed him your clothed cunt. “Fucking hungry and for no reason at all except your existence,” he growled.

You made a small noise when he dove in and inhaled, your face nearly burning from how hot it felt when he licked and tugged impatiently at the wet fabric with his teeth. “Bucky!”

“Told you. ‘m fucking hungry.” He licked the fabric again with a growl and nudged your clit with his nose. “God, you’re so wet for me. Need it on my tongue. Need it on my cock.”

“Fuck…” you whimpered. He wanted your pussy so badly he couldn't even wait for a proper taste. “Okay, you can eat.” He had begged enough in your eyes.

“Fucking finally.”

You scoffed. “Finally? You just-”

He ripped your underwear off and left you bare, drawing another breathless sound from you at the first touch of his mouth on your damp folds. He brought his hands to your hips and pulled you closer so he could open you up with his tongue, his broad shoulders keeping your legs apart. You nearly lost it when he plunged it deep inside and licked around your walls, his throaty moan making you shudder. Every lick and caress made you feel like you’d melt into the couch. The sensations were overwhelming, especially since your senses went from dull to heightened.

“Beautiful,” he rumbled.

“We both are,” you smiled. He made you feel beautiful, and he sure as fuck looked beautiful between your thighs.

“And I’m so…” His thumb on your clit had you pulling his hair. “Fucking…” You tightened around the finger that slipped inside your tight channel. “Hungry.”

There was no getting between Bucky and his meal. No stopping him once he had a taste, his fingers and mouth tender even as he devoured you. It almost didn't seem fair some days. All you had to do was flash your tits or spread your legs and the ex-assassin was lost to the world. Even after a long day you got to lay back while he pleasured you simply because he wanted you. You reaped all the benefits, came every time.

You’d make sure he came, too, before the night was over.

“You… really are hungry,” you moaned, your back arching when another finger. Bucky wasn't just an enthusiastic lover. He was attentive. He knew what made you tick and how to make you let go. “Fuck! There! Please!”

“Music to my ears, and you really do taste like fucking honey.” He gazed up at you with a smirk on his wet lips as his fingers curled. You tasted yourself on his lips before and it tasted nothing like honey, but who were you to argue when he enjoyed it so much? “Melt for me and I’ll carry you to bed on my cock.”

It didn't take you long to reach your peak of pleasure once his mouth was back on you, your thighs shaking and his name leaving your lips in a cry. He hummed and groaned as he tasted your release like it was the most delicious treat he ever had. You were aware that he called you a good girl as your vision blurred, and he also said he loved you as you rode out your orgasm. He may have even apologized for the “lack of foreplay”.

But as he carried you to bed with a kiss to your forehead and his cock buried inside you as promised, you knew he’d more than make that up to you.

The man needs you, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[highvern]

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists.  Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away. 

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger. 

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too. 

It was fun. 

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on. 

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted. 

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times. 

“What the fuck did he do this time?” 

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?” 

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.” 

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.” 

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call. 

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—” 

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?” 

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away. 

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences? 

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day. 

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe. 

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic. 

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.” 

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears. 

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.  

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin. 

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge. 

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you. 

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.” 

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza. 

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into. 

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been. 

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go. 

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his. 

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance. 

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much. 

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command. 

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat. 

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers. 

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth. 

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh. 

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does. 

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you. 

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears. 

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh. 

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease. 

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo. 

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask. 

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it. 

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes. 

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.  

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm.  “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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[nerdygirlramblings]

The 141 and being "our wife" (for @beloveds-embrace based on this)

You're up to your elbows in flour, prepping the dough for Yorkshire pudding, when you hear the rumble of an engine in the drive. You wait until it's followed by four thunks before drawing in a deep breath.

Just as you're about to shout up the stairs, you hear a set of footsteps thunder down from the second floor.

"Dad's home!" your oldest, Kinsey, shouts to you.

"I heard hunny," you call back. "Can you get the door? I'm sure Papa's going to have a bunch of things with him."

"Alright, Mom," Kinsey says. It sounds like she's in the entryway. You hear the squeak of the hinges as she opens the front door. As it does, you hear your youngest's happy scream. Bailey must be able to see out the window.

"Da! Da! Da! Da!" he babbles.

"Yes, Bae, that's Daddy," you hear your middle child, Emma, tell him. You smile to yourself, proud of how well your kids get along. You're still musing over your little family when a rumble pulls you out of your reverie.

"Hey, Kins," John's voice says. "Where's your mama?"

"Mama's in the kitchen," Emma responds.

"Emma, my sunshine!" he crows. You hear her giggle and can only imagine John's picking her up and probably tossing her into the air. A squeal proves your instinct right.

"Munchkin!" you hear Simon call. He must have been just behind John.

You hear Kinsey groan at the nickname, but it's impossible to miss the smile in her voice when she says, "Welcome home, Dad."

It's Johnny's voice you hear next. "Where's my Em girl?" he says. It's followed by a grunt, a squeal, and and a, "Watch it, MacTavish," in John's deep baritone. Johnny probably snatched the girl right out of John's arms.

You hear the wheels of Bailey's walker rattle along the floor as Kyle's voice joins the fray. "Baby boy! You've gotten so big!"

Bailey coos, "Da. Da. Da. Da," at him, which earns a guffaw from Johnny.

"Tha's yer Daddy. I'm Da!"

As you listened to your children greet their fathers, you put the dough into the cooker and are washing up. You wipe your wet hands on the tea towel, and a pair of strong hands fall on your waist. The man smells like sunshine and tobacco.

John's beard tickles your throat when he leans to kiss you. "Thank you, Mama," he whispers. You know from previous deployments he's thanking you for waiting for them, for caring for the kids in their absence, for carrying the weight of everything by yourself. "We're home now." He punctuates his message with another kiss as you feel Simon enter the room.

You step away from John's embrace to wrap your arms around as much of Simon as you can manage. You don't say anything, and neither does he. He drops a kiss on the hair and holds you tight for one minute, then two. When you feel him unfurl, tension seeping away, you finally whisper, "Welcome home, Si."

"Missed you, Mama," he replies. He gives you another tight squeeze before stepping back. You turn to find Kyle leaning against the door frame. He smiles at you, and you open your arms for him.

He picks you up with a spin. "Ky," you giggle, feeling decades younger.

"Mama," he says, "it smells amazing in here." He smiles at you. "You take such good care of us." He pulls you against him and brushes his lips across yours. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"Always," you reply, cupping his cheek. You close your eyes and press your forehead to his. "Always," you whisper again.

Finally, Johnny's behind you, practically pulling you from Kyle's hug. "Stop hogging our missus, Garrick. I didnae get a turn yet." You see Kyle roll his eyes, but he lets you go, passing you gently into Johnny's arms. "Mama," Johnny says, looking you in the eye. "It's so good tae be home."

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the base of his skull. "It's good to have you all home." You close your eyes and breathe deeply. You try to blink them away, but you feel the tears lining your eyes. "So so good."

This last deployment was longer than anyone thought it would be. After three months, they went radio silent, and if Kate hadn't been giving you updates, you would have been out tracking your men across the desert. Six months alone. Six months raising three kids on your own. Six months worrying about them every day.

But they were home now. And that was enough.

[from-the-owls-nest]

Well... It's your life. and your personality. so nobody gets to tell you or to decide how they want you to be. They can share how they see you, how they've experienced you, and you get to decide if that still fits, or maybe later again, or if that's a Past You thing, or if you just don't know yet. Transformations and Changes and not knowing are human. And people who love you will love you however you are and want you to be happy over keeping any image they built up of you intact and forcing you into it. *cough* my parents

Also: who someone is has so many different parts. things they like, things they're good at, things they do a lot, things they want to do, traits, memories. There's not one thing that defines all of you. And if something changes or goes missing - sometimes things are just behind a cloud, or like hibernating, and come back when there's space for them, like that or in a different form.

And the other thing... Well. Uh. I don't know what future you will think. I don't know what future me will think. And if I don't know - I try to keep the options open until I maybe will know.

I sorta... this will sound silly. I have an agreement with myself that I'll try to make the best choice with the information I have in a moment, so I dont get to be mad at myself later because I was trying my best. And in retrospect that I try to not make choices future me has to clean up or impacts them badly, especially permanently. Like - it's unfair to future me to give up if good things can still happen, if there's options left to try, and a path to continue on and see if it can get better. I think it'd be more unfair to potential future me and the experiences future me could make if things go well, to destroy them with me ahead of time, before I've tried everything to change and better things, than it is to keep going through the rough times and to keep them around until then or until the criteria have changed.

We'll often also hear to think of others and what you'd do to them and to keep living for others, and - that can be a good reason, but it shouldn't be that guilt trip thing, or make it less of your choice. In the end you gotta decide what feels right to you and what you want. Nobody should make you do something you genuinely fully don't want. Just... remember that you aren't alone, and that there's people who love you and would support you in figuring things out and finding out who you wanna be and what you want life to be like, okay?

(OOC: anyone reading - even if you genuinely feel like theres no hope left, please reach out to a safe person and see if things change with a bit of distance or new options can appear - if it could have been a passing cloud or a storm that will end in time, or something that can be fixed by time or help. uh. before you make choices that cant be taken back and may lead to a lot of suffering. Thanks. And Tumblr please dont get mad at me.)

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[sibylsleaves]

good morning sibyl … prompt: sleepy buddie 😴🤩

omg yay....this is the one i kinda started last night because i was excited!! also im sorry hima...i broke the rules right off the bat because this is slightly over 1k 😔😔 plz forgive me....

---

It’s late when they make it back. Christopher’s been passed out since they crossed the state line. Eddie’s absolutely exhausted, a little delirious from eleven and a half hours in the car but so, so happy as the little house on Bedford Drive comes into view. He gets Chris awake enough to shuffle inside and get into bed, and then drags their bags inside, leaving them in the front hall. Everything else can wait.

Tomorrow they’re going to head straight to Buck’s in the morning to surprise him—Eddie promised Chris it would be the first thing they did when they got back to LA. He’s already checked with Bobby to make sure he’s not on shift.

He’d been too scared to tell Buck that they were coming home. Terrified that Chris would change his mind, or that his parents would try to stop them, or that something would happen to snatch it all away from him again. It hadn’t feel real, hadn’t felt permanent, until he walked up the front steps.

Now, easing down the familiar creaky hallway and pushing open the bedroom door, Eddie lets out the breath he’s been holding since the day Chris left.

The sight that greets him on the other side of the door steals that breath right back. 

There’s someone lying in his bed. Eddie knows it’s Buck before he can even understand how he knows it’s Buck. As if he could recognize him from just the outline of his sleeping body in the dark.

In the wake of his initial surprise, Eddie is filled with something he can only call peace. He’s home. They’re home. And somehow, it makes sense that Buck should be here, asleep in Eddie’s bed like he belongs there.

Moving quietly, Eddie sheds his pants and exchanges his road-worn henley for a fresh t-shirt. Then he moves to the other side of the bed and climbs in beside Buck. 

“‘’ddie?” comes the sleep-roughened rumble of Buck’s voice. 

“Hey,” Eddie says softly in the dark. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay. ’m glad. You’re here,” he says, or maybe it’s I’m glad you’re here.

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Eddie says, settling onto the pillow next to him. Under the blankets, Buck moves, rolling toward him, tucking all that bulk against Eddie. Eddie wraps an arm around him, letting himself, in this quiet, unguarded moment, live in the spaces of Buck’s body, in the warm certainty that no matter how far he goes, Buck will always be his home.

He breathes in, letting all the tension of the last few weeks dissipate, and presses his cheek into the hollow of Buck’s throat. Sleep is creeping up on him, waiting to pull him under.

Buck lets out a little hum, almost a moan, and turns his face toward Eddie’s. 

It’s as natural as anything to meet him there, lips nudging together in a kiss that’s sweet and soft until it isn’t. Until Buck grabs the back of Eddie’s head, angling his face to kiss him deeper, until Eddie opens his mouth to greedily drink every sigh and whimper from Buck’s mouth, until he presses Buck down against the sleep-warm sheets and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

But sleep is still lapping at his edges, and soon the near frantic need slows into something languid and undemanding.

Buck sighs his name, sounding half a step from sleep himself, and they settle again, tangled together.

“I’m gonna tell you everything in the morning,” Eddie promises. Means it, too, when he says everything—everything that went down in El Paso with his parents, with Chris, everything he’s been keeping back from Buck because he couldn’t bear to tell him with eight hundred miles still between them. “But tonight I just—I’m home. We’re home. And I love you. That’s the most important part.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, as easy as anything. Like it’s something he’s said a hundred times before. And maybe—maybe it really is that easy.

Buck hums again and between one breath and the next Eddie feels him drop back off. 

He follows soon after.

When Eddie wakes, he’s alone. It takes him a full minute to even remember where he is—not in Texas anymore thank god— and an additional few seconds to remember that Buck was in his bed last night.

That’s also about when he hears the sound of the kitchen door closing just a little too hard.

He’s out of bed so quickly he’s almost dizzy, stumbling across the hall and into the kitchen where he finds Buck.

Buck who is not, as Eddie might have thought, shuffling around in his pajamas trying to get the coffee going for them. Instead he’s standing fully dressed, shoes on, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Eddie leans against the doorway. “Were you seriously gonna try to sneak out?”

Buck jumps at the sound of his voice and then immediately goes rigid, his head angled down like a dog waiting to be scolded for bad behavior. “Eddie.”

“Well?” Eddie asks.

“I—” Buck chokes out, his shoulders stiffening, his hand clenched around the strap of his duffle bag. “I’m sorry.”

“For sneaking out?”

Buck nods, face red and bright. “For—all of it. For being in your house when you were—when you were gone. For sleeping in your bed. For—for last night.”

“You’re sorry for last night?” Eddie echoes. “Buck, you kissed me.”

Buck flinches. “I didn’t—I thought I was dreaming.”

“What?”

“When you woke me up last night I—I thought I was still dreaming,” Buck says. “That’s why I kissed you. And then I woke up this morning and you were really there and that meant I’d really, actually kissed you, and I—”

“Freaked out and decided to sneak out of the house before I woke up?” Eddie suggests.

Buck nods miserably. 

“And at any point in this freak out did it occur to you that the fact that you really, actually kissed me means that I really, actually kissed you back?”

“I—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie repeats, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face.

“You wanted it,” Buck says slowly. “You…”

“Want it,” Eddie corrects, crossing the space between them and taking Buck’s face in his heads. “Really, actually.”

