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exorcxqsm · 8 months ago

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Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

Word Count: 5,8k

tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries.

Notes:Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

“What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

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deikshen · 6 days ago

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Hear me out: a sort of spiritual communication array that works like a group chat of some Binghe's wives where they gossip and live together more carefree behind their husband's back... where the transmigrated and current rogue cultivator Shen Yuan is accidentally added.

Shen Yuan probably ignores all the messages at first as, well, fuck. A group of gossipy women. He's been in worse group chats, and the company is entertaining when he's been through more two weeks without a trace of another human being hunting a beast. However, you could send some useful answers, some knowledge about plants or medicines that they appreciate!! And they call him "Meimei", so Shen Yuan assumes that they have surely made a mistake with his communication array password... Which is weird, he suppose, because who uses "blessed heavenly pillar" as their password? Anyway. Shen Yuan appreciates the gossipy friends he's making.

Apparently they all live in the same place, are they like, a community? Given certain comments and insinuations between them, perhaps a community of lesbians living under someone's protection? Cool! He was sure that the heavenly pillar definitely wasn't something that could treat lesbianism like a sick and "cure" it (even if he knows that the bastard Airplane would have considered it, nor would he have been capable of that disrespect), so good for them! He liked them too much to end up like part of that harem!! Although being Binghe's wife is a privilege, of course, but one in three hundred...

Shen Yuan doesn't talk much in the group, but he has his favorite "Jiejies"! They're all sweet and nice to him, and even the most unfriendly ones become fond of it after a good recipe for scented soaps or moisturizing creams. Sometimes they even ask him privately with any questions. Shen Yuan feels bad when he has to decline invitations to eat or go listen to music, because he's not even there!! In fact, at this point he's already embarrassed to admit that he was added by mistake and he remained silent about it!!

And, in the midst of one of his travels, Shen Yuan encounters the core of the world. Binghe! Emperor Luo Binghe! They share a small adventure hunting the beast — Luo Binghe looks quite haughty and arrogant, yet vulnerable when he's cooking, illuminated by the fire and with that tiny disheveled braid in his hair. Shen Yuan enjoys his meal and read in the chat, commenting that he remembered some flowers that can be used to dye fabrics, sending the specifications and receiving tens of happy comments about it.

Ah, actually, he doesn't have a bad life. He thinks so. He keeps randomly running into Luo Binghe on his travels, and his friends in the group chat are as gossipy and fun as ever.

And then, one day, Shen Yuan wakes up with an exaggerated amount of messages:

» "I think we'll have to add another one soon"

» "Another one? Damn. How many of us are there?"

» "Three hundred and twelve?"

» "Not everyone is here, in this group there are less than a hundred. The main wives have their own group, too."

» "I thought lady Mingyan was at the beginning?"

» "She was, but she got bored. Mingyan never wants to be in our groups since we criticized thata bad novel about the ice king and his spy"

» "Hualing neither, but she caused the first group to collapse with her rudeness"

» "But why add another one? You're getting off topic, ladies. Husband's been away again?"

» "Phew, honey. If only you knew. He goes off and comes back like a puppy. I've never seen that look on his face"

» "He looks young and adorable. Hualing was complaining about that the other day"

» "I mean, husband always looks handsome, but he has this glow. The glow when he's falling in love, again. I haven't seen him like that in a long time"

» "Me neither! I thought I'd never see him shine like that again after the third week of our wedding"

» "Same sis. Since the second one. It's nice to see him shine happily even if he's not looking at me"

» "Do we know who she is? From which realm? A demon? A cultivator? Details, details!!"

» "We need more demons, badass girls"

» "Husband says he's going hunting. He comes back with beasts and flowers. But also with that smile. So I'm guessing a cultivator"

» "Hell, more? They'll beat us by a landslide"

» "Girl, don't complain. More to bite on"

» "When you stop being being super close and eating together, we can talk about how we can't let husband ruin it with this?"

» "Why would a husband ruin it?"

» "He is our husband"

» "You're absolutely right. Fuck he's going to ruin it"

» "What should we do?"

» "First, find out about her! Warn her! Tell her that our husband is a fool but has a good heart deep down!! Who has permission to leave the palace? Has anyone spoken to Yingying lately?!"

» "We have to warn her about the size of his dick"

» "That too. I would have appreciated being prepared"

» "I married him after reading the yellow books about him, AND I WASN'T PREPARED"

» "No one is. My poor flower"

» "Too much information"

» "I'm not sorry"

» "Girls GIRLS GIRLS. For heaven's sake. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I JUST FOUND OUT."

» "If it doesn't have to do with our husband's new conquest, it's irrelevant gossip."

» "It has to do with"

» "SPIT IT OUT"

» "His new conquest is not a woman"

» "what"

» "WHAT?"

» "?????"

» "Listen, but it makes sense, right? Husband could be a cut sleeve that didn't notice until now. So that's why there are so many of us. None of us can be enough because we're missing something, you know, important."

» "A dick"

» "I was going to say a pillar, but you get the point."

» "Where did you hear that from?"

» "Our husband was telling General Mobei. That he should prepare a trunk of fine men's robes, that he would soon bring his new traveling companion to see the palace. That he plans to move him into his private chambers."

» "NO FUCKING WAYYY"

» "Hualing will explode"

» "I haven't seen a good attempt in years, do you want to bet?"

» "Do we know anything else?"

» "I don't know his name, sorry, that's all I have. He is a small rogue cultivator"

» "How small?"

» "By the measurements that husband requested for his robes, 5'6"

» "Damn it"

» "Short"

» "Oh damn, his poor chrysanthemum"

» "OH FUCK"

» "NO WAY"

» "HOW THE HELL DOES OUR HUSBAND'S COCK FIT IN SOMETHING SO SMALL? FUCK"

» "I will put incense in the name of his hole"

» "Oh girl, me too"

Shen Yuan stops reading with a mixture of horror, shame, and panic. What. The. Fuck. HOW THE FUCK DID HE END UP IN THAT GROUP? In the DAMNED BINGHE WIFE GROUP. Fuck. Oh fuck.

And yes, HE HAD agreed to visit Luo Binghe's palace, BUT only because he had mentioned that it had been a long time since he had slept in a bed and had a nice hot bath!! And Luo Binghe had been an exceptional gentleman and good friend offering to visit the palace and receive some care! Nothing perverted like those wives talked about!!

Oh, those wives. Damn. How come he'd been infiltrating that chat for MONTHS without realizing it!? Yes, it was true that when there were MANY messages he would ignore them and just skip them... But he would have stopped immediately if someone had mentioned Binghe directly!! But FUCK. They only mentioned him as "husband" and Shen Yuan's radar on anything where Binghe was mentioned didn't go off. Fuck.

Well, that's fine. He's not... a conquest. Nothing like that. Shen Yuan is sure of that! The protagonist is 100% heterosexual, no matter what those wives say!!! They're his wives damn, they should know how straight he is!!

He'll go to that palace, prove that he's just a good friend of Binghe, and that's it!

(In the future, when he is already married with Luo Binghe and one of Binghe's many wives asks for his communication array password to add him to a group chat to, he know, chat and share, Shen Yuan runs away with a red face. That same night, everyone is saddened because the kind and sweet Meimei who knew a lot about beast, flowers and remedies left the group.)

#svsss #svsss ideas #svsss au #mxtx svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #bingyuan #shen yuan #harem of the original luo binghe #luo binghe #original luo binghe #It started out as nonsense and I completely lost control of my narrative #as usual #Binghe's wives just want to have fun

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lotties-ashwagandha · 3 months ago

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LET IT BLEED AWAY BETWEEN US

(adult) lottie matthews x fem!reader.

she shows up at your door… (inspired by season three episode 2 babyyyyyy I wrote this at 4 fucking in the morning earlier bc I couldn’t sleep enjoy please read to compensate my suffering). read part two here.

“So,” you start, unsure of how to begin. “How was it?”

Lottie blinks. “The mental institution?”

You were better off not asking.

“It was fine,” she answers in a dull tone. She sits across from where you stand as she occupies your armchair — in your living room, which she has infiltrated and made herself at home in. “It’s been worse.”

She’s told you before, stories of all she has endured. You sit very straight, unsure exactly of how to proceed — it hasn’t been long since you last saw her, but there is a gap between the two of you already, and even in such a short amount of time the two of you have changed. She no longer has her wellness center to lead, you no longer follow her in it. You have been thrusted back into the real world — real dangers accompany it.

“You have a nice place here,” Lottie gestures around your living room. “I’m surprised you could get a hold of it so quickly.”

Your old house you had lived in before moving into the wellness center. You’ve had it on the market for a while, but no one has put in an offer. You don’t tell her that, though — part of you wants her to bear the guilt, think you found some new place in a pinch.

“I had to find somewhere to go,” you say defensively. “While you were detained.”

Her expression sours, she doesn’t like your wording. Neither do you. You don’t enjoy being angry with her, especially after being apart. All you want to do is rush to her, pull her into your arms and let it all bleed away between you, but it was Lottie herself who always showed those who followed her to feel their anger.

Lottie sinks further into her seat, sensing your discontent, crosses one leg over the other and pretends she’s blind to the world. “I missed you.”

You hum in response. Silence lies heavily between you.

“Are you upset with me?”

You don’t respond.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

She sighs. “Then what?”

“You hunted Shauna through the woods. You got shot.”

Lottie stands and makes her way to you. She looks tired above all, but you can’t help but notice a fidgety manner about her — dark eyes always flitting to avert your gaze, hands spinning her rings around and around her fingers. There is a general restlessness to her that you aren’t used to — it’s worrying.

“I understand that you’re frustrated—”

“What if it had been me?” You cross your arms. “Would you have hunted me?”

Lottie scoffs.

“Answer me. Would you have?”

She hesitates. She waits a beat too long before answering. You see the same flightiness. “No.”

You let it drop for now. You don’t want to press her and end up with a different answer. “Did it hurt?”

She’s becoming quite done with this. Her tone is laced with sarcasm, sharp with it. “When I fell from heaven?”

“When you got shot.”

“Yes, it fucking hurt.”

“I want to see.”

Again she sighs, more dramatically this time — but after a moment’s hesitation Lottie pulls off her black jacket. Your eyes find it immediately, though the wound is tiny. It’s already beginning to scar: the small mark of the bullet you remember all too clearly embedded in her skin.

“Are you okay?” Lottie asks.

“Are you?”

She offers you a soft smile — it’s not really an answer, more mournful than anything, but momentarily you have been persuaded to put your anger aside when her hands take yours and again you are home.

“If you ever get shot again, I’m leaving you,” you threaten. It sounded much less surreal to say in your head.

“I don’t plan on it,” Lottie assures you. “Though I didn’t plan on getting shot the first time.”

You beg to differ. It doesn’t matter in any case, what’s done is done. Now you need her in your arms, anger and all, and she needs it too — gently, almost so as not to scare you away into a fit of rage, she kisses you.

You had been silent when she’d told you she missed you, but you had missed her just as desperately. You missed the warmth and security of her beside you as you laid in an empty bed, you missed the novelty of being able to pull her into your arms whenever you wanted and decide it’s where you both would stay for a while. You missed her, in every way, and you were still pissed at her for all she had done to lose you.

Lottie glances around the house when you pull back, trying to determine in her surroundings where the bedroom is. You can see the disapproval etched into her features — this is not her home, this is not the life you have built together.

You can’t, not yet. Too mournful still.

When you pull her back over to the couch, it is a domestic gesture. When you lean against her so that you’re nearly on top of her and gently run a hand through her hair. When her arms wrap around you and you find your gaze trained on the bullet wound and you can’t help but reach out to trace it and know that someday, when the world is less dark and mournful and all of your wounds have scarred, you will kiss it clean of the past.

sexy sexy taglist: @webism @chaithetics @ahauandthesun

reblogs/comments always appreciated! :)

click here for my masterlist!

#lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #yellowjackets x reader #adult lottie matthews x reader #adult yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets season 3 #yellowjackets

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marksbear2 · 3 months ago

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Can i request Kraven x male reader headcanons? 🤭 also seen you were sick, hope you’re feeling better. 💗

Kraven the hunter x male reader

Dear anon you probably don’t even remember requesting this from how long it took for me to post this 💔💔. I hope you don’t mind and enjoy the fic.

1. Wilderness Dates – Instead of typical dates, Kraven takes you on hunting trips, teaching you how to track, set traps, and survive in the wild.

2. Protective Instincts – He’s fiercely protective of you, always keeping a watchful eye when you’re in dangerous areas, even if you insist you can handle yourself.

3. Animal Affection – Kraven’s pets, especially his lions and leopards, are unusually affectionate toward you. He says it’s because they recognize you as his mate.

4. Trophy Gifts – Instead of flowers or jewelry, he brings you trophies from his hunts—like a beautifully carved bone knife or a rare pelt he insists would make a good cloak for you.

5. His urge for dominance – He treats you like his equal but has a deeply ingrained need to prove himself as the strongest, often challenging you to arm wrestling matches or sparring sessions.

6. Soft for You – He may be a ruthless hunter, but when he’s alone with you, he becomes oddly tender, brushing his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses against your temple.

7. Cooking Experiments – He insists on cooking meat he hunted himself, sometimes with questionable seasoning choices. You once had to pretend to enjoy an overly spicy jungle stew.

8. Jealousy Issues – Kraven doesn’t handle jealousy well. If someone flirts with you, he looms behind them like a predator, silently daring them to back off.

9. Old-School Romance – He believes in grand, dramatic gestures, like carrying you bridal-style over a river or slaying a beast in your honor.

10. Hunting Together – If you show any interest in hunting, he takes great pride in teaching you, even letting you lead small hunts to boost your confidence.

11. Battle Couple Energy – If you’re a fighter, he adores the idea of battling side by side, reveling in the thrill of combat together.

12. Survival Training – He believes you should be able to survive in the wild without him, so he occasionally tests you by disappearing for a few hours and watching from afar to see how you handle yourself.

13. Affectionate Nicknames – He calls you things like "Little Wolf," "My Lion," or "Prey-Turned-Predator" depending on his mood.

14. Body Worship – Kraven is a man who appreciates strength, whether it’s his own or yours. If you work out, expect a lot of lingering hands and admiring glances.

15. Animal-Like Comfort – He’s not above curling around you like a big cat when you’re resting together, nuzzling into your neck as he dozes off.

16. Tattoos and Scars – If you have scars, he traces them with fascination, praising you for being strong enough to earn them. If you have tattoos, he asks about their meaning and if he can add one to your collection.

17. Loyal to the End – Once Kraven has claimed you as his, he is unshakably devoted. Betrayal is unthinkable, and he would cross the world to find you if you were taken from him.

18. Drunken Boasting – After a few drinks, he brags loudly about your strength, intelligence, or cunning to anyone who will listen, making sure the world knows you’re worthy of standing beside him.

19. Traditional Courting – He has an old-fashioned view of romance and might insist on proving himself to you through trials, like hunting a beast in your name or bringing home an impressive prize.

20. Predator and Prey Dynamic – Sometimes, just to mess with you, he’ll playfully “hunt” you in the jungle or around your home, only to catch you in his arms and whisper, “You are mine.”

