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yanderenightmare · 28 days ago

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♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility and pregnancy

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: The Bunker

Your ankle feels better after a little over a week.

The one initially against you staying has been giving you medical check-ups every day—something about wasteland toxins and underlying, possible contagious sicknesses he’d like to keep a weathered eye out for.

You hadn’t refused. After all, such precautions were only warranted.

When you first encountered them in the wasteland, they were both wearing hazmat suits and gas masks. And though you had already been put through the standard disinfection and the basic check—eyes, teeth, and tongue—before they’d even let you in, you can’t blame them for taking extra measures—no matter how meticulous the check-ups have been since, comprising of endless spit, blood, and urine samples.

Somehow, you actually appreciated the thoroughness. It was just one more thing that reminded you of the past. The way he sat there, behind the desk like a doctor, and you opposite, like a patient, waiting for your results.

You’d gotten more or less used to it now, so it didn’t feel as awkward anymore. And, if you were to say so yourself, you think he’s even warmed up to you a little bit too.

“You’re all clear. No detectable toxins,” he states after a moment, mulling over the data, more or less the same outcome he’d come to for the last four or so days. He scribbled a few things into the file he’d been conducting, a focused furrow between his brows as he worked. You felt inclined to inquire about what exactly he’d been jotting down all these days of running tests but then decided against it—explaining things to you would probably only vex him. He was a man of as few words as possible, after all.

He sighs, then informs, “We can stop checking every day now.”

“Really?” you light up—feeling excited for some reason. Suppose you took it as a sign of improvement even without knowing entirely what any of it actually meant. In any case, lesser checks must be good, right?

“Yeah. You’re way healthier, thanks to all our produce and not consuming any of that wasteland trash.” He pulled a grimace before his face settled back into that constant look of dour solemnity. “Blood pressure, heart rate, vitals—everything looks good.”

It almost seems like such a silly thing to even bother caring about. Only a few weeks ago, you hadn’t cared for any such thing as health as long as it meant you weren’t starving or freezing—and here you are, celebrating such a privileged thing as blood pressure.

You sniffle, can’t help yourself, balled fists quivering in your lap as a few tears start to drop, “Thank you—truly. I’d have died if it weren’t for the two of you.”

He must think you’re ridiculous, too, crying over something so small. You wipe your eyes, only to notice him holding out a tissue for you. You can only laugh at yourself while accepting it.

“You’ll help me in the greenhouse today since your ankle is all better,” he states while getting up.

You spring to your feet, too. This would be the first time you’d been asked to help out. “What about—”

“He’s busy doing inventory,” he answers before you get the question out. “We’ll have to change a few things since you’re staying.”

This stills you, breath caught in your throat. You look at him wide-eyed, scared you’d heard him wrong. Voice weak as if scared to ask, “I’m staying?”

“Tch—” It’s his turn to chuckle, though he does so much differently from you—mockingly, a way he often does at both your and the other's expense. Though, you’d taken to find it rather endearing. He gives you a look—it’s very almost soft. “You didn’t think we’d waste our resources on something we planned on chucking back out again, did you?”

A tug pulls your wobbly lips back into a smile. “I guess that would be silly...” you sniffle again. “Still, thank you.”

This time, as you say it, you rush to hug him—tightly, with both your arms wrapped around his tough midsection and your head tucked against his broad chest.

It’s him who falls still now—stunted by the action and left both speechless and frozen in place. His arms hover mid-air, unsure of where to rest, before slowly lowering to settle atop your narrow shoulders—so much smaller in comparison. It’s crazy to think you’d endured out in the wasteland for so long.

He’s sure you’ve done things in order to stay alive you’re not at all proud of. Still, your survival is no less than a miracle.

He clears his throat. “Let’s hurry up,” He dismisses, then proceeds to nudge you off as if the hug was unwanted, but even you can spot the blush dusting his cheeks as he looks away with another grumble, “We’re making dinner before he’s done.”

The smile on your face is a sight for sore eyes, he thinks. You didn’t smile like that a week ago.

“Yes, sir.” You salute, following him in stride.

You’d said it innocently enough, but by God, if only you knew how it takes everything in him not to bend you over the medical desk right then and tell you all about how you’re in the perfect window for conceiving.

He manages to steal himself.

After dinner, he promised himself soothingly, calming the hunger in his gut—after dinner, they’d decided, tonight would be the night they’d finally make use of you the real way they’d intended—have you earn your keep.

When you’re done tilling the gardens, about a couple hours later, the two of you move on to the kitchen. You’d learn that the brash one was in charge of making most meals, as the other one was more than hopeless in the kitchen. It seemed you were replacing him as the helper, given simple tasks such as cutting, measuring, and fetching things.

It felt nice to be doing something again, especially something so trivial. Housework and domestic chores were something one could only reminisce about, and yet here you were, doing just that—cutting carrots as if the outside world wasn’t a badland of people killing each other for a can of expired dog food.

You really were so lucky you could hardly believe it. The tears start bubbling again.

“If you’re finished cutting, go to the cupboard over there,” he jolts you out of your thoughts. Not looking away from stirring the pot, he points with his other hand toward the far side of the kitchen.

You pad over and open it to find two dozen or more bottles of wine, all neatly shelved.

“Pick one out,” he calls out.

You blink, looking between the wine and him. “You mean—”

“Anyone of ‘em is fine,” he says. “Feel free to read if you’re looking for something special, though. It’s you were celebrating, after all.”

This time, you can’t stop the tears as they trickle down your face one after the other, soaking your cheeks.

Hearing you sniffle makes him sigh with rust. Scolding you with military toughness, “Quit cryin’ already—it’s getting old.”

You wipe your eyes and stiffen your lip. “Yes, sir.”

Turning your head back to the shelf, you can hardly believe the sight. It had been all moonshine and slop out in the wasteland. Dangerous stuff you were better staying well away from.

You can’t believe you’re going to drink actual wine again—your mouth waters just at the thought as you pick the first bottle you set your eyes on. But then you stop yourself—a guilty knot in your stomach twisting.

“Is it really okay?” you ask. “Shouldn’t we save it?”

“Tch—” he scoffs disapprovingly again. “You gotta stop doin’ that.”

You’re left looking at him even though he keeps his back turned, still busy stirring the pot. He lifts a spoon for tasting, then adds more spice to his liking before continuing as though he could tell you were confused just from the silence.

“You’re not in the wasteland anymore—” he states. “You can afford to live a little now.”

A concept like that had yet to have reached you.

Suppose you were still settling in.

“Besides, there are more in the cellar,” he reveals. “Even if we drank a bottle every day, it would take years for us to finish. So don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it, a’ight?”

Your grip around the bottle tightens—trying to toughen up to keep the tears at bay. But today was an emotional day, and it seemed there was no end to the blessings you were given. It was all so overwhelming, your heart swelled with happiness—a feeling you hadn’t felt in such an awfully long time.

“Something smells good!” comes a call.

It seems he’s returned from doing inventory.

“Oh no, why are you crying?” He instantly rushes over to you, holding your face to inspect the damage, then snaps his head to the other, who’s still busying himself with perfecting dinner. “Are you being too harsh on her?” he accuses. “You know, not everyone can live up to your cooking expectations—”

“Tch—I haven’t done shit,” he denies. “She’s just emotional ‘cause I told her we’re lettin’ her stay.”

“What!? You told her without me?” he cries then. “We were supposed to surprise her together.” His pout is instantly replaced with a blank look of surprise as you wrap your arms around him like you’d done with the other earlier—hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you repeat to him as well.

You still couldn’t believe how nice they had been to you.

After dinner is eaten, the three of you end up sitting there, chatting—about the past, most of all, how things used to be—how people would live in little houses with next-door neighbors they’d invite over for game night—little families with kids and backyards and pet dogs—college, marriage, careers.

You helped the stoic one clear the dishes while the chipper of the two opened another bottle of wine. You can hardly believe it when they bring out the record player and slide a vinyl on.

You end up crying again as the music plays. You even dance. Laughter fills the bunker while you get completely swept away with the feeling of utter bliss. And as the wine finishes and the conversation turns sloppy, the hands twirling your body to the music get a little touchier, a little greedier, until you’re suddenly kissed.

Between the two of them, the air becomes hot—steamy as you share breathes.

Busy hands, large and strong and callused from labor, work on your button-up shirt. It’s gone before you know it, then the hands move on to your pants.

Honestly, after all the emotions joined by the wine and dance and being spun between the two, you can’t say you’re completely without lust, but at the same time, you’re just a bit confused.

Despite not having seen them kiss in front of you, you’re certain they both go to bed in the same room every night—so all this time, you’d been under the impression that they were involved with each other and not interested in you that way.

Not that it matters much what you thought, you think, you’re not against what’s happening so much as you’re a little hesitant about how it’s about to happen. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone—willingly, that is—you’ve sort of forgotten how to enjoy it.

If it were just one, you’d maybe find it a bit less overwhelming, but given there were two, you quickly found yourself feeling somewhat claustrophobic.

“Wait—” you stutter. Blocking the advance with your own hands, looking up into drunken and heated eyes and the soft look of arousal painted on the face before you.

“Don’t worry,” he comforts with that kind smile. “You’re the most valuable thing we have—we’re gonna be gentle.”

You almost bite, almost give in, almost let it soothe you. But even in the drunk haze, the choice of phrasing finds you a little odd. And you’re unable to disregard that feeling that’s been nagging at the very back of your head ever since you stepped foot in the place.

Something’s not right.

“Valuable?” Sure, you could choose to understand it as them saying they care for you, but somehow, it just doesn’t feel as if that’s all. “What does that mean?”

“You know…” he utters softly—his kind smile curling into something different. His eyes fall downward as he licks his lips before finishing, “This.”

He’s laid a hand atop your belly where his gaze is set—his palm flat and firm as he rubs tentative circles into the softness.

It takes you a moment before you shudder. “You…”

You needed to be rational about this. Some part of you always knew there was something going on, didn’t it? Why else would you be here? Why else would they let you stay? The cameras in the bedroom, in the showers, all those medical checkups—you’ve known there was something. And still, you hadn’t left. You hadn’t even so much as humored the thought even once.

There is no life for you out there. You don’t just want to stay—you have to—you need to.

And is it really so bad? Hadn't they been nice? Haven’t they been more than generous? Don’t you owe them so much more than what they’re asking in return?

But what are they asking? It’s not just intimacy. It’s something else—something premeditated.

“You want to use me to…” The realization makes you shudder. “To make you a child…”

Like an incubator.

They don’t deny it.

You want to back up—create space—room to breathe, but the other is just behind you with his big chest pressed stiffly against your back, keeping you close, trapped before the one in front.

“It’s true…” he confesses at your ear. “That is all we wanted from you in the beginning.”

It sends a chill down your spine.

“It was almost too good to be true when we found you,” he continued while playing with your waist in big hands. “How a perfect candidate fell right into our lap mere days after we decided to go lookin’ for one.”

You suck in a hitched breath as the well of tears breaches, dribbling down your cheeks at the clinical word—candidate.

“But you’re more than that now,” the other reassures, bowing and fishing for your eyes as you’d taken to look down—too horrified to look him back in his.

“We figured you’d be a savage, havin’ lived out there for so long,” the one behind says. He’d been the most skeptical at first, but he’d come to learn it was rather the opposite—your time out there hadn’t toughened your skin or hardened your heart but only made you timid and soft.

“In all honesty, we weren’t sure we were gonna keep you after the pregnancy…” the one in front whispers upon your lips. “But that’s all in the past now.”

He lifts your chin, taking in the all-too-soft look of despair on your face. It’s a strange thing to say he’d missed. It nearly makes him feel guilty for the hard-on in his cargo pants. But then again, tears are the allure of the gentler sex. It’s only natural for a man to enjoy the sight.

“We want you to stay.” He strokes your cheek, catching the tears on his thumb. “After all, it would be best for the baby to have a female presence—especially one as soft as yours.”

“And, well…” You flinch at the stubble being dragged upon your shoulder and neck, a kiss placed in the nook there along with his words, “We’ve grown to like having you around.”

His hands had fallen from your waist down to rub your hips, swaying you back against his crotch—and the bulge there, that now felt a little more like a gun being poked against your back.

“It’s been a long while since we’ve had the company of a woman,” he continues while pressing himself against you. “It was unfamiliar at first, but… it’s nice.”

Something urgent takes over your body then—even though it’s beyond stupid. There’s no plan, no further thought than run—despite having no solid clue as to where. And yet, it ends up not mattering in the slightest. You don’t make it far.

You scream as their hands snag you. The grumpier one locks your arms, the chipper one grabs your legs—and they both lift and carry you back—laying you down on the little round table you’d had dinner on.

You struggle, but your wrists are pinned down to the metal with a strength you can’t hope to match.

“Don’t be like that.” He clicks his tongue dismissively like he so often does when you say or do something stupid. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“No—” you cry. “Please—don’t.” Shaking your head while squeezing your thighs shut.

Never mind having sex, you could endure that much—but having a baby in this mess? They’re the ones who lost their minds down here.

“I can’t—”

“Of course, you can,” the other insists, prying your thighs apart to make space for himself between them, already with his hands returning to undo the button of your pants, zipping down the fly and tugging them off.

“No—”

He’s back to console you just as quickly, “Shh-sh, don’t cry,” he soothes, cupping your face in both palms. He gives you that kind smile again, but it no longer serves as any source of comfort—now just a mouth full of teeth. “We’ll be gentle.”

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months ago

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I’d die for you.

Viktor:

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Please don’t.’ He says almost pleading with you to reconsider after hearing you say such a thing, to be willing to trade off your own life for his own that was already on borrowed time, so wouldn’t your sacrifice be a waste if he was bound to die regardless?

He came from the undercity where loss was an constant occurrence and survival was the norm. So the idea of loosing you wasn’t one he’d warmly welcome nor want to endure as he’d only bury himself deep within his work, going to such lengths with the off chance that he could theoretically bring you back from the cold embrace of death,

‘You’ve got so much ahead of you Viktor.’ You countered. ‘So much to do to achieve your goal of helping others!’ You add.

Viktor moves to look at you from his workplace with a raised brow. ‘And so you automatically think your life is forfeit in comparison because of this?’ He asks as if to show you just how ridiculous it was to just throw your life away because you believed his dreams for the future outweighed the worth of that of your own life.

You stayed quiet as you could see the disbelief clear within his amber eyes as he grabbed his cane and made his way over to you to hold your hand in his long, slender and calloused ones as they caress the back of your knuckles. ‘For it’s not. No life is more important than the others solely based on what the person can give to others.’ Viktor tells you as sits himself down next to you.

‘Our lives are of equal value and I’d would much rather you’d live for me instead.’ He says with a small smile. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ He then asks softly, intertwining your fingers together. You smiled back at him. ‘I can sure try as long as you do too.’ You replied and Viktor let out a sigh of relief, squeezing your hand in thanks.

‘Then we shall live for each other.’ Viktor said but little did you know that he’d be lying and he wasn’t going to be staying very soon.

Ekko:

‘I’d gladly die for you.’

‘No, you wont.’ Those words might’ve come out more harsher than Ekko wanted but he wasn’t about to let you joke about trading your life for his own. He just wouldn’t.

Even now the idea of you being the self sacrificial hero made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He was the one who should be protecting you, protecting everybody really and once his mind was made up Ekko was more or less an immovable object, never yielding and never budging from his ideals for nothing.

So to say he wasn’t liking the idea of you dying on him was an understatement. He didn’t like it for a plethora of reasons as he’s already lost enough people close to his heart, he wasn’t willing to have you be amongst them, painted on the mural by his own hand as he feels the guilt and grief eat away at his heart. ‘Promise me you won’t be reckless the next time we’re out on a mission.’ He gives you his pinky, something you two did when you were being serious about things.

‘Ekko-‘

‘Promise me you won’t.’ Ekko cuts you off in desperation, his eyes wide and his breathing becoming rapid and uneven the longer you didn’t immediately link pinkies with him like you usually did, it had him feeling as though his heart had dropped to his stomach. ‘I don’t want to loose another person I love.’ He adds and you interlock your pinkies with him before being pulled into his strong embrace where he buried his face into yours neck, not wanting to let go of you after hearing that statement leave your mouth.

‘I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.’ He whispered into your neck, grip tightening on you as he feels you rub his back soothingly. Ekko wasn’t ready for the day he’d have to say goodbye to you and so until that day he’ll keep protecting you until he couldn’t anymore, for he’d rather see you move on forward without him, but if he knew you as well as he did then you would just be equally as stubborn to see him live another day.

So he’ll just keep ahold of you like this everyday when you were alone just to remind himself that you were still here and here you will stay.

Silco (young) :

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Don’t say such things, haven’t we suffered enough?’ He’d say as he has you by your shoulders, his grip tightening in tandem with the idea of possibly loosing you to all sorts of things, whether it’d be Zaun or the corrupt enforcers from topside. Silco wasn’t exactly willing to lose the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

It was a day he’d never wish to see pass him by as he didn’t know what he would do should he find you dead in the rubble from a something that was purposely intended for him, he’d blame himself and be left to seek solitude in the darkness and shadows should that ever be the case.

‘But it’s true.’ You’d reply.

Silco grits his teeth at your stubbornness but it was one of your defining traits that he deeply adored. ‘Well I’m not going to allow it.’ He retorted. ‘I won’t allow you to hastily throw your life away just because you felt like being a hero.’ He practically spat out the last part as though it were poison. Hero what the hell has being a hero ever done for anyone? Nothing that’s what and Silco would refused you at every time you got like this, not once liking the implications it left within his head.

‘Not a hero, just someone who cares enough about another person to be willing to see them keep living, even if it means dying in the process.’ You defended yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued to look him in the eyes to prove your words true, but you didn’t need to do that for Silco knew well enough you were a person of your word, never once going back on it when you probably should’ve.