Buck drops the duffel bag on the ground. Eddie kisses him, as sweet and slow as he’d kissed him last night. Buck makes a noise that sounds like wanting and kisses him back, holding onto Eddie’s arms, thumbs digging into the soft parts of his wrists. 

“This is real, Buck,” Eddie murmurs between lush, indulgent kisses. “I’m really here. I’m really home. And I really love you.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, and it’s so different from the way he said it last night. In the light of morning, the words are tremulous and precious, but still easy, so easy.

Eddie smiles, and before he can kiss him again, Buck pulls back. 

“And…you don’t think it’s weird?” he asks anxiously. “That I was, uh—living here?”

“Well, that explains the duffle bag,” Eddie says mildly. His hand finds Buck’s shoulder, his gaze finding Buck’s. “Buck, everything has felt wrong since the second Christopher walked out that door with my parents. Last night was the first time in my life that everything, finally, felt right.”

“Oh,” Buck says, eyes pink and wet. “That’s—me, too. That’s why I thought it had to be a dream.”

Eddie kisses him again and this time—this time the kiss turns from soft to molten. Eddie had been too exhausted last night to even think about anything more but now—now he’s definitely thinking about it. And judging by the noises Buck’s making and the way his hips hitch against Eddie’s, he’s thinking about it, too.

“You know,” Eddie says breezily, walking them backward out of the kitchen and back toward the bedroom. “We had a pretty long drive yesterday. Chris’ll probably be asleep for the next few hours. Maybe in the meantime, we can see if I can make some of your other dreams come true.”

ficlet february prompts

[rafesangelita]

♡ deciding to take a ride on the ‘tunnel of love’ roller coaster at the annual valentine’s day fair, rafe happens to catch you before it starts, conveniently locking himself in next to you. annoyed, you tell yourself you’ll be out and away from the man once the ride is over but (un)luckily for you, it just so happens to break down, leaving you two stuck together until it’s fixed..

warnings: one sided enemies to lovers (reader is the one who can’t stand rafe lol), forced proximity, teasing, flirty banter, slight angst (just a teeny tiny bit, it’s literally almost nonexistent), light fluff

a/n: now presenting… ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE’ 🤍 my town just so happens to be having a valentine’s day fair.. maybe (hopefully) i’ll go!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.4k

[7:57 PM] bestie ♡: it looks like kelce is going to take me out for v-day after all!! don’t wait for me, i’ll catch up soon, promise!

you had just bought an extra large funnel cake for you and your best friend to share when you read her text, your sugary sweet smile faltering as you took a seat at a nearby bench. “more for me, i guess..” you sighed, feeling a little bit silly at the fact that you sat here by yourself when everyone who passed you by was either in a group setting or hand in hand with someone who was most likely their significant other.

you picked at the fried goodness, not really feeling as festive as you were just two minutes ago. “yo, y/n!” you recognized the voice before you even looked up, your eyes immediately rolling as none other than rafe ‘insufferable daddy’s money’ cameron made his way over to you. ‘please let this be quick..’ you whispered under your breath, not sparing the man a single glance as he plopped down ridiculously close to you.

“what do you want, rafe?” he smiled when he heard his name roll off of your tongue, his muscular arm draping across your shoulders as his mouth dropped next to your ear. “can you at least act like you could tolerate me?” you scoffed, shrugging him off. “no, i can’t,” you finally looked at him, “because even that is too difficult to do.” he swallowed thickly, feeling slightly defeated before he went for the funnel cake that sat in your lap.

“i’m really not that bad, i’ll make you realize that soon.” rafe was also too confident and cocky for your liking— more reasons you could add to your seemingly never ending list as to why you think you two would never work out.

“i highly doubt that.” rafe was licking powdered sugar off of his fingers when you met his gaze again, your eyes flickering down to his tongue. the one thing that you couldn’t put on your list was that he wasn’t hot. anyone with eyes can tell you that rafe was insanely attractive, but of course, you’d never admit that to him out loud.. or so you thought. “you’re staring.” he smiled when he saw that your eyes stayed trained on his mouth, a smug expression taking over his features.

you blinked away, deciding you had enough chit-chat for one night. “in your dreams, ‘cameron.” rafe watched you get up from your seat, gladly taking the funnel cake you basically shoved into his hands. “why, thank you.” he took another piece, popping it into his mouth. you flashed him a fake smile before adjusting the strap of your crossbody purse. “i’ll see you around!” he called out, waving obnoxiously in your direction. “no you won’t!” you whispered to yourself, deciding to explore the fair a bit more.

little did you know conversation between you and rafe was far from over.

you walked around the fair grounds for almost fifteen more minutes before you had decided you were better off at home eating some greasy takeout and having a rom-com movie marathon in nothing but your comfy pj’s.

just as you were on your way to the exit, a flashing heart with the words ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE.. find your lover inside!’ caught your attention. deciding you’d at least inquire about it, you walked up to the ride operator and asked away. “excuse me! hi, i was just wondering what does the whole ‘find your lover inside!’ thing mean?” the woman lit up as if she had been dying to answer this question.

“so basically there’s another roller coaster coming from the other side, and once you two meet inside, the ride will stop for two minutes before coming back out to the respective entrances.” she explained. “so it’s like speed dating?” you smiled, the idea enthralling you. “yeah, that’s exactly it!” she nodded. you weighed out your options and decided a little excitement wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“i’m suprised you don’t have a line, how much is it to get on?” you took your wallet out of your purse as she replied. “if you have a full-access wristband it’s free, but if not then it’ll be five dollars exactly.” you handed over the small bill, smiling to yourself as she let you through the metal gate. “it looks like two people can fit in here—” just as you stepped in, rafe came running from the opposite direction.

“stop the ride!” he shouted, his chest rising and falling as he bent over to catch his breath. you blinked. “it’s not even on, you drama queen.” taking a seat, you were about to pull the metal bar over your lap before he shouted again. “i’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me get on with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest, not expecting the ride operator to actually let him in. “seriously?!” you gasped when he walked through, flashing you a wink.

“sorry!” she pushed the guardrail over you and rafe until it locked in place before starting the ride. “this will all be over in two minutes.” you glared at him, trying to scoot as many centimeters away from him as you could. “that’s fine with me.” he shrugged. he leaned back in the cart, red and pink flashing lights illuminating the space in which you two rolled into slowly.

rafe kept his eyes on you, watching as you avoided his gaze. “why don’t you like me? serious question..” you sighed, finally giving him your full undivided attention. you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. “what?” you acted like you didn’t hear him the first time, wracking your brain for any kind of answer. he smiled teasingly, pointing a finger at you. “i asked you why you don’t like me and you can’t even answer me!” you waved him off, facing the other way to hide the smile on your lips.

truthfully, you didn’t really know who rafe was. like just by himself as an individual. you knew that his friends were all assholes though, including the one who your best friend was willing to drop everything for. “i hate your friends,” you started, “and you are who you keep company with, sooo..” rafe cleared his throat as the roller coaster came to a stop. the inside of the ‘love tunnel’ was lit up with baby cherubs along the walls, red hearts and fairy lights adorning the interior.

“me and my friends are very different from each other.. i think you’d be surprised.” you hummed, adjusting the pendant on your necklace. “maybe..” the other roller coaster cart strolled in from the other side, the seats empty. “i guess it’s a good thing that i tagged along, since you would’ve been all by yourself if i didn’t.”

you glanced over at him, his blue eyes standing out in the pinkish lighting. “..yeah, i guess.” rafe’s head shot up as soon as the words left your mouth. “you really think so?” he scooted closer, the action making you laugh. “don’t push it.” you warned him, in which he held his hands up defensively. “okay, okay!” rafe had this smitten look on his face as if making you smile was his life’s greatest achievement.

“so you told me why you didn’t like me, which is fair, but i want a real chance at proving you wrong. can you at least give me that?” rafe hesitantly rested a hand on your knee, the hopeful look in his eyes making your heart melt into a soft puddle of mush. “hmm..” you pretended to think, the anticipation making rafe’s leg bounce. “okay. only under one condition though..” rafe nodded frantically.

“anything.”

“tell me why you like me so much when i avoid you like the plague, and never seemingly look in your direction.. like ever.” the man next to you snorted. “you want me to go down my full list? ‘cause we’ll be sitting here all night—” just then, the ride operator’s voice boomed through the intercom speakers from inside the tunnel. “hi, i’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re having some technical difficulties and my electrician guy says it’ll be at least an hour or two before you could leave. i promise to issue a full refund once you two are off.”

you and rafe looked at each other half concerned and half amused. “..so, you were saying?”

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Hi, I love your writing! Could you please update either "Danny's grill", "Congratulations! It's Triplets!" or "Phantom's number 1 fan"? Please and thank you

Jason is once again reviewing the map of potential areas Alvin could have been operating in when his burner phone rings. He snatches it up before it can pass the fourth ring, pressing it gently against his ear.

He offers no greeting. It's a tactic he uses to ensure that whoever is calling him has permission to do so. If someone attempts to conform his informants' and allies connection with him, Jason is not about to give them away by speaking first.

"Hey Boss," Honeycomb's voice filters through, edged by that familiar overdramatic southern draw she did when working. Apparently, the clients like listening to her use her accent. "I got eyes on that doll you've been searching for."

Jason sits up straighter. "Where and when?"

Honeycomb is one of the working girls who's been with him since his return to Gotham. She was the first to sign up for his protection, long before he did the whole heads in a duffle bag thing, and was one of his best eyes and ears on the street in exchange.

He didn't know her real name or age- but he was sure she wasn't underage. He made it clear he wouldn't allow it. All Jason knew about Honeycomb was that she had run away from her home in the southern states with nothing but her pretty face, blond curls, hazel eyes, and the clothes on her back.

She was feisty and could charm her way out of most problems with her silver tongue. Her manipulation of her clients was almost an art form, and she could get any information out of anyone with a well-placed hand on the air and a sweet little "darling" on her grubby lips. He often thought she would have been a lawyer if life had been fair to her.

"Just now, on Ruby Street. He was with a man in his late teenage to early twenties. About six feet five inches, black hair, blue eyes, and Caucasian. Alvin was wearing black tights and a red hoodie. The man is in jeans and a white zip-up." Honeycomb rattles in one smooth report, the huskiness of her accent making her articulation more pleasant to the ear. "Seems they were doing a photo shoot."

Jason is already moving towards his bike, switching her call to his helmet. His stomach turns slightly as he grunts, "What kind of photoshoot?"

"Not that kind, Darling. Seemed more like a scavenger hunt, according to Alvin. They are finding specific landscapes and making posses that are answers to some riddles." Honeycomb responds. Distantly, her heels clicking against the concrete echo a little louder, letting Jason know she has wandered into an alley. "I approached Alvin when the man with him went up a fire escape to take a picture with a gargoyle. I offered him my service to him as a cover. Once he confirmed his name was Alvin and he was already with a client, I left before he could get the idea I was attempting to steal his work."

"Good job." Jason boots up his bike, flying out of his hideout without hesitation. He was still twenty minutes away from Ruby Street, but if the pair was going to be a moment, he could close the distance between them and find a trail to follow once on scene.

He questions as he flies through two lanes, ignoring the honking of angry divers. "How did Alvin look? He's supposed to be with one of my contacts, so if he's with someone, it might be a John roughing him up."

I'll deal with Victorian later. He mentally swears How dare he not tell me, Alvin went back to the field after hiding out for so long without a ounce of protection.

"The sweetheart doesn't seem hurt, but I can tell his client is one of those problematic kinds." Honeycombs sighs, the edges of unease slipping into her voice. "He looks at Alvin like he's in love."

Shit. It's never suitable for working folks to meet someone who "loves" them. Nine out of ten times, it was just a wacko who became violent the moment the prostitute so much as hinted that this was only a job to them. Jason had pulled out three women's bodies from the Brown River the last time one of those clients fell in love.

Jason pressed harder on the accelerator. "Are they still there?"

Honeycomb hums "The John is on the roof now, but Alvin is waiting for him under the street pole-Oh shit!"

Jason nearly slams into a nearby car at her sudden yell. "What happened?"

She doesn't answer, but he can pick up the sound of her running and her fast breathing. He knows she is getting out of danger because if there is one thing Honeycomb is as a person, she's a survivor. He wants answers but would rather she focus on getting herself safe first.

He meanwhile, concentrates on the phone calls and the vehicles he's flying between.

It's a few minutes before she gasps. "Sorry, Darling, I had to run. Batman was on the roof with the John."

What.

"Batman just appeared out of nowhere and threw a bucket of mud at the john. Alvin didn't seem to notice, but I did. Batman made eye contact with me, so I ran." She concludes, pushing through her uneven breathing. "I have to go, Darling. Hideout before the Bats lock me up."

"That's alright. Stay safe." Jason tells her, taking a turn sharply as she hangs up the call without another word. The second she does, he double-taps his helmet to connect to the Bat communications.

"Barbie. I need to know what B is up to now."

_________________________________________________________

Bruce watches the Fae shake the mud out of his face after he has scrambled down the fire escape. Tim was at his side in a second, using a handkerchief to gently clean up the Fae's face.

There were a lot of whispered words, but based on what Bruce could pick up from lip reading, Tim had no idea he was up here. He just assumed the Fae got caught up in a juvenile prank.

Oddly enough, that was primarily due to the Fae covering for Bruce.

It was rather disappointing the repealing spell hadn't worked, but the Justice League Dark the mixture of John's Wort, primroses, and marsh marigolds mushed together with water socked in iron during the full moon should have made it possible to force the contact with Tim to break down.

Of course, this had been a desperate attempt, seeing as all the JL Dark had been unsure which method was best when he asked how to get a Fae to leave a human alone.

A lot of debate went into finding a solution, but in the end, Bruce had chosen a mixture repellent. He had even decided to use some holy water and trough in blessed soil and blessed iron just to make it extra powerful.

The magic users had all assured him it would work as long as it touched the Fae skin while Bruce chanted Tim's full legal name. It had felt rather ridiculous dragging a bucket half the size of himself through the city, trying to spot where Tim and his companion were, and even more so when he had sprinted across the rooftop screaming.

"Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake!"

The Fae had been in the middle of taking a photo. He set up his camera on a little tripod and, after pressing the time, had run to face the city- back facing Bruce- raising his arms to form a triangle above his head. Based on fact the camera was slightly lower then the Fae's torso, Bruce could deduct her was attempting to capture himself making the triangle top of one of the most iconic buildings in Gotham.

Spear tower.

He waited only long enough for the flash to go off, so by the time the Fae turned around, he had a face full of mud.