THE END

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #x male y/n #x reader #amab reader #marvel x male reader #kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #Kraven x male reader #Kraven the hunter x male reader #Kraven the hunter x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x you #the bear club

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tadc-harlequin-au · 11 months ago

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New Puppet Unlocked: Caine, The Puppetmaster!

Caine's character description:

For the longest time, Caine believed that he was the only Puppet left who hasn't gone insane, and has spent living in near complete and total isolation for it (if it weren't for Bubble, his robotic Butler Blimp), drowning himself in booze for what seemed to be the remainder of his days.

That was, until Pomni suddenly arrived at his office out of nowhere and challenged him.

Her sudden appearance, her fierceness in battle and various other reasons, Caine sought to get Pomni to see the dire situation after a stalemate in their duel; That they're the last remnants of sane minds remaining in this forsaken lands and he needs her help for what must be done next, if they are to improve the world's conditions. Thankfully, the Harlequin was not actually cold-hearted, just hot-tempered.

Reinvigorated in his self-assigned purpose, The Puppetmaster now spends his time either indoctrinating reawakened Puppets and teaching them how to become "human" once more, tinkering/inventing new machines, having friendly debates or sparring with Pomni just to satisfy her urge to battle, and various other things.

Though, he still likes to drink.

Fun facts about Caine:

He is a massive drunkard.

He passes out in the most random places if he drinks too much. One of the most outrageous locations Pomni has found him in was at the chandelier on the main lounge, which even he can't remember how he got there.

Caine still acts boisterous and speaks mostly formally; though there are ways you can break his way of speech, the easiest way to do it is to surprise him.

He avoids using swears, says it's a gentleman's code. Though, some get past his mouth on a rare occasion.

He created Bubble out of loneliness, initially just wanting someone to talk to.

In a comedic parallel, he tends to limit Pomni's cravings for battle by holding her sword hostage as much as possible, of course to the Harlequin's frustration.

His second gold tooth on his bottom jaw was a result of his and Pomni's first meeting/duel. She ended up kicking him so hard in her rage, one teeth cracked in half and flew off.

He tends to look at everyone with a positive mindset and the want to see the best in them; although Jax seems to be a rare exception. Still, he lets the automaton be.

Most of his time is spent hanging around in his office. The only time you'll see him outside is if there's a task he needs to attend to, assembling Pomni back together in the cellar, another sparring match with the Harlequin, or when he talks to Z and/or Kingr, since they are both too big for the insides of the mansion.

Like almost every ADHD-person, he is prone to getting distracted easily.

He has a strict "no fighting in the premises" rule; instead, he tells them to literally take it outside (even if it means being on the neighboring lawn), as long as it's not on the INSIDE.

He keeps his shirt opened because he feels discomfort and suffocated when he buttons it up.

He doesn't like to talk about his past.

When asked what's his classification, he'll avoid and switch topics. His rare anger (but eerily-calm way of speech) comes out when you ask about it too much.

He does admit that his entire body was self-modified.

You can hear his arrival in a scene by the sounds of ball joints slightly cracking in place.

Aside from Pomni, he likes Kingr the most, finding the chess piece's presence calming. This has lead to jokes about a bromance happening between the two.

And just like Pomni as well, Caine fixes Kingr the most because the Helpful King tends to use himself as a shield for the Harlequin.

He's rarely seen without his cane.

He HEAVILY dislikes it when Pomni dies. When he is aware that Pomni is at the brink of death, he'll start panicking and telling her to go back and abandon the mission for now, through Bubble.

After Pomni's surprise arrival (and proof that he could still be hunted down if he wasn't careful enough), he took the manor up to the skies to ensure that the manor remains a safe haven.

Quotes:

"Greetings! I am Caine, and I am here to help you. That's all you need to know."

"I think we can arrange that."

"This is not part of the plan!"

"No fighting! Take it outside."

"Perhaps we can reach to a sort of agreement..."

"Hmm... quite intriguing."

"Why, I must say, this is quite the predicament..."

"Will you be mindful of your own sake next time, pretty please?"

"... I don't-... think that's how-... you know what, do whatever you want."

"... Okay, you don't need to go that far."

"You know what this calls for? [...] A CELEBRATION! [...] BUBBLE, TO THE LIQUOR STORAGE"

"You know, I haven't really thought this through enough--"

"BUBBLE! Did you chew through my latest project again?!"

"Oy vey..."

"I am aware of the effect that alcohol has on me. And quite frankly, I don't care."

"Strange, where am I? Who am I? What are we, but mass-produced products catered to extending one's stay on a desolate, abandoned realm? Are we even human anymore, or are we machines that think we're human in order to save ourselves from the pain of a fake existence? Hm? Oh right, I haven't eaten my dinner."

"Must we really resort to this method?"

"Oh, I just fixed that!"

"Apologies, I blanked out for a second. What were we talking about?"

"Bubble here can help you out on your dilemma. Just don't listen to him for any advices. Personally, I think sometimes he can make you jump off a cliff."

"What do you mean "I need to stop drinking"? I'm perfectly fi- *passes out*"

"Am I aware that it is an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Do I plan to stop? Not exactly, there aren't a lot of options left."

"That is outrageous! Me? With her? That's... It's... *sigh* I can't. She'd never."

"May I just say, for once, what the actual fuck."

#tadc #tadc au #harlequin au #tadc harlequin au #the amazing digital circus #caine #tadc caine #art #character description #Puppet!Caine #Puppetmaster!Caine #Harlequin Caine #character information

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allpiesforourown · 8 months ago

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OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it.

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety.

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out.

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person.

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student.

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong.

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that.

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS.

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.”

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple.

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding?????

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret.

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was.

Instead he asks what they’re doing.

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet.

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses.

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword.

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!”

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan.

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him!

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do.

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice.

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist.

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.”

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?”

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing.

#role reversal au #svsss #shen yuan #luo binghe #bingqiu #liu qingge #allpiesforourown #gonna tag it binggeyuan too bc binghe is a fuckboy until he gets domesticated by sy #binggeyuan #luo bingge

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waywardmaslow · 6 months ago

Text

The Epic Codependency of Sam and Dean Winchester

• Dean went and got Sam from Stanford not because he needed Sam’s help finding John but simply because he wanted Sam with him 1.01

• Dean threw himself off a bridge just because that’s what Sam appeared to be doing 1.01

• Sam knew immediately when Dean was really a shifter 1.06

• “We accept homeowners of any race, religion, color… or sexuality.” -Larry and Lynda @ Sam & Dean 1.08

• Sam felt no guilt over someone having to die in order for Dean’s life to be saved 1.12

• “A king or two queens?” -Michael “Two queens.” -Dean “Yeah, I’ll bet.” -Michael 1.18

• Dean no longer wanted to hunt down the thing that killed Mary if it meant Sam dying 1.21

• Dean wasted one of the 3 remaining bullets for the colt on a low-level demon who was attacking Sam 1.22

• Sam blindly trusts Dean when he says John is possessed 1.22

• Sam and Dean coming up with identical cover stories and coming to the same conclusion re: “Dana Schulps” clue while separated during a hunt 2.07

• Dean gave Baby to a stranger and locked himself in with a Croatoan-infected Sam, ready to kill Sam then himself once Sam went rabid(or let rabid!Sam infect him too so they’d be monsters together) 2.09

• “So, uh, ..king-sized bed?” -Susan “No no, we’re uh.. 2 singles. We’re just brothers.” -Sam 2.11

• “Bonny to your Clyde” -Hendrickson @ Dean about Sam 2.12

• Dean was willing to cover up a murder Sam may have committed 2.14

• “You two are bickering like an old married couple.” -Bobby @ Sam & Dean 2.15

• Dean’s current relationship with Sam was more important to him than the normal life he could’ve had if Mary never died 2.20

• Dean cared more about Sam going to law school and marrying Jess than he did about any of what he had purely for himself(his job and gf) in his Djinn fantasy 2.20

• When Lily opened up to Sam about accidentally killing her girlfriend, Sam empathized with her by bringing up how Dean might be dead(for all he knew) instead of bringing up Jessica’s death(which he canonically blamed himself for) 2.21

• “Something big’s going down, Dean. End-of-the-world big.” -Bobby “Well then, let it end!” -Dean after Sam died 2.22

• Dean sold his soul to bring Sam back from the dead (which lead to him breaking the first seal kicking off the apocalypse) 2.22

• Ruby used Sam’s fear of losing Dean then grief after his death to manipulate him 3.02/3.16/4.09

• Sam was willing to bleed an innocent human dry in order to summon the trickster to bring Dean back 3.11

• Sam was willing to become an organ-harvesting immortal to keep Dean from dying and going to hell 3.15

• “Whatever the magic pill is, I’ll take it too!” -Sam “What is this, Sid and Nancy?” -Dean 3.15

• “Sammy, all I’m saying is you’re my weak spot. You are. And I’m yours.” -Dean 3.16

• Sam tried to open the gate to hell (risking letting more demons into the world) to save Dean 4.01

• Sam tried to sell his soul multiple times to get Dean back from hell 4.01/4.09

• “Are you two like…together?” -Ruby 4.01

• “You don’t need me. You and Ruby go hunt demons.” -Dean being more jealous of Ruby than suspicious 4.04

• Dean willingly handed Anna over to the angels who wanted to kill her because they threatened to send Sam to hell if he didn’t 4.10

• Dean’s siren was an idealized version of Sam 4.14

• Sam consumed more demon blood than normal to kill Alistair and save Dean (it’s likely that this was the turning point when Sam became addicted) 4.16

• Dean knows Sam’s habits so well that he’s able to track him down even when Sam’s trying to do the opposite of what he thinks Dean would expect him to do 4.21

• Sam hunted down Lilith to avenge Dean (which lead to breaking the final seal releasing Lucifer) 4.09/4.22

• “Whatever we have between us, love, family, whatever it is..” -Dean to Sam 5.04

• future!Dean was willing to sacrifice all his friends (including Cass) to avenge Sam 5.04

• Dean prevented the endverse future simply by reconnecting with Sam 5.04

• “We’re all we’ve got. More than that, we keep each other human.” -Dean to Sam 5.04

• “The relationship that you have with your brother seems dangerously codependent.” -Dr. Fuller to Dean 5.11

• Sam and Dean are soulmates with a shared heaven 5.16

• “Sam and Dean are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other” -Zachariah 5.18

• Dean decided against saying yes to Michael because he didn’t want to let Sam down 5.18

• Dean prioritized helping Sam over Adam in the beautiful room and it led to Michael taking Adam as his vessel 5.18

• Dean was ready to die with Sam/let Lucifer beat him to death if Sam couldn’t regain control of his body 5.22

• Sam’s love for Dean gave him the strength to overcome Lucifer 5.22

• “Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back.” -Chuck voiceover 5.22

• Having a normal apple-pie life means nothing to Dean if Sam isn’t alive to be part of it. -> “I wanted my brother! Alive!” -Dean / “Had I shown up, Dean, you would have just run off(away from Lisa and Ben).” -Sam 6.01

• “That woman and that kid; I only went to them because you asked me too!” & “I showed up on their doorstep half out of my head with grief. God knows why they even let me in. I drank too much. I had nightmares. I looked everywhere. I collected hundreds of books, trying to find anything to bust you out.” -Dean to Sam 6.01

• Dean chose hunting full-time with Sam over staying with Lisa and Ben 6.02

• “The minute Sam walked through that door, I knew. It was over. You two have the most unhealthy, tangled-up, crazy thing I’ve ever seen.” -Lisa about Dean and Sam 6.06

• “Mallory to your Micky” -Veritas to Sam about Dean 6.06

• Dean died to make a deal with Death to save Sam’s soul from the cage and in doing so chose Sam over Adam 6.11

• Sam took on his cage memories so Dean wouldn’t be left alone 6.22

• Dean became Sam’s stone number 1 when he was having trouble telling what was real 7.02

• Sam and Dean each quickly recognized each others leviathan doppelgängers 7.06

• Sam’s grief over losing Dean is paralleled to Amelia’s grief over losing her husband, both believe their loved one is dead, both get their loved one back. s8 Flashbacks

• “Is it just me or are you getting a workplace-romance vibe from those two?” -Michael & “Dude, they just sat and talked about how they have been apart for a year. You were probably right about that whole office-romance thing.” -Brian about Sam and Dean 8.04

• Sam chooses Dean over Amelia 8.10

• Dean chooses to take on the 3 trials mainly because he doesn’t want Sam to do it and risk his life, he wants Sam to reap the benefits of a demon free world 8.14

• Dean’s perfect ending is simply for Sam to get out of hunting and lead a normal apple-pie life till he’s old and grey 8.14

• “Cass, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's... it's the same as begging. But this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me.” -Dean 8.16

• Dean killed Benny so Sam could be saved from Purgatory 8.19

• “You two fight like an old married couple.” Charlie to Sam & Dean 8.20

• Dean chose a world with demons over a demon-free world without Sam 8.23

• “You know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It’s how many times I’ve let you down. I can’t do that again.” -Sam to Dean 8.23

• “Don’t you dare think that there’s anything past or present that I would put in front of you.” -Dean to Sam 8.23

• Dean violated Sam’s trust and autonomy via tricking him into an Angel possession to save his life 9.01

• “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you!” -Dean to Sam 9.01

• Dean kicked human!Cass -who was being hunted by angels- out of the bunker rendering him homeless so his mere presence wouldn’t drive away the Angel keeping Sam alive 9.03

• Young!Dean gave up a chance at a normal life so he could continue being there for Sam 9.07

• Dean gave Crowley permission to use one of the brothers’ code words to warn Sam about Gadreel 9.10

• Dean didn’t regret letting an Angel into Sam, even though it had resulted in Kevin being killed 9.13

• Sam could break through the MOC hold on Dean like Collette was able to do for Cain 9.16/9.21/10.23

• “You’re lying to Sam like he’s your wife.” - Crowley 9.17

• Sam tricked a man into selling his soul so he could torture the demon for info on where demon!Dean was 10.02/10.03

• “Right now I’m doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out…with my teeth.” -Demon!Dean to Sam 10.02

• “What did Sam say? He wanna divorce?” -Dean 10.03

• “I tried to kill him, Cass.” -Dean “It would take a lot more than trying to kill your brother with a hammer to make Sam want to walk away.” -Cass 10.03

• “Homosexual murderers!” -Bev “Like Leopold and Loeb!” -Hetty 10.06

• “Then would come the murder you'd never survive, the one that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as it did me. Your brother, Sam.” -Cain to Dean 10.14

• Sam was willing to bleed himself to death to unlock the Werther Box to get the codex so a cure for Dean could be found in the Book of the Damned 10.19

• Death wanted Sam to be killed because he knew Sam would never stop looking for a way to free Dean from the MOC regardless of the consequences 10.23

• Sam was willing to let Dean kill him so Death would send Dean somewhere he wouldn’t be a danger to anyone due to the MOC 10.23

• Dean killed Death because he couldn’t go through with killing Sam and Death had threatened to do it if he couldn’t 10.23

• Sam’s efforts to get the MOC off Dean result in the Darkness being released 10.23

• “I unleashed a force on this world that could destroy it to save you. And I’d do it again, in a second I’d do it again.” -Sam to Dean 11.01

• Dean: “Where’s Sam?” Crowley: “Don’t worry about Sam.” Dean: “I’m sorry; have you met me?” 11.10

• Dean chose comforting/looking after Sam over helping Cass fight Lucifer in the cage 11.10

• Dean saw a manifestation of dead!Sam(part of his soul in distress) in the soul-eater’s nest 11.16

• Dean killed himself so he could bargain with a reaper to bring Sam back from the dead 11.17

• Because Dean thought Sam was dead, he was ready to let himself (and the couple they were trying to save) be killed by the werewolf pack they’d been hunting 11.17

• Michelle: “I just watched the man I love die; there’s no normal after that.” Dean: *thinking about how he’s just experienced the same thing with Sam except with a different outcome* 11.17

• “You fight like brothers; you’re almost as bad as [me and Sam].” -Dean “Actually, it’s more like an old married couple.” -Caesar 11.19

• Sam got infected by the Darkness fog and Dean abandoned the people they were trying to protect and instead tried to infect himself so he could die with Sam 11.20

• Dean used his relationship with Sam to relate to Amara and get her to reconcile with Chuck 11.23

• Amara in 11.09: *kisses Dean* -> Dean in 11.23 to Amara: “You simply need your brother. I mean, hell, maybe that’s why you wanted me. But deep down, you didn’t really want me…cuz I’m not him.”