‘Heroes don’t exist in Zaun.’ Silco said as he rests his head against yours, looking you in the eyes. ‘So don’t try and be the first for I don’t want to be the one to make your mural. Don’t make me have to leave you behind. Don’t make me mourn for what we could’ve had.’ He pleads with you as you gently hold his face and caress his cheeks, allowing him the chance to rest his eyes and drink you in through your touch.

He didn’t like the idea of you dying before him, not one bit, so he’ll try and make sure that you survive together long enough to see the betterment of Zaun.

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luvergirl777 · 2 months ago

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Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

Summary | Dean can't stand new people, especially people intruding on his life and telling him what to do. You drive him insane, Sam having to separate the two of you before fists and teeth start flying. You finally get under his skin for the last time with your dumb stunts, pushing him over the edge.

Index | Dean and reader fight constantly, Sam is the babysitter, Dean hates you because you are him, you're also incredibly hot, not that he'd admit it, perhaps maybe just a bit he admits it. Unprotected sex, wrap it up folks. Soft dom Dean, a bit of sub Dean. He's whipped and will listen to a pretty girl. Two idiots in love.

Dean is never fond of new people, it takes him a very long time to warm up to newcomers. When the two brothers find you battered and bruised, barely still alive after fending a demon off on your own, he’s a bit impressed. Upon further investigation, Sam watching over you, Dean realizes you had managed to damn it back to hell all on your own. Even more impressed, Dean is confused as to how you managed to survive. “You said it was aggressive?” Dean double checks, wondering if you somehow got lucky and encountered the impossible, un-aggressive demon. Sure, that would explain how you managed to survive on your own.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? You think I beat myself up after killing the damn thing?”

“Well you didn’t technically kill it but-”

“Oh shut up, pretty boy.” You grit, rolling your eyes as you hold onto Sam’s arm to stand up. Sam, ever so caring, nearly lifts your weight with no effort. He’s supporting all of your weight easily as you try and hobble along to safety.

“Easy now sassy, you’re about one hit away from dying.”

“You gonna hit me?” The face you give him is unreadable, and Sam is preparing himself to jump in between the two of you if needed. You’ve stopped walking, completely turned around as you face Dean behind you. Dean, never one to back down, takes a step closer to you.

“Guys, c’mon.” Sam intervenes, pushing his brother by the chest to create some distance between the two of you arguing. “You two sound like a couple of 5 year olds.”

Both you and Dean roll your eyes, and you’re hobbling your way out the door to get to some sort of hospital to get a check up. The pain is actually ridiculous, and if you weren’t so battered, you probably would've fought with Dean more. “Here, let us give you a ride,” Sam offers, quickly chasing you in fear you would topple after leaving his side.

“She is NOT bleeding all over baby,” Dean protests as Sam walks you out of the door, taking you to the car. Dean closes the door behind him after glancing inside once more, still in disbelief of what the hell is happening. They burst open your door expecting to damn something to hell, and instead found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor. And now you and Dean are arguing as you hobble your way to the back of Baby.

“You call this car baby?” You roll your eyes, “You gotta take care of her better if you’re gonna call her a fucking pet name. This thing has 2 years of fuckin’ dirt on it. Baby my ass.” Dean almost stops in place, arms raising slightly in defense, jaw dropped as he looks at Sam. Usually you're more pleasant, however, you're battered and bruised and in pain.

After absolutely giving it to Dean, you’re opening the back door and limply climbing in. You’re collapsing against the seat before Dean can jab at you. Dean wants to dish it out once again, and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t deal with the two of you, he really can’t. Closing the door behind you, Sam’s turning around to talk sense into his stubborn older brother. “She damned a demon on her own, she could help us.”

“Her, help us?” Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’d rather be kicked in the balls.”

“I’m about to if you don’t shut the hell up,” Sam shoves him around the car, “It could be good, finding someone to put you in your place every now and then.”

That's how you met, and it’s been years already. Despite being together almost 24/7, you and Dean are still constantly at each other’s throats. If you’re not lashing out at Dean, he’s dishing some snarky shit out to you. Sam stays as uninvolved as he can, always letting you two at it before it’s clear intervention is needed.

---

“You really don’t have to sit there and watch me like some hawk,” Dean’s annoyed as you perch yourself on a stool, watching as he works on Baby. It’s about a million degrees and Dean has refused to drink anything but alcohol and coffee for the past 24 hours, and not to mention it’s the middle of the day with the sun beating down overhead. “I don’t need a babysitter. “

“Sammy’s worried about you, said you’re going to have a heat stroke or pass out. Figure I’d come out here and pester you into coming back inside.” You shrug, completely unbothered as you don’t move from the stool. Your tone is nonchalant, only getting on his nerves more. Baby is technically sound and purring like a kitten on the road, Dean’s just been itching to tinker and a distraction from you waltzing around the bunker. “God know’s Sammy’s not gonna do it-”

“Stop calling him that?”

“Calling who what?”

“Sammy.” Dean mumbles, already turning around from you to focus back on the engine. You’re already getting on his nerves, and if he looks at you any longer you’ll succeed in pestering him back into the house. “Go back inside and tell my nerdy little brother I’m fine out here. By myself.”

“Sam’s not gonna take that for an answer.” You’re still calm and collected, leaning forward on the stool as you get a closer look at what Dean’s doing. You watch his hands work, nimble and quick as he easily gets into every corner he wants. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your thoughts, and you’re trying awfully hard not to laugh loudly. Dean can almost hear the joke writing itself in your head, and feel the smile growing on your face. “You know you’re really good with your fingers-”

“Okay! You win!” And he’s storming back into the bunker to get water from an expectant Sam in the kitchen, already in a glass with ice. “Don’t.” He speaks to him, raising a finger to Sam. He can already hear the thoughts in his head, too.

---

“Oh really, that’s your smart ass plan?” You mumble, listening to Dean attempt to explain the plan of waltzing into a bank and trying to sweet talk a bank teller to the vault. It would never in a million years happen, regardless of how annoying charming Dean could be. No one is that stupid, not even a bank secretary who doesn’t know who Dean is.

“Well, if you have anything better, please enlighten me.” He’s slamming the folder down on the table in front of you, crossing his arms.

“Anything is likely better-” When you stand up from your seat, and Dean steps toward you, Sam is quick to intervene before you two start dishing it out.

“OKAY!” Sam basically yells to get your guy’s attention. You two calm down, you sitting down, Dean stepping away from you, and Sam finally taking a breath.

---

Or the one time you drove Baby, absolutely full throttling her around turns as if you were a professional driver. In your defense, you didn’t crash and actually handled it quite well. Poor Sam is laying down in the back of the car, injured and praying you get to the hospital soon. But Dean was about to have a heart attack in the passenger seat of his car. He’s pressed against the door with the force you’re jerking the car around, gripping anything he can reach.

“Never again, never again.” Dean almost prays underneath his breath, but he’s not and never will be a religious man.

---

Or the one time you were the bait for some creepy old man, needing to steal a weapon he had on display in his house. You were in the middle of his bed, about to fake vomit as he ran his hands along your waist. “Listen, I heard something you had. Something very impressive, an ancient weapon of sorts.” You purr, rolling your eyes as he goes along with it.

“Of course I do, it’s in my office. I can show you after we’re done here.” He mumbles, and you’re swinging and clocking him against his temple, toppling him over. He lands with a thud on the hardwood floor, knocked out cold. At the commotion, Dean is bursting through the door.

“HEY!” Dean screams, puffed up and ready for action.

“He’s knocked out, dick for brains.” You mumble, climbing off of the bed and adjusting your dress which had ridden almost all the way up to your waist. He swears he catches a peek of the pink panties you’re wearing, but for his benefit, he’s trying to convince himself he saw nothing at all. News flash, not and never was going to work. Dean watches with wide eyes, his gaze following and trailing along your bare skin down to your thighs as you cover yourself back up. “Thanks for caring, pretty boy.”

Dean rolls his eyes, walking over to the man that is unconscious against the hardwood floor. He’s mumbling something underneath his breath, landing one more blow onto the old bastard, before finally catching back up with you in the office.

—-

You and Dean are on a hunt the first time he lays hands on you. You both had been separated, running and hiding in respective locations of the mouldy, broken down house. Dean’s frantic and stressed after hearing you yelp on the other side of the house, rushing over to find you and seeing no one. He's running around the house at this point, stopping for two seconds in the middle of the hallway to try and find his thoughts.

A hand grabs his shoulder, grip hard enough to leave bruises underneath his jacket. He's whipping around before he can even think another thought, hand balled up into a tight fist as he spins. It’s too late to pull his punch when he realizes, eyes wide as he makes contact with your confused expression. He can pull it about 90%, softening the impending blow to your cheek bone. He's yelping for you when his fist makes contact with your skin, already groaning at himself.

“Fuck! Fuck! Sorry! You scared me.” Dean’s explaining immediately, arms catching you before you even have the chance to stumble backwards from the blow. He cradles you before you can air out your grievances, one hand coming to hold your cheek in betrayal. “I thought they had you, god I thought they had you.” He mumbles as he holds you, reassuring both you and himself that you’re okay, or trying to at least.

“Dean, god.” You groan, peering up to look at him. “Let's finish this job, please, without any more collateral damage.” You mumble, shuffling around to find your knife. “Fuckers took my blade.”

“It's okay, I'll get them.” Dean mumbles, quickly pressing his lips to your hairline before letting you go. You stay behind Dean, this time a considerable distance, as he finishes the job and gets the both of you out of there safely. Dean has reason now, speeding out of there like hell after killing anything in his path.

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parks the car and doesn’t move an inch. You already know why, and you already know the speech he’s about to dish out. “Listen-“

“It’s not your fault.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head. You already have a bruise forming on your cheek despite Dean doing his best to pull his punch. The guilt eats him every time you look at each other and he has to divert his eyes.

“Alrighty,” Dean presses his lips together as he thinks of another solution. “Give me one,” Dean nods, waving his hands to get you to come closer. You scoff at him, shaking your head as you fight off the laugh that bubbles. You’ve seen him and Sam go at each other like this, getting even in a way only brothers can. He taps his cheek, looking to the side. “Give me two, actually. One to make it even, one for putting my hands on a woman.” He waves you closer, dead serious.

“Dean-“

“Lay 'em on me, one at a time, back to back, hard as you want, doesn’t matter, come on.” He’s still looking away from you, refusing to take no for an answer and he waits for the blows to land. He didn’t mean to, you know it, and you know he’s going to feel bad for a while. You scoff and shuffle, Dean tenses as he waits for the blow. You kiss his cheek, grabbing his face and turning it, before kissing his other cheek.

“There, two blows, back to back.” You smile, “Now let’s go inside so I can get ice for my cheek.”

Dean’s blushing like an idiot before scurrying after you, “I'll get the ice, you go lay down!”

---

You had been sick for well over a week while the boys were on a job, sitting by yourself in a house and working as the information specialist for the time being. When they would call, you’d give them all the information you had been collecting within the past couple of hours. Always hours, never days, because you’d get too worried about them. Dean, not admitting it, also calls every couple of hours to make sure you’re still kicking. You sound like hell, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that you are not taking care of yourself while they’re away.

Sam’s out on a home visit, and Dean is fidgeting with his phone in his hands. Pressing buttons, deleting the numbers, and the cycle repeats itself. Finally putting his big girl panties on, he dials your contact and calls. “Dean? Is everything okay?” Your voice is worried, the call slightly random from the semi-schedule you guys have grown accustomed to.

“Hey, hey, yeah we’re good. Sam’s just out making some runs, you know.” He sounds awkward and like a loser, he already knows it. He can pretty much hear Sam’s voice mocking him. “Just wanted to call, see how you’re holding up. Taking that medicine I got? Eating everyday?” He’s interrogating you, for your well being of course.

“The medicine you got me is like ketamine…or something.” You laugh.

“What?! It is not-”

“It so is! Some random pills you got from who knows where, from who knows, and you’re telling me to take them?” You’re scolding him softly, but he can still hear the humour in your voice.

“Whatever, when we get back I’m gonna smother you back to good health.” You roll your eyes at this, Dean knows that without even being in the room with you. “Pills and all.”

“Dean, whatever. Just don’t die and get back here soon.” You laugh softly on the other side of the phone. Dean can hear the tone of your voice, almost pleading with him. In your defense, the two of them had been gone for over a week on the job including travel time to get there.

---

Dean will never admit it but after that he gets softer around you, starts looking out for you more than he lets on. He’s a softie, even if he won’t show it. The first time Dean almost dies since you’ve joined the team, it’s the first close call the three of you have had to someone actually dying. Sure, the three of you have been hurt and wounded, but nothing quite like when Dean’s guts were outside of his body for far too long to actually be okay.

He’s been in surgery for hours at this point, Sam had left a while ago to try and put some distance in between him and his brother possibly dying in front of him. You’re left in the cold waiting room by yourself, elbows on your knees as you wait. Your face has been rubbed more times than you can count, one more and your face will come off. You curse Sam for leaving you alone, but part of you does understand as well.

You rocket out of your seat at the beginning of “D-” whipping around to face the nurse before she can even finish his name. You’re frantic, sure, but you can’t help it. “Dean? Is it for Dean?” Your voice comes out more of a mumble, the poor nurse nodding her head softly. She leads a shaky you to his room, heart in your feet. The nurse stops at the front, stepping to the side to allow you to walk in on your own. It takes all willpower in your body to not immediately crumble to the floor at the sight. Dean’s eyes are open, squinted almost completely shut, as his head rolls over to the side to look at you.

His eyes widen the slightest bit at the sight of you and not Sam and the tears immediately begin flowing down your face. You try hard not to audibly sob, but it’s taking a lot of effort. “H-hey, Dean.” You sound pathetic as you shuffle over to the side of his bed, almost scared that your presence alone will send him back into a near death state. As soon as you make it to the side of the bed, his arm reaches over and brushes against your leg. “You fucking dick!” You’re hysterical as he makes contact. “You can’t scare me like that! Ever! Don’t ever do that again!” Absolutely ridiculous as you crumble down onto the bed, your arms wrapping around his head.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He’s quick to comfort you, arms weakly wrapping around your waist. He grunts with the effort it takes in his current state. You’re almost climbing into the bed with him at this point, not wanting to let go of him. He’s trying not to cry with your state of general mess, seeing you so upset is getting him emotional.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Dean. God, I was so scared. Sorry. Sam is just out to get some air. You know how he deals with this, I’m sure they’ve called him.” You’re prying your arms away from his form, sitting down on the bed next to him. Maybe it’s the hysterics, but you’re running your fingers through his hair and gently holding his face in the other hand. Leaning forward, you place the shakiest kiss on his forehead. “You’re never allowed to go by yourself ever again.” Sam walks in on the two of you like this, you obsessively petting his head while holding his face in the other palm. Your entire face is wet at this point, tears soaking your features.

Sam lets you sit for a moment longer, the wet patch on your shirt indication that this is needed. Eventually, he has to butt in otherwise Dean will think his brother hates him. When he finally clears his throat, you almost scatter away from Dean.

---

Eventually, you become a part of the little family they have. It takes a long time for Dean to come around, and Sam takes less time. When Sam lets you call him Sammy for the first time without correcting you as he does everyone else, Dean knows you're in for the long haul. Technically it’s the first and only time you’ve called him Sammy in front of him, the circumstances and situation making you talk before thinking.

Sam and Dean had been fighting the entire job, at each other’s throats for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Usually it’s banter and general sibling bickering, but this time it’s different. The tipping point comes when Dean mumbles something under his breath in the hotel room after a long day, Sam immediately reacting as he jolts up. Before you can even comprehend what the argument is about, fists are flying and the two are grappling each other. You’re watching with wide eyes, never quite seeing the two get this distant from each other. Sam is Dean’s baby brother, he’d do anything for him.

“Guys, what, stop!” You mumble, trying to intervene as Sam has gotten Dean pinned by the throat underneath him. You know they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to each other, but you still feel your stomach flip at the position. “Guys, please!” Your eyes are watery and you’re trying with all of your force to pull Sam off of him. Sam, easily outweighing you, doesn’t budge an inch and is just more annoyed at you pulling him.

“If you want to leave, leave. We don’t need you.” Dean spits, pushing at Sam’s arm that remains at his neck. Sam clenches his jaw, clicking his tongue.

“I won’t come back this time.” Sam spits, deadly serious. You’ve never heard Sam this serious in the entire time you’ve known him, not on a hunt, not on an investigation, nothing. Dean’s about to say something before you’re slapping a hand over his mouth. You’re crying at this point, pathetically holding Sam’s arm as you rest your face against his shoulder. You can’t move him.

“Sammy, please.” You cry, a horrid sob leaving your throat as you plead with him. Even Dean looks sideways at you, shocking him as well. At the plea, Sam steps back, releasing the pressure he’s holding Dean to. “Sammy, stop. You can’t leave us, we need you, please.” You cry softly, letting go of Dean’s face to hold Sam’s arm instead.

“I- I’m sorry.” Sam mumbles softly, shrugging you off his arm in favour of pulling you into his embrace. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam mumbles, trying to console you. You nod into his chest, reaching over to hold Dean’s face rather than slapping your hand over it. Dean leans into it, pushing his cheek into your palm. For the first time, it’s you being the negotiator between the two brothers rather than Sam being in between you and Dean. And for the first time, it was actually scary.

---

With Sam, Dean doesn’t keep tally on who saves who’s ass. He’s family, it’s expected. And with you, he doesn't either. (He totally does, he just won’t admit it. However, you’re two up on him, and it kills him every time he thinks about it.) He swears to himself he’ll make it even eventually.

---

Dean’s final straw is you washing Baby, wearing an all too small bikini as you wash the grime off of her. You had been giving him shit for it for awhile now, always quoting his dad on how he should’ve been taking better care of the car. It kills him, always being lectured about his precious baby that has been HIS car for years now.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, the front door of the house you’re staying in swinging open. He’s walking out just enough to watch closer, arms crossed as he stands on the sidewalk to the front door. You’re in the driveway, squatted down, washing the rims when he interrupts you.