It splat all over his front, covering every inch of what should have set Tim free. The silence followed was louder than anything Bruce had ever heard, even as the Fae calmly picked up his camera and scurried to the ground.

Bruce let him go, wondering why he had failed. Thankfully, it seemed Tim and the Fae were getting back in their car- not the food truck for some reason- and were driving away.

Tonight, Bruce would find its lair and get his son home because letting him take a relaxing vacation was alarming to the rest of his children.

He rushed to the Batmobile, climbing into the driver seat and taking off after the pair. As he was driving, he could have sworn Jason just passed by him, moving like the devil was after him.

Bruce wondered briefly if he should check in on his third oldest but thought better of it when he noticed Cass, Dick, and Duke driving right behind Jason on their own bikes. His children had each other backs.

A few hours later, Bruce stood before a large empty field. He had watched the Fae drive into it and vanish from sight. None of his machines could pick up any hint on where they might have gone, but he was reasonably sure there wasn't any teleportation involved.

Sometimes teleportation left some traces in the airwaves. It's how Bruce could track people using the boom tub or find the Flash whenever Barry went on a craze.

Bruce was thinking that this was the Fae's court and his magical home was being protected by supernatural means. He just had to figure out how to get in and Tim out.

As he was considering the field, a soft, distant roar made him reach for his weapons. He turns one hand poise for a throw, his trusted batarangs in between his fingers, only to become surprised when he recognizes the vehicles driving towards him.

It was his spare Batmobile and four bird-themed motorbikes. His children.

"B?" Dick questions after spinning to a stop and sliding right in front of Bruce. He lowers his window, looking at him with apparent confusion despite the Nightwing mask blocking his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Following a lead on the Fae. What are you doing here?" Bruce asks, lowering his arm but keeping his weapon. He could never be too sure this isn't a trick.

"Following a lead on Tim." Dick responds, stepping out of his car. Two other doors open, and out steps Steph and Damian, both looking posed for a fight. Of all his children, those two tend to be the most territorial and have not taken to Tim being a semi-held hostage well. "Oracle was able to track him through the city cameras after he popped up taking photos."

"hmm"

Jason jogged over to them with Cass not far behind. "Wait,, you got a lead on your cases too? We would check in on Victorian and see if he knew anything about Alvin."

He gestures to those behind him, indicating Cass and Duke, but the daytime hero is not paying attention. Duke was staring at the field, mouth slightly open as if in awe. Bruce straightens once he realizes Duke can probably see or at least detect the magical castle.

"Victorian?" Damian asks, crossing his arms. "Who is that?"

"The owner of the giant mansion we're standing in front of. He's one of my contacts."

"Ugh, not to make you feel crazy, Hoodie," Steph speaks up, placing a hand on the crook of her hip and waving her hand to the field. "But there is literally nothing there

"What are you talking about. This place is bigger than Wayne Manor."

Bruce heard about this. Guests who have been here before or have permission to enter can see glimpses of the Otherworld that Fae deals in. However, it is surprising to know Jason has already been in contact with the Fae before and has not been kept.

Did that throw a wrench in his theory of Tim and Alvin being the same person? Why would the Fae ask Jason to find Tim if he was in the creature's home?

Before anyone could say anything else, a giant gate entrance suddenly manifested mere feet from where Bruce stood. A soft creek was heard as it was thrown open, and a glowing woman in an old mail outfit floated just a foot off the ground on the other side. She eyed them all in an eerie, emotionless face before bending her own into a low bow. "Welcome. My King wishes to invite you in."

Well, that's not ominous at all.

His children shared a look between them, silently letting each other know to be cautious as they followed the floating woman. She led them down an impressive driveway that slowly gave way to a massive mansion.

Bruce fought to keep the surprise off his face. Jason was right. This place was more prominent and grander than his manor. It didn't just scream wealth. It screamed nobility; it screamed royalty.

The group walked into the main hall, some muttering thanks to the bowing woman who opened the doors. "Of course. The King stated that his home would always be open to Master Alvin's kin."

She vanished from sight like mist fading away as soon as they crossed the doorway.

Bruce's eyes instantly landed on the figure standing atop the grand stairs. Tim was gawking at them, wearing nothing but a long, seductive black robe with fluffy collars and wrists. The front of the rob was open, displaying a large amount of chest and thigh, but keeping the significant bits out of sight.

Thankfully.

His skin was glowing, his hair tussled stylishly, and a dozen red roses were in his hands. Tim looked like he was planning a romantic evening in his get-up.

"Oh," He said dumbly. "You're not Danny."

"What the fuck is going on" Jason demanded after a long period of silence.

"Um...I was planning on seducing my friend. What are you all doing?"

"Regretting waking up this morning," Damian demands, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Please get decent. My nightmares are horrid enough."

Bruce nods. "You were Alvin Draper and are romantically involved with the Fae. He seems to be treating you well. That's good."

All of his children stared at him for a long moment before the hall erupted with displeased noises. Bruce was taken aback.

Did none of them know any of this? It seemed obvious to him.

[cuntyji]

cw: suggestive , reader has tiddies/wears a bra/fem-bodied

you’ve heard the phrase "get that man a bra" before. people say it as a joke, a way to poke fun at dudes with substantial pectoral mass. but your toji? oh, he wasn’t just a man in need of a bra—he was the reason bras existed.

the sheer density of those things. they weren’t just pecs; they were mega milkers, genetically blessed jugs of goodness, god-given war crimes of mass destruction. no one should have tits that big and not wear some form of support. but you, naïve and unsuspecting, had never thought he’d actually take action on this very real issue.

so when you came home after a long, exhausting day, all you wanted was to lay on top of him, soak in his warmth, and let his big ol’ chest pillows cradle your weary soul. but the second your face met his torso, something was off.

where was the plush? where was the give? where was the comforting, all-natural memory foam of his pecs? instead of the usual soft, heavenly bounce-back, you were met with a rigid, unyielding force.

"… babe?" you mumbled, lifting your head slightly. you poked at his chest. it didn't jiggle. it didn't even budge. your heart rate spiked. this was unnatural.

“hmm?” toji replied lazily, his arm draped over his forehead, completely unfazed.

you poked again. harder. then squinted up at him. suspicious. too suspicious.

your eyes flicked to his shirt. then back to his chest. then back to his shirt. something was lurking under there, and you weren’t sure if you were emotionally prepared for what you were about to uncover.

but then, to your absolute horror, he smirked and casually lifted his shirt.

you gasped.

he stuffed himself into a sports bra.

your sports bra.

your brand-new, high-support, for-the-girlies-only sports bra.

it was stretched to its absolute limit, fabric screaming for relief. you swore you saw the seams trembling under the immense pressure of his pecs.

"bro," you whispered in pure betrayal.

toji, completely unfazed, propped himself up on one elbow and rolled his shoulder. "pretty good, right? keeps ‘em locked in. no bounce."

"NO BOUNCE?!" you shrieked, sitting up so fast your head spun. "YOU KILLED THEM. YOU SLAUGHTERED THEM. THEY'RE SUFFOCATING. RELEASE THEM IMMEDIATELY."

he had the audacity to chuckle.

“nah, i like it," he said, adjusting the straps like some kind of deranged lululemon ambassador. "real snug. back support’s nice too."

you were about to pass away.

"toji," you inhaled, voice shaking. "you ruined my brand new bra."

"nah," he shrugged, reaching for the remote. "just stretched it out a little."

stretched it out a little. a little. A LITTLE.

he turned to look at you, finally noticing the sheer emotional devastation on your face. then, after a beat, he smirked.

"you jealous?"

you grabbed a pillow and swung.

[blxxmingrose]

the ceremony hadn’t started, but as hans looked into june’s eyes, it was like they were having a ceremony of their own. there in that quiet moment shared between the two of them, they had already spoken their love, bound their souls together, and became inseparable before they could even reach the dais. 

his smile was that of assurance, with no trace of worry for what could go wrong—just that calmness within him that told him june’s presence was all he needed. “let’s go get married,” he echoed, and finally, his feet moved. 

their walk to the dais felt like a glide to the ocean, the sand beneath them shaping around each footfall, immortalizing the steps they took to get to the altar. seagulls sang with the gentle waves for their procession music, and jinx and scooter trailed behind, not quite cognizant but joining in the solemn moment. hans never let go of june’s hand—the hand that always kept him steady. the hand that he would soon adorn with their wedding band.

as they reached their destination, the flowers welcoming them with the sweet scent of life they had started for themselves, hans turned to face june with a deep inhale. “this is it,” he whispered, lifting his hand to cup june’s cheek as the first tear fell from his eyes. he chuckled, knowing he’d be the first to cry on this day, but still being surprised at how such happiness could overflow so quickly. 

he brought his hand down only so he could reach for the piece of paper he had been carrying with him everywhere, his vows scribbled in neat handwriting but with tear marks all over. he smiled at june, a gentle smile, and he took a deep breath before reading through his vows. 

they say souls wander the earth after we pass, waiting to be reborn into our new life. my darling june, i think my soul did not do a lot of wandering. i think it always knew where it wanted to be reborn and went straight for it—because it is wherever you would be born in, so that we can be together again as two pieces of the same soul.  i have always thought that there was nothing waiting for me in this life, until you came along and taught me what living was like--what truly being alive felt like. it was not going through the motions of waking up and sleeping; it was experiencing all the joys, all the pain, all the love that made our hearts grow fonder of each other. you taught me how beautiful the world could be, even if we had so little. you taught me that nightmares made appreciating good dreams possible. and you, my love, you showed me that life could always grow where there is someone to nurture it.  you always saw my decisiveness as a good thing. you always saw my daydreaming as a foundation for our reality. you always made me feel strong when i thought i was helpless. and today, i vow to continue to dream with you about the life we will have, and to turn it into reality day by day. i vow to be a strong foundation when it’s your turn to feel weak. i vow to never waver, to always turn to you, my best friend and protector, to be my guiding light. and in turn, be yours.  i vow to be with you in this life and the next, and to always fill your days with adventure, love, and support. i will always see you in every little plant we grow, in every wave that crashes to the shore, in every ray of sunshine hiding behind the clouds. you are the other half of me, and i vow to never leave your side now and forever. 

hans’ eyes were misty with tears as he finished, his hand still shaking as he returned the piece of paper in his pockets. all he could see was june, and as it always will be, he was the only one that mattered. 

june’s fingers curled more firmly around hans’s, anchoring them both as they stood at the edge of everything they had dreamed of. the beach stretched before them, golden sand warm beneath their feet, waves rolling in with a quiet rhythm that seemed to echo the steady beat of his own heart. he breathed in deeply, letting the salt air settle in his lungs, letting the reality of this moment sink in. it was happening. after everything — every step, every quiet moment of realization, every whispered confession in the dead of night — they were here.

his gaze flickered to hans, catching the way his husband’s breath hitched, the way his eyes traced over the flowers, the space that had been prepared for them, the tangible proof of the day they had built with their own hands. hans had always been meticulous in his planning, careful with every detail, but june knew that even if none of this had been here, if they were simply standing barefoot in the sand, alone under the sky, this would still be perfect. because hans was here. because they were together.

a small smile pulled at june’s lips, something soft, something that carried the weight of everything he felt but hadn’t yet spoken. he turned toward hans fully, his free hand lifting to smooth over his husband’s arm, tracing the fabric of his sleeve. “not a single flower ran away,” he echoed, amusement threading through his voice, though it was quieter now, lost beneath the emotion swelling in his chest. “and the sky’s clear, and the waves are calm, and everything’s right where it should be.”

he hesitated, then reached up, brushing his fingers along hans’s jaw, tilting his face just slightly so their eyes met, so there was nothing between them but the truth of this moment.

“it’s real,” he murmured. “you and me, standing here. just like we always planned.” his thumb traced gently over hans’s cheekbone, a touch meant to soothe, to let hans feel the same certainty june did. his fingers curled slightly where they rested. his chest ached with love, a love that was bigger than words, bigger than anything he had ever known. it was in every breath, in the warmth of hans’s skin beneath his touch, in the way their hands remained clasped, unwavering, steady.

for a moment, he just let himself look. at the man he loved, the man who had changed everything, the man he would spend the rest of his life with. then, with the slightest tilt of his head, he murmured “let’s go get married, my love.”

[gublernatural]

In Another Life 𖥔 Dean Winchester

✶ SUMMARY: It's hard to regret getting captured by a Djinn when it makes your wishes come true in the real world, too.

✶ WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut (piv), slow burn, mutual pining, she's long as fuck (6.8k words), heated make out, fingering, allusion to suicide (to end the djinn), reader is injured, supernatural-esque violence, alcohol, jess is mentioned, reader is bad at pool and likes baseball, mention of a period in passing, showering together MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✶ NOTE: I'M BACK BABY!!! dividers from @firefly-graphics!!

˚꒰ა .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ ࣪˖ 𓂃 ࣪˖ 𖥔. ໒꒱˚

Everything looked familiar. The dingy yellow paint on the motel room wall was what you thought was the last thing you'd seen before you closed your eyes. The room still smelled like nicotine and there was still a squeaky noise coming from where the gasket on the window was damaged. Things seemed normal. There was nothing that you could tell was out of place from where you’d awoken.

Except, something felt different.

There was an unfamiliar warmth. It was coming from your left side, but it was also coming from inside your chest. Something inside you felt lighter; less like the weight of the world was no longer on top of you. You raised your head slightly, just to look over to see what was pressed against your side. You tried to move with a practiced ease, as if you were trying not to alert a monster creeping in the night.

Except, it wasn’t night and there was no monster. It was just Dean. Laying beside you, fast asleep.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” You gasped, scrambling as far away from him as you could get in the queen-sized bed. Dean was easily awoken by your outburst. He moved gently, bringing his hands up to rub his face, before turning to you. “What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes filled with nothing but concern. Your brows furrowed, trying to figure out what you were looking at. It was definitely Dean. Definitely your Dean. But something about his was different. He was relaxed? Calm? Peaceful? You weren’t entirely sure what the correct word was.