• Sam and Mary: *trapped in Asa’s house by a demon* -> Dean: *stuck outside* “Sam! Sammy! Hey!” *after breaking in* “Where’s my brother?” 12.06

• “We’re like the American Oasis.” -Dean comparing himself & Sam to Liam & Noel Gallagher 12.07

• Sam and Dean were each willing to die so the other could escape the federal prison and live on 12.09

• “You know, sometimes me and Sam have got so much going on that…we forget about everyone else.” -Dean to Cass 12.23

• Dean began to warm up to Jack because he saved Sam’s life 13.04

• Sam and Dean were unfazed by being stuck in the Bad Place because they had each other 13.10

• “I don’t care what happens to me. I never really have. But I do care about what happens to my brother.” -Dean 13.20

• “And if we die? We’ll do that together too.” -Sam to Dean 13.20

• Dean went mute after Sam was killed and later set off on a suicide mission to retrieve Sam’s body or die trying 13.21

• Dean said yes to AU!Michael to save Sam from Lucifer 13.23

• Dean knows Bert and Ernie are gay 5.03 and suggests he and Sam dress as them for Halloween 14.04

• Though Dean was unable to take back control or cast Michael out, his resistance due to his attachment to Sam made him enough of a nuisance to Michael that he willingly let Dean go(temporarily) 14.09

• Sam was able to figure out where Michael had Dean trapped in his mind via knowing how Dean could be best subdued/distracted 14.10

• Sam broke through Michael’s hold on Dean with just one word: “Poughkeepsie” 14.10

• Sam was the only one who could talk Dean out of locking himself in the Ma’lak box with Michael for all eternity at the bottom of the ocean 14.12

• The thought of letting Dean down broke Sam free of Chip Harrington’s mind control 14.15

• “We have lost way, way too much. And it’s hard not to feel like just… cashing out. I felt like that. After Chuck, back at the crypt. But you know what brought me back? You did. By sayin’ that what we do still matters.” -Dean to Sam 15.04

• Dean was willing to abandon Cass in Purgatory, so he could get back home before the portal closed and save Sam from Chuck (that’s the only reason he sent up that prayer to Cass) 15.09

• Dean was willing to sacrifice Jack so he and Sam could have a life free of Chuck’s influence/control 15.17

• Dean was willing to trade everyone(who’d be collateral damage if Billie became the new god) except Sam for a shot at getting rid of Chuck 15.17

• Sam broke through Dean’s desperation to be rid of Chuck no matter what the cost, thwarting not just Billie’s plan but also Chuck’s brother-kills-brother endgame 15.17

• Dean stood outside Sam’s Stanford dorm for hours because he was so afraid of Sam possibly rejecting him, he didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have Sam 15.20

• “It’s always been you… and me.” “I love you so much..my baby brother.” -Dean to Sam 15.20

• Dean wouldn’t let go till Sam told him it was ok, he wanted to be sure Sam would be ok without him 15.20

• Sam spent the rest of his life mourning Dean and honoring his memory, named his son after him 15.20

• Dean’s heaven was not perfect till Sam got there 15.20

#sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #samdean #barniversary

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cinematicreid · 8 months ago

Text

for a moment

the one where Spencer reminds reader to slow down.

wc 651

warnings + the rundown: bau!reader, fluff, soft!spencer, i love him, literally can’t live without him, what a sweetheart, mentions of reader getting shot, but nothing explicit, feelings!, yikes!

a/n: can’t beat short and sweet and cutesy. feedback always welcome, come say hi to me i think you’re all so cool!

Spencer’s eyes may as well have laser beams shooting out of them with the way his gaze is glued to you. You attempt to focus on the task at hand, securing the Kevlar vest to the upper half of your body and completely ignoring him. But this has been happening for almost two months, ever since your incident, and you can’t take it anymore.

“Give it a rest, Spencer, you’re driving me crazy.”

“I know! I’m sorry, just — will you please let me —”

You let out a huff of exasperation, giving up.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mumble, and then more loudly, “Fine.”

Your hands fall to your sides in surrender as he quickly moves toward you and reaches for the vest’s fasteners.

A child. He’s making you feel like a child.

You hear Morgan chuckle from the other end of the police precinct’s tiny conference room, as if he can read your thoughts. You’re about to shoot him a death glare when you’re interrupted by Spencer sharply tugging a strap too tight.

“Reid,” you hiss.

“Don’t start,” he interjects over your complaint.

The incident in question was, of course, an accident. It wasn’t like you had intentionally put your vest on in a rush. There just hadn’t been enough time (which was not a proper excuse, as Hotch had gently but firmly reminded you later), and the loosened straps meant the vest moved around more than it should have when you were running, and the UnSub’s bullet found your side all too easy to graze.

It was stupid, really, but it was one time and nearly two months ago.

None of this was enough to ease the seemingly permanent furrow in Spencer’s brow.

It started as small, albeit irritating, reminders to double-check your vest, which you initially laughed off. But it had now escalated to taking the task entirely off your hands.

Spencer finishes with a final tug.

“Happy?” you ask him flatly. He lifts his concentrated gaze to meet your annoyed one.

“I could do without the sass. But yes,” he says, his shoulders visibly lighter and more content.

“It’s like watching a dad get his daughter ready for Take Your Kid To Work Day,” Morgan teases, rushing out of the room before you can hit him with the closest object at your disposal and leaving just you and Spencer. He rolls his eyes at the poor joke and gently takes said object from your hand.

“I don’t think a pen is going to do much damage,” he says. He loosens a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

You regard him for a few seconds, a small part of you melting at the undeniable softness in his eyes, which are so vast and deep you could stay there forever.

You get it.

It’s the thing about this job. How it forces an eternity to become temporary. How, in 20 minutes, you’ll be hunting down the bad guy but for now, what can feel like forever if you wanted, you’re only here with Spencer.

It’s all fleeting. Your little “incident” had only served as a reminder of that.

And so, Spencer had to take care of you in this way. You both knew that.

“You don’t need to be,” you offer him. He avoids your gaze and you nudge his shoulder with your hand. “Spencer, I’m here, yeah?” That earns you a gentle nudge back and the hint of a smile.

“I know. I’m here, too.”

And here is everywhere and nowhere and, perhaps most importantly, together. A beat, or maybe a forever passes before he speaks again.

“If this were Take Your Kid To Work Day I’d be the worst father in the world.”

Just like that, he’s back and you’re back with him.

Fleeting.

“I am so getting him back for that,” you mumble, making your way to the door. Spencer’s laugh as he follows behind you is all you can hear.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #rina writes

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yandereunsolved · 8 months ago

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Yandere Daryl Dixon w/ immune reader— 'we're all infected, why does it matter if you're the cure?'

Yandere Daryl saw your scraggly ass aimlessly wandering through the abandoned pharmacy he needed to raid. Walkers, five of em', and you fought them off bare fisted. Pretty badass, and fucking stupid, if Daryl has anything to say about it. You're bleeding from your neck more than any living person should.

A bite. You're bit.

No wonder you could care less if one of the rotting corpses bites on ya.

He wants to put you down like he should. He lines up his crossbow with your head, and like a deer caught in headlights, you flee.

Goddammit all.

Shouldn't matter anyway. You'll become another walker. At the most you got some gauze.

It had to be months again before he saw you on another run. There you are—banged up and just a lil more than skin n' bones, but there you are alive none the less.

Yandere Daryl admits to himself that it's the first time he's been intrigued by someone in a long while. Maybe that's why he's insisted on going on runs by himself these past few months. Maybe just maybe deep down he wanted to see you again.

It isn't hard to simply surprise you from behind and disarm you. He knocks you out and lowers you to the sidewalk. He doesn't see any walkers near, so he can check your wound out easy.

You still have gauze over it, but it has long since needed a change. It's drenched in fresh blood and covered in old. He unwraps it to see the damn bite. He can't tell if it looks better or worse now.

"Poor sap, what am I gonna do with you? Whats good a cure if there's no docs, only greedy men in this world." He tsks.

Yandere Daryl picks you up and carries you back to the group. He wraps a slightly torn shawl around your neck. It's one he found near the store you collapsed at. There's a reason you have been out here all these months.

You could'a just given up and died.

You could'a found a group.

Instead you found him again.

"Must've been fate, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly.

The way you looked at him. You're runnin' from somethin'. He just has to figure out what.

Yandere Daryl decides you're his to take care of. When he carries you into Alexandria, he doesn't let anyone else get their hands on you. He doesn't answer anyone's questions while he walks in and towards his house. He locks himself in and tells anyone that comes by to piss off.

Screw the rules and whatever the fuck.

You're a mystery that he has to solve.

So he grabs a change of clothes and some food for you. He plops them down on the table and sits in the opposite chair.

He doesn't mind waitin' for a while. It gives him plenty o' time to think. Somethin' in him is just stirrin'. He just can't decide what.

Yandere Daryl calms you down after you wake up. You can barely form words on those pretty lips and tongue of yours. Naturally, you question him and his motives. You're defensive and don't elaborate at first.

It takes just a handful of threats about exposing you and spreading around the fact there is an immune person to unravel your need for secrecy.

Somewhat.

You only tell him that you're being hunted by a group you were once with.

"Mind elaborating, hun?" Daryl draws out while looking over your figure for what feels like the thousandth time.

"I'll tell you—but I swear to God if you use this against me I'll stab you through the head a dozen times over."

"Fair nuff."

"They would—If you get bit and are injected with... well, enough of my blood then it acts as a cure..."

They fuckin' what?

Yandere Daryl vouches for you, and you end up in Alexandria. You get no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They assign you to his house. Daryl definitely convinced Rick that since you're a newcomer and you trust him more, he could keep a watchful eye on you. It totally isn't because there's this strange all possessing feeling that keeps latching onto his heart when you're around.

He keeps your secret safe n' sound. He manages to steal enough makeup from rundown stores to keep your healing bite covered up. He makes sure you are eating and getting healthier. He checks up on you before and after he gets done with a run. Hell, he reminds you of shit he forgets about all the time.

This does extend to him killing people to keep you safe. They looked at you wrong. Maybe one of the residents feels suspicious about you. They may even have confronted Daryl and questioned him. Oh, well. Just another one pushed to the biters.

Daryl has never had a strict moral compass. So he doesn't feel bad about murdering people who he is supposed to consider his neighbors.

Of course, those who came with him to Alexandria get the privilege of questionin' you just a bit. He's quick to shut that shit down, though.

Carol is the only one who is close enough to knowing that you are immune. She knows that Daryl has something more than platonic towards you. She also knows that you were injured with something that looked suspiciously like a walker bite mark when Daryl first lugged you in. (She snuck in and looked through your scarf while Daryl wasn't aware.)

She just isn't looking for trouble. She doesn't want to believe it, as it doesn't seem plausible. There have been too many false hopes from the CDC to Eugene.

So she let's Daryl foster his feelings towards you while watching out for you both. If Daryl ever oversteps a boundary with you, Carol will be there to knock him up side the head, call him a stupid redneck, and threaten him in the most motherly way possible.

Yandere Daryl never saw you have so much terror in the eyes as the day he mentioned The Saviors. It clicked in his mind immediately. He has only felt that rage one other time in his life: when he learned Meryl had been handcuffed to the roof and left for dead.

He didn't think, but he acted. He held you and refused to let go. It's just so fuckin' unfair. He loses everyone that has a semblance of importance to him. Not you. Not this time.

His only thought was that he was going to burn every one of those fuckers to the ground—innocent or not.

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd x reader #yandere daryl #yandere daryl dixon #yandere daryl x reader #yandere daryl dixon x reader

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inknopewetrust · 7 months ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. [𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 𝟕𝐤]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱. 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 [𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚+ 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

You weren’t sure when you started to feel this way.

It ate at you—the sensation. Nipping at the bits of yourself that were far too obvious in a mirror. They rushed through you like you were a lamb for slaughter. It was often you wondered if all of those creatures you sought could feel it too, this vulnerability underneath a tough skin.

And you could see it too. In the mirror, passing a reflecting door or window, in the sunglasses of a friend. Every time your image reflected back to you, a wave of self-doubt washed over you.

It was debilitating and something you never voiced aloud. The thoughts simply ate away at you as the days passed on and the world unraveled with it.

Little help came when your daily return to safety came in the form of a mismatched bunker. In it, the glamorous common sections provided a bit of beauty while the corridors were bland and the rooms much more so. There was nothing there to make you feel pretty—let alone beautiful in such an ugly world.

When the bunker was quiet, those thoughts came alive.

Everyone had gone off for the day. It was one of those strange, sitting duck kind of days where there wasn’t a story to chase or evil lurking around the corner to seize a moment. It was quiet, content with whatever lull had formed for the time being. You were alone in your room flipping through an old book on werewolves that was quickly losing your interest.

For once, you just wanted a break to be normal. To feel normal and be normal without a fear of cosmic retribution for wanting to be someone other than what you had become. This… monster-hunting sidekick chick who feels a bit down and out about the cards life dealt her.

Dean and Sam weren’t on the same wavelength as you, you had imagined. They played off their content with this life as perfectly as anyone could.

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts abruptly. It startled you. Shaking a little jump from your skin, you approached the door with caution as your knowledge had led you to believe you were alone.

But as you cracked open the door, it was painfully obvious you weren’t.

“Dean?”

He gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought you’d be—“

“I told Sam to go on his own,” he clarified. Sam went down to Wichita early that morning and with the roar of Baby, you had assumed Dean had tagged along.

“Oh.”

There was something more stirring in the air around your room. The internal self-loathing was misting and Dean’s presence was billowing. For you, all it took was one glance into his green eyes to fall into an abyss of him. Dean Winchester had girls falling to their knees, praying for a miracle that he’d notice them and fall in love with them and end up with them forever.

He never did but it was too notable to ignore.

He made your heart thump louder. The blood stirring the cauldron of doom inside, building a pool of sweat in your palms and your pupils to grow wider. He was a beautiful man—it was almost embarrassing to think that he’d pay more attention to you than he did.