“Washing your dirty ass car.”

“And why would you do that?”

“I have to ride around in the thing, it might as well look nice.” You shrug, continuing to wash. Your back is facing him when you talk, and Dean is watching almost your every move. His eyes trail down your back, over the curve of your ass, before landing on your thighs. They flex underneath your weight, a sight for sore eyes as he watches you.

“No, smart ass, why are you doing it? Shouldn’t I be the one to wash my own car?” Dean mumbles, moving closer to you. You don’t budge, still crouched down next to his car. When he walks closer, it’s immediately a bad idea, and it’s too late before he realizes.

“Well, you haven’t in let's say, the better part of 2 years so,” For the first time since he’s talked to you, you break your focus to look at him. Much closer to you, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Still squatted down, in that tiny ass bikini you’re wearing. It covers enough of you to be legal, but god damn it, he’s reeling.

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!”

“Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Dean grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he stares down at you.

“What I know I’m doing is washing your car. You’re the one that came out here for whatever reason. To fight with me? Who fuckin’ knows.” You turn your attention back to the car, “You can help me, instead of sitting there and bitching. Shirt off though, that’s a requirement.” You laugh out the last part, reaching to the side and throwing soap at him. It makes his white shirt see through, showing his skin through the cloth.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to play along. For a moment, you’re sure he’s just going to walk back into the house. You smile softly when he’s pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere back towards the front door. You giggle, now playing a game with him. You smile as he reaches into the bucket, taking another sponge and beginning to wash the back rim.

In the time you’ve known him, Dean is easy to rile up. Some good banter, a few batted eyelashes, maybe even look up at him, and he’s a goner. You’ve seen him get more numbers at bars than you can count on both hands and feet, never leaving a town without one. It’s a part of why you’ve never made a move, because you know him. And you know his type, and you know what he likes to do. Just a little bit of fun, a little playing here and there. Regardless, it’s fun.

You giggle, moving from the rim you’re washing to the hood. You’re leaning over the hood, bending at the hips to reach the top. Dean stands up from the back, determined to watch you wash the hood. He scoffs softly, walking around to you. “You’re doing this wrong,” He mumbles.

“You haven't washed this in years and you’re lecturing me?”

“Just, shut the hell up for a second.” He mumbles, reaching around you to move your arm. He moves the sponge in circular motions, leaning over you. His hips barely make contact with yours, only the side of his hip brushing against your ass. If he moves over a single step, he’d be completely behind your bent over form. Suddenly, it’s all too much, he’s too close, and you’re so incredibly warm. “What, you’re finally listening to me for once?” Dean chuckles at your silence.

You’re quiet, face beginning to flush. “Not listening, smart ass. I’m just learning the right technique, according to you.” You’re pressing your ass against the hip that’s next to you, trying for the life of you to get him to move. His hand flys down to grab at your waist, holding you still. You’re still in this ridiculously small bikini, and his hand is now on your bare skin.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Dean mumbles, his head falling forward slightly. His forehead hits your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling himself up. Putting some space in between you, his hand still remains on your waist. For a moment, a realization hits him at how small your waist is, especially compared to his hands on your skin.

“If i’m not, who else would be?” You giggle, leaning further forward to reach the very top of the hood. From his teaching, you wash small circles. “You know, everyone’s out of the house until later tonight, right? Some dinner, poker match. I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.”

“What’re you saying, hm?” Dean mumbles, once again leaning over you. This time, he’s slightly more behind your hips, giving you more leverage to press back against him.

You smile, feeling his chest hit your back as he leans forward, head beginning to nestle in the crook of your neck as he talks, lips brushing against your ear. As his weight falls further onto you, you allow your arms to fold as he presses against your back. You rest on your forearms, the change in position pressing harder into his hips.

“Was this your plan the entire time, hm?” Dean grits, one hand moving to adjust your jaw, pushing your head to the side to make you look at him. “Wear this slutty excuse of a bikini, walk out here and wash my prized possession, get me to join? Hm?”

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” You giggle. “Maybe just since you walked out here.” You shrug, whining when he adjusts his hand, allowing his hand to move from your jaw to your neck.

“This is unfair,” Dean mumbles, softly biting into your shoulder. “My favorite girl, out here washing my favorite car, and you expect me not to take the bait?”

He allows his hand to move, instead of holding your waist, he holds your abdomen, pushing you back against him. You can feel him pressed against your skin, able to slot his hard cock in between your folds when you move a certain way. The fabric leaves little to the imagination, and he can feel the heat in between your legs.

“You gonna be mean, and take me right here? Or be nice and take me to the bedroom hm?” You tease him, moaning softly when he grinds against you.

“You know me, I like it all. So both.” He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. His fingertips dip underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing down to exactly where you need him. “You’re fucking soaked,” Dean mumbles, “You were thinking about this for awhile, huh? Pretending to just be washing my car, what a load of shit.” Dean mumbles, groaning softly as his fingers slip through your folds. He rubs gentle circles into your clit, slowly building pressure.

“You, I, just maybe.” You whimper, immediately weak in the limbs as he toys with you. The circles speed up, drawing out the softest whines and whimpers. He chases the noises as if it’s his own high, humming along softly when you let out a particularly loud whimper.

“How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” Dean asks, snaking one arm behind you as he gently slips a finger into your pussy, slow and careful in his movements. You whine even louder, tightening around his fingers as he slips in another, fucking into you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He’s adamant, chasing your high before thinking of himself. “Answer me,”

“Not long, since you’re all over every single girl you can get your hands on.” You mumble, riling him up. He fucks more roughly into you, grinding harshly against your g-spot. “Just need some relief, and you’re the only one here.” You’re lying through your teeth.

“You know all that shit is just me messin’ around, and you’re a bad liar, you know that?” Dean mumbles, beginning to kiss along any skin he can reach. “This wet? And you expect me to believe this is for anyone, hm? I bet if Sammy came out here, you would’ve immediately covered up, huh, hide all of this.” His hands reach up to pull at your bikini top, exposing your tits to his touch. He roughly gropes and feels your skin, twisting and pulling at your nipples, punishing you for riling him up.

“Okay, maybe not Sammy.” You shrug, “I could find a cutie at the bar, though, I’m sure.” His hand moves forward to wrap around your throat once again, squeezing just enough to make your mind fuzzy and to stop talking like a smart ass.

“But you wouldn’t, if you wanted to, you would’ve already done it.” He shrugs, you can feel the movement against your shoulders. You’re close, squeezing down around him. You don’t even have to tell him, he’s already teasing and pulling your strings before you can speak. “See, who else can rile you up like this, hm?”

“Can you make me cum, or are you all talk Dean?” You grit, almost unable to speak with him all over you like this. Every sense of you is filled with him, he’s all you can think of.

“Yeah, sure,” He laughs softly when you clench hard around him, teetering close. “You don’t have to tell me you’re close, I can feel it. If you keep being smart with me, I can stop. It won’t take much, you know, rip this pretty little orgasm away from you in a second.”

His fingers slow, no longer giving you the stimulation you need to actually cum. “Please, please, I’m sorry. Please make me cum.” You plead with him.

“There she is,” He laughs, speeding up once again to allow you to fall off the edge. When you come undone, it’s violent. Your legs shake, you tighten around him, and you thank god for baby underneath you to hold your weight up. Dean forces you to ride out the high, slowing down only barely to not push you into over-stimulation.

“Fuck me.” You mumble, roughly pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter how, you need it. “Now, Dean, unless you can’t get it up in your old age-”

He slips one of his fingers into your mouth, roughly pulling on your cheek. “A please would be nice, huh Pretty girl?” Dean mumbles, and you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. It’s fast and hasty, and you already know he’s pissed off with you constantly nagging him. “Just demand demand demand, whine whine whine.” Dean grits, roughly pulling your bottoms to the side, “Is that all you do, huh?” He’s pushing into you before you can react, pulling a loud moan from you as he holds your mouth open.

“Fuck, fuck, thank you,” You whimper, squeezing around him tightly. He bottoms out, grinding against your hips as he savours the feeling of being completely inside you. His hips are rough, battering into you with little remorse. Fucking the smart ass out of you, that’s what he’s gonna do or die trying. From the mewls and whimpers slipping past your lips without your control, he feels he’s doing a pretty good job.

“That’s more like it, there’s my girl.” Dean groans, cock throbbing at hearing you finally shut up for the first time, literally, since he’s met you. For once in his life, you aren’t spitting some sarcastic ass shit at him, and he’s not spitting it back at you. “Feels good hm, does my girl feel good?” Dean’s deep voice sends goosebumps across your skin, the vibrations running through you like a live wire as you work yourself up further.

“Your girl, hm? That’s new.” You mumble, moaning softly when his grip moves to press down on your tongue, stopping you from talking. Drool pools around his finger, and he groans when you wrap your lips around it, tongue moving slightly underneath his touch to run along the pad.

“Is that a problem?”

You can’t respond, and he knows it. You clench tightly around him, a vice grip in response, and he almost genuinely laughs at how needy you are for him. His hips react immediately to you, thrusting rougher into you, chasing the pleasure the both of you are feeling. Moving his grip from your waist, he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, trying to get you over the edge. It doesn’t take much to get you to fall over the edge, legs shaking underneath both of your weight.

“Good girl, easy, easy, ride it out. Don’t hurt yourself now,” Dean patronizes you gently, continuing to chase his own high.

“Cum, cum Dean, please.” You mumble around his fingers, tightening around even further. You’re so tight and just absolutely soaked that he’s spilling into you soon after, chanting your name gently in your ear as he comes undone. “Fuck, fuck,” You mumble, finally beginning to relax as he slows down his movements.

“C’mon pretty girl, I gotta give you the second half of my promise.” Dean laughs softly, “Or not, if you can’t take it.”

“If I can’t take it? Are you kidding me?” You smile, carefully pushing yourself up on your hands, glancing back at him. “Let’s go, your bed so I don’t have to wash my sheets later.” At this, Dean rolls his eyes, of course. Still, the second you turn around to face him, he’s hoisting you up onto his waist, pushing at your legs to get you to wrap around his torso. He carries you easily, walking through the empty house and straight to his room. Your back hits the bed, Dean toppling with you soon after.

“Gonna make soft mushy love to me, huh Dean?” You joke with him, your legs still wrapped around his torso, arms holding his head in your palms.

“After bending you over Baby, yeah. Best of both worlds or whatever they say.” Dean smiles, his characteristic smirk etched on his face. His head dips down slightly, softly kissing against your jaw, moving down to your neck, before sucking light marks into your chest. Far enough down not to be interrogated by Sammy later, but enough to leave a reminder of him. His head continues to trail down, hands pulling at your bikini bottoms while he bites at your thighs, once again leaving his mark on your otherwise perfect, unbroken skin.

“Never would’ve thought I’d have you here like this, hm?” He’s rolling his eyes at you, moaning softly when your hands come to pull at his hair. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, tightening the slightest bit around his head when he draws closer, finally making contact with you. “Fuck Dean, you gonna be nice, Dean, please?”

“To you, of course.”

Dean is skilled, to say the least. He knows what he’s doing, where he needs to work, what strings he needs to pull, how to get you there. Dean isn’t quiet about his skills either, you’ve heard sly remarks about the girls at bars, road side pubs, and everything in between. He’s living up to his legend, your thighs clamping around his head within minutes. You don’t let him get any smart ass remarks in, pulling him closer when you know he’s about to make fun of you. You control him so easily, muscular legs holding him in place. He’s not going to tell you, you’d never let him live it down, but he’s absolutely shaking at the thought of the hold you have over him.

“Gonna cum for you Dean, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, thighs flexing to grind against his face. He moans into you, caught off guard by your movement. You do it again, whimpering when you realize he likes this, he’s into this. “Cumming, fuck, cumming.”

His hands move to run along your thighs, trying to calm the shaking underneath his touch. “Good girl, so good for me.” Dean praises. Before he can react, you’re ripping him up. You're holding anywhere you can, forcing Dean to hover over you, legs once again around his waist.

“You gonna let me kiss you, or is that crossing a line?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please.” Dean mumbles, sighing deeply when you immediately connect your lips. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible. Dean wants to melt into you, fuse with you. He’s riling himself up, he knows that, but he swears your lips on him are heaven sent, curing his soul from whatever horrors it has been forced through. Like a breath of fresh air, like he’s alive again. He’d never tell you that, he can only imagine your reaction and the shit you would give him.

You’re kissing him as if your life depends on it, hands tangling in his hair. Dean could kiss you for hours and not complain, he could do this all day if you’d let him. He’s unsure of how long you’ve been kissing him like this, so needy and whiny underneath him, but he doesn’t care. When he pulls away to catch his breath, your lips are slightly swollen, slick with saliva. Your face has flushed a bright red from the kiss, making you look cute despite being in such a lewd state.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean mumbles, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you.

You blush softly, but you try to hide it as just flushed cheeks. “Don’t get too sweet on me now.” You smile, tightening around his waist with your legs.

“Right, right.” Dean smiles, fighting off a laugh when you reach to unbuckle his belt. He’s kicking the jeans off in record speed, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him move that fast. He’s back with you just as fast. “Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, shaking as his cock slides in between your folds, easily sliding with your slick. It’s so intimate that he’s unused to it, and there’s the smallest fear in his chest that he won’t last having you like this. “Fuck, pretty girl.”

You whine as he pushes in, so slow that it makes you squirm underneath him. Bottoming out, he allows his head to fall forward, landing in the crook of your neck. “Dean,”

“Just, fuck, give me a second.”

“It’s okay,” You mumble, understanding his situation. While you’re understanding, you’re not forgiving as you clench around him like a vise. Your hands reach around, holding his back as you pull him close. You kiss along his skin, waiting until he calms down.

Dean groans, unbelievable, it’s unbelievable how he’s stuck like this. “I can’t believe this shit,” Dean mumbles, drawing away from you to hook your legs over his elbows, folding you in half when he leans forward again. Finally having some sort of advantage, he’s able to target exactly where he needs to hit. “I feel like a fuckin teenager again.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” You laugh, relishing in the moans that slip past his lips. Finally getting his wits about him, he’s able to finally move, grinding against you. Dean’s not going to last, he knows that, as he begins gently rubbing light circles into your clit. He’s gotta get some sort of leverage, something. Bending further forward, you’re covered entirely by his weight. When your lips gently connect with his, Dean thinks he could conquer the world. Kissing him so gently, so sweetly, has him absolutely reeling.

“I love you,” Dean blurts, before he can even think to stop it. You don’t think he means it, not in any other way than being horny and worked up. “God, I fucking love you,” He mumbles again, shrugging your legs off of his arms in favour of caging you underneath him, head in between either of his arms as he kisses you. His hips don’t slow for a second, kissing you and chasing his high as if his life depends on it. He’s hitting your g-spot and grinding against your clit at the same time, kissing you as if he would die otherwise, and pressing all of his weight onto you.

You can’t answer or speak, can’t tell him off for saying that shit mid-fuck. Maybe it’s the position that has him acting up, or it’s the softest he’s fucked in awhile and he doesn’t know how to behave. You’re pulling him closer by his back, kissing him back just as feverishly.

“Cum for me pretty girl, please, need to feel you wrapped around me.” Dean moans, trailing a hand down in between your bodies. He’s on a mission, truly, needing to get you there before he can allow himself to. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Dean,” You whine, “Sensitive, ‘m sensitive.” You complain, overstimulated and worked up.

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, just one more. Come for me one more time, please. I need it, hm?” Dean pleads with you, “Doing so well for me, taking my cock so well.” Him talking you through it is almost all you need to tip over the edge, the smallest bit of stimulation you need. Throwing your head back, you can’t even look at him when you come undone. Dean kisses along your exposed neck, not leaving any marks for your own sake.

“Please, please, Dean. Come, no more.” You whine, tightening around him from over-stimulation. You need him to cum, and have a break. You don’t have to tell him twice, hell, you don’t even have to tell him once. He’s been on edge since he brought you into his fucking room. His head is buried in your shoulder, and you whimper when he bites down into the skin.

You’re so sore and over-stimulated, mumbling as his hips finally slow in their movement. “Y/n,” Dean is mumbling along with you, “Easy pretty girl, you’re okay,” He attempts to soothe you. “Listen, what I said.”

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.”

“I meant it, I mean it still.” Dean explains, carefully sliding out, careful to not accidentally stimulate you any further. You’re still caged underneath him, his arms around your head.

“You don’t have to tell me that, it’s okay, really. Heat of the moment, or whatever.”

“Please, listen. I mean it.” He’s speaking so softly it’s genuinely been awhile since you’ve heard this tone, and it’s never been with you. With Sammy, likely. “I know you don’t believe me, and I wish I saved it for a more romantic moment, I do. But I do mean it.”

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

“I haven’t been with anyone in forever, you know that. Getting a number is different, that’s just me trying to get information Y/N.” Dean speaks, pulling himself further off of you, giving you space. He’s reaching for his bag, trying to find something to cover you with. He finds a t-shirt, carefully putting it over your head. It goes down to your thighs, covering you. He’s snatching his boxers next, he’s gotta have some decency for this conversation. “I love you, Y/n. You don’t have to say it back, but you deserve to know the truth at least.”

He’s fully prepared to be shut down, given your reaction thus far. You lean forward, and he thinks you’re about to climb away from him, move out of his bed. Your lips softly connect with his, the gentlest kiss. He’s smiling like an idiot into the kiss, almost unable to kiss you from the extent of his smile. “We can’t tell Sammy, he’ll think you’ve lost it.” Dean almost giggles at this, yes, giggles. What has gotten into him? What the actual hell is happening right now? Still, he nods along with you in agreement.

“We can’t tell Sammy, or you don’t want to tell Sammy?”