When you didn’t answer him, Dean moved closer to you, trapping you between his body and the wall. One of his hands moved to your face, cradling your cheek. “What happened?” He asked, again. “Nothing,” You informed, turning into putty in his hands. Dean used this hand to pull you closer to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Guess we should hit the road, since you’re up,” Dean said. He sighed like an old man when he moved to push himself off the bed. “Sammy’s gone, wanna shower?” Definitely my Dean, you thought when you saw the shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “I’m good,” You shrugged. When his own face twisted up in confusion, you quickly came up with a lie, “Time of the month, and all that.” Dean nodded, heading towards the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, your hunter instincts took over. You moved with a desperate urgency, pulling out every dresser drawer, stifling through every item inside of them, checking under sheets and mattresses, checking the search history on the laptop on the table, flipping through each and every book.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sam’s voice broke your focus. You quickly snapped around, immediately pausing your movements. “Looking for something?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows at you. You were sure you looked guilty, with your hands tucked behind your back and your incredibly straight posture. “N-no,” You stuttered, trying to relax. You slowly made your way back to the bed, relaxing into it as much as possible. Sam’s questioning eyes followed you the entire time.

“What are we doing here?” You asked Sam. You remembered why you were in this town. Sam had seen disappearing girls in the local paper, something suspicious about them. You were here to kick the monster’s ass. That much you knew for sure. Sam let out a chuckle, “We’ve been on a road trip for a few weeks now.” Sam informed, pointing to the map on the table, “You don’t remember?” His voice shifted into a calmer tone, full of concern.

“No, no, I do. I was just making sure,” You tried to play it off. Luckily, Sam did not have too much time to question you, as the bathroom door opened and Dean emerged.

“Next stop, the world’s largest basket in Frazeysburg, Ohio!” Dean cheered, coming to stand next to you, and resting his hand on the base of your neck. “Definitely not the world’s largest,” Sam corrected. Dean mumbled an “oh, whatever,” before moving to throw his things in his duffel bag. His duffel bag that was usually filled with guns, knives, salt. The essentials.

“We’re going to pick up Jess,” Sam clarified, circling back to your confusion, “her graduation is in a week, and then we’re moving closer to you and Dean.”

You knew this was an attempt to clear things up for you, but it just furthered your confusion. Jess was dead. Jess was dead before you met the Winchesters. What the fuck was going on?

You turned your head back to Dean, watching him start to add your things into his duffel bag. “Hey,” you chastised, pulling a pair of slightly racy underwear from his hand, “those are mine.” Dean turned to look at you, a smirk spread across his face, “What’s yours is mine, sweetheart.” He turned back to the bag, just for a second, before throwing you a quick wink, “Plus, it’s not like I haven’t seen them before.”

You weren’t sure if you were more shocked when Dean asked if you wanted to drive, or when Sam willingly slid into the back seat. Dean’s hand was resting on your knee, his thumb rubbing sweet circles into the denim of your jeans. There was a soft rock song playing on the radio, and Dean was lightly singing along to it. The air outside was fresh, the sun was shining, and there was a slight breeze flowing through baby’s open windows. Even Sam wasn’t complaining about how loud the music was.

Everything was truly perfect. Too perfect.

As much as you wanted to lean into Dean’s touch, to allow him to hold you each night like had last night, to let him press kiss sweet kisses against your forehead and throw dirty jokes at you, you knew that you couldn’t. You knew something was wrong. Life as a hunter never worked out like that for you. If something felt right, you knew that there was something wrong.

And you’d be damned if you weren’t going to figure out what it was.

Maybe you’d let yourself enjoy Dean’s attention while you did it. Maybe.

Baby let out a soft hum as you approached the basket. It was very large, you couldn’t deny that. Dean came around to the passenger side, sliding his hand into yours. There was what should’ve been a comfortable silence that had fallen over the three of you, but something in your stomach wasn’t letting you relax. Hunter’s instinct, as you used to tell the boys. You wished you could talk to them. The real them. Not whatever these imposters were.

“You alright?” Dean asked, moving his hand to your waist. “What are we, Dean?” You asked. He stopped his steps, letting Sam trail ahead. “You’re my girlfriend.” Girlfriend. Your eyes widened before your face, once again, twisted up in confusion. “You’re my girlfriend,” Dean repeated, matching your facial expression, “You’ve been my girlfriend for about four years now. Are you okay?” He questioned, again. His hand moved up to rest against your forehead, checking for a temperature.

You pushed his hand away, trying to think this through. Four years. That has to be significant. What were you doing four years ago?

Hunting. You’d been hunting your whole life, so of course you were hunting. You tried to think of any notable hunts that occurred four years ago. It was hard to put them chronologically. They all got blurred together after a while, and you could only really see the faces of the people you’d saved, the families you’d brought back together.

Then it clicked. Four years ago, you were hunting the largest vampire nest you’d ever seen. It was located on the border of Minneapolis and Saint Paul, taking victims from both cities. You knew you were in over your head when you went in, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Especially when you ended up having the best backup you’d ever gotten while on a case. Not only were they two very efficient hunters, but they were also particularly easy on the eyes. You should’ve probably hesitated before letting the shorter one with a pretty smile into your motel room to see what you’d pieced together, but something in your gut told you to trust him. So you did, and you still do.

“Dean,” You sighed out, “how did we meet?” His signature smile spread across his face as he stepped closer to you, swinging a careful arm around your neck. “Need a reminder of why you fell in love with me, sweetheart?” You nodded, encouraging him to get on with it. “At some bar, just between the Twin Cities. You had some girlie drink in your hand and were dressed up all pretty, but cussing like a sailor at a baseball game on TV. Drew me right in. It didn’t take very long for you to like me back. Sam was upset we were holding up his tour of the city with Jess, but he got over it once he realized I really liked ya” Dean reminisced.

Fuck, you thought. You had always wished you met Sam and Dean differently. You’d wished you met in a bar and Dean chatted you up. That Sam took you in like a little sister. But, that’s not how it went. You knew that. In your reality, life was shitty and Dean usually slept on the shitty motel couch, not next to you, even if he wished he could. So, you also knew you had to fix it. You had to get home.

You excused yourself from the boys and the very large basket to head back to the car. You rummaged through it, hoping to find something from your reality. A knife, a gun, something you could use to end this perfect nightmare. You found a small little switchblade in the trunk. It was not going to be easy, and it was going to hurt like a bitch, but you needed to get home. You needed to be with your real Dean so you could help him kill this Djinn.

Your wrists fucking burned. It was like your whole body was tense, but your wrists were on fire. “You got her?” You heard a deep voice call towards you. There was no response but you felt your body jostle. You were pressed against something warm. Not the kind of unsettling warmth you felt when you woke up in the dingy motel room. The kind of warmth that smelled slightly of whiskey and home. The kind of warmth that only came from Dean. Your Dean. Your real Dean.

“Dean?” You mumbled softly. You felt his grip on your body get tighter, holding you closer. “I got you, sweetheart. Just hold on for me.” You tried to nod, but weren’t sure if your head actually moved.

The next time you woke up, you were once again met with the dingy, yellow motel wallpaper. Only this time, you didn’t scramble to get away from the presence next to you. In fact, you shifted your body slightly closer to it.

You curled into a fetal position next to where Dean was sitting on the side of the bed. Your head shifted so you could look at him. His eyes were wide as he turned around with a breathy release of your name, “fuck,” he mumbled once he saw how frail you looked. He didn’t say anything else. He just reached out to rest his hand on your side. It didn’t take long for him to start rubbing it along the expanse of your torso, trying to push away any pain you were feeling. There weren’t many cuts or bruises that littered your skin, but he knew how weak Djinns can make you feel.

“Can I do anything for you?” He prompted, breaking the silence after a few minutes. You shook your head no, just wanting to go back to sleep. “Sammy went to get food,” he informed, “asked him to stop and get you your favorite.” You didn’t have to say anything for Dean to understand that you weren’t going to eat it. The gesture was nice, though.

The sun was casting through the broken blinds the next time you woke up. You were surprised that you had managed to sleep through most of the night. Your body really did need to rest, you guessed.

“How you feeling?” Sam asked once he realized you were awake. You moved to sit crisscross on the end of the bed, so that you would be facing where he was sitting at the motel table. “Better than yesterday, but my head still hurts.” He didn’t respond, just nodded and turned back to whatever he was reading on his laptop. It took you a while, but eventually, you mustered up the courage to stand up and head to the shower. Dean was still asleep on the other motel bed. His hands were stuffed under his pillow, protectively placed near some kind of weapon, and his breaths were even and relaxed. You smiled at him as you grabbed clothes and headed into the bathroom.

The hot water felt heavenly cascading down your body. You deflated like a balloon, each muscle relaxing from the top down. Your shoulders, then your back, then your thighs, then your calves. You were probably in the shower for a good 45 minutes to an hour, allowing your body to release any leftover adrenaline. It was the most relaxed you’d been in a long time.

It wasn’t until about the thirty-minute mark that you started reflecting on what you had been through. You still weren’t sure how Sam and Dean had found you, but you were grateful they did. Fortunately, being unconscious allowed your body to heal up quickly. Unfortunately, living the life you’d been dreaming of had fucked you up emotionally. You tried not to allow yourself to think about it. It would be easier to bury all of the undiscussed emotions , unasked questions, and unreciprocated feelings into a deep pit with all of the other fucked up stuff that was easier to put off than it was to walk out and face it. You didn’t want to think about holding Dean’s hand as you walked to unusual landmarks or him pressing his lips against your forehead after he thought you’d had a nightmare. It would never be your reality, so there was no sense in dwelling on what could’ve been.

There were a few knocks on the door, “You alright in there? There’s no way there’s still hot water coming out.” Dean’s voiced was muffled by the door. “Coming!” You called back to him, suddenly realizing how long it’d been. The water still felt fine, though.

You hurriedly stepped out, dried yourself off, and threw on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. You’d get dressed for the day once you were in the main room, as the steam in the bathroom makes the clothes stick to you.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked as you emerged from the bathroom. You missed the way his eyes sparkled once he finally got a look you standing up and healthy. “Like I wish people would stop asking me that,” You complained. After a beat of silenced passed, you added, “And hungry.” Dean let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, Sam ran to the diner down the road real fast.” You nodded, reaching to pull out your laptop. You had to stay busy, it kept your mind off of things you didn’t want to be thinking about.

“Slow down, road runner,” Dean encouraged, moving to sit next to you. You shrugged at him. He continued to chastise you, “You need to heal up, we can take a day or two off.” If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t be telling you this. He and Sam never slowed down. They hunted, they got injured, they went on another hunt, and they got injured again. “I’m not a child, Dean. I’m not even hurt, I can hunt.” Dean didn’t respond, instead, he pressed his hand against the back of your laptop, pushing it shut.

“I know what it’s like,” He practically cooed. You tried to ignore the way your heart jumped at his gentle voice. “Your wish had come true, and then it was ripped away from you. That’s not something you heal from overnight.” You didn’t realize you’d been avoiding eye contact with him until this moment. His face had a foreign softness too it, one you didn’t see him use on anyone else. “I’m fine, Dean.” You huffed. If that was true was still out for debate.

“Tell me about it.” He pushed. When you continued to stare at him, but didn’t answer, he questioned you further. “What was your wish? What was different?” This was when you broke eye contact. Your face began to feel warm, and you looked down into your lap. Dean didn’t push. He could be an asshole, but he was an asshole that cared about you. You two sat in silence for a while, as you considered how much to reveal to him. You knew he wouldn’t let it go. Maybe he’d leave it alone for a day or so, but this conversation was inevitable. “Things were just,” you hesitated for a second, “different.” Dean nodded, subtly encouraging you to continue. “We didn’t live this,” you gestured to the room around you, “kind of life. I mean we did, we stayed in motels with each other and all, but we didn’t have to deal with everything else. We weren’t hunters.” You explained.

“That’s your wish? To stop hunting?” Dean asked with a conviction that had you convinced that if you said yes, you’d never have to go on a hunt again, and he would make sure of it. However, you shook your head, “It’s not even about hunting, I don’t think. We were on some stupid roadtrip. To see Jess. She was graduating from college.” Dean hummed at your explanation. “So your wish was to be on a roadtrip with us? Or for Jess to still be alive?” Dean questioned again, almost in awe of how selfless he thought you were. But, you shook your head again. “I wish that we were able to meet differently.”

“Differently?” Dean repeated. “Yeah,” you shrugged your shoulders, “like, normal people, I guess. In a bar or at some sporting event. Something stupid, that regular people get to experience.” Dean was quiet, contemplating what you said. He would’ve never guessed that your wish was something so simple. Your wish was so mundane, so un-earth shattering, that it was hard for him to wrap his head around it. You knew his wish, wanting his mother to still be alive. That was worth wishing for. A different kind of life with him and his brother was not. If Dean could make your wish for you, it would probably be the exact opposite. He’d wish that you never met him and never had to deal with all of the world-saving bullshit being with the Winchesters came with. Hell, even if you were still hunting, you’d at least be safe from the archangels and the king of Hell and Lillith and all of the other crap he had to deal with. You could hunt normal things, like vampires and werewolves and wendigos and maybe the occasional witch or demon.

“And if we met like normal people, what would that mean?” Dean was trying to understand the fantasy you got to live in, even if it was only for a brief moment. “I don’t know. We were on some stupid road trip and seeing the World’s Largest Basket. Sam and Jess were moving in together to live close to us.” We held hands and you kissed me on the forehead and called me your girlfriend. Dean nodded, seeing how a simple life like that could be enjoyable. “Close to us?” He questioned, picking up on the fact you two at least lived close, if not together, in your fantasy. You nodded, shrugging your shoulders.

“Food’s here!” Sam called as the door to your motel room opened. You smiled, standing up to meet him at the table. Dean hesitated, not moving from his spot on the bed for a brief second. If he could live in his fantasy world, he thinks he’d like to live with you, too.

The next hunt found you and the boys in the middle of Alabama, searching for a vengeful spirit preying on men who broke their wives heart. The night you were able to gank them, Dean had suggested “celebratory spirits, in honor of the spirit we’d put to rest”. Who were you to argue with that?

So, you three found yourselves in a local dive bar. You were nestled into a corner booth, right by the pool tables, where Sam and Dean were playing two older locals. You were pretty sure Sam was hustling the poor old man, but Dean seemed to be playing for fun. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome Dean truly was when he allowed himself to relax for a moment. He had his two favorite people in the world with him and a cold beer in his hand. He was content.

“Wanna play?” Dean asked as he chalked his pool stick. “Me?” You asked, shocked that he would extend that offer. You’d never been good at pool, which Dean was definitely aware of. There was no shot he wanted you to play, especially if there was any money involved. “Yeah, I can finally teach you the skills so you can start your own hustle,” Dean explained, gesturing to Sam and confirming your suspicions. “If you want me to,” You stated, then downed the rest of your drink, before moving to grab the other pool stick. “You wanna break?” Dean asked as he set the game up.