And there was a scorned inside for the scattered moments he did make you feel something more.

It was on days like this: when everyone was gone and fate had found you alone together when something clicked into place, drawing you together like moths to a flame and touch was a burning relief.

Having sex with Dean was an action that lit up the pitting feelings of doubt.

Every time your shirt came off—hideous.

Every time your pants came undone—ugly.

Every time he gave himself—unworthy.

And every time you let go—pathetic.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and gnawed at it. Dean leaned against the frame but didn’t push. He never did.

“Why didn’t you go?”

He shrugged his shoulders. In his own bashful way, he looked down at his shoes.

“Didn’t want to, I guess,” he said. “Got better things to do than go see a city I’ve seen a hundred times before.”

There was more to do there. There were more girls there to choose from.

“Well it’s not anymore exciting here,” your eyes gave an unfortunate admission. “Just me.”

“You’re plenty exciting,” Dean lifted his head with a scoff. “I figured if you stayed behind then at least it be worth staying behind for.”

When he said phrases like that, it was so casual. It made you roll your eyes in a shallow disbelief he was flagrant with saying your worth anything. Wichita had more than you could ever offer.

You rested the side of your body on the door and clung to the doorknob on the other side tightly.

“I’m afraid you might be wrong on that one.”

Dean’s eyes flinched in curiosity. They searched your face unabashedly for answers it was unwilling to give.

“Why?” He asked. “We never get any time to ourselves. It’s… nice for a change, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just don’t think I’m worth staying behind for.”

He let out a laugh. No smile, just an amused laugh at the suggestion. You weren’t sure if you should feel miffed or reassured.

“Spend five hours in the car with Sam on a Saturday or spend the day with you? I’d much rather be here.”

His honesty was endearing. It was far different from the man you met so many years ago. He had grown comfortable, willing, in that time and if you thought hard on it, it was generally only around you.

For Dean, being vulnerable was cracking his soul open. It was as debilitating as your inability to see yourself as valuable was. But he was comfortable here, alone, and he was content in letting it bleed from every part of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is there a plan I am unaware of?”

Your day was to be spent flipping through books and taking notes of what resolutions could help you all the most.

Dean shrugged again and kicked his foot out slightly. You knew what he wanted, hell, you wanted it too but you couldn’t feel that inside of you.

“I don’t know,” he played. “That’s really up to you.”

Ball, court.

“There’s no one here,” Dean reassured you. You could be loud. You could do what you wanted. You could take your time.

“I know,” you nodded your head. You twisted the knob on the other side of the door.

“We don’t have to,” he backed up with words. The last thing Dean wanted you to feel for him is resentment for propositioning you. “It’s alright. I can… I can,” he cleared his throat, “take care of myself.”

“No,” you said quicker than you meant to. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t have to take care of it, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded at him as the tone shifted. In your hearts, the beating anticipating was in your throats. You could feel it in the jittering movement of your fingers and toes and the insatiable appetite that manifested inside.

The door you were holding on to opened slightly to gain him entry. He took the signal, brushing past you and not feeling cautious when his hand came to rest on your side as he pushed by.

It dawned on you as he entered that you’d never had sex in your room. It was always Dean’s and the one, singular occasion he caught you in the library on a day like this one and ate you out between the bookshelves.

You shut the door behind you as he stepped into the room and took it in differently than before. He’s been in it, sure, but when the circumstances change, everything changes too.

“You remodel?” He joked, pointing around the room that looked identical to all the others. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. Leaning against the door, you folded your hands behind your back. “It was a real task, you know? All the painting and laying the wood.”

He nodded with a hum. He patrolled the space before shrugging off his flannel that rested atop a t-shirt.

You weren’t sure what he wanted exactly but you were hesitant to approach him.

Sitting, facing your bed from its place on the floor was a mirror. And you’d be fucking damned if you watched yourself fuck Dean Winchester through your reflection.

It might be the death of you.

And you didn’t want to curse Dean with that memory.

He kicked off his shoes without instruction. Pieces of himself began to unshed before you. First the shirt, then the shoes. His hands went to his belt, flicking it open and unraveling itself in swift motions that your own hands had learned to do before.

Dean didn’t look at you, he didn’t ask you to join him.

His hands went to the bottom of his shirt and as he lifted it up and over his head, you weren’t shameful to ogle him. That was why he was here—for you to feel him, touch him, worship him in ways he wouldn’t get elsewhere.

There were plenty of other girls in Wichita.

He tossed his shirt to join the flannel before looking at you. Dean held out his hand to you, beckoning you.

“Come here,” he said softly. It could have been enough for you at one time, but it wasn’t today.

You shook your head.

“You come to me.”

If you knew Dean correctly, he would, and he did.

Even in your doubts, having Dean near you was comfort. His eyes drank you in. Completely encapsulated by you and only you and he felt free in that space. He was giving and grateful.

So, he stood toe to toe with you. One of his hands creeped up your slides and slotted into the space where your hands created an opening to the back of you. He silently begged for you to untangle your hands, taking one of them in his own as he allowed the position to draw himself closer.

He held on to you in two ways: against you, pressing you into the door as his nose knocked your own, and his and your intertwined hands pressing into your back. You used your free one to cup his face. You hummed in agreement. Dean tilted his head, breathing in deeply as the skin of your face grazed his own. He could play a long time. The hand you let linger on his cheek brushed along the sides of his neck, folding itself around his back and gripping onto his opposite shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch. Dean let his fingers detached from yours and he cupped at your ass to pull you closer. There was nowhere closer than him. Flush against his body, feeling everything but the blood rushing through him and he soaked in the staggered breaths of anticipation.

You tipped your head away from his to look in his eyes.

His short stubble was tough under your palm. Nothing, however, could detract you from the way his eyes bore into you. He had lovely lashes, fluttering and romantic compared to his outward appearance of “tough man.” They complimented the way his eyes changed from welcome to conversation to lust.

Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was enough for now.

“How’s this gonna work?” You asked him, breath fanning his face.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he mumbled. Eyes hooded, trapped on your lips as they wet themselves. “But we’ve got time. We can go slow.

You nodded like he read your mind. Slow, steady, different from other times.

“I don’t need slow,” you murmured. He gripped your ass harder than before, pushing you against him before letting go and running his hand smoothly over the rump.

“But I’ve got too many clothes on.”

“You’re damn right about that, sweetheart.”

Dean needs no true instructions.

Even in your wallowing pitiful despair of self-destruction, as long as you truly couldn’t see yourself everything would be fine. It would be fine. Dean’s hands roamed your body freely with the invitation. Hands large and free, they begged to grip and squeeze what they could but settled on unraveling the fruits of the goal. With every piece of clothes that came undone and piled themselves onto the floor at your feet, you spied Dean’s eyes grow shades of green. Each deeper than before—tantalizing from opportunity and wolfish in a hunt.

His hands met the tops of your bottoms, trading the top of it with his fingers as they grazed the skin of your stomach. You laid your head back against the door, admiring the way he had the smallest sign of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. Something glimmered, something gleamed in his eyes when he looked back. Dean leaned in, planting a light kiss on the edge of your lip but not on them before falling to his knees.

Clad yet in his beltless jeans, Dean ran his hands over the curve of your waist and down your legs. The agony of time made your heart thump. Thump, thump, thump against your ribcage and into your mind and into the place where his head was mere inches from. You loved the way Dean made you feel—you just hated how you felt on your own.

The muscles of his shoulders worked elegantly as he removed your bottoms and re-ran his hands upwards along your skin. Light goosebumps formed along his trail and he smiled, letting out the lightest laugh in admiration.

Dean’s thumbs found themselves on the edges of your underwear and he paused.

“Like I said,” he was gruff, “we’ve got all the time in the world. So, how do you want me?”

There were few men in the world who would offer themselves to a woman. Be freely tasked with whatever she wanted, not he.

But again, you hated decision making. From dinners to motels to books to people, you hated being the shot caller.

“Use your imagination.” You settled on. “I’m all yours, Dean.”

And since he was already on his knees, he supposed he’d start there.

Dean bent an index finger and rested it at the top of your underwear before dragging it downward, slowly watching your eyes and chest as he inched closer and closer to your core. He didn’t stagger as he crossed a threshold of your covered clit and continued further as he wrist turned and his palm rested against the front of you, his fingers pressing into you from above you panties.

He rubbed his hand back and forth, arching his fingers to press inwards but not moving the Fabric away but caressing it into you. Dean shifted his hand upwards and outstretched a finger on your clothed clit to massage small circles on the bundle of nerves. His opposite shoulder knocked into your leg, opening the space for him as on of your hands shot to a dresser top beside the door and the other rested on his head.

He could feel your hand falling with every ministration. He turned his head in the direction of your hand, the heat of your hand on his face pulsing as the blood was rushing.

“Are you gonna keep fingering me like a middle school boy or really make me feel something, Winchester?” You looked down at him.

He stopped moving his finger.

“Well you told me to use my imagination, sweetheart. You gotta be more specific than that.”

“I want you to eat me out,” you clarified. “I want you to use your fingers and then I want you to fuck me before everyone else comes home.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. A smirk, followed by a “yes ma’am” gave him the orders he needed.

In your imagination, you thought it’d be here by the door. He’d eat you out from the floor and then fuck you against the door but for some, god-fucking-awful reason you can’t place, Dean got up from the floor and walked toward the bed.

His reflection of his back toward the bed reminded you of what you didn’t want to see in it—you.

Dean took a second to undo his jeans and remove himself from them. He was strained already against his briefs but didn’t care to take care of himself first or make it the “problem” needing to be fixed.

And like before, he extended his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he called out and it was hard to ignore the order itself.

A wave of nerves washed over you and made you cold. The sudden realization that you were nearly nude, he too, and your brash words of sex were all that was on the table became too much of a reality. His outstretched hand remained cold.

If you hadn’t known better, you could have assumed a poltergeist had appeared in the room. The sudden chill, the bucket of water dropping on reality bursting a bubble of pretend before it was too late. You were self-conscious and it began to leak like a sieve through the floorboards and walls and all it took was for Dean to truly, really look at you to see that something had changed drastically in the minutes it took for him to move, remove his pants, and hold out his hand.

The romance, the lust, or the sex had died in the moment.

Your hand grasped the edge of the dresser tightly and you couldn’t bare to look at Dean. A shameful, whimpering dog-like mentality was embarrassing and you didn’t fathom it would take on this large of a life. It encapsulated your wants and your needs and was now preventing you from finishing a job that you’d become all too familiar with and it should have been easy.

The mirror reflected those thoughts.

“Hey,” Dean closed his hand and his brows furrowed. “Hey.”

He received no response, just a near frozen you. You shook your head no.

“W-what’s wrong?” He questioned in a state of confusion. Things had changed so quickly. You clicked your tongue, shutting your eyes tightly before opening them again and looking anywhere but him and to the left.

“It’s…” you staggered your words. “It’s, I just, I thought that… well…”

You laughed incredulously at yourself. The hand once gripping the dresser flew to your face in embarrassment and over your eyes.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

Dean could only reiterate his “hey” over and over as he approached you calmly. He shushed in reassurance as he tried to remove the hand that covered your eyes.

“No, no, Dean—I’m fine, really, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Dean said quietly. “What’s going on, hm? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you let him move the hand from your eyes yet you couldn’t look at him. “Nothings wrong I just… I just needed a second, that’s all.”

He didn’t believe you.

He never did when times like these flared up. Whether it be about what he knew or didn’t, any time where you, Sam, or anyone else had a sliver of doubt or injury or sadness, Dean would stop his world to help even if it hurt his own.

“Sweetheart, I think we both know that isn’t true.”

“I’m good. Really.”

He studied you for a time. Just looking, watching the way the muscles in your face twitched, the lack of contact you gave back to him. Dean was far from stupid even if he had his moments; he could see through the veil.

“Then come on,” he proposed. “Let’s just sit down and we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You knew he wouldn’t force you to.

Dean made the slightest move to step backwards and your eyes flashed in the direction of the mirror.

“It’s ok!” Goddamn. How many times were you going to say it?

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him back. “It’s alright!”

Dean shook his head.

“No, it’s not.”

“We can just do it here,” you suggested. It wasn’t exactly the romantic afternoon he had planned out in his head. “Right here.”

“Against the door?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze popped again in the direction of the mirror.

Dean caught it this time.

“The doors fine with me,” you restated assuredly. Dean nodded but didn’t make a move to finish what he started before.

Instead, he lifted one of his hands and cupped your face gently. His green eyes bore into you like lasers, prodding for answers he wasn’t sure he’d get but attempting to discover them nonetheless. There was a slice of pity, a lingering disappointment he couldn’t mask but above all else, Dean wanted you to be truthful to him.

He’d spent forever being lied to. Being told that there was only one path to getting what people needed out of life and listening to the directions of people who didn’t truly care what happened to him nor what he wanted. In a small corner of his own personal heaven, he wanted it to be nothing short of perfect even if perfection could never be attained.

And lies were always the cause of its destruction.

“What’s wrong with the bed, Sweetheart?”

You shook your head.

“This ain’t like a… monster-under-the-bed kind of situation, is it?” Dean joked. You scoffed, a smile cracking itself on your face and he could feel the way it grew underneath his hand.

“No,” you laughed. “There’s nothing in here except you and me.”

“Good,” he said lowly. “Then what’s wrong with that mirror on the wall?”

The smile on your face fell.

“Th-the mirror?”

Dean turned his body slightly to open the pathway to the mirror. Floor length and bolted into the wall sat a mirror across from the bed. It was there when you all arrived at this destination and you had never bothered to move it, only growing to hate its location when you got up, got dressed, and when you met the reflection on accident when you were halfway to self pleasure.

“You keep looking at it like it might come alive.”

“There’s nothing in the mirror.”

No real demons, at least.

“Then come to the bed,” Dean offered again. “I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

The ground was too hard even if the idea enticed him. He’d work you to your orgasm and then need help getting up—one too many throw downs with evil and the world catches up with you.

“We could always go to your room,” you suggested.

Dean’s hand caressed your face. You knew he knew you were avoiding something larger than just a room.

“What’s wrong with the mirror, baby?”

Ah shit. Baby.

“Dean—“ you started in argument against him but he wouldn’t let you. He wasn’t letting this go until it was like all other mysteries in his life and it was solved.

��No,” he argued back. “No, and you know you’re not telling the truth. What’s wrong with the mirror?”

“Nothings wrong with the mirror!”

“Yes there is,” his voice was getting tougher, rough around the edges in frustration with not you, but the thoughts swirling within you.

“No—“

“Yes!”

He let go of your face and grabbed your hand.

“Dean—“

Dean took one step toward the mirror and you broke the façade.

“Fine!” You grunted, tugging your hand out of his grasp. “Fine! It’s the fucking mirror, okay?”

“Well—“

“I don’t like it! It’s at the end of my fucking bed and I can’t stand looking in it.”

Dean’s eyes shifted again to a slight sadness and you wanted to throw a brick at the glass.