You’re rolling your eyes. “We don’t have to tell Sammy, he’ll know.” It’s the truth, he’ll figure it out before you or Dean even have a chance to tell him. Dean nods again, the faintest of smiles beginning to spread across his face again. It grows tenfold when you’re leaning forward, cupping his face in your palms, and once again kissing him. He’s shaking when you lean forward, forcing his back to hit the bed, your legs soon straddling his hips. You’re fully seated on his lap, legs underneath his body to give you more leverage to plant yourself against him.

Your hands wrap around his head, pulling him into you. “Dean, say you love me again.” You mumble, diving back in to kiss him. He can barely mumble the words out, speaking with your lips on his the entire time. Not knowing it was possible, you’re kissing him harder.

“Riling yourself up, pretty girl?” Dean chuckles softly, hands holding your waist snugly. His grip tightens when you grind against him, drawing out a strangled moan. Dean’s head falls back, face scrunching up. He can’t watch you grind against him in his t-shirt, he really can't. You’re so warm it makes him shake, completely bare as you grind against his boxers. You’re soaking through the cloth, he can feel it. He curses his old age in the back of his head, regretting he can’t recover as easily as he used to. You’re not too much younger than him, but it’s still making him frustrated as you’re ready for round 3.

“Dean,” Your voice comes out as a whine, your body slumping forward as you curl into his warmth. Your hips continue to grind against his, lips running along his skin. You’re fighting off the urge to leave marks on his skin, losing yourself in the feeling of being close to him.

“C’mon pretty girl, show me what you’re made of.” Dean’s already regretting his words. He knows you’re quite literally going to make him eat them. Your feet remain underneath his body, flexing as you seat yourself more heavily against him. Your hands move all over his body, finally stopping in his hair as you connect your lips with his. Deans losing his mind. He feels his thighs shake when you lift your weight up and reach down, pushing his boxers down past his hips. He assists you momentarily as he lifts both of your weight off the bed for easier removal. “Gonna make me regret my taunting?”

“You know it.” You almost giggle, and it only solidifies his belief that he will, in fact, eat his words. You’re soaking wet as you make contact with him, easily sliding through your folds as you slowly and carefully rock your hips. Without warning, in one swift roll of your hips, he’s sheathed inside of you all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck, fuck, goddamn it.” Dean’s head is thrown back against the pillow, muscles straining in his neck with the force he’s exerting. Your hips grind and roll against his, drawing the prettiest moans from yourself. Dean knew this was gonna happen, and yet he’s shocked that it is. “Should’ve, fuck, picked my words better.”

Dean shuffles against the bed, sitting up so his back rests against the headboard. He easily pulls you along with him, hands securely holding you by the hips. He’s closer this way it feels like, can smell the sex and heat rolling off of your body. Your arms wrap around his head loosely, leaning down to connect your foreheads together. “Wanna cum like this Dean.” Your breath is basically a pant, grinding rougher as you chase whatever high you have left.

“Do what you want, please, use me.” Dean’s losing it as he leans forward and marks your skin, too fucked out to even think about what he’s actually doing. You’re going to scold him for this later, something he’s almost sure of, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. You’re coming undone embarrassingly soon, clenched tightly around him as your thighs shake gently. Your hips never stop moving, riding out your high long past the comfortable point. “My girl, my good girl,” Dean is cooing, almost babbling when he watches you use him.

He’s so overstimulated and so worked up it hurts, but he’ll grit his teeth and bare it if it means he gets to have you like this. You’re arguably more overstimulated than he is, legs shaking and small mewls or moans unconsciously slipping past your lips. He’s moving before you can react, your back hitting the bed. His hips pick up immediately where yours left off, pace barely faltering. You’re soaking wet, the sounds sending a shiver up his spine. “You’re so good to me, holy fuck, this is what I've been missing out on for years. Are you kidding me, fuck.” Dean groans, neck burying into your shoulder.

“I just, fuck, haven’t been touched in awhile. Easily excitable,” You joke, legs moving to wrap around his torso. With the amount of effort it takes to whine that sentence out, he knows you’re lying. He huffs slightly in annoyance, a small smirk on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation the two of you are in.

“You’re so full of shit,” It’s gruff and harsh, his brows scrunching together with the effort he’s exerting. His abs have never been clenched harder in his life, torso rock solid from the over-stimulation and effort. “Even if you could quiet down and stop whining, you’d still give yourself away.” He teases you, and you know he’s right. “Wanna try it, hm pretty girl? Shhhh,” It’s gentle and soothing rather than rough, despite his situation. He gently shushes and coos to you, eventually getting your whining and moaning to mere pants. Like he said, you still give yourself away with the slick noises each time his hips roll into yours. “Do you fuckin hear yourself? Listen pretty girl, just listen.”

You’re beyond fucked out, listening as Dean explains to you. Your lips are caught tightly in between your teeth, fighting hard to keep as quiet as you possibly can. Your head is thrown back against the bed, straining as your legs lock around his torso harder than before. “Dean,”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know. You give yourself away, hm?” He mocks, hands coming to run along your thighs, squeezing the muscle underneath. “One more for me, just give me one more and I’ll clean you up all nice and gentle.”

“I can’t-”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s soft, but just enough to be patronizing.

“Please, let’s cum. Last one.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly around him. It’s hard to push in, so overworked and sensitive. Dean’s voice alone works you up more than you ever realized, and having him so close, talking in your ear like this. It’s bad news. Dean’s hips are stuttering as you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, working himself up now. The noises you’re making would be embarrassing if it wasn’t Dean, who’s so beyond into it. Maybe it’s the both of your instincts being heightened from years of fighting fuck knows what, but the front door opening has the both of you immediately stilling.

Dean has never seen your eyes widen this much, almost comical as you look at him. There’s a wicked smile on his face as he shuffles his arms around, ever so gently placing his hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.” Dean’s whispering in your ear, hips slowing just enough to grind into you, clit grinding against his skin. You’re fighting hard to keep quiet, opting to bite down on Dean’s hand instead. He’s hissing softly, repositioning so you bite into the side of his hand.

“C’mon, give me some slack. Cum for me, please. I need to cum pretty girl, you’re gonna make me cum for you.” Dean swears your eyes are going to roll back and out of your skull and he’s going to be permanently like this with how you’re wrapped around him. Dean’s about to beg, he can feel the words on his tongue. Plead with you, even. His silent prayers are granted when your head throws itself back, your arms moving to wrap around his biceps. With the force you’re holding him, he thinks you’ll leave bruises. He’s following you soon after, hips faltering as he comes undone inside of you. Your legs lock around him and suddenly you’re a bodybuilder with the amount of strength you have.

Your legs are securely locked, not allowing him to rock anymore, needing no more stimulation. Like you thought, you would be embarrassed with how wet you are if it wasn’t Dean who was the one making you sound like this. “The others are back, I have to go.” You whisper, immediately faltering when your weight settles on your legs. Your bottoms are put on with the help of Dean, who keeps you upright. Too fucked out, your legs are almost unusable as you wobble your way towards the door with bikini top in hand. You have to get going before everyone comes into the back of the house, that you know.

“You can’t even walk straight.” Dean’s right behind you, trying to keep you up on your feet. He’s trying very hard not to laugh at your condition, but you can hear it in his voice.

“We can’t scar Sam like this.” You’re trying hard not to giggle, slowly peeling open the door. Dean catches you before you can sprint away from him, yanking you back into his embrace. He's grinning down at you, lips softly pressing against yours. You're distracted, beginning to get lost in the kiss. Reminding you, Dean begins to peel the door open slightly. Once it’s open enough, you’re making a sprint for your room. You hear footsteps soon after you make it to your room, ear pressed against the door to listen.

“Dean, do I wanna know why I just saw Y/N sprint across the hall in your tee shirt?”

“No, no you do not.”

The next case you work, Sam doesn’t mention a single thing. In fact, Sam doesn’t mention anything, ever, even the next morning when you’re awkwardly making coffee in the kitchen while he sits at the kitchen counter. Perhaps you should have asked how he felt about this before you went and created your master plan of you and Baby the other day. You’re sucking in your bottom lip as you’re thinking about how you’re going to bring this up, Dean out for the next half hour or so as he grabs food.

“Sammy?” You mumble softly, placing a mug of black coffee on the table for him. He won’t drink it with cream or sugar anymore, neither does Dean.

“Hm?” He asks absentmindedly, thumbing through the newspaper as he reads. He’s not listening to you, you know that. When he reads, he’s entirely immersed in the information he’s processing. He fumbled around for the coffee mug, and you slid it closer to where he’s smacking the table so he can actually find the handle.

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” You ask softly, waiting for him to process what you asked after he finishes whatever sentence he’s currently on. You don’t have to specify, you already know he knows what you’re referring to. Finally, he breaks his focus from the paper to look at you since you’ve walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. (You don’t know it, but he looked at you to make sure you grabbed his mug as well.)

He laughs, and for a second you’re disheartened. “Are you serious?”

“I-what?” You don't know whether to be confused or offended. You were going to genuinely hear him out, but this is not the tone you were expecting.

“You and Dean have been at each other’s throats since you met. I’m surprised you guys didn’t jump on each other sooner.” He laughs, sipping his coffee and shaking his head softly. He laughs at you more, “You think I would care about that? Oh my god, I’ve never seen Dean run out of the house faster this morning to get you food, wide eyed and bushy tail. I think he thought he was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.”

“Fuck, should I go lay back down?” You genuinely wonder, making Sam laugh even harder.

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re telling me this is the first time? I honestly thought you guys have been hate fucking since we met.”

“Sammy, pleaseeeee.” You whine, tossing your head back. Sipping your coffee, you want to whine and pout.

“No offense, but I don't care what the two of you guys get up to. As long as you’re happy and don’t die on a hunt because you’re distracted, it’s not a problem.”

“Right, right. It won't interfere with hunting, I promise.” You nod your head to him, “But seriously, should I go get back into bed?”

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he refocuses on the newspaper he’s reading. You don’t, because Dean’s walking into the door soon after your conversation with Dean. Making eye contact, his face falls completely and Sam was definitely correct with his guess of breakfast in bed. Regardless, Dean pretends he just got food and had no other motive. “Breakfast has arrived,” He announces, placing the bags on the table. “What, no coffee for me?!”

“Oh come on, give me a break. You were nowhere in sight this morning.” You defend yourself, “Not even a BRB note, how was I supposed to know when you were coming back?”

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

“Sammy was sitting in here in the kitchen when I woke up-”

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

“It totally isn’t! Just because he uses it more often than I do-”

“OKAY!” Sam interrupts, and he’s smiling like an idiot when you turn to look at him. Nothing has changed between you or Dean, and this just proves that. Sure, you’re eyeing him up like a starved woman, and Dean is trying hard to ignore you in your little pajamas, but nothing has changed between the two of you. “You guys gonna eat or fuck against the kitchen counter?”

Both you and Dean groan in annoyance, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags. After breakfast, you guys go over the main points of the new case you’re working on. The drive makes you want to bash your face into Baby’s window over and over, and you can already feel the tiredness in your bones. You guys start the drive not long after, packing up everything and getting a jump start to the job. 7 hours in and Sam switches with Dean to drive, now in the passenger seat.

You kick the seat when he leans it back and pins your legs to the backseat, “Don’t make me come back there!” He threatens, to which you stick your tongue out at him. Another seven hours in and you’re switching with Sam, who sleeps in the backseat.

You and Dean talk in the front. “So, Sammy doesn’t care then?” Dean whispers, and you shake your head no. You’re whispering in an attempt to not disturb Sam, even though you think Sam could sleep through an earthquake. Giving him some type of courtesy, you try to keep the noise down to a minimum.

“Sammy said he thought we had been, quote, hate fucking since we first met, end quote.” You giggle, glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. Dean is trying awfully hard not to howl laugh right now, and god is it hard. You giggle softly, shaking your head at him.

“Well, in that case.” Dean shrugs, reaching over the front bench and grabbing the inside of your thigh as you drive.

“Winchester.” You warn, genuinely warn, as your voice remains low and calm.

“What? You said he doesn’t care.” Dean mumbles, chuckling softly. Glancing back into the back seat, Sam is passed out. He wouldn’t do that in front of Sammy, but he can push your buttons. Dean slides his hand closer to your hip, slipping down onto your inner thigh further. You give him no reaction, knowing the second you do it’ll only fuel the fire. Dean bites at his lips, trying extremely hard not to laugh at your resolute attitude. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, making your hips jolt back into the bench.

You’re grabbing his hand, ripping it backwards and twisting his arm. “Fuck, I love it when you’re rough with me.” Dean groans softly, a smile still playing on his features. “Okay, okay sweetheart, I hear you loud and clear.” He smiles, pulling his arm free and kissing your knuckles.

You finally get to the motel after what feels like 2000 years, you driving the last leg of the trip. Sam shuffles into the motel without saying a word to either of you and Dean, still half asleep as he pushes into the room. He’s falling into the bed and back asleep in no time, and you and Dean share a look. Dean has a soft chuckle, and you giggle when he slides his hand across your thigh, pulling you by your hips across the bench of Baby.

“No, no, no pretty boy. You made me drive the shitty shift.” You mumble, shuffling so you’re pressed against him. He’s easily manipulated, allowing his body to fall back against the passenger side door. Your legs easily swing over his hips, settling down on his lap with ease. You hate driving at night, and he knows that. “And you’ve been teasing me for the past 20 miles. I’m gonna do what I want, and if you ask nice enough by the end of this, i’ll let you cum, hm?”

Dean whimpers from underneath you, eyebrows knitting together as you speak to him however you like. When you slam your lips down onto his, he groans into it. You’re frustrated, and annoyed, and slightly angry but not exactly at him. You need an outlet, and Dean is a willing one. Your hips press heavily down into his, using your legs underneath him as leverage to seat yourself against him. Your hands are everywhere and anywhere, running all along his skin underneath his clothes. There’s a whimper that escapes him when you rip off your shirt, not allowing him the pleasure of doing so.

“This isn’t fair-” You grip his face in between your hands, holding his chin. With the slight pressure, his lips pucker out slightly. You gently peck his lips like this, releasing some of the grip you have on his face. Dean’s hands land on your waist, gently brushing and rubbing along any exposed skin you’ll allow him.

“Be good, Dean.” You mumble, “You’ll be good for me, hm?” You ask softly, picking your hips up enough to yank your shorts and underwear off in one swift movement. “Let me ride your fingers, baby, get me ready to take you.” You command, voice leaving zero room for disagreement.

“Yes, yes,” He mumbles absentmindedly, hands shuffling to slip further down your hips. You hiss softly as he makes contact with your clit, well practiced and well trained at this point. He gently rubs along your clit, drawing soft, tight circles into the bud. There’s a small gasp as he slides a digit in, expertly curling and moving in the way he knows you like. You pant softly when your hips grind against him on their own, searching for any touch or stimulation he’ll allow you to have. You chase it like you need it to live, to breathe. And Dean chases the little whimpers and whines as if he’ll die without them. Another digit makes you slump down against him slightly, seeking his warmth and closeness, hips still moving against him.

“My pretty boy Dean.” You whimper, mumbling partially against his lips as you talk. One of your hands rest behind his head, the other one running your fingers through his hair. Dean reels at the soft compliment, head pushing into your hand as he seeks for your touch. You’re using him like a goddamn toy, and he can’t help but twitch at the thought. He’d let you do anything, anything you ask if it’s from your pretty little mouth. You kiss him hungrily, breaking contact more often than he wants as you moan and pant against him. He seeks your kiss, neck craning up.

Your hands sloppily fumble with his jean buttons, wanting them off right this second, losing your patience. You push them just below his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers. “Easy, pretty girl, you gotta let me make you cum first.” Dean mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your neck that is burning up.

“Need you,”

“Need you to feel good, baby.” Dean mumbles, working more feverishly into you to push you past the edge. There’s a boost in his pride when you fall apart against him, arms locking around his head gently as you cum.

“Dean, wanna fuck you. You gonna let me do that?” You mumble, carefully taking him in your hand. Dean hisses when he slips in between your folds, head thrown against baby for some sort of stability as he tries to compose himself. Cumming when she wants me too, he reminds himself. Your hands are gentle but firm, and dean’s more than aware you’re not giving up your current position on top of him.

“Gonna let you do anything,” dean mumbles, picking his head up slightly as he watches you line his cock up. He fights to keep his head up, watching as you devour inch by inch of his length. You’re grinning wide when you catch him.

“Gonna watch me take you? Gonna watch me fuck you, hm?” you pant softly against his lips, snapping your hips down against his. You grind and rub against his his pelvic bone, fully seated against him, tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. Dean’s head falls back against the door, unable to watch. He can’t watch this without cumming earlier than your word. He groans when you hear the tsk sound as you kiss your teeth, whimpering when you pick his head up.

“I’m trying to listen to you, don’t wanna cum early sweetheart.” Dean mumbles, biting hard onto his bottom lip. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you take him, a shiver running up his spine as he tries not to think about anything for too long. You’re so tight, and wet, and just absolutely pulsing around him. He’s sure there’s a pile underneath him from how wet you are around him, his abs clenched harder than he thought possible as he fights off his orgasm. “God damn it, baby. You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he groans, reaching down and rubbing tight circles into your clit. The sharp gasp sends goosebumps up his arms, listening to your soft noises.

“This is cheating Dean,” You moan, continuing to fuck yourself down onto him.

“C'mon baby, lemme have it pretty girl,” Dean whimpers, doing his best to snap his hips up against you. Your weight jolts against him, allowing him more room to snap his hips up. He grins, as he finally has some advantage as he fucks into you. When you come undone, it’s shaky and messy, hips slamming down against Dean's to get the movement to stop. His hips continue to rut into you, milking the orgasm for as long as you’ll let him.

“Being so good Dean,” You coo into his ear, your face burying itself into his neck. Dean's quite literally fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. He could cry, eyes watering as he screws his eyes shut.