Dean showed you different tricks and spent a lot of time showing you how to get the right angles and power on your hits. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed together when he pressed his chest against your back, lowered his head to be next to your ear, and wrapped his hands around yours on the pool stick. He was a very effective teacher.

By the time Dean had finally hit in the 8-ball in, Sam had wandered away. You spotted him talking to a pretty red-head by the bar. There was no surprise when he slid his hand around her waist, guiding her out of the bar. You received a text to both you and Dean that read “not coming back to the motel tonight” a few minutes after. You knew Dean had read it when he whispered, “my man!” and slid his phone back into his pocket. “You doing the same?” You asked Dean once you both settled into the booth, seeing the way he was looking around the bar, eyeing up the patrons. He shook his head, “Nah, thinking about calling it a night.” He brought his beer bottle to his lips and took the final swig of it. “It’s only 11 o’clock,” you informed him, surprised that he was choosing to go back to the motel. “I’m not cutting you off, princess,” he teased, “I’m just ready to chill.” He emphasized his statement by dragging out the world “chill” and sliding his hands through the air.

Dean knew if he went back to the motel, you would, too. You were never one to stay out and party, especially if he or Sam wasn’t around. It was both a safety kind of thing, and a not having as much fun without them kind of thing.

Dean held the door for you as you walked out of the bar. It had cooled off, into a nice, summer night. Dean surprised you by opening the door to the impala, and closing it for you after you’d settled into your seat. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you teased when he climbed in. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it, sweetheart.”

The ride back was filled with nothing but comfortable silence and a Rolling Stones cassette playing through the radio. You and Dean settled into the room, each taking a bed, assuming Sam would not be coming back at all tonight. Dean usually took the couch during hunts, as Sam was too tall for them, and he would never subject you to the muscle pain that comes with sleeping on broken springs.

You were totally absorbed into the soap opera you’d chosen from the shitty motel channels when Dean finally spoke. “I got one question for you,” he started, shifting his body from being angled at the TV to facing you. His long, jean-clad legs were stretched out in front of where he was sitting against the headboard. You were laying on your side, head resting on your arm and angled down toward the TV. You shifted your gaze to him, “shoot.”

“In your Djinn dream last week, why was Sam moving closer to us?” You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. Your silence was making Dean uneasy, so he rushed to fill it, “I mean we were far from them, yes?” You let out a hum of agreement. “So, why did both of us live so far away from them that they had to move?” You got the feeling that Dean was piecing this together as he said it out-loud. “We lived together?” He asked, giving you his full attention now. Your voice was quiet when you answered, “I guess.”

Dean moved from his position, opting to sit on the edge of the bed closest to you. “What else happened?” You locked eyes from him from where you were laying, noticing a shift in the way he talked. There was more edge to his voice. “What?” you asked, shifting your position as well, sitting on the edge of your bed, directly across from him. “I know that we met in a different situation and that we were on some road trip, but what else happened? Why did we live together?” If your face was warm when he asked about how you’d met, then your face was on fire now. You hoped he couldn't sense how flustered you were getting.

“Hey,” he leaned forward, reaching an arm across to rest on your thigh, “no need to get shy on me, now. We all have our things,” He assured, assuming it was something embarrassing you were worried about. It was definitely embarrassing, but not in the way that you look back at the situation in five years and laugh, but in the way that your life may be forever changed once you’ve said it out loud. Your life may be forever changed for the worst, if you have to listen to him say that that was a crazy Djinn dream and something like that would never happen between you two.

Dean’s eyes remained on you, with an expectant look on his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, trying to find a way to explain what happened without him realizing that you were totally, deeply, grossly in love with him.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled, moving to sit next to you, instead of across from you. The energy in the room continued to get tenser, as he got closer, invading your personal space. For the second time that night, his face was next to yours and his lips were moving by your ear. “We were close in your fantasy?” He asked, voice low and husky. You nodded, afraid that your voice would give too much away. “Closer than we are right now?”

You weren’t sure if he was talking on an emotional level, or a proximal one. Sure, the answer to both questions was yes, but you didn’t want to tell him that. He was your boyfriend, and, at multiple points in your fantasy world, you two were touching. It was in rather innocent ways, but you were touching nonetheless. You let out a sigh, before nodding again. Due to him being so close, you couldn’t see the smirk that spread across Dean’s face at your confession.

“What? We were married? Lived together in some rancher in the middle of New Mexico?” He switched back to his teasing mode. “You were my boyfriend,” you corrected, without realizing what you were confessing to. Dean’s eyes widened briefly, “So, let me get this right,” he backed away from you, just a little bit. You were still disappointed to lose the warmth his body heat was providing. “In your fantasy world, a world where you could’ve wished for anything you wanted, I was your boyfriend?” Fuck your face being on fire, it was melting into the deepest pit of Hell, where there was nothing but torches and conflagrations. “Yes, Dean,” you huffed, completely moving yourself away from him and closer to your headboard, “Now stop being mean about it and go back to your stupid soap opera.”

Dean let out a gentle ‘tsk’, moving his body closer to yours, as if he was chasing the feeling you were giving him. “Sweetheart, I’m not being mean. I’m just making sure you want this as much as I do.” With that, Dean’s lips were on yours. He swallowed the gasp you let out before you relaxed into his touch. Your hands moved into the short length of his hair, holding him as close as physically possible. “Fuck,” Dean breathed as he pulled away from you. His hands move to rub along the top of your thighs. “You okay?”

You nodded, eagerly. He let out a low chuckle, before diving back into pressing his lip against yours. Dean’s body guided your own, getting you to lay down so that he could hover over you. He supported his weight with his right hand, allowing his left to slide down your side. His lips were making you dizzy as he kissed down the side of your neck. When he reached a particularly sensitive spot, you let out a gentle moan. Dean stopped for just a second to bask in the sound, before returning to the spot with a deep suck. His tongue slid over the skin to soothe the burn once he felt you were sufficiently marked to his liking.

Dean continued this pattern, searching your body for spots that made moans fall from your lips and your body writhe against his. He was painfully hard from enjoying the friction your thigh was creating him for him, but he was enjoying your reactions too much to stop. Dean was always one to enjoy the delicious things in life.

So, it was no surprise that he kissed down your body, helping you remove every article of clothing that got in his way, before he settled himself between your legs.

He started by rubbing his calloused hands along the inside of your thighs. He followed each slide of his each with a kiss, easing the burn from his rough hands on such a sensitive area. You were sure he could see the wet spot that formed on your panties, which were the last piece of clothing you were wearing. It was hard to ignore how he was still fully clothed when you were so bare. “Dean,” you whined with a harder tug of his hair. He let out a ‘hm’, as he left another mark on the inside of your left thigh. One only he would be able to see.

Your hands slid down from their place in his hair to pull on his collar, signaling to him that you wanted it off. “Want something, sweetheart?” He asked. If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would’ve kicked that stupid grin off of his face. You shifted your gaze down to where he was waiting for you to say something. The sight of him between your legs was heavenly, and if you wanted him earlier, you needed him now. You pulled on his shirt again, with a breathy, drawn out, “Dean.” He chuckled again, before pushing himself onto his knees to pull off his shirt. He did not give you the kindness off removing anything else.

He did finally, finally, touch your soaked panties. Dean’s fingers were gentle as he slid them through your clothed slit. “God, baby,” He almost sounded as whiny as you did, “I did this all to you?” Dean’s cocked twitched in his jeans when answered with a sickly sweet, “Yes, De.”

“Guess I’ll have to do something to clean it up for ya, huh?” You didn’t have the chance to answer before he moved his fingers to circle around your clit, drawing a deep moan out of you. Your legs were starting to feel like jello as you began to go dumb from your arousal. All your mind, body, and soul could focus on at the moment was Dean Winchester. Your Dean Winchester. Your real Dean Winchester.

Dean stayed there for a while, sitting between your legs, tracing painfully slow circles on your clit. He ignored all of your attempts to get him to do something more. It was as if he didn’t hear your moans and whines, or feel the way your hands were reaching for his wrist to get him to stop, or do more, you weren’t exactly sure. He was driving you crazy, giving you enough to keep your mind focused on him, but not enough to push you any closer to the mind shattering orgasm you were chasing. You knew he could give it to, why was he being so mean?

After what could’ve been either a few minutes or a few hours, your brain was too mushy to know the difference, Dean decided to show a little mercy on you. “You’re so pretty,” he complimented, adjusting his position so he could pull your underwear down your legs. He pressed a sweet kiss above your knee as he pulled the drenched fabric over them. “I’m really enjoying this,” he informed you, as if you couldn’t tell from the tent in his pants and the way he was dragging this out. He flicked his gaze to you, waiting for a response. “Me too, Dean,” you assured him.

You saw the shade of pink on his cheeks slightly darken. He looked so good, so pretty, like this. There were beads of sweat along his forehead, his pupils were blown, and his cheeks, his fucking cheeks, were the most beautiful shade of pink you’d ever seen. You wanted nothing more than to take a picture, capture this moment, and have it to look back on whenever you wanted.

“I’m gonna make you feel good now, yeah?” He said as his fingers started to move again, finally giving the pressure you’d been craving.

Wanton moans fell from your lips as he inserted two fingers into your dripping cunt. “Oh,” you gasped, pleasantly full from his fingers. His rhythm was perfect as he tried out a few different angles before he found the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. It only took a few strokes from him to pull your orgasm from you. Dean knew you were cumming before you moaned, “Cumming, Dean, I’m cumming,” from the way your muscles spasmed around his fingers. God, he couldn’t wait to feel you cum on his cock.

Dean worked you through your orgasm, not stopping his movements until you were breathing heavily and holding his wrist in place by pressing your thighs together. “Doing okay?” He checked in after you let him go. You didn’t have the capacity to form words, or even coherent thoughts yet, so you simply nodded.

Dean stayed in his spot between your legs, massaging the fat of your thighs and rubbing his hands along your shins. You truly had never felt more relaxed than you were currently feeling in this moment. Everything, for once, was perfect, and there was no need for a monster to kidnap you and place you in a fantasy world while he feeds on you to feel like this. All you needed was Dean. All you’ve ever needed was Dean. All you will ever need is Dean.

“Hey, Dean,” you mumbled into the comfortable silence. He didn’t reply, but raised his eyebrows at you. You shot him a sweet smile, not feeling the need to explain what you were thinking. He matched it, sending you a gorgeous grin.

You gave yourself just a few more moments to recover before beckoning him to come closer. He quickly obliged, pressing his lips to yours again. There was no rush this time. You both knew you had all of the time in the world to enjoy each other from here on out.

You slid your hands down Dean’s chest, surprised at how soft his skin was. Your hands tugged on the button of his jeans, undoing them for him. There were no words spoken between you two as you helped him out of the remainder of his clothes. He reassumed his spot hovering above you, pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and then gently slid himself into you. You let out matching moans as he bottomed out, filling you up perfectly. Dean waited to move, allowing himself to bask in your warmth for a little bit.

His first few thrusts were gentle. They matched his demeanor as he reached up above where your head laid on the pillow to hold your hand. Dean held eye contact as he began to pick up his pace. He knew he wouldn’t last long. Not when he’d been dreaming of this moment for so long.

“Feels good, Dean,” you babbled, exhausted and content. He responded with a low groan, burying his head into the crook of your neck. His right hand moved to your thigh, hiking it up around his waist as he began to pick up his pace.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he hit a spot deep in your cervix, “fuck, baby.” He repeated. If you were cock-dumb, he was definitely pussy-drunk. Dean was lost in the feeling of you. His grip on your hand tighten as he started to pound into you. The hand that wasn’t interlocked with his moved to his back, leaving scratches that would burn the next time he took a shower.

“So fucking good,” Dean mumbled in your ear. His hips started to jerk as pressure began to build up in his abdomen. There was a fire growing in his lower stomach that would erupt into a brain numbing orgasm. He didn’t think twice as he painted the inside of your walls white, filling you to the brim with his seed.

Dean didn’t stop, he was riding out his own high, just as he had done for you and yours.

“God, baby,” he sighed out once he was done, collapsing on top of you. You welcomed the weight, finding comfort in his body. “Why did we wait so long to do that?” Dean mumbled in your ear. You giggled in response, totally enamored with this new side of him.

You tried to ignore how empty you felt when Dean finally pulled himself out of you. There was a conversation that needed to be had now, but you weren’t sure how to start it. The tension in the room could be felt again, but it was different. It was uncomfortable as you both tried to navigate whatever this was now.

Dean stood from the bed, grabbing two towels off of where they were thrown over the chair, “C’mon, let’s shower and get’cha cleaned up.” You nodded, following in his footsteps.

Dean turned on the water and stepped into the shower as you peed. Once you were done, you joined him. Despite all of things you two had done, this was the most vulnerable you’d felt all night.

“We gotta talk about it, ya know,” Dean started as he turned away from you to get soap on a rag. He rubbed it between his hands to suds it up before bringing it to your shoulder. He washed the tension away from your neck, gently traced the rag over your breasts, massaged the soap into your thighs, and got you clean. He was so gentle, so relaxed.

“I know,” you sighed, scared for what would come out of it. “So you’d want me to? To, uh, be your boyfriend or whatever?” He asked as he stood to his full height after washing your calves. “I mean, yeah, if you’d want to be.” You shrugged, trying not to let him see how hard your heart was beating in your chest.

His eyes lingered on yours as a few beats of silence passed between you two.

“Hey,” he murmured as he called your name, “Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You let out a giggle at his chivalry, eagerly nodding. Dean’s smile matched yours as he pulled you into his chest. He held you tightly, squeezing you into him. You were pretty sure that this shower was nothing but a waste of water, as you two would find yourselves wrapped in each other between the sheets, again, before the night was over.

[alotofpockets]

You are loved | Aitana Bonmati x Barca!Reader

5k celebration prompt: “You really don’t realize just how many people love you, do you?"

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.5k

-----

You’ve always been the person who looks after everyone. The one checking in after a rough match, the one offering a shoulder to cry on, the one taking care of an injured teammate. You were always there to make sure that your friends and teammates had someone in their corner. 

It’s something you’ve always done. Ever since you were a kid, you've been the person to be in everyone's corner. It has always been something that makes you feel useful.

But now, you are the one sidelined with an injury, and it turns out that you are a horrible patient. 

You had pushed everyone’s offers of help away. Always saying you’re fine, when you’re actually in pain. Saying you don’t need help, and that you can do it on your own. When in reality you were struggling, but just didn’t want to feel like a burden.

After being pushed away one too many times, most of your teammates gave you the space you were clearly asking for. There was one person who didn’t back off though, no matter how hard you pushed her away, Aitana stayed.