“Sw-“

You cut him off. “All I see when I look in that reflection is someone who’s… disgusting. I just… I can’t look at myself anymore and I certainly don’t want to watch myself doing something I don’t deserve to do.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean wanted to reset the day. “You’re not disgusting, sweetheart. Why did you say that, wh—“

“You could have gone with Sam and had someone else for the day, Dean. Someone pretty and sexy and fits all the right boxes for you. I don’t know why you didn’t go.”

“I don’t want them” he said your name firmly. “I stayed because I want you. I don’t want them. They don’t know me or what I like and I chose to be here.”

“Because it’s easy or because it’s convenient?”

“Because it’s perfect.”

“It’s not perfect, Dean.”

Dean stood there aloof in his briefs. Across from him, you were the most vulnerable he’d ever seen you and you were beautiful. There was nothing that caused him to feel repulsed or rejected. He was encapsulated by a glow he’d grown fond of and wanted to be held in. You were gorgeous, underwear and all, and nothing you’d say was going to change his mind.

“To me it is.”

Dean’s head tipped to the side in observance again. “I don’t know what you see—I won’t know what you see. But to me, I see someone who checks all my boxes and it takes nothing else.”

“I can’t look at myself.”

“What if I showed you someone else?”

It didn’t sound right to you. Dean could see it on your face as the confusion fizzled the upset and he wanted to walk it back to clarify yet didn’t.

“You’re not ask-“

“No one else is here,” he shook his head as he reproached you. He grasped one of your hands and hesitantly brought you to the mirror.

“But I want to show you someone else.”

You wanted to protest against him so loudly but when he stopped you in front of the mirror and stood behind you, the words died on your lips. You saw the same person.

The vision in front of you was lumpy and frumpy and the choice of underwear was quickly becoming something to regret.

“Who do you see?” Dean asked you. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, digging into the spot where your neck and shoulder met. The other held onto your own and intertwined your fingers gently.

“I have a feeling you won’t like what I say.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I see… an unfortunate woman. She’s not a supermodel and she’s not a celebrity. So… she’s not the standard of beauty. Her hair’s not done and her makeup is well… not ready for the magazines and she chose the wrong day to wear this color bra.”

“Anything else?” Dean listened.

“The man behind her is too handsome for her. He deserve someone who matches what he gives and that’s not the person in the mirror.”

Dean let that sit in the air for a moment. The seconds felt heavy and you wanted to look away from yourself and crawl under the covers and never see the light of day again.

“Can I tell you what I see?” Dean asked you and you shrugged.

“I can’t imagine it’d be any different than me.”

Dean cleared his throat and from his reflection, his eyes crawled along every inch of you that was exposed to him. You were under a microscope and he the scientist.

“I see my best friend,” he started and you knew you were quickly sinking. “I see a woman who is so strong and capable and caring and good. I see pretty hair and pretty eyes and maybe… maybe…the best lips in this bunker. But I may have to take that back when I look at myself.”

You squeezed his hand.

“I see a woman who has the most beautiful body.” He took the hand from your shoulder and slowly ran the backs of his fingers along your spine. “Every part of her distracts me. I catch myself starting at her when she’s not looking and I have to look away before she notices. Every color looks good on her and she looks the prettiest like this.”

“Anything else?” You said quietly.

Dean looked you in the eyes from the reflection. There were a million things he could say.

“How long do we have?” He laughed. The sound bounced off you; his chest vibrating against your back.

“I haven’t always been the best… anything… when it comes to women. But goddamn do you make me want to be someone else, sweetheart. Like maybe I could be a rock star and you can be the most devoted groupie or… or maybe I could be a firefighter and you can be a school teacher who can’t wait for me to get home.”

“I think you’re projecting, Dean,” you chuckled and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight against his bare chest.

“The woman I see in this mirror is perfect to me.”

“I wish she could see that for herself,” you said dejectedly.

“Then let me show her how,” he prompted. His mouth at the base of your ear, his breath was hot on the side of your face. “Let me show you how.”

“I do—“

He said your name strongly. “If you don’t face it, you won’t overcome it.”

A half a second you thought he might have read that from his Dad’s journal back in the day. Perhaps it was a statement he had grown up with but no matter that root, he sought the end to the cause.

“What were you thinking?”

“Nothing different from what you had said before,” Dean’s hands began to shift. They curved over your back and to the front of your body. You watched in the mirror was they traced along your sides and over your hips. The slow agony of his glide caught the fabric of your underwear and begged for them to be pulled away, but he let them remain.

“I’m going to eat you out, like you asked,” you caught his eyes in the mirror and blood rushed to your face. Cheeks hot and flustered, you can’t believe how blatant you had been before. “And then I’m going to fuck you like it’s our last night on this fucking earth, alright?”

“And what of the mirror?”

“You’re gonna watch yourself, us, through it from the bed.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Dean.”

You panicked a little inside. But his hands kept roaming and his eyes were changing their shades again, and in it all, all you could feel was him. His hard body, his rough hands, the breath on your face, and words he spoke overtook the insecurities that plagued you.

“You can,” he assured. His long fingers played at the strap of your bra, inching it away from your shoulder and letting it slip down your arm.

“I know you can because you always listen to me,” he whispered in your ear. “So? What do you say?”

The same fingers that let the strap fall moved under your arm and around to the nearly exposed breast. His hand snaked around your body and up to cup the one breast before squeezing the flesh tightly. You shuddered a breath and he knew he had you.

Dean took your earlobe between his teeth and let go with a small ‘pop.’ His hand squeezed and soothed, the other sitting patiently at your hip. Fingers tugged at the exposed nipple and you watched it harden like magic in the mirror.

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me, baby.”

You met his eyes again.

“Fuck me, Dean.”

And he smiled into your neck.

There was something unexpectedly titillating watching Dean go down on you.

It was daunting at first. Dean had led you to the bed, sitting you on the end and crept up onto the mattress behind you. Your reflection stared back hauntingly—dreading yet curious as to what it may appear as in front of you. It was strange, watching Dean and feeling his touch but not truly looking into his eyes. His hands caressed your body and the seriousness of his need to prove your mind wrong was enough to challenge yourself.

He wanted to prove you wrong. Dean wanted to show you how beautiful you were in the throes of ultimate vulnerability and passion.

“Look,” he positioned your head to look in the mirror across the bed.

“I want you to keep looking, alright? Even when we move or I move you, I need you to keep looking.”

“What if I wa—“ You turned your head to the side to look at him but he took his hand and repositioned your head.

“What if I want to look at you?”

“I’m right here,” Dean looked at himself in the mirror. He puffed out his chest slightly, you biting your lip in his boyish confidence that never seemed to leave him.

You knew, however, how much Dean gave to everyone else. One day, you promised, you’d give Dean something he needed too.

“Now,” he rubbed the sides of your arms before moving out of the way and off the bed. “Lay down.”

“But—“

“I’ll tell you how to do it,” he dismissed.

You shimmed up the bed slightly and leaned back. Your back hit the mattress with the thud and you weren’t sure what to do with your hands, so you just folded them across your stomach. Dean scoffed and looked down at you to which your brows furrowed.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

“Well,” you countered. “In a way I haven’t.”

“Yeah but we’ve done this before,” he made a gesture between the two of you with his finger. “Relax.”

You nodded your head and breathed in deeply. You had done this before. You had. He’s done it a hundred times and if you were counting, he actually liked doing it so it was more than a hundred times over the last few years.

Dean knocked his knee against yours, tipping his head in silent order to open them which you complied obediently with. Now, spread before him, your heart was racing.

“Sit up on your elbows.”

You did.

“When I get down,” Dean warned. “You’re gonna see yourself. And if you get too overwhelmed, you tell me and we stop.”

God, you loved him. You really did.

“Okay,” you said in a quiet nod.

Before you could back down, before he went down, he leaned across to you and kissed you gently on the lips.

“I mean it, yeah?”

You agreed. “Yeah.”

Dean hummed and kneeled on the floor against his better judgement. His hands that rested on your thighs went to your hips, catching the fabric between his palms and slowly, he pulled down your panties and helped remove them from your legs. Above his head, you could see yourself in the mirror—the most private part of you wholly covered by Dean’s head and the expanse of his back took up the rest of the space.

He lifted on your legs off the bed and onto his shoulder. He peppered a few scattered kisses on the inside of your thighs as he repositioned himself for the taking. You were right there, waiting. Dean’s own want was growing by the second and all he wanted to do was taste you.

He hooked his arm around your leg and brought his hand to your core, thumb pressing into you with a jolt. And then he pulled his head inwards. Painting a stripe with his tongue, that was all it took to let the fear escape your body.

Dean was at the alter of you; the reflection emboldened your acceptance of yourself and his actions that formed a deeper well within you. He kept going. His head moving, bobbing for every motion he made. His fingers pulled you open as his tongue painted pictures inside of you.

Each stoke of his tongue, of his fingers along the sides and his thumb pressing into your clit made the blood rush down. You throbbed, burning for something more as you watched nothing but the back of his head and the muscles of his back constrict with his ambition.

Dean watched you watch yourself. He was proud of you—how you didn’t truly watch him or fall to your back instead. You mewled, gasping with a jolt as he prompted himself to use his fingers more. He took it as a sign. Instead of palming himself on the outset of his briefs, he took his other hand and brought it to your pussy that beckoned it.

“You good baby?”

He moved the hand that was already there to your thigh and groped it. You split for a moment from the mirror to look at him. His cheeks were flush, chest laboring with a breathlessness he welcomed.

“Perfect. I’m perfect.”

He ran his tongue over his lips as he smiled and your heart skipped a beat.

“Damn right,” he encouraged.

You anticipated him to continue on with his mouth but he sat back on his knees on the floor. Straining in his briefs, Dean just looked at you before rising with a grunt and kneeling next to you on the bed.

“Sit up,” he pointed to the end of the bed and you did as told again.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” he hushed. He sat sideways next to you with one of his legs tucked under him. Dean’s hand reached out and rested on the space between your stomach and cunt and when you looked up, he clicked his tongue at you.

“Mirror,” he redirect you and suddenly, his fingers were inching lower and lower until they were meeting the wet remnants of his mouths product.

Your mouth fell open in the slightest; a rewarding breath escaped your lips as his finger, then two breeched you and met your warmth in an eager welcome. As he pumped his fingers in and out of you and gathered the wetness that built quickly, Dean’s forehead fell onto the top of your head and his body leaned into you.

With every staggered breath he was more rewarded. His fingers relished the sounds your pussy made as he sped up his wrist faster.

“Oh,” you barely mumbled out. “Fuck, Dean.”

Dean hummed and the rumble went through you. He kept his pace and you wanted to close your eyes, stall the feelings building inside of you but didn’t. You didn’t disobey his wants and efforts of helping you get over this self deprecation that was sealing fate before there was a chance to solve it.

“Dean,” you said again but not worried. He didn’t stop at his name.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting the spot you ached for him to find without cause. The muscle in your leg jolted and your hand went to his arm, tightly holding on as the other dug into the sheets of your bed and formed new wrinkles in its wake.

The heat was fast in its approach. Screeching from an abyss of darkness to only be awakened by the light of him, your end was near. It was greedy to want it all the time yet Dean was more than willing to give forever if it meant he’d feel this way.

“Come on,” he egged you on as you clenched the two fingers. “Baby come on, I’ve got you.”

“F-fuck, Dean, I-Christ,” you writhed in pleasure. He was leaning against you and his eyes closed let the reflection before you come alive in more ways than one. He was all yours—not a single word or person or thing could change it. Completely and utterly devoted to you and for once, when you looked in the mirror, you felt beautiful.

Your breath hitched in your throat and there was little else you could say as the room was filled with nothing but your heavy breaths and the sick sounds of your pleasure.

Those sounds, the mirror, and Dean’s words were all it would take to send you over a ledge. The burning, bright light of relief was striking. It was blistering in its blaze and entirely too much to send words tumbling out of your lips. All you could do was dig your fingertips into his arm and watch your body twitch at the intensity.

It shook your legs; shoulders twitching with the muscles in your stomach convulsing. Dean slowed his fingers to a stop. He held them inside of you for a second before removing them as carefully as he could and he rested the hand above your knee. Your finish on his fingers wet your skin and brought a coolness that hadn’t been there before.

Dean pushed his head against yours. He opened his eyes and met yours face to face, not in the mirror.

As he hoped, there was something inside of yours that changed. There was no regret and the cruelty of your mind was the past for now—even if the evil crept in the shadows around the gleam that surrounded you now.

You were beautiful. You were perfect.

And if you couldn’t vocalize those words yourself, at least he knew you could see them.

“Did you see what I see?” He asked lowly. He wasn’t done with you yet.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I see it.”

“Good.”

“But I don’t want to look at me anymore.” Your eyes weren’t tortured. “I just want to look at you.”

When he fucked you into the mattress, you did. You took in him and only him and when everyone returned when the sun had long gone down, you felt anew when Dean glanced at you from across the table and that glow of renewal hadn’t left you.

As always, comments and reblogs encourage writers the most! I thank you for reading and I am so thankful you took the time out of your day to read what I’ve put out here. Thank you!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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astraljedi · 16 days ago

Text

Safe and Sound (Tommy Miller Imagine)

Summary: While out on patrol, Tommy follows a trail of blood, tracking an infected through the snow, but he gets distracted at the worst moment. A gunshot cracks the silence, and he flinches, bracing for pain. Instead, the infected drops with a bullet through its skull and standing in the distance, rifle aimed steady at him, is her.

Pairing: Tommy Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Violence, descriptions of blood loss, wounded characters, death of a parent/love one, grief, heavy themes of loss, some parts might be NSFW. 18+

Word Count: 7.5k

Song: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift Feat. The Civil Wars

a/n: This is a long one and I don't regret it. This is my first Tommy Miller fic and I already have part 2 plotted and ready to write at any moment. So if you like to leave some feedback, I would appreciate very much it. Enjoy!

You can read Part 2 here -

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

“Good morning,” I mumble to my dad, who’s just finishing his small breakfast before getting some sleep after his night watch ended. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the sky is a pretty soft gray-blue. The chickens in the coop are starting to rustle and cluck, and in a few minutes they’ll be screaming for their breakfast like they’re royalty.

“In a few weeks I’m going to meet with Gunnar for a trade,” he reminds me. My father, Robert, usually meets with an old veteran friend of his to swap goods. We give him cured deer meat, fresh eggs—or if a rooster’s being too much of a bastard, he loses his head and becomes a gift. But lately, I haven’t had much luck tracking deer. There’s still some meat stored in the cabinet, but winter’s about to slam in hard, and we need to stock up while we can. Just in case. Always just in case.

When you go through an outbreak, there’s no way you can't be too prepared.

“I’m gonna see if I can hunt some deer. Check the rabbit traps too.” I grab the chicken feed from one of the cabinets and slide my boots on. My rifle comes off the wall in one smooth motion, and I sling it over my shoulder along with a small bag of supplies. “Get some rest.” I lean down, kiss his cheek, and step out into the cold morning.

The chickens lose their minds the second I open the little gate that keeps them penned in at night. I scatter feed across the frozen dirt and let them roam free. It’s been seventeen years since my mom passed, and eighteen since the outbreak. Feels like I’ve lived a hundred lives since then.