“C'mon baby, cut me some slack,” He groans, sitting up abruptly to lean into your body. You squeal slightly at how quickly he jostles you around, your legs wrapping around his torso as he moves.

“I like seeing you so pent up, ‘s cute,” You mumble, holding his head in your palms as you kiss him. Reaching around, you softly pull at his hair, scratching his head where you’re pulling. Your hips grind against him, doing more for you than him. Dean's hands grip your waist and thighs, moving you against him.

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean groans, leaning forward to bite into your shoulder.

You smile, holding him gently by his neck as you lean back, taking him with you. He’s groaning into your skin, head falling into your shoulder. “C'mon, want you to feel good,” You mumble, catching his lips gently when his head picks up to glance at you.

“I do feel good. Feel good if you’re feeling good,” Dean grunts, hissing softly when you push his hips before pulling him back in with your heels. He almost wants to let you make him cum like this, but the shake in your thighs assured him you wouldn’t be able to. “My girl,” Dean moans softly, snapping his hips into you. Your soft mewls spur him on, groaning softly when your hands pull at his hair. Dean's losing it, moaning into the crook of your neck as he buries his face into your skin.

His weight is pressed entirely against you, elbows digging into the seat on either side of you. You're whimpering in his ear, and he’s been holding off for what feels like years at this point. You pick his head up, pressing your lips to his. The both of you are moaning and panting so hard it’s difficult to kiss, riling yourselves up. “Feels good, Dean, do I make you feel good?” You pant against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist. Your hands are all over him, touching any inch of skin you can, feeling every muscle flexing with the effort of his ministrations. “Talk to me Winchester, my pretty boy.” You moan, one particular thrust sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I- fuck- can't.” Dean almost grunts, lips never leaving yours as he talks. “ ‘s too good, this pussy, fuck, made for me.” He groans, lips leaving yours to kiss along your cheek and jaw. Your hands settle on his biceps, trying hard to ground yourself here with him. “Never wanna leave it, never wanna leave you.” He groans, pulling you closer by the back of your neck to properly kiss you. “Fuck, please let me cum.”

You hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you, a giant smile creeping over your face at how good he is. “Cum, Dean. Cum inside me, please, need it.” You mumble, grip tightening to hold yourself against him as he roughly fucks into you, chasing the high he’s been craving. You squeal and jerk under him as he bites into your shoulder, roughly laving over it with his tongue to relieve the pain. You squeeze tighter around him from it, making his hips falter in their place. You’re over-sensitive, beginning to squirm. “Cum, Dean, please, can’t take it.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly more.

“Fuck, taking it so good. Just a bit more, be patient for me sweetheart.” Dean groans against your ear, thrusts becoming more erratic as he finally lets himself go. Your legs are practically numb as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming inside you. You complain softly as he lazily fucks his cum into you, enjoying the absolute mess you’re making underneath him.

“Please-” You hiccup, pulling his hair softly. Dean slows, stilling as he kisses you properly for the first time in forever, no longer panting and moaning against you. You relish in it, not rushing as you kiss him back.

“I think I’ll make you drive the shit shift more often.” He’s smiling, carefully getting you cleaned up. He’s proud of how fucked out you are, pride oozing from his demenor. You have the same pride, knowing the second he touches that motel bed he’ll be out for the night.

You peck him quickly, not wanting to rile him up again. “Sure, but next time you wont cum.” You giggle, taking off before he has the wit to catch you and pin you to baby again. Running into the motel room where Sam is knocked out, you're in the shower before Dean can catch up to you. You hear a snarky remark from the other side of the door, making you giggle.

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aajjks · 3 months ago

Text

Stuck With You. (m)

synopsis. Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

genre: crack, 18+.

pairings: jungkook x fem reader.

warnings: stûck în â rôôm tôgêthêr trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr.

note. If this flops- oh well. But if this becomes a hit, I will make it a series hehe, gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest. OMG ENJOY!

pt 2 on high demand.

You are absolutely going to lose your mind. Not because you’re stuck in a room—

no, that part isn’t even the problem. It’s who you’re stuck with.

“Don’t look so mad, babe. You’ll get wrinkles,” Jungkook says, leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed, looking every bit like he owns the place.

His black t-shirt clings to his annoyingly perfect body, and his smug grin stretches wider every time he catches your glare.

“You’re the reason we’re stuck in here, you idiot,” you snap, pacing the room. “Who even breaks a doorknob while trying to open the door?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he protests, throwing his hands up. “The thing was loose—like, super loose. I barely touched it.”

You stop pacing and point at him. “You yanked it like you were in a strongman competition!”

Jungkook shrugs, like being accused of destroying things is just another Tuesday for him. “Maybe. But hey, at least we’ve got… each other?” His grin turns into that stupid wink he loves so much.

You groan and flop onto the bed. It creaks under your weight, and you make a face because this feels like the start of a very bad rom-com. “I can’t believe this. I have work tomorrow.”

Jungkook leans against the bedpost, towering over you with that annoyingly pretty face of his. “Relax, princess. I’m sure someone will fix it soon. Meanwhile…” His eyes trail down your body in that blatant, shameless way that only Jungkook can pull off. “…you’re looking pretty comfortable.”

“Stop staring at my tits, Jeon.” You cross your arms over your chest, even though you know it won’t stop him.

This is seriously ridiculous.

“I wasn’t,” he lies, biting back a grin.

“You were.”

“Okay, I was,” he admits, laughing. He flops down onto the bed beside you, making the mattress bounce slightly. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “But you can’t really blame me. They’re right there.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it, hard enough to knock some of the smugness out of him. He lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. “Abuse! yn, you’re abusing me!”

“You deserve it!” you say, your voice rising with every word.

you like being evil.

“Oh, come on.” He shifts closer, so close his shoulder brushes against yours. His voice drops, teasing and low. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

You scoff. “I’d celebrate.”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Cold. That was cold, yn.” He shakes his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes. “You’d be crying without me to entertain you.”

“I’d cry tears of joy.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin widening. Then he leans in, his voice dropping again. “But… if you’re gonna cry, you might as well do it on my shoulder, babe.”

You hate the way your stomach flips at his tone. His big, stupid eyes are focused on you, and for once, they’re not looking at your chest.

You roll your eyes to hide how flustered you feel. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he fires back, leaning in even closer. His breath tickles your skin, and you shove him away before he gets any ideas.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence as he lays back on the bed, his arms tucked behind his head. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You’re always thinking something,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “But if I told you, you’d probably hit me again.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He laughs, loud and carefree, and it’s so annoying that you can’t help but smile a little.

Even though he’s so fucking annoying.

Time passes slower than it should. You’re lying back now, one arm thrown over your face to block out the overhead light, trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that you’re stuck in a room with Jeon Jungkook.

“yn,” Jungkook says after a while, his tone softer now.

“What?” you ask without looking at him.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know… entertain me?”

You pull your arm off your face and give him a deadpan look. “What am I, a clown?”

His grin returns, and you immediately regret your choice of words. “You could put on a show for me, babe.”

You groan. “Shut up, Jeon.”

“Or,” he says, his voice dipping lower as he rolls onto his side to face you, “we could play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare with you, Jungkook. I know how your brain works.”

He pouts, and it’s so absurdly dramatic that you almost laugh. Almost. “You’re no fun, yn.”

“Good. I don’t want to be fun.”

Jungkook sits up suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. Then let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?” you repeat, suspicious.

“Yeah.” His grin turns wicked. “If we’re still stuck in here after another hour, you have to go on a real date with me.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Take it or leave it, babe.”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “And what happens if we get out of here before the hour’s up?”

Jungkook’s grin doesn’t falter. “Then I’ll stop making inappropriate jokes for a week.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers.

You stare at him for a long moment, weighing your options. Then, finally, you sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to regret this when we’re out of here in twenty minutes.”

Jungkook just smirks, his confidence radiating off him in waves. “We’ll see, babe.”

And as much as you hate to admit it, you kind of hope you lose.

You stare at him, his stupid is grin practically glowing in the dim light of the room. He’s lying on his side now, looking way too comfortable, while you’re still sitting upright like you’re waiting for a rescue team.

“You seem a little tense,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your eye twitch.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, gesturing to the locked door. “Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in here with a man-child who thinks ‘truth or dare’ is an appropriate solution to boredom.”

Jungkook props his head up on one hand, his biceps flexing in a way that feels intentional. “I’m just saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun. And let’s face it, yn, no one else makes you laugh like I do.”

You snort, leaning back against the headboard. “You don’t make me laugh. You make me want to scream.”

“Same thing,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You hate that he’s right.

As much as you want to throttle him half the time, the other half? You’re too busy laughing at his ridiculousness to care.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Let’s play your stupid game.”

Jungkook perks up immediately, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you say, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you think I’m hot?”

You blink at him, stunned by his audacity, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says, his smirk growing. “Come on, yn. Be honest.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating against your will. “Fine. You’re… decent-looking.”

He’s very hot, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Decent-looking?” He clutches his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Good,” you say, fighting back a grin.

“Your turn,” he says, recovering quickly. “Truth or dare?”

You pause, considering your options. “Dare.”

His smirk turns dangerous, and you immediately regret your decision. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’s just a dare,” he says, his tone deceptively innocent. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I murder you in cold blood, for starters.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning back against the pillows like he’s got all the time in the world. “You’re no fun.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It is when you’re this cute.”

You throw a pillow at his face, and he catches it effortlessly, laughing as he tosses it back at you.

Another twenty minutes pass, and you’re lying side by side now, both of you staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” Jungkook says, his voice softer now, “this isn’t so bad.”

You turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowing. “Being locked in a room?”

“Being stuck with you,” he says, and for once, there’s no teasing in his voice.

Your stomach does a weird little flip, and you quickly look away, your cheeks heating. “You’re such a sap.”

You Kind of like it, but…

“Only for you, babe.”

You groan, shoving him with your shoulder. “Stop calling me babe.”

“Why?” he asks, rolling onto his side to face you. “Does it make your heart race?”

“No,” you lie, glaring at him.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

“Idiot.”

“Hot,” he counters, his grin widening.

You don’t dignify that with a response.

Eventually, the tension breaks when the doorknob jiggles, and a muffled voice calls from the other side.

“Are you guys okay in there?”

You spring off the bed like it’s on fire. “Yes! Get us out!”

Jungkook stays lying down, his arms tucked behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. “Take your time!” he calls out.

You glare at him, your heart pounding for reasons you’d rather not analyze. “Get up, Jeon.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

“Get. Up.”

He sighs, sitting up with an exaggerated groan. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

You grab the nearest pillow and whack him one last time, just for good measure.

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luveline · 4 months ago

Note

I would like to say that this is NOT a smut request(unless of course you want it to be but it does not matter to me), but I’d love to see hotch finding out his sister and Spencer are not just an innocent couple because I know that would be so so so funny and awkward and I’m a sucker for awkward Spencer

Aaron wants you to be happy. More than anything, he wants you to have all the things in life he himself has been lucky to experience. A well paying job that he likes, a wife, a child. He wants you to be fulfilled, even in parts of life he’d prefer you didn’t have at all.

“Remember that?”

He wrinkles his nose. Spencer’s leaning over you, a hand encroaching the inside of your thigh, and Aaron isn’t that kind of brother but he sort of is; he feels a mixture of horror, mild disgust, and anger at the sight. He remembers you’re a grown up and so is Spencer before he can voice these emotions.

You’re laughing. “Remember what? Your dire inability to make a hickey?”

“I’m not giving you a hickey!” Spencer whispers severely. “What is with you and biting? I don’t wanna bite you, and especially not where you wanted it.”

“Everyone gives hickeys, Spencer.”

“Please don’t say anything else. I don’t wanna know a single word about who’s been doing what to you.”

“Just before,” you say. “Spence, it’s just a kiss. And you like them, don’t you?”

Your laugh turns to panicked giggling as Spencer squeezes your thigh.

It’s sort of nice. If you weren’t his sister, Hotch might say it was romantic, or at the least, earnestly human. But you are his sister, and this is ridiculous, you knew he was coming over.

He clears his throat loudly and opens the door.

You, to your credit, look immediately embarrassed, and Spencer —honestly, he looks like he’s going to throw up, careful as he climbs off of you but rough the moment you’re no longer touching.

“Hotch!” Spencer says, “I–”

“You knew I was coming,” Aaron says.

You check your watch. The breath you let out is steam. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking at the time.”

“I see.”

“This is embarrassing.”

You stand up. When you pull your t-shirt back down, Aaron wonders if he might be better off transferring Spencer to a foreign department. But then you give Aaron one of your I’m so sorry please don’t be mad looks and he decides to let it go. You weren’t even kissing, just talking about them as you play-fought or whatever it was. If anything, Spencer was being gentlemanly.

Well, perhaps he shouldn’t go that far. “Come on, then. This car won’t pick itself up.”

Spencer can barely look at him as he stands. “Uh, thanks again, Hotch. For taking us.”

“I think this one falls under older brother duties, Reid.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

He takes a long breath. “You should be.”

You jab Aaron in the arm, “Stop.”

“What?” he asks, failing to hide his smirk.

“You know what, stop being mean. Remember that time I walked in on you and Haley in the hot tub at–”

“Enough. Do you want to go get this car or not?”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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minniesfiles · 21 days ago

Text

OPERATION WONWOO: CALM DOWN MY GIRLFRIEND

In which Wonwoo tries to comfort his overly dramatic girlfriend after his enlistment news came out.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff, humour

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, idol wonwoo, tears, humour, fluff, topic of enlistment

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.1k

𐚁₊⊹

▍5 MARCH 2025

Wonwoo never considered himself as a particularly emotional person. He was rational, practical, and logical. None of which, apparently, applied to you, who was currently curled up in a blanket burrito on his sofa, sobbing like he just told you he was moving to the moon.

He sighed while standing over you with his arms crossed. “Babe, you’re being ridiculous.”

You lifted your head from the blanket pile, eyes red and puffy. “I am not,” you wailed. “You’re leaving me for eighteen months, Wonwoo. That’s, like, a lifetime in relationship years.”

“That’s not how time works.”

“You don’t care about my suffering at all!” you sniffled dramatically.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and shifted his weight as he continued watching you spiral into despair. “Okay, first of all, I’m not leaving you. I’m literally just going to work. Second, I’m not even doing active duty. I’m doing an alternative service because, in case you forgot, my eyesight is so bad that the government won’t even trust me with a gun and is making me do a desk job instead.”

“Still counts” you hiccupped mid-sob.

“Does it?”

“Yes” you crossed your arms, glaring at him. “You’ll still be gone, and I’ll still be alone, and — oh my God, what if you get super buff and realise you don’t love me anymore?”

Wonwoo blinked. “I’m literally going to be working in an office.”

“So? What if lifting all those papers gives you arm muscles?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “First of all, paper isn’t that heavy. Second, even if I did somehow get buff, I wouldn’t stop loving you.”

You let out a dramatic huff. “How do I know that for sure?”

Wonwoo stared at you for a long moment before answering, “Because if I was going to leave you, it would’ve been when you made me watch that thirty-episode historical drama just so you could cry over it.”

You gasped, clutching your chest like he physically wounded you. “You said you liked it!”

“I lied.”

You let out a strangled noise, then flopped back onto the sofa. “I knew it! I’m already losing you.”

Wonwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Babe, I’ll be home every night. The only difference is that I won’t be promoting with the members for a while. That’s it.”

You sniffled again and gripped the blanket tighter. “It’s not just that! I won’t get to see you perform, or travel with your members, or do all the cute idol boyfriend things—”

He raised an eyebrow. “When have I ever done cute idol boyfriend things?”

“Okay, fine, Jeonghan does cute idol boyfriend things. But that’s not the point!” you huffed, sitting up to glare at him.

“The point is, I won’t get to see you in your element. I won’t get to watch you perform on stage, and I won’t get to hear you talk about making music with your members. You love being with them.”

He frowned slightly at that, because — well, you weren’t wrong.

It would be weird not promoting as a Seventeen member, not spending every day surrounded by the usual chaos and comfort of his group. He would miss standing on stage. He would miss the adrenaline of performing, the way the members bickered, the way Carats screamed their names with so much love.

But, at the end of the day, he would still be home.

Wonwoo let out a sigh and sat down beside you, resting a hand on your knee. “I get it. I’ll miss all of that too,” he admitted.

“But it’s not forever. And honestly? I’d rather be at home with you every night than stuck in a training camp running laps at five in the morning.”

“I feel like you’re just saying that to make me feel better” you pouted.

“Maybe. But it’s also true” he smirked.

“You think I’d rather be sweating in a field somewhere when I could be home with you, eating ramen and watching bad dramas?”

You hesitated. “…That does sound better.”

“Exactly.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “But what if you change?”

“What do you mean?” your boyfriend frowned.

“What if, after eighteen months, you don’t love me the same way?” your voice was quieter now, and your usual dramatic energy was replaced by something more vulnerable.

His chest ached at the sight of you, and the way you curled into yourself like you were trying to brace for impact.

“Baby,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You don’t know that” you mumbled, biting your lip.

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “You think I’m going to go to work, file some paperwork, and suddenly forget how much I love you?”

“Maybe there’s a really hot co-worker with perfect vision who loves books as much as you do” you shrugged.

Wonwoo gave you deadpan look. “First of all, I can barely see people’s faces without my glasses, so your imaginary rival isn’t even a threat. Second, no one could ever be you.”

“You promise?” you sniffled.

“I swear on my terrible eyesight.” That finally got a small laugh out of you, and Wonwoo felt some of the tension ease from his chest.

“Besides,” he added, smirking. “If anything, you should be more worried about Jeonghan stealing me away while I’m gone.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I knew it. He’s been trying to seduce you for years.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “you have no idea.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and flopped against him. “Fine. I’ll let you go.”

“Oh? You’re giving me permission now?”

“Yes,” you sniffed. “But only if you compensate me properly.”

“And how exactly do I do that?” Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

You perked up. “A life-sized body pillow with your face on it.”