Aitana had been your best friend since you were fourteen years old. Ever since the first day you both joined the Barca Youth team. She didn’t care that you kept pushing her away, she wasn’t leaving you to deal with it on your own.

She continued to pick you up for your physio appointments even when you said you could get a taxi or uber. “Nonsense.” she had said and showed up at your door again each time again.

Aitana knew you. She knew how stubborn you were, and she could see right through you When you said you were fine, she could tell by your eyes that it was a lie. The curses under your breath, that you thought went unnoticed, when the pain flared up, she noticed.

She would wait at the training centre for your appointments to be done even when she would be done earlier. The first time you realised the rest of your teammates had already headed home, you had told her that she didn’t have to wait for you. That you knew she had better things to do, but again she told you she wasn’t going anywhere.

On random nights, she would show up at your door, sometimes with takeout, other times with fresh ingredients in hand. She’d claim she needed a break from everything, that cooking helped clear her mind, or that she needed a movie with some good take out, but the truth was, she just wanted to make sure you ate.

She had seen the inside of your fridge one afternoon and realized there wasn’t enough to even make a proper meal. That sight had stuck with her.

But she knew you too well, your stubbornness would decline any sign of help, like you had been showing over and over again. So, she made it seem like she was the one who needed it. Because if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that no matter how bad you felt, you’d never turn away someone in need.

Maybe it wasn’t right to lie to you, but if it meant you ate, she’d do it every single time.

After a night of twisting and turning, because of the constant pain in your knee, you reluctantly opened the door when Aitana arrived. You tried to put on a smile, but Aitana once again could see right through it. 

The drive to the training grounds was quiet. You stared out of the window and let the world around you pass by. Aitana parked closer to the door than she usually did, claiming she needed to pick something heavy up after her own training, when in fact she just wanted to make sure you didn’t have to walk as far.

Inside you went your separate ways, after wishing each other a good training. Your training session with the physio was grueling. They noticed how much pain you were in and you got the news you had been dreading.

Your session was done earlier than Aitana’s, so when she was done, she went to go look for you. Usually you were just hanging out in the common room, sitting at one of the tables outside, but she couldn’t find you at either place.

She went into the training hall and the gym to see if maybe your session had stretched out, but there she also had no luck. Aitana started to get slightly worried when you also didn’t answer her call, but she kept looking.

Then finally when she reached the pitch, she saw you sitting against the goalpost. The closer she got, the more worried she got. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you stared off into the distance.

Without saying a word, she sat down next to you, close enough that your shoulders were touching. She could tell that you were feeling a lot of emotions, and that you were still processing them, so she just wanted to be there with you.

For a while the only sounds that were heard were your sobs and her steady breath. Then between sobs, you softly said, “I’ve got to go back in for scans tomorrow.” 

Aitana’s heart broke a little after hearing that. She knew how hard this injury had been for you, and a setback definitely wasn’t going to make it any easier on you. 

“I don’t know what I did, but somehow I fucked my knee up more.” Aitana let out a slow breath, trying to find the right words. She knew you didn’t want pity, so she did what she always did. She told you the truth.

“You didn’t fuck up your knee more. Injuries suck and setbacks happen, but it is not your fault. Sometimes knee injuries are just tricky.” You shook your head, not believing her.

“I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve-” Before you could go on, Aitana interrupted you. “Should’ve what? Magically healed yourself? You’re not a superhero, even if you like trying to act like one.” She said with a nudge to your shoulder.

You chuckle lightly, before turning serious again. “It just feels like my body is failing me and I can’t do anything right. I want to move forwards, working towards getting back on the pitch, not taking steps backwards.”

Aitana sat up a bit so she could look you in the eyes. “I know that you want to get back out there, but your body isn’t there yet. You need to give it time to heal, that’s the only way you’ll be able to come back stronger. I know you’re used to being the one taking care of everyone else, but right now you need to take care of yourself.” She placed her hand on your arm. “You don’t have to do it all on your own, we are all here for you. You need to let us in and let us help you.”

You feel the tears prick in your eyes again. “But I don’t want to be a burden.”

Her expression turns even more serious than before. “You really don’t realize just how many people love you, do you? You are never a burden. Your family, friends, the team, me, we all love you and just want to be there for you. You can’t do this all on your own, no matter how hard you want to do it all on your own. You need your people to get through tough times."

“I know you’re right, but it’s hard.” She let her hand trail down to your hand and intertwined your fingers. “I’ve been by your side since we were fourteen, I am going to stick by your side until we’re old and no longer playing football. So, please start by letting me in more, and then step by step it will get easier to let the other’s in.” 

You nodded, “Alright.” Aitana smiled, a small step in the right direction. “Do you want to keep sitting here, or go home?” She asked.

“Can we stay here for a bit longer?” You answered, wiping away the tears that were still sticking to your face. “Of course.”

She moved back to sit beside you again, but you didn’t let go of her hand. It was like holding her hand was the first step of letting her in. You knew you needed her, needed the rest of the team.

Aitana squeezed your hand gently, a silent reminder that she wasn’t going anywhere. The two of you sat leaned against the goalpost in a comfortable silence as you watched the sunset over the pitch. The place where you belonged. The place where you were destined to get back to.

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[ur-sick-and-married]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU • PAIGE BUECKERS

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?

🎵: Do I Wanna Know? covered by Hozier

TW: suggestive, angst, reader is an alcoholic, usage of Y/N, mentions of nausea and vomiting

SUMMARY: you get drunk to avoid running back to your ex…but tonight it brought you right to her.

A/N: I went to a UConn game the other day!

How many times were you going to find yourself in this situation? You were strolling around the crowded house, searching for anyone that would have you. You were drunk again, like you were most nights.

You did this a lot now; get wasted and hookup with strangers. The alcohol allowed you to loosen up, finally find some peace, and the hookups kept you feeling useful and pleasured.

The two of those things also kept you from groveling at the knees of UConn’s best female guard.

You and Paige had been in a serious relationship. You loved that woman. She was the best thing that ever happened to you.

But you’d fucked up. Your love for booze had scared her off. She got sick of attending parties every weekend, sick of having to take away the bottle, sick of dragging you from parties, sick of pushing you off at home when your drunk self tried to start something, sick of nursing your nasty hangovers. She had told you to chill, promised you movie nights and dates instead of parties.

You never listened, so eventually she sat you down and, with a lot of difficulty, ended things. It had become too much for her. She needed to focus on school and basketball. It was her last year in college, after all. She wanted to make it count.

Without Paige, your need for alcohol only grew, which is how you found yourself in the middle of a frat party. Things had been usual, until someone screamed and everyone started fleeing. You knew what this meant; cops. You started running, too. If the police got you, you were screwed. Chugging drink after drink was fun, until the idea of getting caught came up.

You stumbled through the woods behind the house. This was where people typically ran, but you were alone. Maybe you were going the wrong way? You could see lights up ahead, so you went towards those. If there was civilization, you could find your way home. Once you made it through the trees, you found yourself in a campus that you quickly recognized…UConn.

Well, you thought, at least you knew your way around.

You started wandering, your phone in hand, waiting until you had good enough WiFi to get an Uber.

When you first heard the sound, you thought you were imagining it. Surely it was just the sound you associated with the school.

Nope…when the small, outdoor court came into view, you realized there was someone dribbling a basketball.

That someone was Paige Bueckers.

What were the chances?! You needed to go, before she saw you. You turned around fast, and tripped over your own feet. Your body hit the grass with a small “oof” sound escaping your lips.

“Y/N?!” Paige called when she saw you.

She was at your side within a second, immediately trying to get you up.

“Hi, Paige…” You said awkwardly, trying not to slur.

“The hell are you doing here?” She asked as she pulled you to your feet easily.

“I was…in town.” You shrugged.

She was gonna say something else, when her nose wrinkled. “Jesus…you smell like beer.”

It clicked in her brain just then. You opened your mouth to lie again, but all that came out was a shaky, alcohol scented breath.

“Ar you drunk?” She asked quietly.

“Just…a little bit.” You mumbled.

“Bullshit!” She exclaimed abruptly. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?!”

“I didn’t mean to be!” You yelped.

“Sure.” She scoffed. “You accidentally took a few shots? Chugged some beer? Drank some soda that you didn’t know had vodka in it?!”

You huffed, not knowing what to say. She was always right when it came to this.

“I just need to get home…” You whispered shakily.

“Where were you?” She whispered back.

“Party.”

“Hm. It’s early for you to leave a party.”

“Cops.”

An awkward silence passed. She watched you fight intoxicated tears.

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” She sighed.

“Could you…get me a ride?” You said. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Where are you going? Home?” She asked.

You nodded.

“What if you go out again, huh? The bar? The club?”

“I’m super tired, Paige.” You shook your head. “I’m not going out.”

“You think I’m gonna believe you?” She scoffed. “You’ve pulled that shit before.”

“Then what are you gonna do?” You said, frustrated.

She sighed again, dragging a hand down her face.

“You’ll stay with me.” She announced. “Just for tonight.”

You froze. Really? Your ex would be the one taking you home?

“Come on.” She said, hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s go. It’s getting cold.”

She led you back to her apartment. You were a bit unsteady, starting to feel the negative effects of the alcohol.

“Don’t you have roommates?” You asked once you were inside her building.

“They don’t mind.” She waved that off. “Just be quiet and they won’t care.”

“We shouldn’t do this…” You said.

Usually when you got drunk, you were all over her, insisting she go home with you.

You knew better by now.

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige said softly. “I just…I can’t let you go home alone right now.”

The both of you went up to her dorm. She pulled out her keys and opened the door, inviting you in. When you struggled to slip your shoes off, feeling unsteady, she knelt down to get them off for you.

“You feeling sick?” She whispered.

“Uh…not really.” You replied, despite that fact that your head was spinning.

Paige saw right through the lie.

“Go in my room.” She told you. “I’ll be right there.”

You quietly went to her bedroom, remembering where it was, of course. You perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed, waiting.

Paige came in a few minutes later, after convincing her roommates they they wouldn’t be hearing any grotesque noises. She carried a small trash bag and a glass of water.

“Drink up.” She instructed, giving you the cup. She then placed the bag in your lap. “And if you have to puke, do it in there.”

“Thanks.” You muttered.

She knelt down in front of you, looking at you with those insanely blue eyes. “C’mon…drink.”

You took a few sips of the water. You knew she was being helpful, but the water kind of made you want to throw up.

“Just hold onto that bag.” Paige said when she noticed your facial expression.

She stood up, and walked over to her closet. After digging around for a moment, she came back with a t-shirt and comfy shorts. The shirt looked so familiar…you suddenly realized why.

You would always steal her clothes when you were a couple. She often found her hoodies in your bedroom, her sweatpants (which were actually ginormous on you because she was so tall), mixed with your laundry. You rarely hid it well. Sometimes you’d just show up at her place in her clothes.

Your favorite thing to steal was one of her March Madness shirts. It was very comfy, and a reminder of how amazing Paige and her team were. So when she gave you the shirt that drunken night? You quickly burst into tears.

“What? What’s wrong?” Paige asked worriedly.

“You…you remembered.” You sniffled.

She didn’t know what to say. She felt sort of caught. She muttered a quick “Of course I did” and took the water from you.

Her bedroom was dark, only slightly lit by the moon shining through the window, so she didn’t see much when she helped you out of your party clothes. Not like she’d never seen you naked. Once you were in the comfortable clothes, she pulled the blankets on her bed back, allowing you to slip in.

“I’m gonna stop, Paige.” You whispered, still crying as she tucked you in. “I’m gonna stop drinking.”

She sighed. She’d heard you say this before, but never so seriously.

“Good.” She said. “You’re gonna kill yourself at this point.”

“I know…” You whimpered. “I don’t want to die…”

You were quick to put your head in your hands so she wouldn’t see you cry even more. She bit her lip at this. She was angry at you, for continuing to abuse alcohol, but…she hated that she was. She just wanted to comfort you. She never liked seeing you cry.

“Let’s just try to sleep, alright?” She said softly, climbing over you to lie down.

She got in the bed, keeping a safe distance. Neither of you were very comfortable. You were too tense. You hadn’t been in bed together in ages. It would’ve been nice if you weren’t so awkward.

You really tried to pull yourself together. You wiped your eyes, took deep breaths, focused on good thoughts. But your drunken tears kept coming.

Suddenly, Paige was shifting, and she was getting closer. She laid on her side, facing you. Then you felt her hand carding through your hair, gently scratching your scalp.

“What’re you doing…?” You whispered.

“When I used to do this, you’d be out cold within minutes.” She whispered back.

She kept doing the soothing motion. Your eyes were getting heavy, like she’d hoped.

“I’m really gonna stop.” You muttered.

“I know…just sleep.” She murmured.

“I miss you.” You whispered. In your half asleep, intoxicated state, you didn’t think twice about saying that.

She swallowed hard, her hand faltering for only a second. “I told you to go to sleep.”

“I just wanted you to know.” You answered.

“I know.” She repeated, smiling a little at the small amount of sass in your voice. “You don’t have to miss me, though. I’m right here.”

Exhaustion was finally getting to you, so you were falling into a deep sleep.

“I’ll be right here.” She whispered a few seconds before you fully sank into unconsciousness. “We’ll figure this out…we always do."

[hellsslibrary]

Crazy idea but Omega Shuto Sendou and breeding kink. (Idk if you do heats but I would like to request that too.)

P.s. LUVVVVV your blue lock posts, especially that sae and skirt one❤️❤️❤️

Life is short so why the hell are you wasting it holding back when I'm here like this? (My husband's quotes as titles day 2)

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : I'll be brutally honest, he's so 100% straight in my eyes... This was really hard to write, I was picturing him getting fucked by a woman lol. 🌻 I can't picture him with a man (unless it not works out with his actresses, which is probably the case).

!!Warnings: top!male!reader (can be woman tho, it was in my mind), bottom!shuto, A/B/O, heat cycle, mention of impregnation, cumming inside, Sendou in your shirt, 'whore' one time, round number two million three hundred and five thousand four hundred and twenty seven (Sendou is REALLY insatiable here), mention of scratches on your back/lower back/butt, praise in both directions, Sendou is a bit of a tsundere(?), the reader suffers as I do while writing this LMAO.

"Come on, don't sto-stop, co-come on," escaped his lips for the umpteenth time that evening, while he was lying on his side with his leg raised, and you continued your thrusts inside him.

What time do you fuck? Who knows. How many times have you cum inside? God only knows. How long will it last? So long that after death you will probably be stewing in all the cauldrons of Hell for this lustfulness.