Back in the summer of 2003, I’d just graduated college. Preschool teacher by day, bartender by night, all to scrape up enough to help with my mom’s medical bills. My dad worked as a security guard and collected his veteran benefits, but it was never enough. People used to call him a lunatic for prepping, always whispering behind his back like he was crazy.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

He spent years fixing up this old hunting cabin my grandpa left behind—tall wire fence, secured doors, a basement-turned-bunker filled with canned goods, weapons, and a cot we could sleep on if we had to go into lockdown. Bolted from the inside. If the world went to hell, we could stay down there for months if needed. He made sure of it.

I remember the night it all started. I was clocking in at the bar, and something just felt off. The place was packed but tense. Fights broke out, people acting like they’d lost their minds. Sirens blared and helicopters roared low in the sky. While the streets was crowded by military trucks, dragging people off the street. Then I heard the screech of tires—my dad’s truck flying around the corner.

“We need to go.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, and he didn’t answer. Just shoved a rifle into my hands and started driving.

“You feeling sick? Any fever? Twitching?” He kept flicking his eyes between me and the road, barely able to hide the panic.

“No,” I said, confused. “You?”

“Don’t talk to the neighbors. Grab what you need and we’re out of the house in ten minutes.”

I packed fast—my mom’s heart-shaped gold necklace, her ashes. A backpack of important files, IDs. Our family photo album, her winter jacket. A duffel bag of clothes, soap, anything else Dad had told me to keep ready “just in case.”

“I’m done.” I came running down the stairs—and froze.

Dad was outside. And he’d just shot our neighbor.

The man was crawling, dragging himself across the pavement in this twitchy, jerky way I’d never seen before. Not human at all. My dad didn’t even flinch. He raised the gun and shot him again—this time in the head.

That was the first time I saw one. Not the last. And it never got easier. We stayed hidden, just the two of us, carving out a life in isolation deep in the woods.

Dad always took the night shifts. Raiders came and went. But he made sure they didn’t stay. He scared off more people than I could count. Then Gunnar came along—a familiar face from the old veteran center. Somehow, my dad still trusted him. Said Gunnar was the only man besides himself he’d bet his life on.

Gunnar taught me how to set rabbit traps a few years back. Deer were reliable, but you couldn’t count on anything forever. Not anymore.

After feeding the chickens, I scan the area. Fence is fine. Snow’s undisturbed—no footprints, no blood. Everything looks calm. I unlock the gate and step out into the woods.

Hunting alone doesn’t scare me like it used to. I like the silence. I love my dad, but it’s the only time I get to breathe. The cabin’s small, one bedroom, and though we technically share a bed, he mostly sleeps in his recliner. Still, during those long winter storms, the walls start to close in.

I know these woods. They know me. I head straight for my traps, and from the three traps, only two have rabbits in them. I grab them by the ears and tie them around my waist with a string. Skinning is my dad’s job. Always has been. I’ll shoot, I’ll trap—I won’t gut.

I reset the traps on another trail, trying to guess where the next rabbits might be hiding. The woods are too quiet now. Most people would find that peaceful, but not me. I know better.

The infected are bad, sure—but people? People can be worse, especially after all these years. And being a woman, alone out here? It makes you a target.

The quiet shifts. The air gets thick and the birds stop chirping above.

Something’s wrong.

I slip behind a tree, crouching low to the snowy ground. My fingers find the rifle’s grip without thinking.

Close by, a horse snorts unsettled but a man’s voice hushes it. I press my back against the trunk and slowly peer around it.

He’s heading toward the trail that leads straight to the cabin. I follow the noise, heart beating faster, boots crunching soft over snow. I drop low behind a thick, fallen trunk for cover.

That’s when I caught a better look at this man.

He’s got a rifle on his back and both hands on the reins of a light colored gelding. “Whoa,” he murmurs, trying to calm the animal as it inches closer to our fence.

I glance at the snow. Only one set of prints besides mine. And a long, red drag line.

Blood.

My eyes snap up and spot it—a lone infected, creeping toward the man and his horse. Silently, tracking him.

I move fast, ducking behind trees, avoiding every dry branch. The moment it’s within five feet of him, I raise my rifle and fire. The gunshot cuts through the woods like a thundercrack and birds fly away from their place in the trees.

The horse panics, rearing back with a scream. The man grabs the reins and fights to settle it.

I step out, rifle still raised and aimed straight at him. “You need to leave. Now.” My voice doesn’t shake.

He stares, eyes wide—more stunned by the infected’s corpse than the barrel I’ve got pointed at him. Blood pools under the body, staining the snow black.

He doesn't move. Doesn’t reach for his gun. He just watches me, like he's not sure what he’s seeing.

“What?” I snap. “Never seen a woman before?”

“I’m not here to cause any harm,” he says, slow and calm, like he doesn’t want to spook me. “I was tracking the infected through the woods and lost sight of it.”

“You didn’t lose it, they’re not dumb. That thing led you here and it was tracking you.”

He swallows and nods, like maybe he knows I’m right. “Look, I’m from a town not far from here—Jackson. I’m Tommy.” He gestures vaguely toward the hills. “You don’t have to be out here alone. Jackson’s got decent people, good food, security. It’s safe.”

The cabin door bursts open. My dad steps out, rifle ready, expression cold and dangerous. “She isn’t alone.”

His gray hair’s a mess—he must’ve just rolled out of the recliner—but his voice is stirn and direct. He clicks his rifle, as a warning.

Tommy straightens. “Alright. I’m goin’.” He tugs on the reins. His horse resists, but he guides it back the way they came. He glances over his shoulder once, then twice. Still watching me, even as he disappears through the trees.

I wait until he’s fully gone before I unlock the gate.

“You hurt?” my dad asks when I get close, scanning me top to bottom for scratches, blood, anything.

“I’m fine.” My eyes flick back toward the woods, toward the infected’s body too close to the fence.

He mutters, “Should’ve shot him.”

“If I did, his little town would come looking,” I say, brushing past him. The cabin’s warm inside, fire still crackling low. I hang my rifle up on its hook and kick off my boots.

I set the rabbits on the table. “Your turn.”

“That’s the first infected we’ve seen in a while.” He says, grabbing the rabbits.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “It was hunting him. Probably lured him down the steep trail.”

I grab a match and the old oil can from beneath the sink.

“I’m gonna burn it before it draws more.”

A couple of days have passed since the Tommy and infected scene happened. I’m outside in the chicken coop grabbing some eggs when I hear horse hooves smashing against the snow. I peek through the small gap of the coop and—it’s him. Again.

I have my rifle by the chicken coop door, but I don’t reach for it. I don’t feel a sense of danger from him. He trots up to the gate and slips off his horse smoothly, unties a cloth bag from the side of his saddle, and places it on the ground by the gate.

I stay in cover, but he lingers, watching the door like he’s half-expecting my dad to aim a gun at him again. I stifle a laugh, remembering how scared he looked that day when he saw my dad—hair all messy, clothes wrinkled and another gun being pointed at him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t hear me. He hops back onto his horse and disappears into the woods, the same trail he took last time, but I don’t move. My rooster sings loudly on my right and I wince from the sharp, high-pitched sound.

“Frederick, really? In my ear?” I glare at him and shoo him away.

I step out from the coop, sling my rifle over my back, and open the gate just enough to grab the bag.

If it were from a stranger—which technically, Tommy is—I would’ve tossed it or let the chickens peck through it. But my gut trusts him. He seemed genuine last time and he didn’t overstep once. Tommy could’ve easily run me over with that horse, but he didn’t.

In the kitchen, I open the bag and the smell of freshly baked bread hits me. I groan, the warm scent tugging me back to a time that’s long gone. It’s been years since I’ve had bread like this. There’s also two jars of jam—one red, one a light yellow. A few medicine bottles and even menstrual products. I blink, caught off guard, cheeks warming up. It’s not taboo, but it feels weird, someone who’s not my dad thinking of that.

“Why do I smell bread?” my father huffs, groaning as he pushes himself up from the recliner.

“Tommy brought a bag of goods.” I gesture toward it.

“That boy again? Did he bother you?” He reaches for the bread and I smack his hand away.

“Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Sit at the table then. I’m gonna cut this loaf like it deserves to be treated, old man.” I laugh and grab a knife, slicing into the warm bread. How did it stay warm all this way? Maybe he picked it up right before heading out.

I spread jam on a few slices and put them on a plate. “Here. Now we can eat like civilized human beings.”

I grab a piece and bring it to my nose, closing my eyes as the sweet strawberry scent fills my senses. I take a bite and it’s even better than I imagined.

The following weeks, he keeps showing up—once a week, always on Tuesdays. I start waking up earlier on those days, and I finish all my chores before noon. I wait near the trail—his trail. The only one he knows, but I’m not about to tell him there’s a quicker one.

Not yet.

I sit against a tree, ears perked as I snack on dried plums from last week’s bag. When I hear singing and familiar hooves crunching through the snow, I smirk and prepare myself.

When he’s close, I spook him and his horse.

The poor thing rears back and Tommy slips off the saddle, falling straight into the snow. Luckily, I’m out of range and the horse doesn’t bolt—Jackson must train their horses well.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy snaps, still sitting in the snow, his beanie half-buried.

I’m breathless from laughing, struggling to stay upright.

“Oh, god.” I can’t stop laughing. I grab the reins and feed his horse a dried plum, scratching his neck as he melts into my touch.

“This what I get for bringing supplies?” Tommy grumbles, brushing snow off himself as he pulls the beanie back on.

“Glad to know Jackson trains their horses not to run off,” I say, kissing the horse’s nose. We used to have one, years ago. It was good for travel when Dad made trades, but it got too hard to care for, so he traded it for warmer jackets.

“You should tell them to train their patrol better. They get spooked too easy,” I tease. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my ego,” he mutters.

“Good,” I say, handing him the reins. “We don’t need your supplies. You can stop coming by.”

“You say that, but weren’t you just eating the plums I brought?” He smirks.

“Well yeah, I’m not gonna waste ‘em. Don’t know if you noticed, but we’re living in an apocalypse.” I turn on my heel. “Don’t follow me back. Go home.”

I make it a few feet and glance over my shoulder. He’s on his horse, still not moving. I roll my eyes and keep walking on the trail. Once I’m back inside the cabin and shaking off snow from my boots, I hear the hooves again.

I peek out the window and there he is, placing the damn bag at the gate.

He just doesn’t give up.

The next week, he doesn’t show. Tuesday passes—no hooves, no singing, no bag.

Then Wednesday. Still nothing.

He gave up. And I hate to admit it, but… I’m a little disappointed. The week after that is the same.

I come home from hunting with only a rabbit tied to my belt and no deer.

“Guess the boy finally gave up,” my dad says, waiting for me on the porch while holding a warm cup of tea. Tea from Tommy’s bag.

“Disappointed you won’t get more tea?” I tease.

“Not as disappointed as you, when you realize he’s not coming,” he says, poking my side before walking back inside.

I glare at him, but—he might be a little right.

It takes me a few more weeks, but I finally track a deer and it's a big one. It’s gonna be hell to carry, but this is gold.

I get into position—rifle resting on a fallen trunk—and wait. Its ears twitch, and I freeze, listening for whatever it hears.

Nothing. I hold my breath, wait for its head to lower again and when it does, I take the shot.

The deer drops onto the snow, a clean shot.

I jump over the trunk, adrenaline rushing, but my boots slip on a patch of snow and I fall—hard and my palm lands right on a sharp rock while I try to grasp something.

“Shit!” I curse. I clench my bleeding hand, trying not to cry out. But blood's already oozing fast.

I sling off my pack and dig for anything to wrap my hand with. I end up grabbing an old cloth from one of Tommy’s bags, dumping out its contents to use it.

But trying to wrap it one-handed is useless with my shaking hands. I glance back at the deer—I can’t leave it. Not after everything.

“This is so stupid,” I mutter, trying again.

“You need help?” I scream and drop the cloth.

Tommy.

He’s already walking toward me, eyes scanning the deer and then at me.

“Is this karma for scaring you weeks ago?” I sigh, my heart still racing.

He tries to hold back a smile, but when he sees my hand, it fades. “You’re hurt.”

He picks up the cloth and steps closer. And I don’t stop him.

“What happened?”

“I celebrated early and ate shit,” I mutter, nodding toward the deer. “It’s the biggest one I’ve gotten in weeks.”

He finishes wrapping my hand, then helps me up and I grip his bicep for balance.

“I’m not leaving it,” I say, heading for the deer.

He grabs my arm gently. “Let me. You just grab your stuff.”

He lifts the deer like it’s nothing and slings it onto his horse. I open my mouth to protest, but my vision goes blurry for a second and I stumble.

“Hey,” he says quickly, “hold on to Pearl’s lead.”

We’re not far from the cabin, but it feels like miles with how hard my head is pounding. I glance back once and find him staring at me. I look away, which makes the dizziness worse and I trip again. But he doesn’t let me fall, his hand catches my waist.

Even through the thick layers of clothing, heat shoots through me.

I mumble a thanks and keep moving, not daring to look back at him.

When we reach the cabin, Dad is already on the porch, sipping his tea, smirking behind the cup. He’s not going to let me live this down, ever.

He steps down the porch steps and holds the gate open while I led Pearl in. Tommy hesitates and stays behind the fence, but I nod him forward. He nods at my dad and steps in.

“What’s happened? Dad asks.

“She’s hurt,” Tommy says quietly, pointing at my wrapped hand.

Dad glances at my hand, then the deer. “Get her stitched up,” he orders like he used to in the army. “I’ll handle the deer.”

“Yes, sir,” Tommy replies and helps me inside. I kick off my boots, shrug off my thick jacket, and toss it on the hook.

“You can leave your coat here,” I tell him, reaching up for the first aid kit. “Normally I’d do this myself, but I trust you more than Dad. He’s terrible at stitching.”

I set the kit on the table and sit. Tommy joins me not a second later and opens the kit.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No. Blood just makes me dizzy.” I confess, watching him look through the kit. Then he unties the cloth on my hand and sprays the wound without warning.

I wince and grip my knee with my good hand. “You didn’t warn me, asshole!”

“Wouldn’t matter. You’d whine either way.” He laughs quietly. “Do you have liquor? This is gonna hurt.”

I shake my head. “This is my karma. Just do it.”

It does hurt. Worse than when I sprained my wrist skating as a kid. But I stay conscious through it and after.

When he finishes, I watch his large hands pack everything back in the kit. I shift a little in my seat. God, this is the first attractive man I’ve seen in ages and I can barely function.

He pulls on his jacket and I grab a cloth bag, packing it with cured deer and rabbit meat.

“Thanks,” I say, walking him out to the gate. I hold the bag out and he ties it to Pearl’s saddle.

Tommy smiles before climbing up to Pearl’s back.

“Go, before it gets too dark out.”

“I can handle myself, sweetheart,” he says, cocky.

“You sure? Last time I had to shoot an infected because you got distracted,” I tease.

“Now we’re even.” He nods at my bandaged hand. I roll my eyes and chuckle. I stay by the gate, watching him disappear through the trees. At some point, I have to teach him the shorter trail, for his safety.

In the eighteen years I’ve lived after the outbreak, this is the most I’ve laughed and blushed. Last week it was warmer than usual, but now the cold came back worse, the kind that makes your bones shake uncontrollably. It doesn’t feel that bad, though, not with all the blushing and Tommy’s body close to mine, not when he keeps looking at me like that.