Wonwoo groaned. “Not this again.”

“You owe me emotional damages” you crossed your arms.

“I’m not getting you a body pillow.”

“Then I’ll just make my own,” you threatened.

Wonwoo sighed, rubbing his temples. “Okay, how would you even do that?”

“Print a giant picture of your face, tape it to a pillow, and boom. DIY boyfriend” you smirked.

“You have issues” he stared at you.

“I have needs” you corrected.

Wonwoo shook his head in defeat. “Fine. I’ll send you so many selfies that you’ll get sick of my face.”

You gasped. “Never.”

“You’re ridiculous” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“And yet, here you are, cuddling me instead of telling me to stop.”

“Unfortunately” your boyfriend sighed dramatically. You gasped and smacked his chest. “Take that back!”

“Nope” he grinned mischievously.

You huffed, but your arms tightened around him. “Ugh. You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are, crying over me leaving.”

“Shut up and let me be sad. And you’re not exactly leaving, remember?” you sniffled.

Wonwoo chuckled, squeezing you gently. “Alright baby. Be as sad as you want.”

a/n; dreading the almost 2 years of Wonwoo drought icbbb

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imnotshua · 11 days ago

Text

show me how - kmg

٠࣪⭑ pairing: kim mingyu x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: you meet mingyu in a bar and then you fuck. that's it, that's the tweet. ٠࣪⭑ genre: generic au, strangers 2 lovers, smut ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with me, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: swearing, drinking, one night stand. ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: gendered terms, mingyu has an enormous cock (canon), kisses, v fingering, oral (f receiving), v sex, mingyu 🔛🔝, wet patches <3. teasing but it's good natured. if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 2k - complete ٠࣪⭑ a/n: i needed a break from angsty wonwoo and this just sort of happened, my bad, lads and ladettes. please note this is unbeta'd and unedited because it's 1am and i'm tired now thank u vm, any mistakes are my own but do lmk if u see any so i can fix ٠࣪⭑ thank you all for visiting my little corner of the internet. i hope u like this one<3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Jeonghan always does this. He insists it’s his job as department lead to take the new recruits out for drinks, as a sort of ice breaker. Terrible idea, you always say, to feed newbies (far too much) alcohol on their first Friday, and expect them to feel totally comfortable in his presence come Monday. That’s why you’re always there too, because you can rein Jeonghan in (sometimes) and it’s not your department to actually worry about.

Tonight is like any other. Jeonghan is playing matchmaker for some unsuspecting interns and Seungcheol is trying not to make moon eyes at him. Ridiculous, if anyone asks you, which no one does. You’re perfectly content sitting at the bar nursing your drink and texting Seungcheol to let him know what a down bad loser he is, until someone too enormous to ignore takes the seat next to you. And you’re annoyed, even though it is the only spare seat in this place, because his giant arm knocks yours as he calls down a bartender, sending your drink splashing over the counter.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, grabbing for tissues and mopping up the mess. “Let me get you another.”

“Oh. No, I’m good actually.”

“That was a full glass of wine.” Here we go.

“Yes it was.”

Seungcheol is texting you already.

Cheolie: who is THAT guy Cheolie: you should fuck him immediately oh my god Cheolie: he’d swing you round like a bat

Why on earth would I want to be swung around like a bat?

“C’mon, let me make it up to you,” says Tall Stranger. Even sitting down he’s a head above you. He’s probably terrible for your mental health. ”I’d feel guilty all night if I can’t replace it.”

“I don’t take drinks from random men.”

Cheolie: idk dude but he could do it Cheolie: he’s your type!!!!!!!! Cheolie: when did you last get laid even “Technically you’d be taking it from the staff. I’d just pay for it.”

He’s not even hot. He’s just tall

Cheolie: bitch i can see his cheekbones from here Cheolie: 11/10 easy

Finally turning looking at him properly, you have to give Seungcheol credit where credit is due. All smooth skin, big eyes, and perfectly full lips. You could cut your finger on that cupid's bow.

“I guess you’ve got me there,” you say.

“I’m Mingyu.” He smiles wide. Oh nooo, he’s hot.

I’m not fucking a stranger from a bar! Go tell Jeonghan you wanna suck his dick and leave me alone

Cheolie: :))))))))))))

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“My apartment was definitely closer,” Mingyu says between wet kisses pressed to your jaw.

You push him off to pull your shirt over your head and he gapes at your chest. Pervert. “Well, we’re here in case you turn out to be a killer,” you say. Mingyu crowds your space again so fast, slipping impatient hands down your body, warming your skin with them. Snaking one between your legs and finding the material of your underwear a little damp. “At least then my roommates could find my body.”

“Not a killer–” he says against your neck. “But I am about to murder this pu–”

“Oh my God, never say that again.”

“Noted.”

The best thing about one night stands with guys might actually be that you can say and do pretty much anything, and there’s little to no embarrassment. You can tell Mingyu here that it’s his job to make you come before he does, and all he does is nod, dumb and horny, and a lot into it.

He moves back on your bed, pillows shoved out of the way and spine pressed against the headboard, and looks at you with something like trepidation. If trepidation could be sexy or whatever. You climb into his lap and take your time unbuttoning his shirt. Mingyu watches your hands as you brush against his skin and asks if he can kiss you.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you say, offering up your neck.

Unfortunately, he’s ever so good. Just smiles sheepishly (very hot) and tugs your chin down to catch your bottom lip between his. It’s better than you expect. Attractive men don’t kiss this well, usually, because they never had to work for it. Unfair, really. “Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against your lips, deft fingers tugging your underwear to the side.

Everywhere goes tight as he rubs circles over your clit. Mingyu holds up your skirt with his other hand, leans back to watch, and the heat creeps over your neck. What was that you were thinking about little to no embarrassment? Disappears the moment you see his jaw slacken, cheeks flushing with want, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You feel so soft,” he says. “So fucking wet.” God, who made him? You drag an unsteady breath as a finger slips inside, curls it just enough to make you whimper. He strokes you gently, working you open, slipping another finger in just as soon as he thinks you can take it. You can’t.

“Fuck,” he gasps. He leans in to drag his teeth across your shoulder. “You just got so tight. Wanna feel that on my cock.”

“Do you always narrate?” Your words come thready. Embarrassing times ten.

“Uh– yeah,” he laughs. “Should I stop?”

“No, no. It’s okay.”

“Gonna make you come now, baby,” he says. “It’s gonna be fast, okay? Need to fuck you.”

“Cocky–” you start, but he’s laving a flat tongue over the lace of your bra, making your nipple pebble through the thin material. His fingers slide deeper, his wrist coated in you, and the way he uses the heel of his palm against your clit is leaving you breathless. He smiles with pleasure as your moan catches in your throat. Applies the pressure, just the right amount, to have you bucking against his hand. “Needy.” He says it like it’s praise.

“I’ll snap your fingers off inside me, Mingyu.”

“Do you always threaten people?” He teases your clit again and it’s blinding. He moans as you clench impossibly tight.

“Yea– fuck. Shit. Gonna come.”

Mingyu's lips find yours in a second. Licks into your mouth, kisses you through it. Hums happily, so annoyingly pleased with himself, as you shudder your way through your orgasm, a wet patch forming on his jeans.

The rest of your clothes come away just as quick, and Mingyu groans like a fucking loser. It’s both gross and horribly attractive. Doesn’t move his hands from your body as you make fast work of his belt, lifts his hips to help you pull his jeans down and free his hard length.

“What the fuck is that?”

Mingyu blinks. “What is what?”

“That can of fucking Pringles you’ve got between your legs?”

“It’s not that big.”

You can’t quite believe it. “Oh my God, you are going to murder my pussy,” you cry. “This is cruel and unfair. They’re gonna put ‘Death by Monster Cock’ on my headstone.”

“This is unbecoming.”

“Your dick is unbecoming.”

Mingyu looks ready to cry. “Are you going to touch me yet? I think I’m going to explode.”

“Yes, yes, fine. But this had better be as hard as you get.”

Unfortunately when you take him in your hands, Mingyu does actually get harder (hahaha you’re going to die) and you try to decide how you’re actually going to take this.

“God– fuck,” Mingyu murmurs as you work your hands over him. He all but melts against your headboard, and you wonder just how many people have survived him. Not like– the size of him (well, that too) but the way he looks right now, sweat beading on his forehead, the way his pretty pink lips fall apart, like sins are spilling out of them. You roll your fist over the head and he keens. Mingyu sounds so good, you could get used to this. He groans, loud, pushing into your circled fingers like he’s desperate. You like how his chest heaves, all tight breaths and strangled half-formed noises.

“I need– need–”

“What do you need, baby?”

“Wanna be inside you,” he breathes. Pulls you down onto the bed, rolls on top to press a kiss to your sternum, and nudges your legs apart to slot between them. His cock slips against your cunt, still wet from his fingers. Reaches over to fish a condom from the pocket of his jeans (how presumptuous!) and tears the packet with his teeth (hot). “This okay?” he says, as he rolls it on.

“Yes. Yeah. Be gentle, okay?” Embarrassing times a million.

Mingyu’s eyes go soft. Ew.

“I’m always gentle.”

He is. The stretch hurts but he’s slow with it. Gives you a second to adjust, to angle your hips just right, before he moans, tells you you’re beautiful, that you feel so fucking good around him. He braces himself above you, slides into you so agonisingly beautifully deep you think you can feel him in your stomach. A moan escapes you, “Feels good, Gyu,” you whisper, and Mingyu swears.

“You’re so tight,” he gasps.

“Pretty sure a cave would feel tight for you,” you laugh. Mingyu’s cock jolts inside you. “You’ve got the Hubble Telescope for a dick.”

“Please stop saying weird things,” he begs, and slips out just to slide back in. Pushes the air right out of your lungs. You forget to blink. Mingyu takes your broken cry and your nails digging crescent moons into his arms for the praise it is, and fucks you like you need him. His hands hold your thighs, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumbs, pulling them up around him to give him better access to your centre. Lets you hold on to him just to anchor yourself, almost lost to the pressure of your building release.

Mingyu is so good at kissing. He nudges your cheek with his nose, bites open mouthed and wet at your jaw, presses one–two kitten kisses at the seam of your lips before he’s licking into your mouth, all soft lips and sensuality and tongue. He whines into your mouth as he fucks you, gasps desperately when you clench. His fingers are splayed across your body, touching everywhere he can reach with his huge hands, cups your breasts and moves to pull a nipple between teeth and grins lazy when you whimper, when you arch into it.

He’s starting to fall apart now. Stuttered breaths and hasty thrusts, chasing your heat and his own release. God you wished he’d come inside you. He looks so pretty when he’s desperate. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide and mouth open. “Gonna come?” you ask. He nods with fervour. “Make me come again first.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste time. Loves a challenge, it seems. He pulls out without warning, leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing, fists his hand around his cock and thumbs off the condom as he dives between your legs to eat you out like a man starved. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. How he has you coming apart faster than you expect, how the way he sucks on your clit has you seeing stars. “C’mon, baby, show me how you come,” he groans between licks. “M’not gonna last.”

His free hand teases at your clit, slips further to gather up the wetness on his fingers just to take it and run it over his cock. Fuck that’s so hot. He watches your mouth fall open, he’s all doe-eyed and too sweet for the moment, and you think he really must kill people, but by accident probably. He hums as he licks into you again, your fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling him against you tight and desperate and needy, and then his tongue flicks over your clit fast fast fast and you’re gone. Coming fast and hard, and he’s moaning at the taste of you, at the wetness pooling between your legs and soaking through the mattress. Mingyu’s done for too, “baby, you look so good,” he’s cooing, sitting up on his calves and bucking into his own hand and spilling his cum over your body. Spreads the mess over the soft skin of your stomach and tells you you look so pretty.

God. You’re ruined. Upon your headstone will read death by softboy (with monster cock.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so my fic can get seen outside my own little space <3 i love seeing your feedback. if you'd prefer to scream at me directly, feel free to send me a message <3

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mywritersmind · 7 months ago

Text

THE BOOTH - LN4

summary : The booth. A notorious club in the heart of london, where y/n and lando met again after two years of silence.

listen up : fewtrell!reader. She sits in his lap. no smut, just hot and suggestive. creepy guy in the beginning! Prob my fav short i’ve written omg

word count : 1732

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“No.” I giggle out of uncomfortableness at the man getting closer to me.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink.” the man reeks of alcohol and has fucked up teeth. I’ve seen enough. I pull down the bottom of my mini dress as I stand.

“No.” I repeat, pushing past him. The club is crowded and sticky, I see my friends but a hand around my wrist pulls me back.

“Really? Too good for me?” He scoffs in my face but the next thing I know he’s being pushed away from me.

“She is.” The voice comes from the man in front of me, the guy who pushed this dickhead away. “Piss off. She’s with me.”

The guy seems intimidated enough because he gives me a dirty look and leaves. “Thank y-” I pause when the man turns around.

I pause because the man is my childhood crush, brothers best friend, and fucking formula one driver.

“Lando?” I’m genuinely shocked that the britt I haven’t seen in two years is standing in front of me.

“Y/n!?” He looks me up and down, his mouth open, “Fuck… You look good.” I could say the same for him, in a navy button down, jeans, and his jewelry adorning his hands. He’s ridiculously hot.

I laugh, “Careful Lan, my brother could be lurking.” I switch my weight onto one leg as he smirks.

Max loves Lando. Max loves me.

Therefore, Max HATED the thought of us even speaking. We were all friends in childhood but our teens hit and suddenly I was completely off limits. I’m pretty sure he noticed how much I asked about Lando and swore that he would kill both of us if anything happened.

Someone walks behind him, causing him to get closer, his hand brushing against my hip, “Don’t scare me, yeah?”

I bite my lip at the thought, we start walking across the room, Lando’s hand firmly on me now as he ‘guides’ me. “Don’t worry. Idiots in Monaco… which means we have free rein.”

I see his jaw clench, his drink slide onto his lips again, “I’d like to keep my friendship.”

“I’d like to lose my panties.” I’m quick to reply, messing with Lando used to be my favorite thing.

You see, Lando is Max’s best friend. He feels bad lying and this would definitely be considered a betrayal of trust.

But for me… Max is my brother. I can lie and do whatever I want with no remorse. Lando is something I could do easily and as much as it would make me happy to piss off my brother, Norris has always been that one guy in the back of my mind.

“Christ Y/n. Missed your remarks.” We make it to the wall, it’s a bit quieter over here.

“You mean you missed my flirting?” I look up at him, he just bites his lip, hiding his smile.

“I missed you.” He surprises me with this.

“I missed you too.” I push my hand through my hair, “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Really good.” He smiles big and I know it’s because of his racing.

“Watched your win in Zandvoort.” I sigh, “Simply lovely was brutal.” He rolls his eyes, laughing and leaning his head back on the wall.

“Not you too!”

“It was hilarious! I liked it!” I hit his arm and the way he looks at me… it’s like every emotion that I've tucked away and only opened up in the darkness of my bedroom after midnight, comes out then. “I like this too.”

My hand goes to the back of his neck, playing with his curls that shape his baby mullet.

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes cut into me, his voice weak.

“What?” I say innocently.

“You always do this.”

“Do what, Norris?” Lando never was that much taller than me, but something about the two passed years has changed that.

His tongue runs over his teeth, he’s about to say something but two guys appear next to us, “Mate! We’ve been looking for you!” Another British man speaks, Alex Albon to be exact.

“Found a friend?” Carlos sainz eyes me, dressed in all black.

I smile at the drivers, Lando eyes Carlos. “Max’s sister. Y/n.” They both nod and look much too interested in how Lando says it, “Y/n… this is Alex and Carlos.”

“Pleasure.” I smile wide. I am an F1 fan, it’s a bit weird seeing Lando on the grid but I’ll sit and watch with Max almost every weekend that we’re together.

“Pleasures all ours! I’ve always wanted to meet Lando’s childhood crush!” Lando hits Carlos, making him grab his stomach, “Worth it!” The Spanish man chokes out.

Lando scratches the back of his neck, not looking at me. “Are you here with anyone?” Alex asks me, I knew he would be nice.

“Yeah! I’m not sure where they are but…”

“That’s okay. You have us now!” Alex and I end up getting a drink, Lando stays back with Carlos who’s definitely teasing him.

I get a vodka lemonade and four shots. Alex and I are already best friends and laughing so hard that Carlos and Lando won’t stop asking us what’s so funny.

They don’t know that I showed Alex a photo of Lando and I as smurfs when we were five.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

LANDO NORRIS

Describing Y/n is something i’ve done many times. To friends, for context in stories, but if i’d really describe her… I don’t think I would have an ending point.

She’s got long blonde hair. She cut it all off when she was fifteen and I almost fainted when I didn’t recognize her. She loved it.

She’s confident, you can see it in her walk. Her hips sway and the click of her heels is something I'll never forget.

When she talks to you, all attention is on you, her eyes are hazel, appearing brown in the dark but if you get close enough… you’ll see the green.

She never quite had an awkward stage, always been beautiful, probably always will be. I haven’t seen her in years yet she acts like I talked to her yesterday.

Y/n sucks on a lime after her shot, smiling and clapping her hands together, “God, I feel like i’m in highschool!”

I obviously didn’t go to school with her. She’s a year younger and Max would non stop complain about her. She was more popular than him, going out, and was basically friends with everyone.

I remind myself again that Max is the reason why my arm is around the couch and not her waist.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/N

“Norris!” I stand, holding out my hand, “Picture time.” I smile as he stands with me.

“What?” Carlos asks.

“Called the booth for a reason, Sainz!” I grin at the boys, gripping Lando’s hand tight and maneuvering us through the crowd.

There’s one photo booth in the back corner of the club. It’s notorious for famous photos and making everyone look good.

I look back at the boys who all look confused. All except Lando.

We came to the booth when Lando was in town from F2, we were 17 and 18. Max had gone off with some girl and we found ourselves in this exact booth.