No, seriously, how much longer will it take for this guy to be satisfied? He looks like he's not going to stop for another couple of hours. The way his glass eyes stared at the wall in mute, well, not quite, pleasure was even funny.

You push his raised thigh to the side, making the bed creak under his shifted weight, and he scowls at you, though moans escape his lips, as if in another second you will fuck his whole being out of him.

"You're so fucking hungry... And still so tight," you grumble almost displeased, throwing both of his legs over your shoulder, penetrating his hole, from which mixtures of his slick and your cum were dripping, causing him to arch his back with a trembling moan.

"You're so big inside... I nee-need to make sure that the fe-fertilization has taken pl-place, stupid," his hand falls on his face, covering his eyes, which only makes you exhale in defeat.

Your body bends closer, Sendou's body bends almost in half, although he doesn't seem against the idea, just lowering his hand from his face, revealing the tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Sensitive. Greedy. Whore."

You emphasize your every word with a thrust into him, making sure that you touch everything you need, not being surprised when he comes again, covering your shirt with his fluids again.

His hands grab onto your bare back as you nuzzle into his neck, starting to cover the white skin with hickeys until he can only whimper. His legs were shaking on your shoulders like an aspen leaf, his knees were pressed against his chest making his breathing even harder.

"It's so, fuck, good... the-there... Hi-hit it again... Hard-harder!" he mumbles unintelligibly because of the amount of saliva in his mouth, and you just smile against his neck, biting his collarbone, making him cry out, and pulling away.

"Whatever you say," you shrug, wishing you could just get him to pass out and continue after at least a couple of hours, considering how your hips are already hurting.

The bed immediately started hitting the wall when your hands lift his hips a little higher. And his head rises from the pillows in a loud, ragged moan, pulling another orgasm out of him.

You curse when he squeezes you as if in a vice, which makes you come too, filling him. And when you don't hear the reaction, you look up, and fuck, you just thank all living things when you see that he's asleep.

Your cock slips out of him, reflexively thrusting his cum back inside him, which makes him twitch a little and you cover him with a blanket, looking at the calendar... And then a whimper escapes your lips when you see that this is only the first day of estrus, and you just lean back on the bed, wiping the tears from his face.

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Baby you are the baddest

Baby you are the baddest, baby you are the baddest girl

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆 u 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆? 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

Characters - nanami kento , gojo Satoru and Suguru geto

Warning ⚠️ : contains suggestive smut, sexual content!

Gojo Satoru

Jujutsu Tech was hosting a huge party for all the students and teachers, and as one of the teachers, you were excited at least, you tried to be. You had asked Gojo to accompany you, but he refused, saying he was the organizer and had things to handle. So, you arrived alone.

You were wearing

Beautiful Right? Right??

But the moment you stepped in, something felt off. The room was filled with stunning people your coworkers looking absolutely amazing, dressed to impress. You knew you were beautiful, you reminded yourself over and over, but tonight… you just weren’t feeling it.

Then you saw her.

Gojo’s ex.

She was wearing blue too, but hers was a deeper, richer shade. Her dress was shorter, hugging her figure in all the right places. She looked effortlessly stunning, drawing attention from every corner of the room. Compliments flooded her way, and with each one, your confidence sank a little more.

Before you could spiral any further, a loud voice echoed through the room.

"ATTENTION!"

Gojo.

He cleared his throat, a smug grin already forming. Then, as expected, he started the program with one of his signature flirty lines something smooth, playful, the kind of thing he always did. Normally, you’d just roll your eyes, maybe even laugh.

But tonight?

Tonight, it just made you feel worse.

Everyone clapped, the room filled with cheers and applause. Lost in your thoughts, you barely reacted until Utahime lightly smacked your arm, snapping you out of it.

“Come on, at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” she muttered.

You let out an awkward snort, forcing a small laugh as you clapped along with the crowd. But no matter how much you tried to play along, that sinking feeling in your chest just wouldn’t go away.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke, but the moment they landed on you his breath hitched.

For a second, his mind went completely blank.

Why the hell were you looking like that in front of them? Dressed so beautifully, so effortlessly stunning, yet standing there with an unsure look on your face? It made his chest tighten in ways he didn’t expect.

And the worst part? He was the one organizing this damn event meaning he couldn’t just walk over to you, couldn’t pull you aside, couldn’t do a damn thing about the way you were making his head spin.

Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating.

With every passing second, the insecurity crept in deeper. No matter how much you tried to shake it off, the feeling only got worse.

Then, between the chatters and musics, you heard a voice that made your stomach drop.

"Satoru was definitely checking me out. He still thinks about me. Maybe I can get him back." His ex..

Absolutely not. What the fuck?

"Hell nah, he has a girlfriend," her friend scoffed.

But she just waved it off, laughing dramatically before saying something that hit you like a punch to the gut.

"That girl? Yeah, she looks good, but be real would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?"

Her friend chuckled, brushing it off like it was nothing. But you?

You stood there, frozen.

And for the first time tonight, a terrible thought crossed your mind.

Maybe… just maybe… she was right.

You couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not anymore.

Your chest felt tight, your hands clenched at your sides as those words replayed in your head over and over again. Would you pick a cute girl with a basic look or someone hotter?

Maybe… maybe she was right. Maybe Satoru deserved someone better. Someone who could match his energy, his confidence someone who wouldn’t feel small next to him.

Your vision blurred slightly as you turned on your heel.

Hell nah, you were not staying here any longer.

Maybe you'd even

No. The thought hurt too much to finish.

But a small, painful voice in your head whispered anyway.

Maybe you should break up with him.

Gojo was stress-eating sweets.

He had been trying really trying to get you off his mind, but it wasn’t working. Every time he glanced in your direction, he felt that same frustration bubbling up again. Why the hell did you have to look so good tonight? And why did you look so sad?

He hadn’t even noticed his ex in the crowd. Didn’t care, didn’t want to care. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t exist.

He took a deep breath, ready to continue his speech, when something caught his eye you.

You were leaving.

His heart lurched. And were you… wiping tears?

His stomach twisted, but on the outside, he kept his usual grin. Flashing a charming smile to the crowd, he smoothly passed the mic to Geto without missing a beat.

Then, without hesitation, he followed you.

You walked outside, tears streaming down your face as you tried to steady your breathing. Your chest ached, and no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts away, they just wouldn’t leave.

Before you could take another step, you heard hurried footsteps behind you.

“Oi—”

Gojo caught up to you in an instant, his usual carefree presence feeling different this time. He let out an awkward laugh, but it wasn’t his usual teasing one. No, this one was tense forced. Because if someone had done this to you, if someone had hurt you enough to make you cry, he would fucking hollow them without hesitation.

This was the first time he had ever seen you like this.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt unsure.

His voice wavered slightly as he reached for you, hesitating before speaking.

“B-baby… who got you crying like that? Tell me, what’s happening?” He tried to mask the worry in his voice, tried to keep up his usual playful charm, but it was useless his concern for you was far too obvious.

You swallowed hard, looking up at him, your heart breaking before the words even left your mouth.

“Gojo… let’s put an end to this.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

His mind short-circuited.

What in the world did you just say?

He looked at you like he had just seen a ghost.

For a moment, he didn’t move just stood there, staring at you, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed your hand, gripping it tightly like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“It’s not time to joke, babe.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it something desperate, something scared.

But you only shook your head.

“I’m not kidding, Satoru.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “I looked at myself… and then at your ex… and I realized no, not realized, because it’s the truth you deserve someone better than me. Someone more attractive, someone at your level. After all… you’re the strongest sorcerer.”

You expected him to laugh it off, to tell you you were being ridiculous. But the way his jaw clenched, the way his grip on your hand tightened just a little more

He wasn’t laughing.

He was mad.

Not the kind of playful, teasing irritation he usually had no. This was different.

It wasn’t just anger. It was disappointment. Not at you, but at the fact that you his girl were standing here, crying, actually believing you weren’t enough for him.

His eyes darkened for a split second, jaw tightening as if he was holding something back. But then, just as quickly, he dismissed it, forcing a smile onto his face.

And if you were being honest… that smile scared you a little.

Before you could say anything, he moved.

Swift, effortless he scooped you up into his arms without warning, ignoring your startled gasp.

“Satoru what the hell?”

“Shh, sweetheart.” His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone that made your breath hitch.

Without another word, he carried you straight to the washroom, his grip firm, his expression unreadable.

He gently pulled you inside the bathroom and started to make out with you.

The moment he locked the door behind you, there were no words.

No hesitation.

Just him grabbing you, kissing you, devouring you.

It was rough, desperate, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that left you breathless. First, you had shown up looking so damn beautiful, completely stealing his focus. And then, you had the audacity to say you wanted to break up because you weren’t enough for him?

Enough for him?

Fucking enough for him?

You were everything to him. The most perfect, precious woman in the world. He saw perfection in every flaw you thought you had, and the fact that you couldn’t see it? The fact that you even doubted it?

It pissed him off.

His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with something unreadable, something intense, before he let out a sharp breath and snorted a quiet laugh.

Then he kissed you again.

Again.

And again.

“Ooo, look at this woman,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something dark, something possessive. His hands trailed down, fingertips skimming over your thighs inner thighs, to be precise.

Your breath hitched.

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” Your voice wavered as you tried to gather your thoughts. “What if people-”

“They’re too busy, babe,” he cut in smoothly, lips brushing against your jaw as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles.

“But what if they catch us…” you whispered, your pulse racing. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and see this.

A smirk curled against your skin.

“I hope nobody catches us,” he hummed, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

Then, he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“But…” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, "I kinda hope they catch us"

You gasped, hands gripping onto his shoulders when his fingers ghosted over the thin fabric covering your heat.

“You wore blue for me, no?” His tone was teasing, but the satisfaction in his voice was undeniable.

It was true. You had wanted to look good tonight. But more than that, you knew blue was his favorite color.

And yet, as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along your waistbandyou found yourself lowering your gaze , feeling shy.

"You are so gorgeous," he hummed against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, pressing slow, lingering kisses.

"Baby, you’re the baddest girl… nobody else matters. Not anyone. Only you."

His voice was low, dripping with conviction, and the way he said it like it was the most obvious fact in the world made your head spin.

It was almost like he was gaslighting you into believing you were the most beautiful woman to ever exist.

And fuck it was working.

He gently pushed your dress up to your waist, exposing your soft skin to the cool air. His touch was slow, deliberate like he was savoring every moment, every reaction.

Then, with the same maddening patience, he hooked his fingers around your panties and slid them down, removing them effortlessly.

But instead of tossing them aside, he smirked and casually slipped them into his pocket.

You gasped, your breath hitching as you instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth.

His smile only grew.

"Oh?" he mused, tilting his head, eyes dark with amusement. "Shy now, baby?"

You said nothing your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Each one sent a shiver down your spine, his lips warm, teasing, possessive.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, gripping onto him as he moved lower, his kisses trailing along your collarbone.

Then, without breaking contact, you heard the soft clink of metal.

Your eyes flickered down just in time to see him unfastening his belt, the sound making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Satoru smirked against your skin.

"Still think I don’t want you, baby?" he murmured his voice dripping with amusement as he pulled his belt smoothly.

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face as he slowly slid the belt from its loops, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud. His fingers moved next, unbuttoning his pants with agonizing slowness like he was giving you a chance to stop him, to protest, to run.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Not when his lips returned to your neck, kissing, biting, claiming you.

His hands roamed over your bare thighs, squeezing, kneading his touch firm yet teasing, possessive yet gentle. He was so big, his presence alone swallowing you whole.

"Still quiet?" he murmured, voice laced with amusement as his fingers traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. "Not gonna fight me on this?"

Your breath hitched when his fingers slipped higher, parting your thighs with ease.

"Satoru—"

"Shh, sweetheart." His thumb brushed against your clit, barely applying pressure, yet it was enough to send a shiver through you.

Your legs instinctively tried to close, but his grip was firm.

"Uh-uh," he tutted, his other hand gripping your hip. "You’re not running from me now."

You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into his arms as he kept up his slow, torturous pace, his touch deliberate, calculated meant to break you.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping lower, thick with something dark and dangerous.

"Let me show you just how fucking perfect you are."

And that’s how it was Satoru making love to you in the bathroom, his touch reverent yet desperate, like he needed to prove something to you.

You muffled your gasps and moans, biting your lip, your hands gripping onto him as he moved against you, within you, filling every inch of your senses.

His eyes never left yours, filled with something deeper than lust something raw, devoted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses wherever he could reach.

“So fucking perfect for me.”

He watched you intently, drinking in every expression, every quiet sound, and when you looked up at him desperate, vulnerable he swore under his breath, leaning in to kiss you again.

As if he could make you feel just how much he meant every word.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop touching you, didn’t stop kissing you, didn’t stop whispering words that made your chest ache and your stomach tighten.

"God, baby… you have no idea what you do to me." His voice was hoarse, filled with something dangerous, something utterly worshipful.

"You’re not just beautiful. You’re stunning. The kind of gorgeous that makes people stop and stare, but they don’t even know the half of it."

His hands slid over your body, tracing every curve, every inch of skin like he was memorizing you.

"It’s not just your looks, sweetheart." He pressed a lingering kiss to your collarbone, then another, his lips trailing up your neck. "You. It’s you. Your smile, your laugh, your stubborn little attitude that drives me crazy."

You whimpered when he thrust deeper, and he groaned at the way you clenched around him.

"You’re so fucking smart, too," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "The way you think, the way your mind works I swear, it’s the sexiest thing about you."

His fingers threaded through yours, pinning your hand above your head as he met your gaze.

"And don’t even get me started on how kind you are," he breathed, his tone almost pained. "You care so much about everything, about everyone but you don’t even realize how easy it is to love you."

Your heart clenched.

"You are everything to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "So don’t you ever say you’re not enough for me again."

Then, with a smirk, he tilted his head and added,

"If anything, I should be worried about keeping up with you, gorgeous."

After some moments, you heard the click of heels approaching, and before you could even react, the door swung open.

It was none other than his ex.

Her eyes widened in pure shock, and her makeup kit slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

But Satoru?

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he smirked, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for his discarded jacket and draped it over you, shielding your exposed skin.

Then, as if this was the most casual thing in the world, he turned to her and tilted his head.

“Oh?” His grin was lazy, smug. “Didn’t see you there.”

His grip on your hips tightened possessively before he let out a soft chuckle, his tone downright mocking.

“Hope we didn’t… interrupt anything.”

His ex ran away crying, heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she bolted out of the bathroom.

Satoru barely spared her a glance.