He’s helping me clean out the chicken coop, while my dad is out checking the rabbit traps, something he volunteered to do himself. “Frederick, stop!” I shoo the small, quirky rooster off while he keeps running around singing his heart out.

“You named your rooster Frederick?” Tommy laughs.

“Yes, and as you can see, he isn’t exactly the quiet type when he’s loose.”

We both laugh, watching the rooster peck on the snow. There's a moment of silence but with him, it isn’t awkward.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, and I nod, crouching down to check the hens’ nests for eggs.

“What’d you do... before all this?”

I sigh, heavy in the chest. “I was a preschool teacher,” I murmur.

Just saying it makes my heart clench, thinking about the kids in my class and where they ended up. “Graduated with an education degree. Worked at a school during the day... bartender at night.”

Tommy looks genuinely surprised. “You? Teaching little kids?” He raises a brow like he can’t picture it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grab the basket of eggs from the floor and shut the chicken coop door behind me. “You don’t think I’m capable of handling little kids?” I throw over my shoulder as we head toward the porch.

“I think you’d scare ‘em straight, is what I think.”

I shove his shoulder gently but I’m laughing now, that quiet, warm kind of laugh I didn’t even know I missed. I sit down on one of the steps and he drops down next to me, close enough that I can feel the heat off him even through the cold.

“I was a fun teacher,” I tell him, nudging his knee with mine. “The kids loved me. I always ended up with painted handprints all over my favorite overalls.”

Tommy grins, like he’s imagining it.

“What about you?” I ask, tilting my head.

“I was in the army for a while. Then I started working construction with my older brother.”

I blink at him, stunned. “Wait, you have a brother?”

He nods, his gaze dropping. “Yeah. I don’t even know if he’s still out there.” His voice gets quieter. “And I also had a niece— Sarah. She was thirteen. Died the night it all started.”

My heart twists and aches. Without thinking, I reach out, resting my small hand over his, and then the other finds its way to the back of his neck, curling into his hair.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” I whisper. “Were you close?”

He nods again. “We used to tease each other a lot. Joel would always come between us, telling us to behave,” he says, and even though he’s smiling, I can see the sadness underneath it, the way he squeezes my hand like he needs to hold on to something or he’ll drift somewhere dangerous.

“I lost my mom to cancer a year before the outbreak,” I confess, letting the words fall out because somehow, with him I want to let my walls down. “That’s why I worked nights at a bar. I had to pull my weight with the bills since my dad’s veteran benefits and his security job weren’t enough.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” Tommy shifts closer and presses a kiss to my temple.

“You know...” I tug playfully at one of his curls, trying to lighten the mood again. “You could use a trim. It looks like you live in the woods.”

He chuckles low in his chest. “Darlin’, we live in the woods.”

“You know mom was a hairstylist and she taught me everything. I could give you a cut if you want,” I offer, twirling a curl around my finger.

Tommy gives me a skeptical look. “You promise you won’t leave me bald?”

I laugh and shove him lightly. “I’m offended you would even think that.”

He grabs my wrist gently, pulling me closer, his eyes sparkling with something I can’t quite name. “Forgive me, sweetheart.”

“I’ll think about it.” I grin. “Dad’s gonna meet up with Gunnar in a couple days. Maybe you can come by.”

“I don’t know if your dad would appreciate me being here while he’s gone,” he teases, but I feel a little resistance in his voice.

“He isn’t here now,” I whisper, a little closer to him than before, close enough to feel his breath on my lips. “Why haven’t you kissed me?”

“Because I’m a gentleman,” Tommy says hoarsely, his hand sliding up to the back of my neck, holding me steady. A whimper slips out of me, but he shuts me up the only way he can— with his mouth on mine.

I close my eyes as he leans into me, savoring every second. The tip of his tongue brushes my lips and when he tugs my hair a little. I moan at the feeling and I part my lips, letting him in.

It’s not my first kiss, but it’s my first kiss in years, and it wrecks me. I can feel the heat spreading under my skin, the way our bodies slot together needing to be close, how desperate and right it feels. When we pull away, breathless, I can't resist being away— I dive right back in, capturing his lips again, my hand threading through his curls.

This time, he moans.

"God," I gasp when I finally break away, dizzy and breathless. “I haven’t been kissed like that in years,”

“One hell of a kiss,” Tommy says, his voice rough, and I’m blushing so hard I have to look away. He grabs me by the chin and pulls me to another kiss, this one sweeter, slower. He gives me a few playful pecks on my lips and it has me giggling.

The trading trip takes a day to get there and a day to get back. It’s not the first time I’ve been left alone, but it’s the first time someone’s here with me, someone who isn’t my dad.

Tommy shows up a little after my dad’s gone, and it feels strange— strange in a good way, something new and dizzying. Like a teenager sneaking her boyfriend in while her parents are away. And the butterflies have been eating me alive for days.

“Are there any boyfriends I should be worried about?” he asks, his voice low against my ear, his bare chest pressed against my back as we sit by the fire.

After I cut his hair, things got... heated and we got distracted discovering new places to leave hot kisses.

Our clothes got lost somewhere— his shirt, his jeans, mine too— and now there’s just a blanket pulled over us, both of us sitting on the old rug with a plate of bread half-forgotten beside us. I grab a piece and feed it to him.

“Never had one,” I say, popping another piece into my mouth.

“What?” he says, sitting up straighter.

“I had a fling senior year of college but he was a little shit and the sex wasn’t great,” I say, laughing a little at the memory now.

“My apologies on behalf of the male species, we’re not all bad,” Tommy says, his hand sliding up to my breast, his mouth finding the sweet spot on my neck, slow and teasing. I lean my head back against him, giving him all the space he wants.

“Come with me to Jackson,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips warm against my pulse.

I close my eyes, drunk on the feeling of him, the way he bites down just enough to make me gasp that I almost miss what he says.

He keeps talking, whispering against my skin. “There’s a lot of veterans there. Your dad would have people to bond with and I’d have you closer. Somewhere I know you’ll be safe.”

I freeze and stiffen up. I pull my body away, staring into the fire like it’s going to give me some clarity or save me from this conversation.

Tommy moves with me, not pushing, just leaning in close enough that I feel him, his hand gentle on my shoulder. The idea of leaving the only safe place I’ve ever known... it sits heavy in my gut. And I know Robert, he’s not going to pack up this cabin and leave with me, he doesn’t trust many people and isolation has worked for us for years.

“I am safe,” I whisper, still staring at the fire.

“I know you are,” he says softly, “but I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not an hour horse ride away. We just finished fixing up a house. You and your dad could have your own space and he could have a community. You could have a life with me.”

He doesn’t pull me back to him, just presses kisses to my bare shoulder, soft and patient, trying to kiss away the fear unpacking itself inside me.

“The only way that old man is leaving,” I sigh, “is when he’s dead.”

I get up, grabbing the empty plate, feeling the cold bite at my bare legs and arms. Even though the fire's still crackling, I shiver, missing the heat of him, the feel of lips and his skin against mine.

I’m still barefoot, in nothing but my bra and underwear, standing at the sink when I feel him behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I’m not rushing you,” he says, voice low. “Just throwing the idea out there.”

I nod, tilt my head back against his shoulder, and he catches my chin, tilts it toward him, presses a kiss to my lips—not desperate— but understanding. A kiss that says I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.

“Come on,” he murmurs, breaking away. “Let’s get you back under the blanket, get you warm.”

He leads me back to our little nest by the fire and somehow, without even realizing it, I fall asleep on his chest, his hands holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, like if he lets go even for a second, I’ll vanish right out of his arms.

The weather around here is unpredictable.

But the moment I feel the temperature shift, I know there’s a blizzard closing in on us. Dad gets home just in time, only an hour after Tommy had to leave, but he’s struggling to keep his footing. I search him for scratches, bite marks—anything—but I don’t see any.

Since he walked through that door, he hasn’t stopped sweating, coughing, and shivering. And when I try to give him some of the medicine Tommy brought over the first couple times after we met, Dad can’t keep it down.

It’s not the first time he’s gotten sick, but this is the first time we can’t get help if we need it. The blizzard’s howling like crazy outside and it's shaking the walls like it wants to tear it down. I’ve got the hens and Frederick inside, huddled close to the fire in cages, and I’m kneeling by the fire too, heating up some bone broth, praying I can get something into my dad’s stomach.

Even Frederick is quiet in his cage. Something is definitely wrong.

I leave the hot pot on the kitchen counter and look out the window. I can barely make out anything through the snow, but my heart kicks into a sprint when I see three shadowy figures moving across the property.

Shit. The gate.

I was so distracted, worrying, that I didn’t even hear them rip it open. I grab my rifle from the wall and sprint to the back room. “Dad,” I rush to his side, trying to lift him. “We gotta go. Now.”

I try to drag him out of bed, his arm slung heavy around my shoulders, but he’s too weak, dead weight. He groans, delirious. I don’t even think he knows he’s back at the cabin.

The floorboards creak under heavy boots on the porch as I rip the bunker door open. “Get in. Lock it behind you. I’ll be back.”

I step into the hallway and wait for them while the hens are losing their minds from the banging on the front door. I raise my rifle, grip steady even though my insides are shaking with adrenaline, and the moment the door bursts open—I fire.

The first intruder drops hard on the porch, a single bullet between his eyes.

The second one, a man built like a goddamn wall, charges forward and he’s faster than I thought. I squeeze the trigger again—the bullet slams into his shoulder, but it barely slows him down.

I smash the butt of my rifle against him when he gets close enough and he stumbles. I kick him in the stomach, but he barrels into me, tackling me to the floor. The air punches out of my lungs but I try to claw for my fallen rifle, fingertips brushing the wood—

“Pretty little thing,” he growls, pinning my wrist down.

I twist beneath him, get my knee into his ribs, but he’s too heavy. His hand finds my ankle, yanking hard—and I scream as pain shoots up my leg, hot and sharp.

The third one strolls in like he owns the place, grinning. He must be the leader. “Look what we got here.” He kicks my rifle even farther out of reach. “We’re gonna have some fun with you, but it’s his turn first.”

He sneers before disappearing into the living room, going through our home like he hit treasure. The blood drains from my face but I lunge for the only weapon I can reach—a small handgun strapped to the man’s waist. My hands are quick, desperate, unbuckling it without him noticing.

I’m desperate to get the upper hand, I need to do something and save my father.

The safety is off and I press the barrel into his side, pulling the trigger. He roars in pain, loosening his grip, and I shove the gun against his forehead and fire again. His limp body collapses onto me and I throw him off, gasping for air.

“You wanna play? Let’s play,” the last man snarls, bolting from the living room with a knife in his hand.

I fire at him and nothing comes out from the handgun.

Fuck.

I scramble for my rifle, but he slashes out with his knife, ripping the skin along my arm. I stumble, my ankle screaming in agony. He grabs me by the hair, yanking me across the porch and throwing me onto the snow, my blood staining it a deep red.

I try to get up, but my ankle gives out. I’m weaponless, hurting, trapped and the icy wind is no use either.

“Let me hear you scream,” he laughs, pressing his boot down hard on my bad ankle and I bite my lip until I taste blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction. If I’m going to die, I’m not going down easy.

I always said the infected were bad—but people were worse. This is what I meant.

My fingers dig into the snow, scrambling for anything, fighting back the tears while his boot pressed harder.

“Scream, you little bit—”

BANG.

He jerks violently, eyes wide in shock before he collapses on top of me. I wheeze, struggling to push his dead weight off, chest heaving.

“Dad?” I whisper, dazed. He’s at the doorway, barely standing, rifle clutched in his hands while blood drips from his lips. Then he collapses to his knees and the rifle falls down to his side.

“No, no—” I limp toward him, dragging his half-frozen body back inside, down into the basement. The main door to the cabin is gone, there’s no use trying to fix it. The only thing I can do now is get us into the bunker and lock ourselves in before the storm swallows us whole or even more danger creeps up on us.

Right now, the cold doesn’t matter. Nothing does but keeping him alive a little longer.

The green military cot in the bunker is too small for him. I kneel beside it, clutching his hand against my forehead. His skin is freezing, his face draining of color.

Who do I pray to? God? Who’s left to listen now?

I fight the sob clawing up my throat, but when our eyes meet, it shatters me. I choke on a broken sound.

“Go with him,” Dad rasps, voice barely there.

“What?”

“Tommy.” His breath rattles with each word. “Go with Tommy” He coughs, like his body is giving out one word at a time.

“Stop.” I try to beg him to save his energy but he won’t listen to me.

“Don’t tell him I said this or I’ll haunt you in your sleep, but… he’s a good man.”

“No—" I press my forehead to his, shaking. "Please, stay. Please."

He cups my cheek with a trembling hand, and I lean into his cold familiar touch. “He looks at you the way I looked at your mother," he says, voice cracking. "Let him keep you safe.”

“Daddy,” I cry, the word ripping out of me in terror. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I love you,” he breathes. “Don’t let me hold you back from something good. Promise me.”

“I promise.” I press frantic kisses to his knuckles, to his forehead, trying to memorize him, trying to hold on.

I don’t fall asleep—not even after I feel his life slip away in my arms. I scream, the sound ripping from somewhere deep inside, raw and feral and grief mixed together.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, clutching his hand in the poorly dim room. I don’t know how long it took before my eyes betrayed me, before exhaustion dragged me under, even as the blizzard screamed outside.

It takes Tommy two days to get to the cabin.Two days of me being locked in the bunker with my father, life already drained from his body.

The storm outside has calmed down a little, but it still has its moments of roaring back. Even so, I don’t dare leave the bunker. I threw a blanket over my dad, laid my back against the bolted door, and just stayed there, frozen, trying not to think, trying not to feel.

My ears perk up at the sound of my name being called. At first I think it’s my mind playing games, like it has been for hours, until I hear heavy boots across the floor upstairs.

Tommy’s voice, shouting for me in panic.

I push myself up, putting all my body weight onto my good leg, fumbling with the bunker door until I finally get it open. My rifle slung over my shoulder, I limp through the hallway, heart in my throat, following the sound of him.

He’s outside now, digging up a body buried in the snow, his voice cracking from the cold and fear. “Please, please,” I hear him beg, his lips trembling. He thinks it’s me.

I make it to the porch and my voice cracks too. “Tommy.”

His head whips toward me the same second he realizes it’s not me lying there, that it’s one of the raiders. Relief floods his face and he tosses the body back into the snow without a second glance, running toward me with his eyes full of tears.

The sight of the cabin was a nightmare.The gate was ripped open, the wooden cabin door was on the ground and there’s blood frozen into the wood, smeared across the porch. But Tommy doesn’t look at any of it. His eyes stay locked on mine, wide and glassy.

I drop the rifle and fall into his arms. I don’t care that my ankle screams in protest, or that my stomach aches from days without food, or that my arm starts bleeding again.

None of it matters the moment his arms close around me.

I don’t try to hold it in anymore. I break down, sobbing into his chest. “Jesus—hey, hey, I got you,” he murmurs, voice thick, one hand cradling the back of my head. “I got you.”

“He’s gone.” Tommy understands right away. His body tightens around mine like he’s trying to shield me from anymore danger.