We swore never to talk about it.

But I’m all for repeating history.

“Fewtrell…” He warns in my ear as we walk to the starred booth.

I glance back, dragging out his name, “Norris.”

He gets in first, unlike us as teens, only one person can fit. I smile and watch Lando’s face drop, I sit down on his lap, “Playing with fire here, love.” he says in my ear.

“I don’t mind getting burned.” He slips two coins in, his hand moving to my waist and holding me steady.

We smile first.

SNAP

I move a bit and give him bunny ears.

SNAP

Lando clears his throat, gripping my skin tighter as he looks at me. I move again, my skirt riding up a bit. “Trying to kill me?”

I smile and kiss his cheek, feeling something hard against me.

SNAP

“Of course.” I look at him, “The memories in here… You remember?”

“I’d be an idiot to forget.”

His hand moves down my hip, closer to my thigh. I look at him again as the photo booth starts up for the second time, “I shouldn’t.” He whispers, my face centimeters from his. I hear the whistles outside.

I shift once more, turning more to him. He groans, his head falling backwards and his eyes closing, “Give me a good reason.”

SNAP

He opens his eyes, meeting mine. I know I've got him. My hand rests on his neck, my rings pressing against his skin. He mumbles something but it’s too loud, “Speak up, Norris.”

“Never spoken.” His eyes flick to my lips, trying to get me to promise this is a secret.

“Never ever.” He leans in closer.

SNAP

“Come on rule breaker… I believe in you.” I whisper in his ear and it breaks him. I’m pulling his head closer to me, his lips on mine, a relief like no other.

He grabs ass, pulling me closer in the tiny space. I slip my tongue in his mouth, whimpering a bit. He bites my lip. I’m melting into him. It’s hot and needy but so much more than I could have ever wanted.

SNAP

Kissing Lando at Seventeen was scandalous and drunken. Kissing Lando at Twenty Three flat out sexy.

“Need you…” He whispers into the kiss which makes me almost come undone right then and there.

Someone bangs on the booth, “Alright Lovebirds!” Lando laughs but I'm the one to pull away.

“I can’t leave this booth.” He says quickly, his face red and sweaty.

“You’ll be fine-” I understand what he’s talking about when I go to leave and something brushes against my leg, “Oh.”

He looks away from me, blushing.

I smile, proud of myself for the boner and his pink cheeks, “Aw come on! I’ll cover you.” I wink and he rolls his eyes, He walks out behind me, his arms firmly on my waist again.

The two drivers grin at us, “You covering a boner?” Carlos starts but gets punched for the second time tonight by Lando. He holds his stomach again, “Still worth it!”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando imagine #lando norris smut

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Text

lucky strike - r.c

pairing: kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: none.

The party was supposed to be fun. Emphasis on supposed to be.

Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill,” throwing out all his usual excuses—“It’ll be fun, you never go out, and besides, you know everyone there”—but you should’ve known better.

Now you were stuck in a house full of drunk college students, loud music, and—worst of all—a guy who wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’d introduced himself as Jake—or maybe it was Jack; you didn’t care—and you’d been polite at first. A quick smile, a couple of sentences before excusing yourself. But he didn’t get the hint.

He was following you around like a lost puppy, trying to impress you with stories about his car and his “networking connections,” whatever the hell that meant.

“Oh, yeah,” Jake was saying now, his voice raised to compete with the music. “They’re starting me at, like, six figures. But, you know, I told them I’d think about it.”

You sipped your drink to keep from rolling your eyes. “Wow, that’s… something.”

“So, anyway,” he was saying as you edged toward the hallway, “if you ever want to, like, grab dinner or something, I know a great spot. And If you ever want to come down to Florida, I could totally show you around. Take you out on my boat.”

You nodded absently, scanning the room for an excuse, but your brother was nowhere in sight, and every doorway seemed blocked by a crowd.

“You and me? A weekend getaway?”

You froze, brainstorming for an excuse. “Oh, uh—”

Then you saw him in all his glory, Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against the wall near the kitchen, a drink in one hand, his other casually tucked into his pocket. His messy blond hair looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of some ridiculous sports magazine. He looked completely at ease, this party—and everyone in it—existed solely for his entertainment.

You hated that he was your only option right now.

Rafe Cameron was your brother’s best friend since diapers, your public enemy number one on your worst days. Your stomach did that stupid little thingy it always seemed to do when you saw him, and you hated it.

You cut Jake or Jack off, raising your hand. “I need to go—uh—find my boyfriend.”

Jake blinked. “Your what?”

“My boyfriend,” you repeated, internally cringing at the word and already walking through the crowd toward Rafe. “He’s waiting for me.”

Ugh. You groaned internally. You don’t like Rafe. You don’t even think about Rafe.

“Cameron,” you said when you reached him, grabbing his sleeve. “Need your help.”

Rafe turned, his blue eyes looking down to where your hand gripped his arm. Then he looked back up at you, his lips curving, “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

“I’m serious.”

His smirk widened. “Even better. What’s going on, princess?”

You glared at him. “Some guy won’t leave me alone. He’s been following me around all night, and I need you to—”

“Who?”

You shook your head quickly, knowing that look in his eyes meant trouble and black eyes. “We’re not doing the ‘caveman throws a punch’ thing. I just need you to pretend to be my…” You paused, the word catching in your throat. “Pretend to be my…”

Rafe tilted his head, watching you squirm. “Your what?”

You shuddered at the thought. “My…boyfriend.”

His smirk was back in full Cameron force. “What was that?”

You crossed your arms in defiance, refusing to let him win this. “You heard me.”

“I heard you,” Rafe nodded, leaning closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Just didn’t think I’d live to see the day you called me your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend,” you clarified through gritted teeth. “Don’t make this weird, Cameron.”

But it already was, because just standing this close to him made your heart pound in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“Always knew you had a thing for me, but this? You want me sooooo bad,” he drawled out, tongue kissing his teeth as he pinched your arm.

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I do,” You shoved his touch away, “Help me.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he opened his mouth to say something dumb—but then Jake appeared at the end of the hallway, his face lighting up when he spotted you.

“There you are!” Jake called, heading straight for you.

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing Rafe’s beefy arm again. “Just follow my lead.”

Jake stopped in front of you, giving Rafe a once-over. “Hey,” he said, clearly confused. “Who’s this?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to say the word again. “This is my… uh, my boyfriend.”

The second it left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole. It sounded so fake, so awkward—and Rafe wasn’t helping, because you could feel him staring at you with that stupid smug grin.

“Hey,” Rafe cut in smoothly, draping an arm over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You lookin’ for my girl?”

Jake blinked, “Oh. I, uh—I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah,” Rafe patronized, “You wouldn’t.”

Then Jake's stupid eyes widened, “Wait… you’re Rafe Cameron.”

Rafe’s smirk grew impossibly smug. “That’s me.”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “Holy shit. Dude, you’re the Rafe Cameron. Hockey star. I watched your game against Michigan last month—you were insane.”

Rafe shrugged, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Appreciate it, man.”

You wanted to die, maybe strangle him.

Jake turned to you, his tone almost accusing. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was Rafe Cameron.”

You laughed nervously, trying not to grimace. “Yeah, uh,… it’s not exactly my favorite topic.”

The second the words left your mouth, Rafe’s fingers pinched your waist—just enough to make you jolt—and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your hair.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Jake, oblivious to your little argument, kept gushing. “Seriously, man, you’re a beast. I don’t know how you pull off those plays—”

Jake was too busy gushing over Rafe, throwing out stats and plays like he’d memorized Rafe’s entire career. And Rafe, of course, was eating it up, nodding along like he wasn’t already aware of how good he was.

That’s when you felt it—Rafe’s fingers, toying with the hem of your top.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced up at him, but he was still focused on Jake, his face the picture of calm confidence.

“Yeah,” He was saying, his fingers moving tenderly against your skin. “That Michigan game was wild. You should’ve seen her, though.” He tilted his head toward you. “Biggest fan in the stands. Couldn’t take her eyes off me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you—”

“Yeah?” Jake said, interrupting you. “That’s awesome. Must be crazy, dating someone like him.”

You clenched your fists, your irritation bubbling over. “Oh, it’s insane.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, his fingers teasing your side one last time before Jake finally walked away, muttering something about grabbing another drink.

The second he was out of earshot, you shoved Rafe’s arm off you and glared up at him. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “Dial down the foreplay, you’re gonna make me hard.”

This motherfucker, oh my god.

You stared at him, your jaw nearly unhinged from the sheer nerve. “Are you—did you just—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, the words vanishing in your throat as your face warmed.

Rafe, on the other hand, looked entirely unbothered, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t just said the most inappropriate thing imaginable. “What?” he drawled, his smirk practically glowing in the dim light. “You started it, calling me your boyfriend. I’m just playing the part.”

You took a step back, glaring at him like you could kill him with sheer willpower, “How does anyone ever put up with you, oh my god.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he quipped, his smile widening as he reached out to tug lightly on the hem of your sleeve.

You smacked his hand away. “If you keep this up, I’ll go back out there and tell Jake—or Jack, or whoever—that I was lying.”

“Please,” Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You're not gonna subject yourself to that human LinkedIn profile just to spite me.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could retort, a group of partygoers passed by, a couple of them glancing your way and whispering. One of them—a girl in a glittery crop top—stopped to wave at Rafe, her voice eager.

“Oh my god, Rafe! I didn’t know you were here!”

Rafe gave her a polite nod, his hand sliding back to your waist, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to make your stomach go stupid.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone easy. “Just hanging out with my girl.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide with disbelief, “Dude.”

What the fuck is wrong with you?! you wanted to scream, but the girl was already nodding, her smile faltering as she glanced at you.

“Right. Cool. Um, see you around, I guess,” she said before walking off with her friends.

The second she was gone, you shoved Rafe’s hand off you again. “You’re having way too much fun with this shit.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, face softening into something that almost—almost—resembled genuine amusement. “This is the most fun I’ve had at one of these parties in weeks.”

“Glad I could provide you with some entertainment,” you said dryly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, princess,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as his eyes met yours. “You’re the highlight of my night.”

You forced yourself to scoff pretending his sweet nothing’s didn’t hit home.

“I know you, I’m not falling for your little hockey player charm offensive.”

“Who says it’s an offensive?” he asked, tilting his head. “Maybe it’s just a… friendly check.”

“Friendly?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t do friendly.”

He shrugged, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a way that felt entirely too deliberate. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

“Why the fuck is everyone saying my sister is dating my best friend?! Hello??”

Your entire body went rigid as Kelce bulldozed through the crowd, looking thoroughly scandalized. He stopped dead in front of you, his eyes darting between you and Rafe with full-on soap opera disbelief.

Rafe, the insufferable fucking bastard, didn’t even try to keep it together—he straight-up bent over laughing, one hand braced on his knee, the other holding his drink like it was sacred.

“Oh, shit,” he wheezed, grinning wide enough to blind someone. “This just keeps getting better.”

You wanted to drop dead right there in the beer-sticky hallway.

Kelce blinked at you, bewildered. “What. The. Actual. Hell?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you snapped, glaring at Rafe as he tried (and failed) to recover, his chest still shaking with laughter.

“Yeah?” Kelce shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the swarm of gossiping partiers. “Because everyone’s saying it looks like you two are a thing.”

“We are not a thing,” you hissed, making a couple of people nearby glance over. “He was just helping me ditch some guy who wouldn’t take a hint.”

Rafe, still grinning like a jackass, finally straightened up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was warm, low, “Your sister couldn’t resist me.”

You whipped around, shoving his chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, laughing like this was the most fun he’d had in years. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Kelce’s jaw practically unhinged. “Wait. Are you actually into her?”

Rafe tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Depends—am I allowed to?”

Your eyes narrowed to murderous slits. “I will put you in the ground, Cameron.”

Rafe’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, sending a traitorous shiver down your spine. “God, you’re mean,” he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Kinda hot, though.”

Kelce gagged dramatically. “Nope. Nope. I’m out. Y’all are sick.”

“Glad we agree,” you muttered as Kelce stormed off, throwing his hands up like you were a lost cause.

The second he was gone, you turned on Rafe, stabbing a finger into his chest. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” he echoed, grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to your breakdown. “You’re the one who called me your boyfriend, princess.”

You scowled. “Yeah, clearly that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s eyes gleamed, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse hitch. “Nah. Best decision you’ve made all night.”

You flipped him off. “I’m fake-dumping your ass immediately.”

Rafe had that look on his face—the one that made you want to throw something at him. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned casually against the wall, all cocky confidence and oh-aren’t-I-just-so-fucking-charming energy.

“You know,” he started, dragging the words out like he was savoring them, “this kinda reminds me of when you had that crush on me when we were, what, twelve?”

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He grinned wider, eyes gleaming with delight. “You used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy at Kelce’s games. Always sitting in the front row, twirling your hair like you were in some rom-com.”

You made a noise halfway between a scoff and a snarl. “Excuse me? I did not have a crush on you.”

“Yeah? So you weren’t the one who told Kelce I had ‘pretty eyes’?”

He did, in fact, have pretty eyes, so what....

Your face went up in flames. “That was a joke.”

“Sure it was,” he teased, leaning in just enough to make you want to run for the hills. “You totally didn’t write my name in your notebook, either, right?”

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even know about that?!”

“Kelce found it last month and showed me,” Rafe said, completely unapologetic. “Heart doodles and everything. Thought you were writing love songs for me or something.”

“I hate you,” you growled, your face now hotter than the sun.

“You loved me,” he quipped, biting back a laugh. “Or at least your little self did. Cute.”

“I’m going to strangle Kelce.”

Rafe smirked, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off his sleeve. “Too late to deny it now, princess. I’m your first love, and you just fake-dated me tonight. Full circle.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, eyes dancing, “but you’re still blushing.”

“I will kick you in the balls, Cameron.”

“Careful,” he warned, “You’re gonna fall for me all over again.”

#itneverendshere works✨#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron blurb #brother!bsf!rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron imagines #rafe x kelce's!sister #hockey au #hockey!rafe #fluff #yearning

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starsenha · 7 months ago

Text

BEST FRIENDS CAN FUCK / S.J

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x softdom!jake

Genre ◊ SMUT, best friends to ???

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), alcohol (both of them are drunk), kissing (obvi), liiitle bit of dry humping, fingering, petnames, praising, finger sucking, oral (f. receiving), kind of pwp, unprotected sex (wrap it up), lots of cursing

Word count ◊ 5,2k

Summary ◊ you were sexually frustrated and your best friend Jake offered to help you.

a/n: really thinking abt doing a pt.2, tell what you think! also not proofread hihi

Empty bottles of Soju were littered on the coffee table in front of you, making both of your mind fuzzy with alcohol. You and Jake had been best friends for years, and theses nights sprawled on the couch after a night of drinking had sort of become a tradition.

Jake sat across from you, legs stretched out, his back slouched against the armrest. His hair was a bit messy, and he had a lazy grin from the alcohol. You had both drifted from topic to topic, having effortlessly between school stress, random ass jokes and deeper subjects.

You tipped your head back against the cushions and let out a long groan, closing your eyes. "Honestly, at this point, I'm not even looking for a relationship anymore. I just want someone to hook up with. I'm so sexually frustrated it's fucking ridiculous."

There was a pause before Jake chuckled softly, his laughter low and teasing. "Tell me about it," he said, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "It’s like... one of the most basic things, right? Why is it so complicated?"

You rolled your head to the side to look at him, meeting his gaze. There was an ease between the two of you that had long since obliterated any awkwardness, but tonight felt different, like the alcohol had loosened something even deeper. “Exactly! It shouldn’t be this hard,” you muttered, biting your lip in frustration. “I just want someone to fuck me good. Is that really too much to ask?”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into an amused smile. "So... what happened to that guy you went out with the other day? Soobin, right? You seemed pretty into him."

You huffed, your frustration bubbling over again as you grabbed the last half-empty bottle of soju, taking a long swig before answering. “Soobin’s sweet. He’s funny, and yeah, he’s super handsome. But… he didn’t make me cum. Like, not even close.”

Jake winced, a sympathetic look crossing his face. "Oof, that sucks."

“Right?” You groaned again, tossing the bottle back onto the coffee table. “Like, he was doing everything right, but it just… wasn’t happening. And I swear, I was so into him, but it’s like… Ugh!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, staring at the ceiling. “I’m cursed or something. At this point, I’d settle for anyone who knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

He let out a low chuckle, and you looked at him, finding that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. He raised his hand, running it through his hair as if deep in thought. “I’ve never had that problem,” he said casually, his tone light but teasing.

You narrowed your eyes at him, a mix of amusement and curiosity flooding your thoughts. “Oh, really?” you shot back, tilting your head as you shifted in your seat to face him fully. “So, what? You’re telling me you’ve always been able to make every girl you’ve been with cum?”

Jake shrugged, his grin widening. "Pretty much."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but feel a spark of something at his confidence. You'd known Jake for years, and you knew he wasn’t just talking big to impress you. He had a reputation around campus. "Wow, must be nice," you muttered sarcastically.

Jake leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze holding yours. “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s the guys you’ve been with.”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden seriousness. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged again, but his eyes didn’t leave yours, the playful edge in them softening into something more thoughtful. “I mean, sometimes it’s just about chemistry, you know? Maybe these guys just don’t get you. Or maybe…” He hesitated for a second, like he was considering something, before continuing. “Maybe you need someone who actually knows what they’re doing, like you said.”

You frowned, confused by the shift in his tone. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying.”

“No, I mean...” He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands before flicking back up to meet yours. “Maybe someone like… me.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. “Wait, what?”