His attention was still on you.

His smirk softened into something more genuine as he gazed down at you, his hands gently running over your waist, your thighs, as if grounding you.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your flushed cheek. “So fucking pretty… too pretty to be worrying about anyone else.”

You tried to say something, but your head was spinning, your body still trembling from everything. Words felt impossible.

Satoru chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, his expression dripping with admiration.

“Lightheaded already? Cute,” he teased, but his tone was filled with nothing but warmth.

He kissed you again slow and deep before murmuring against your lips,

“Let’s get you cleaned up, gorgeous.”

Satoru cleaned you up with a level of care that made your heart ache his usual teasing replaced with soft kisses, gentle touches, and whispered praises.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he murmured, smoothing down your dress and fixing your hair, his blue eyes scanning your face like he was checking for any signs of discomfort.

You nodded, still too dazed to form actual words, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“God, I wrecked you, huh?” His smirk returned, but his touch remained soft, almost reverent.

Before you could even try to respond, he scooped you up into his arms effortlessly.

“Satoru—”

“Nope, not letting you walk,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple as he carried you out of the bathroom. “You look too fucked out to stand properly. And besides…” He grinned down at you. “Gotta make sure everyone sees you wrapped up in my jacket, looking all cute and satisfied.”

Your face burned as he carried you back into the party like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Every single head turned.

Gasps. Stares. Murmurs.

Your coworkers exchanged looks, some shocked, some amused.

And his ex?

Nowhere to be seen.

Satoru, on the other hand, was absolutely thriving. He wore his usual cocky grin, his chest puffed out like he had just won the grandest prize of all.

Which, in his eyes, he had.

Because you were his.

And he had just made damn sure everyone knew it.

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his jacket and the even warmer way he looked at you

As he carried you through the party, past all the stares and whispers, he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring against your skin

“You know… in this whole damn world, you’re the only one who can bring me to my knees.”

His voice was soft, but his words carried weight, filled with something undeniable.

Because Satoru Gojo the strongest, the untouchable, the man who stood above all

Would willingly fall for you, every single time.

All your insecurities melted away.

[lis-likes-fics]

Sweet Tooth

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Word Count: 1.7k words Prompt: Finger Sucking Warnings: NSFW, smut, finger sucking, magic use, oral (f!receiving), swearing, praise... A/N: Was gonna post this as a drabble but decided not to cuz I didn't like the format but anyway enjoy and thank you!

“Sweetheart!”

You glance back at her from the living room. Wanda's been in the kitchen all afternoon on some baking spree, and you've been helping taste test things all day. You've had her finger in your mouth maybe seven different times, and you're sure it's going to drive you crazy.

You stand, walking over to her as you chew on your gum. “Yeah?”

“Taste this for me. I wanna make butter pecan ice cream.” Her smile is endearing, white and gleaming as she looks up at you from her mixing bowl.

You smile, tossing your gum in the trash on the way to her. You wrap an arm around her waist as she dips her finger into the mixture, waiting for you to part your lips and let her in. You stare at her face as you suckle gently around her finger, her gaze locked on your mouth.

You hum, pulling off with a light smack and licking your lips. “It's good. I like that.”

She smiles gratefully, grabbing the new ice cream mixture she'd bought recently. “You okay? That's, like, your third piece of gum today.”

You rub her side, moving away to lean against the counter. “It's actually my fourth. I'm gonna get cancer.”

She snorts. “But you're okay?”

You nod, your smile widening as you agree gently. Her care makes you fond because she knows that you chew gum when you're stressed or anxious—you have an oral fixation that entices you to always carry around gum or candy, anything you can use to occupy your mouth when you need to. She's always been wonderful about it.

“I'm okay.” It's nice to be cared for like this. “Someone just has me a bit worked up because she keeps making me suck on her fingers, even though utensils exist.”

Again, Wanda snorts as she spoons the mixture into the ice cream machine. “Yeah, but that's no fun.”

You smile, wrapping your arm tighter around her front. You pull her over so she stands in front of you, turning her face to press a kiss to her lips. She smiles against your mouth, setting the spoon and bowl down in favor of cradling your face.

“You sure you're okay?” she whispers into your mouth.

You nod, humming lightly and kissing her again. “I'm perfect.” You kiss her again. She's wearing strawberry chapstick, it tastes really good as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. “You're so pretty, honey. You know that?”

The slightest giggle tints her words. “Thank you, baby.” Her fingertips brush along your cheek in calm adoration. “But I can't take all the praise, look at you. My pretty girl.”

She kisses you again, and you feel like you'll stop breathing if she does it any longer. Her tongue swipes along your bottom lip, and you sigh into her as you part your lips. You hold her by her hips with a smile, enjoying her closeness.

After a moment, you pull away to dip your head into the crook of her neck. She smells like heaven as you inhale her scent, letting it wash over you while your tongue darts out to taste her skin, suckling and nibbling love bites into her neck and shoulder.

Her hands travel to the back of your head and neck, holding you close as her eyes flutter shut and her breath passes in gentle sighs. You sigh, your gentle affection growing in hunger as you search her out.

“You're eager today, sweetheart,” she coos as you mouth at her shoulder. You only hum in response.

Wanda sets her hands on your hips. She hoists you up onto the counter, letting her hands cradle your face. “Open up, baby.”

You part your lips, and your eyes flutter when she traces your bottom lip with two fingers. Your tongue darts out instinctively, grazing the tips of her fingers and drawing a smile to her lips. When she pushes those fingers into your mouth, you hum as you suckle around them.

Your hands reach for her, settling on her waist and pulling her in between your legs. You sigh heavily as your tongue laps along her fingers. They still taste of sugar, so sweet and so comforting as you let her pump them slowly in and out of your mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “That feel better? Just nod or shake your head.”

You nod emphatically, your hands raising up to grasp her wrist and keep her there. She curses under her breath at the way you suck on her fingers, eyes droopy and saliva gathering at the base of her fingers.

“Such a good girl, baby,” she coos again. “My girl just needed something to suck on, didn't she?”

Your sigh is a whimper around her fingers. You lick them in, more and more messy by the second as you feel yourself melting under her. She presses down on your tongue, strokes the flat of it with her fingertips. As she thrusts them in and out of your mouth, brushing against the back of your tongue, you can feel yourself dissolving.

You feel pressure on your clit, this strange, surreal tightening and stroking that you've come to recognize as Wanda's magic. Your hips jerk lightly, your stomach tensing. She smiles. You can see a red glow at your side out of the corner of your bleary eyes.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” she whispers. You nod again. The stroking spreads, traveling further inside until you feel it in a spot that makes you dizzy.

You mumble around her fingers. You can only imagine how you must look right now—drooling over her fingers, eyes droopy, humming and moaning and aching for more.

Your tongue explores the length of her fingers, licking at the skin stretched between them, gliding along the bottom, stroking along her knuckles as they brush back and forth between your lips.

You take hold of her waist, tapping her side likely. She removes her fingers from you, but the stroking at your clit continues. “What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you done?”

You shake your head, sliding off the counter and onto shaky legs. “No, just…” Your tongue feels heavy. You embrace her in a deep kiss rather than answer her, loving on all the parts of her that you can reach. You raise her shirt up as you move onto your knees, pressing eager lips to her belly and listening to her sigh.

“My good girl,” she purrs, tilting her head back and letting her eyes shut. You pull her shorts down her legs, helping her to step out of them.

You lick along her inner thighs, leaning her back against the fridge as you bring one leg over your shoulder. She sighs, stroking her hand through your hair.

When you lick between her folds, her hips tilt up toward your mouth. Your eyes shut and your breath blows against her as you tuck yourself between her legs. You lick and suck at her folds with as much enthusiasm as you had with her fingers. It feels good to taste her like this, to have your mouth on her and listen to her sigh and moan.

“Fuck, baby,” she whispers. “Right there.”

Her magic continues between your legs. It's warm and almost tingling, a gentle squeeze and lick that makes it hard to focus on everything going on around you.

Your tongue goes lazy at her clit, what was a practiced skill, now a messy and greedy mesh of tongue and lips and teeth. She holds onto you as her brows pinch together and her lips part to let out deep sighs and needy moans.

Your thighs quiver, and you can feel her magic becoming more insistent the closer she gets. “Good, honey. Just like that. Don't stop,” she whimpers, hips keening, searching for more of you.

Her words encourage you until you're pressing yourself so closely into her that she nearly yelps. “God, you're so eager, baby. You're gonna make me cum.” She curses again. You hold onto her hips, guiding them toward you and moaning into her as the magic grows and grows and grows. You keep loving on her, sucking on her clit and listening to her moan.

“Don’t stop, baby. Jus’ a little more.” Her folds flutter on your tongue as you lap at them. Her thighs tense on either side of your head.

When she unravels, her magic flares within you and sends you over the edge. Her legs tremble around you as she gasps, holding onto your hair and cupping your head as she grinds her hips into your face.

“Oh, God, baby,” she moans. “Good girl, baby! Right there. Fuck.”

You moan into her, feeling mushy as you cum with her. Your hands press into the plush of her thighs, eager to keep her right where she is. She continues to ride out her orgasm with you, shuddering and sighing as the sparks fly.

She has to push you away when she becomes over-sensitive. She gasps lightly, guiding you from her pussy and squeezing her eyes shut. “Oh, fuck. Okay, okay, okay.”

You catch your breath, heavy and deep as you try to steady yourself. You feel content, deeply satisfied as your tongue sits tiredly in your mouth. You look up at her with bleary eyes, smiling lazily. “Good? S’that good?”

She nods happily. “Yeah, baby. So good.” She takes your face in her hands, her fingers brushing your jaw as she bends down to kiss you. It's a nice kiss that you relish in, more calm and easy.

“Shit,” she sighs. “That took a lot out of me.”

You stand, cradling her face in your hands and pecking her lips again. “I'll finish this. You go lie down,” you coo. “I'll be there in a sec.”

“Are you sure? I can do it,” she whispers.

You kiss her again with a nod. “Go on.”

She smiles into yet another kiss, turning to do as you've said as she picks up her shorts and underwear on the way out of the kitchen. You finish moving the ice cream mixture into the machine and turn it on, washing some of the bigger dishes before going to join her.

She's already asleep when you find her in bed, curled up with a pillow. You smile lovingly before scooting in behind her, pulling her into your body and kissing her shoulder. “Love you,” you whisper against her neck.

She hums.

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[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando woke up feeling like absolute shit.

His head was pounding, his mouth was drier than the desert, and judging by the fact that he’s still half-dressed and tangled in a celebratory McLaren flag, last night must have been good.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He remembered fragments of the night before - flashes of bright lights, loud music, and way too much drinking.

He had won.

Lando Norris was a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner.

He had been nearly drowned in champagne by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

He had won the 2024 Miami Grandprix.

Lando let out a sigh and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his temples.

He fumbled for his phone, cringing at the notifications that had piled up overnight. Messages from friends, family, and the racing world congratulating him on his victory.

He blinked blearily at his phone.

Too early. Too bright. Too… too.

But there’s one thing he needs to do before he even considers getting up.

He scrolled through his notifications, heart sinking when he still doesn’t see Lizzie’s name.

But there’s nothing.

His fingers fumble as he types out another message.

Lando: Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. I was a bit… not in the best state, but I was really hoping to hear from you.

Lando: I’m just worried. Is everything alright? I know I was probably being a bit much last night, but you can always just let me know if you need space or whatever. I just want to make sure you’re good.

Nothing.

Lando stared at his phone, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with each passing second. He didn't understand why Lizzie hadn't responded, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face.

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach twists.

Lando didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lizzie was usually pretty good about replying to his messages.

He tried texting again.

Lando: Look, I get it if you need time. I don’t want to come off too strong. I just feel like I should've heard from you by now, and I’m starting to panic a bit. Just a quick text would help me breathe for a second, you know?

Lando stared at his phone, watching the time tick by with agonizing slowness. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now, and Lizzie hadn't responded to any of his messages.

He tried calling again, only to be met with the same response - straight to voicemail...again.

And then his phone pinged.

Lizzie: Hi, this is Lizzie’s father. She’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures. She’s woken up a few times, but she’s not very responsive. I don’t know who you are, but judging by the way she’s saved your contact as ‘Lando Not Dying Yet Norris,’ I assume you’re important enough to be told.

Lando blinks. Stares. His hangover vanishes instantly.

She’s at the Royal Sussex Hospital. Thought I’d tell you in case you want to show up to visit her.

Lando feels like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Hospital. Seizures. Not responsive.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until he fumbles trying to type back.

Lando: I—fuck. Is she okay? What happened?

Three little dots appear, then vanish. Then appear again.

Lizzie: She’s stable. But it was bad.

Lando pushes back the covers, already moving, already grabbing for his McLaren hoodie like that will somehow help him fix this.

He needs to be there.

Now.

His hands are unsteady as he opens his flight app. The next available flight back to London is in four hours.

Not soon enough.

Lando: I’m coming back to the UK. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

There’s no reply, but Lando doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, his mind racing, and there’s only one thing he knows for sure—

He has to get to Lizzie.

He…

There was a knock at the door.

Lando jumped, his already frayed nerves on edge. "Who is it?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.

“It’s Oscar.”

Lando sagged with relief as he recognized the Australian accent drifting through the door. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Oscar Piastri poked his head into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lando’s harried expression. “Mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lando shook his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten even more. "No, not alright. Lizzie’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures."

Oscar’s expression immediately darkened. "What the hell? Multiple seizures? How is she doing now?”

“Not good, apparently. Her dad said she’s stable, but she’s not very responsive. I’m flying back to London to see her.” Lando ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his heart still racing with worry.

“God damn.” Oscar stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied Lando’s face for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a mess, mate. Have you eaten anything?”

Lando shook his head, the thought of food making his stomach churn. "No, I haven't even had a chance to think about food. I’m just freaking out, mate. I’ve never seen her have a seizure, let alone multiple seizures…She had one last week before we had dinner, but she seemed fine, just tired… I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. This is...this is so messed up."

Oscar nodded sympathetically, his expression still grave. "Go," he said simply. "I'll make your apologies to Zac and the team."

Lando nodded numbly, already moving to pack a bag. Oscar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "And mate? Try to keep calm. You won’t do Lizzie any good if you’re a wreck yourself."

Lando huffed out a breath. "I’ll try."

"Can you tell Max..." Lando trailed off. He had no idea what to even…

Oscar's expression softened. “I’ll tell Max. And the others. You just focus on getting to the hospital, alright?”

Lando nods, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Oscar."