Jake leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, the grin still playing on his lips, but there was a hint of nervousness in his posture now. “I mean… we’ve been best friends for how long? We know everything about each other. No taboos, right? And I’m just saying…” He shrugged, though there was an intensity in his gaze now that made your heart race. “If you’re looking for someone who knows what they’re doing… well, you know I do.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the buzz of the alcohol in your system making everything feel a bit slower, a bit more surreal. You blinked at him, trying to process what he was suggesting. “Yunnie… are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” he said, his voice soft but sure, “if you want someone to fuck you like you deserve, someone who actually knows how to make you come, then… why not me?”

You let out a snort and swatted Jake playfully on the arm. “Oh my God, Yunnie, you shouldn’t joke about that,” you giggled, feeling the warmth of the alcohol buzz in your system. “You’re clearly drunk.”

Jake laughed along with you, his laughter low and infectious. He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you smile. “Yeah, I’m drunk,” he admitted, shrugging casually. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”

You blinked at him, still smiling, but there was a flutter in your stomach now that you couldn’t ignore. “Come on,” you said, trying to keep the tone light. “You can’t just offer to—what, fuck me—and act like that’s normal.”

His smile widened into a smug, teasing grin, and he leaned back a little, crossing his arms over his chest like he was settling in for a challenge. “Why not? You just said you wanted someone who knows what they’re doing. I do. And you know I’d be good at it.” His voice dropped an octave, turning his playful tone into something more suggestive. “And let’s be real, you’re hot as hell. I’d be lying if I said I never thought about it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and you laughed again, though it came out a little breathless. “Jake…”

“What?” he continued, his grin never faltering. “You think I don’t notice the way guys stare at you? You’re gorgeous, smart, and funny. But you’ve been wasting your time with these idiots who can’t even make you cum.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering even more, eyes never leaving yours. “Let me fix that for you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck. This was so far from any conversation you’d ever had with Jake, but the alcohol had loosened something between you two, making it feel like maybe it wasn’t so crazy after all. “This is insane,” you murmured, shaking your head, but there was a note of hesitation in your voice.

Jake didn’t miss it. His grin softened into something more intense, more focused. He leaned forward again, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between your bodies. “It doesn’t have to be,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wouldn’t change anything. We’re still best friends, right? Best friends can fuck too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His face was so close now, so close that you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his lips curved into that confident, teasing smile. His scent—clean, familiar, and slightly tinged with the alcohol—mixed with the heady atmosphere, and you bit your lip, your mind spinning with the possibility.

He saw the way you hesitated, the way you bit your lip, and his grin turned predatory, like he knew exactly what was going through your mind. He leaned in even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours, his voice low and teasing. “Come on, admit it,” he murmured, his tone laced with heat. “You’ve thought about it before.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your ears. Maybe you had, in the back of your mind, wondered what it would be like to kiss Jake, to feel his hands on you. You're best friend was hot, you couldn't deny it. No one with functioning eyes could deny it. But you’d never let yourself seriously entertain the thought—until now.

The alcohol in your system was doing nothing to help you think clearly. Your lips parted slightly, and without realizing it, you leaned in just a fraction more, closing the gap between you both. “This is crazy,” you whispered again, though the protest felt weak now.

Jake’s grin softened into something more serious, his eyes locked on yours. “Maybe. But maybe it’s exactly what you need.”

That did it. Your restraint snapped, and before you could second-guess yourself, you surged forward and kissed him, hard.

Jake reacted instantly, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as he deepened the kiss. His lips were soft, warm, and they moved against yours with a practiced ease that made your head spin. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, teasing, and you opened up to him, letting him in as your hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

The kiss quickly turned heated, the soft, tentative brushes of lips becoming urgent and hungry. You shifted, climbing into his lap without breaking the kiss, your legs straddling his as you pressed your body against his. The heat between you was palpable, a slow burn that spread through your entire body as you ground your hips down against him.

Jake groaned into the kiss, his hands finding your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he guided your movements. “Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “You feel so good.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your breathing heavy, your lips swollen from the kiss. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at you, his hands still gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered, though there was no conviction behind the words. Your body was already on fire, your heart racing as his hands slid up your sides, teasing the skin just under your shirt.

Jake chuckled, that smug grin still playing on his lips as he looked up at you with pure, unfiltered desire. “You’re the one who kissed me,” he teased, his voice low and gravelly.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, well… shut up,” you muttered, leaning down to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands roamed your body, igniting sparks everywhere he touched.

The kiss deepened, becoming even more heated as Jake’s hands slid up under your shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your back. You gasped into the kiss, your body arching into his touch, and he took the opportunity to flip you over, pressing you back into the couch cushions as he settled between your legs, his lips never leaving yours.

His weight on top of you felt solid, grounding, and you moaned softly as his hands roamed your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your hips. Every touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt the heat pooling low in your stomach as he kissed you harder, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Jake,” you breathed out, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed down your neck, his lips grazing the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Mm?” he hummed, his voice vibrating against your skin as he nipped lightly at your collarbone, his hands still exploring your body, sliding under your shirt, teasing the edge of your bra.

“This is insane,” you whispered, but there was no stopping now, and you both knew it.

Jake grinned against your skin, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Maybe,” he agreed, his voice rough and low. “But you’re loving every second of it. Like a good little girl," he murmured against the skin of your neck, his breath hot as he praised you. The term affectionate yet assertive sent a thrill through you. You arched your back, pressing closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of his approval.

Jake seemed to sense your need, his hands moving with more confidence, sliding up your thighs, his fingers teasing under the hem of your skirt. “You like that, huh?” he asked, his voice a low growl in your ear. You nodded breathlessly, unable to form words as his fingers danced dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

But he pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a smirk. “Say it,” he commanded softly, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Fuck, yeah,” you managed, your voice shaky with desire.

“Mmm, I thought so,” he said, his fingers now slipping under the fabric, his touch bold and knowing. His confidence was intoxicating, his every move calculated to heighten your arousal.

He shifted, positioning himself between your spread legs, his hands roaming freely. “You’re so responsive,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your collarbone, nipping gently.

His hand moved higher, thumb brushing over the fabric of your underwear, his other hand cradling your face as he looked into your eyes, an intense gaze that held you captive.

You moaned softly, tilting your head back to give him better access as he continued to explore, his movements becoming more insistent. “Please, Jake…”

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice stern yet teasing as he continued to stroke over the fabric, his touch precise as he applied pressure against your clit.

“Please touch me,” you pleaded, the edge in your voice betraying how close you were to losing control.

Jake chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “As you wish,” he murmured before slipping his hand beneath your underwear. His fingers found your wet cunt, and he groaned in appreciation. “So wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you managed to gasp out, feeling him begin to move his fingers in slow, deliberate circles that had you writhing beneath him.

“That’s right,” he praised as he increased the pressure, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that had you gasping. “You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

he shifted, his strong hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to the edge of the couch. He sat back slightly, watching you with that same intense, predatory look that made your heart race. His hand moved down between your legs again, fingers brushing over your sensitive folds, teasing you.

“You look so good like this,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “All spread out, just waiting for me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers slid along your folds, slow and deliberate. You felt exposed, completely vulnerable to him, and yet the way he was looking at you made you feel powerful at the same time.

“I can feel how much you want this,” he continued, his thumb brushing over your clit in a slow, torturous circle once again. “So desperate for more.”

You moaned softly, your body responding to his touch instantly, your hips rolling up to meet his hand. “Yunnie… please…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Please what? You have to be more specific, sweetheart.”

You whimpered, your body aching for him. “Please… do something, anything. I need it.”

He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over yours but not quite touching. “Good girl,” he whispered before slipping one finger inside you, his movements slow and deliberate as he watched your reaction. “So fucking tight for me,” he murmured, his voice full of praise and something darker.

You gasped, your head falling back against the cushions as he began to move his finger in and out of you, the pressure just enough to drive you wild but not enough to satisfy the growing need inside you. “Yun… more, please…”

He chuckled, adding another finger, stretching you in a way that made your toes curl. “Greedy, aren’t you?” he teased, his pace increasing just slightly as he watched your body writhe beneath him.

The way he was talking, the way he praised and teased you, had you on edge, your body thrumming with desire as he expertly worked his fingers inside you. His thumb found your clit again, circling it in a steady rhythm that had your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust. “So wet and tight around my fingers.”

You could barely respond, the pleasure building too quickly. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I want you to come for me, baby. I want to feel you fall apart. You can do that for me, mh?”

His command sent a shockwave through you, and you arched your back, your body clenching around his fingers as you teetered on the edge. He added a third finger, filling you completely, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

You cried out, your body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through you, your muscles tightening around his fingers as he continued to pump them in and out of you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure. Your vision blurred, your body trembling as you came, Jake’s fingers working you through it, his touch never relenting.

As the aftershocks rippled through your body, he slowed his movements, his fingers still inside you, gently stroking, making sure you felt every last bit of sensation before he finally withdrew them.

He looked down at you, a satisfied, smug grin on his face

. His fingers, still glistening from you, slid between your parted lips before you could even react, his dominant side shining through. “Taste yourself,” he ordered softly, his voice laced with a commanding edge that sent a jolt of electricity through your already overstimulated body.

Your lips wrapped around his fingers instinctively, tasting yourself on his skin. He watched you closely, eyes dark with desire, as you obediently sucked his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. The taste was musky, sweet, and raw, and his gaze on you made it all the more intense. He bit his bottom lip, clearly enjoying the sight of you like this, his fingers deep in your mouth.

“That’s it,” Jake murmured, his voice rough with lust. “You’re such a good girl. You love this, don’t you?” His thumb brushed over your cheek as you nodded, your body aching for him again despite the intensity of what had just happened.

He grinned down at you, that same cocky, confident smirk that had driven you wild all night. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, sliding his fingers out of your mouth with a soft pop. He brought his lips to yours, kissing you hungrily, tasting both of you as he claimed your mouth once more. His kiss was dominant, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with something darker, more primal.

Jake’s hands moved down your body, caressing your sides, your thighs, teasing every inch of skin until his fingers slipped under your waistband again, pulling your panties down with ease. His lips twitched into a wicked grin as he settled between your thighs, spreading them open with firm, confident hands. “I need to taste you again.”

You whimpered softly at his words, already squirming beneath him, your body hypersensitive from the last orgasm. But Jake didn’t seem to care. If anything, your whininess seemed to fuel him.

Without another word, he lowered himself, his lips brushing teasingly against your inner thigh before moving closer, his breath warm and heavy against your already wet cunt. He paused for just a moment, glancing up at you with a predatory look in his eyes. “Don’t hold back,” he ordered, his voice low and authoritative. “I want to hear every sound.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a shockwave through your body, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched moan that slipped from your lips. Jake groaned in satisfaction at the sound, gripping your thighs tighter to keep you still as he dove in, his tongue swirling and flicking against your cunt with precision and expertise that left you gasping for air.

“Oh, God—yunnie…” you whimpered, your voice breathy and broken as your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the strands. He groaned against you, the vibration of his voice sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body.

He was relentless, his tongue alternating between soft, teasing strokes and firm, direct pressure, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked lightly, just enough to make you squirm and cry out. “Hmm, so sweet,” he murmured against you, his voice rough with need. “So fucking perfect.”

You were falling apart beneath him, your hips grinding against his face as you chased the pleasure he was giving you, but he was in complete control. His hands held you firmly, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, his mouth moving expertly over you, driving you higher and higher.

Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with the sensations he was giving you. And the sounds—your soft whimpers, the breathless gasps, the desperate moans—Jake couldn’t get enough of them. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire between licks. “Let me hear you. I love the way you sound.”

“Jake, please…” you begged, your voice trembling as the pleasure built, your legs trembling against him. You were getting close again, too close, and he knew it.

“Good girl,” he praised, his lips pressing a kiss to your clit before diving back in, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. “I want you to come on my tongue. I want to taste every bit of you.”

The way he said it—his voice so husky—sent you spiraling. You were whiny now, completely at his mercy, every stroke of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge. Jake was relentless, his mouth never letting up as his hands dug into your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. With a sharp cry, your body tensed, and you came, hard, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs shook as Jake continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess beneath him.

When you finally stilled, your chest heaving, Jake pulled back, his face flushed, his lips glistening with your arousal. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning at you with that same smug, satisfied look. “You taste fucking amazing,” he said, his voice low and rough as he climbed back up your body, his hands still lingering on your skin. “I could do that all night.”

You were still catching your breath, your body limp beneath him, but his words sent another wave of heat through you. He leaned down, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his mouth.

As Jake's mouth left a blazing trail up your body, the air between you charged with an almost electric tension, your need for him grew desperate. The way he had consumed you, driven you to edge after edge, had left you breathless, yet craving something more, something deeper. Lying beneath him, your body still quivering with aftershocks, you found your voice, a whisper filled with raw need.

"yun, please," you pleaded, your eyes wide as they locked onto his, filled with an earnest desire that you knew he could never resist. "I need you inside me now."

Jake's eyes darkened further, the intensity within them spiking at your words. The sight of you, so vulnerable, so utterly open and needing him, seemed to unravel the last threads of his control. He cursed under his breath, a low, husky sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he breathed out, his hands already moving to quickly rid himself of his remaining clothes. The sound of fabric rustling was brief, and soon he was as bare as you, his desire evident, his readiness to claim you palpable in the air.

Without another word, but with a gaze that seared into you, Jake positioned himself at your entrance. His hand gripped your thigh, lifting and spreading you open to him as he lined himself up. The head of his cock teased at your wetness, making you both groan at the contact.

Then, with a thrust that left no room for doubt in his intent, he entered you fully, burying himself deep within you in one smooth, firm motion. You cried out, a sound of pure ecstasy, as he filled you completely, stretching you, completing the connection that your bodies seemed to crave.

"You're so tight, so fucking perfect," Jake growled, his voice a blend of admiration and raw lust as he began to move. His thrusts were powerful and deliberate, each one driving deep, hitting just the right spots to make your vision blur.

His hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, your thighs, pulling you into every thrust. "Look at you, so desperate for it," he taunted softly, his words degrading yet laced with an undeniable affection that only heightened the intensity between you. "You love this, don't you? My cock filling you up?"

"F-fuck, y-yes," you managed to stammer, the pleasure making it hard to form coherent thoughts. "Please, more, yun, please…"

"That’s it, beg for it," he commanded, his voice rough as his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and his heavy breathing.

"All fucking mine," he asserted again, leaning down to capture your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss that stole your breath away. His lips then trailed to your ear, where he whispered, "Cum for me. I can feel you pulse around me."

The combination of his deep, relentless thrusts and his commanding voice was too much. You felt another climax building rapidly, more intense than the last. "yunnie, I'm going to—" you gasped, unable to finish your sentence as the wave broke over you.

"Fuck, yes," Jake encouraged, feeling your walls tighten around him, sucking him in so deliciously. He wouldn't last long if you continued to clench around him like that. But he kept moving, relentless, driven by the sounds of your pleasure, by the feel of you clenching around him. "That’s it, come for me, come on my cock."

You did, spectacularly, your entire body convulsing as you clung to him, your cries filling the room. And still, he didn't stop, his thrusts never faltering, drawing out your orgasm, prolonging the bliss until you were limp and spent beneath him.

Jake finally slowed, his movements gentling as he came down from his own high, his climax evident in his strained expression and the deep, guttural sound that escaped him as he came inside you, painting your walls white. He collapsed beside you, both of you slick with sweat, breathing heavily, yet wrapped in a profound satisfaction.

Jake, still breathing heavily, let out a low chuckle, pulled out of you, and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you, a satisfied, almost cocky grin on his face. “Wow, that was... something,” he said, his voice laced with humor and exhaustion.

You laughed weakly, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. “Yeah,” you agreed, “something is an understatement.”

Jake smirked, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. “How are you feeling? You good?” His tone softened, the teasing edge giving way to genuine concern as he gently ran his hand along your arm.

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the physicality of what just happened. “Yeah, I’m good. Exhausted, but good.”

He nodded, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin. "Hold on," he said suddenly, getting up with a slight groan, clearly as drained as you were. You watched him as he fumbled for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. He grabbed it, then plopped back down beside you, draping it over both of you before pulling you close to his chest.

"Comfy now?" he asked, his voice softer, more affectionate, as his fingers absentmindedly stroked your arm, grounding you in the moment.

You nestled into him, feeling safe and warm in the cocoon of the blanket and his embrace. “Yeah, much better. You?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. “Completely wrecked, to be honest,” he admitted, a sheepish grin crossing his face. “But in the best way.”

You laughed, your body still humming with the aftereffects of everything, but now wrapped in a comforting warmth. “Same. I don’t think I can move for at least a week.”

Jake smirked and kissed the top of your head, his voice dipping into a teasing tone again. “Well, if that’s the price of making you come multiple times, I’d say it’s worth it.”

You snorted, nudging him with your elbow. “Stop it,” you giggled. “You’re going to give yourself a bigger ego than you already have.”

Jake grinned, unabashed. “Can you blame me? I mean…” He gestured vaguely to your still-tangled bodies, raising an eyebrow. “That was pretty fucking impressive.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that,” you conceded. “But let’s not make it a habit of me being unable to walk after.”

His grin turned mischievous as he pulled you even closer. “No promises. But hey, maybe we should do this more often. You know, for... stress relief. Studies show it’s great for mental health,” he said with an exaggerated air of seriousness.

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “Oh, really? Studies, huh?”

“Yep,” he nodded sagely, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “As your best friend, it’s my duty to make sure you’re properly… taken care of.”

You smacked him lightly on the chest, but your laughter was infectious, and he chuckled along with you. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, settling back into the warmth of his embrace.

Jake grinned down at you, his fingers still gently stroking your arm in that calming, soothing way. “Maybe,” he agreed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But you like it.”

You smiled, a sense of calm washing over you as the playful banter died down into a comfortable silence. The exhaustion was starting to catch up to both of you, but there was something so peaceful about the way you fit against each other, the post-storm calm settling in.

As your eyes started to drift closed, you mumbled, “We really should do this more often.”

Jake’s voice, equally sleepy but laced with amusement, replied, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.”

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