Tommy patches the door the best he can. It’s not perfect, not meant to hold for long, just enough to close off the cabin while he gets me to Jackson to see a medic.

I pack a duffel bag with the only things that matter: my mother’s gold necklace, my father’s pocket knife, a picture of the three of us when I was small, a change of clothes to last until we can come back for the rest—and for my father’s body.

Tommy wraps his arms around me and helps me onto Pearl. He ties my bag to the saddle, then mounts behind me, taking the reins in one hand while keeping the other tight around my waist.

Even though Tommy has described Jackson to me a hundred times, seeing it for the first time feels unreal, like this shouldn’t be possible after what we went through. The gates are huge, guarded, the town tucked safely inside.

He waves a colored flag to the guard on top of the wall and the gate creaks open. I keep my head low, feeling small under the weight of everyone’s stares.

Did Tommy tell them about me? About us?

“It’s not up for discussion, darlin’,” he mutters against my ear as he helps me down from the saddle. All I wanted to do is hide away in a dark room, try to push away this nightmare. But Tommy insisted I get my wounds and ankle checked at the clinic before he took me to his home.

“I need to make sure you're okay.”

I just nod, too exhausted to argue even if I wanted to. I let him guide me into a small clinic in town.

The room is small, the smell of antiseptic and cold metal lingering in the air. Tommy stays close enough that I can feel his body heat, grounding me and pulling me back to reality. He’s not suffocating me—he’s keeping me standing. My lungs, my heart, everything leaning on him.

Don’t let me hold you back from something good.

“You must be the woman Tommy’s been talking about,” the medic says, walking in with a gentle smile and pulling me back to reality. She’s older, her hair completely silver, wrinkles crinkling around kind eyes. She jokes, but neither Tommy nor I laugh.

I barely listen as they talk quietly. I sit there, numb, while the medic cleans the gash on my arm and wraps it tight. Then she checks my ankle, twisting it gently until I wince and clutch Tommy’s sleeve with a gasp.

“All right, that’s enough,” Tommy snaps before the medic can push more. His voice came out protective while he held my hand.

Thankfully, my ankle isn’t broken—just badly sprained.

The medic finishes wrapping it, promising she’ll bring crutches to Tommy’s place when she finds them. “If she needs anything, even if it’s late, knock on my door,” she whispers to him, but I hear it anyway. She pats his shoulder before leaving the room, giving us space.

“Tommy—” I start to protest when he scoops me up without warning, one arm under my knees, the other around my back.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking a little as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I spent the whole storm thinking the worst. Let me do this.”

I don't argue, I don’t have any more energy. I just bury my face against his chest, letting him carry me.

“I got you,” he whispers, breath trembling against my hair. “I’m not letting you go.”

He carries me out of the clinic, across the frozen ground of Jackson, back to a place he calls home.

Home. Tommy is home.

#Tommy Miller Imagines #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller Fanfiction #Tommy Miller Fic #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller #The Last of Us Imagines #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller imagine #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou imagine

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wvyik · 26 days ago

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dad! dean headcanons. d.w. ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: dean might slay monsters, but his heart belongs to his little one. from diaper disasters to sleepy snuggles, these headcanons show dean as the softest dad, proving that no matter how tough he is, his love for his baby is even bigger.

⤿ warnings: pure fluff, cuteness overload, you might need tissues, too much dad! dean for your heart to handle, this post is not responsible for any unintentional squealing or melting, i MIGHT make this a series, uncontrollable awws guaranteed.

⤿ notes: so, in case you didn’t know, i’m officially in my “dad! dean makes me weak” era, and i’m not sorry about it. if you’re reading this and you’re like, ‘why does my heart hurt in the best way right now?’ then welcome to the club. we all fam. ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

DEAN WANTS TO GIVE THEM THE CHILDHOOD HE NEVER HAD.. So he overcompensates. Birthday parties. Christmas mornings that look like a Hallmark movie. Camping trips. Home videos. He keeps everything. “I just want them to know they’re loved. Always.”

HE HATES MISSING MILESTONES.. If he’s on a hunt and misses a first word or first step? He’ll make Cas rewind time or beg Sam for a cursed object to see it. He’d call you in tears like “babe, what’d they say? Was it ‘dada’? Please tell me it was ‘dada.’”

HE BUILDS THEM A BUNKER-LEVEL PILLOW FORT.. Rainy day? You better believe that living room becomes a war zone of blankets, snacks, and Flashlight Tag. “No demons in this fort, soldier. Only snuggles.”

HE TEACHES THEM HOW TO RESPECT PEOPLE.. Manners. Loyalty. Standing up for others. “You protect the people you love. Always. No matter what.” Dean raises the kind of kids that other parents admire.

BUT HE SUCKS AT DISCIPLE WHEN THEY CRY.. One look at those watery eyes and he’s DONE. “Aw c’mon, don’t do that to me, sweetheart… I wasn’t even that mad.” Ends up cuddling them on the couch whispering “daddy’s not mad, just worried.”

ALWAYS TUCKS A NOTE IN THEIR LUNCHBOX.. Little post-its with stuff like “Be brave today, champ!” or “Love you more than pie. Almost.” You find the notes years later, kept in a shoebox.

DEAN HAS A WEIRD OBSESSION WITH CAR SEATS NOW.. He installed that thing like it was a bomb. Double-checks it every single time. “My kid’s not going anywhere unless it’s safely strapped into Baby’s throne.”

HAS ZERO CHILL WHEN THEY’RE SICK.. One cough and he’s pacing like a war general. Blankets, soup, forehead kisses. “You okay, bug? You want Daddy to beat up the virus?”

HE KEEPS BABY PICTURES OF THE KIDS IN HIS WALLET.. And he shows them to random strangers at gas stations, “That’s my little kiddo in their first flannel. Got that same ‘handsome’ face.” with that stupid grin on his face.

HE CRIES AT DANCE RECITALS AND LITTLE LEAGUE GAMES.. Tries to hide it behind his sunglasses, but you can see the sniffles. “That’s my kid out there. Did you see that spin?? Better than Michael Jackson!”

HIS RINGTONE IS THEIR LAUGH.. He recorded it one afternoon when they were giggling at his fart jokes. It’s been his ringtone ever since and he refuses to change it. “Best sound in the damn world.”

CARRIES THEIR ART IN EVERYWHERE.. You open the Impala’s glove box and there’s a crayon drawing of Dean with a giant smile labeled “My Hero.” He pretends to be chill about it but he’s totally cried over it in the garage.

HE TEACHES THEM TO SAY ‘NO’ EARLY.. “I don’t care how small you are. If someone makes you uncomfortable? You say ‘no’ loud. Clear. Mean it. And if they don’t back off, tell Daddy. I’ll handle it.”

BABY-PROOFING THE BUNKER TURNS INTO A WHOLE MISSION.. Sam walks in and Dean’s like “I’ve sealed every electrical outlet, covered all corners, and enchanted the nursery against monsters. What have you done today, Uncle Sam?”

HE STARTS CARRYING DIAPERS AND WIPES IN HIS WEAPONS DUFFEL.. Like a damn multitasking king. There’s holy water, salt rounds, and a pastel blue binky. He pulls it out like “don’t judge me, I’m prepared.”

TEACHES THEM HOW TO SHOOT WITH NERF GUNS FIRST.. You come home and find the house COVERED in foam bullets. He’s in full camo, kids are giggling like maniacs, and he’s yelling “Cover me, soldier! We’ve got a diaper bandit on the loose!”

WHEN THEY GET HURT, HE BLAMES HIMSELF.. They fall off a bike? Scrape a knee? Dean acts like the sky is falling. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve caught ‘em.” And you have to literally hold his face and be like “They’re okay, babe. You’re a great dad.”

HE STARTS READING PARENTING BOOKS IN SECRET.. You catch him late at night with What to Expect the First Year under a flashlight like it’s a case file. “Don’t look at me like that, woman. I just wanna be prepared. Babies don’t come with manuals; this is the closest thing.”

HE LETS THEM PAINT HIS NAILS AND DOESN’T WASH IT OFF FOR DAYS.. He’s out on a hunt with chipped sparkly polish and when Sam’s like “what the hell’s on your hands?” Dean’s all, “My daughter’s masterpiece. You got a problem with that?”

DEAN’S SECRETLY TERRIFIED HE’S GONNA MESS THEM UP.. Sometimes he stares at them sleeping and whispers, “You deserve better than I ever had, kid. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” And then he crawls into bed and pulls you close because you’re the only thing that calms that storm.

HE GETS JEALOUS WHEN THEY CLING TO YOU TOO MUCH.. Playfully, but still. “C’mon, they were on your hip all day. Daddy needs cuddles too!” He pouts until the kid crawls into his lap and he’s smug like “that’s right, Daddy’s the favorite now.”

GETS SO MAD WHEN PEOPLE SAY ‘JUST WAIT TILL THEY’RE TEENAGERS’.. Like— no. “I’m gonna love ‘em through every stage. You don’t stop being their damn parent when they get loud and moody. You step up. That’s my kid.”

ALWAYS MAKES TIME FOR ONE-ON-ONE DATES.. He’ll take each kid out individually for a milkshake or a trip to the arcade and call it “dad-and-me time.” He says it’s for them, but it’s really for him, too.

WRITES THEM LETTERS “JUST IN CASE”.. Stored in the bunker. One for every birthday. Every milestone. “If something ever happens to me… I want them to know I was there. I loved ‘em every second.”

WHEN YOU’RE ALL SNUGGLED UP IN BED, HE HOLDS THE BABY AND WHISPERS TO YOU.. “We really did it, huh? We made this little life. And I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Ever.”

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @brutuuallove @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @littlesoulshine @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @twelveyearsofit @tinas111 @unstable-cucumber @everythingisaspectrum @pennywatsonlafayette @lunaleah ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library.

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devnmon · 7 months ago

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by the lantern light.

Summary: Pining for your bounty partner is manageable most times, but it becomes extremely difficult when the hotel screws up your room choice and you're forced to share a bed.

sadie adler x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, some oral (r!receiving), a cutesy love confession too & a tiny bit of angst, one bed trope x

wc: 4.4k

Another long day of riding from West Elizabeth to Annesburg and back had come to pass. An Era of outlaws and gunslingers had come to a close, while Sadie Adler found herself a successfully skilled bounty hunter.

Everything ached; your legs, your back, your heart for the woman you called the other half of your bounty hunting duo.

Sadie Adler continued to be the one constant in a world that showed you anything similar to it. A sickening love for her had grown with it, overtaking you to no end.

In turn, the day was finished with more than enough pay to last you both a while. To treat yourselves, Sadie suggested a night of hearty meals and the nicest rooms in the local town.

Add a bath to your expenses for the sole purpose of relaxation and hot water, your night was simply made.

Your boots were giving you countless blisters, and your thighs ached just standing upright.

Remind me never to suggest this many jobs in one day again...

Her low chuckle at the words you murmured while entering the hotel was almost enough to let her have a chance at the bath before you. But she took one look at you and basically ordered you to get in immediately.

Something about how she bossed you around, enjoying the way it made you feel wanted—no, needed, by her.

In her defense, you looked like shit.

For the meantime, you were to clean yourself while she ran a couple errands in town after booking the room. Most times, you had to pay extra for a specific room with two beds, lest society began to wonder if you were sharing the same bed.

Each muscle ached a bit more trudging up the hotel's steps, spurs clinking with each slow movement.

Shoving the bath's door closed was your next action, followed by peeling each and every item of clothing off of you for the time being.

While the tub filled, your mind floated back to the way Sadie had praised you earlier that day. Her drawl made your knees weak without fail, the thickest you've ever heard but no one else's you would listen to every day.

There you go, you got it... Nice job, honey.

Sunflower colored strands of her hair always remained neatly pulled back in that familiar loose braid of hers, wondering what you lengths you would go to for just a chance at running your fingers through it.

Your palms sweat around her just thinking about it. Other times about how you might look in one of her shirts, aroma of orchids and vanilla intertwined in the fabric.

With the first dip of your body into the steaming water, the outside world ceased to exist in that moment. Goosebumps flooded your skin and pricked up those little hairs along your body.

Upon the lack of sleep you'd received the night before, the warm water had you ready to nod off and rest your eyes. All you wanted to do was stay submerged in the clean water and dream of a certain blonde woman.

Your whole body ached for her; the warmth in her presence, the way she called your name, joked around with you, put every part of her trust in you on jobs. Your heart had held a special place for her ever since the day you two met.

Dreams of yours mainly consisted of her figure, putting you in not-so-safe-for-work positions that arose many confusing feelings in you.

Once the word love crossed your mind regarding her, there was no other way for you to see her. But in that golden light right before dusk and how she smiled when you genuinely made her laugh.

If there was a future for you out there, Sadie was painted in along with all the images you envisioned.

No matter how much being in her presence sparked a flame inside you, there wasn't enough evidence in the world to speak how you felt.

Just the deep thrum of heat flowing from the true center of your body, suffocating you in desire. Your skin under the water managed to be more sensitive, reminding you of the gentle but calloused hands of your partner.

Ease in her touches that had patched you up multiple times had been ingrained into your memory.

Ignoring the heat between your legs to clean your body, you tightened your thighs together in attempt to suppress it.

Sooner than later, a knock at the door pulled you from your daydream and alerted you of how cool the bath water had become. That familiar feminine drawl called out from the other side.

"Y'done in there yet? Our room's 'bout ready an' my feet're killin' me."

Shit.

Having to face the woman you were just daydreaming about— there were more things you'd rather do. She won't notice the blush on your cheeks because the room was hot from the steam. Right?

"Oh- yeah! Just gimme a minute."

Clothes returned to your back, clutching your gun belt and satchel in hand while your boots clicked on the floor once again. Upon opening the door, Sadie stood against the nearby wall, sighing when she noted your refreshed state.

"Well don't you look purdy." She smirked, dragging her eyes up and down your figure, impressed you actually listened to her.

Her comment was met with a roll of your eyes, walking past her and further down the hallway. Because of course you listened to her, you would walk into hell itself if it was what she wanted.

"Hey, it's room 2A, should be unlocked already." she called out to you, giving her a thumbs up wordlessly without turning back to face her.

Your eyes coasted along the wooden walls, finding the door unlocked like Sadie had said.

What she wasn't aware of was the lack of two beds and presence of one. Only one bed possessed this godforsaken room, and somehow that was seeming to be the last straw for you today.

There had to be some mistake, you were sure the hotel's clerk took bribes for preferred rooms. It had worked in the past, why was now the time for that to get thrown out the window?

You couldn't sleep in the same bed as her. You were sure you wouldn’t survive.

You always knew she wouldn't see you as anything more than her best friend and bounty partner. Which should've been enough. It should've been enough to satisfy you in this life. Lucky enough to even be graced with her presence on a day to day basis.

Not many men in this world could say this woman would even look twice in their direction.

But the sickening feeling when she pulled you close in the cold or when she gave you the last of her food. Those moments were when you wanted to break the silence and pull her lips to yours.

Organizing your things around the room was how you passed the time before Sadie eventually came knocking at the door.

One creak of the door opening was enough for her to realize exactly how she'd fucked up.

"What the hell? I could've sworn I paid that jackass at the front desk enough to get us the exact room I specifically requested! I should kick his ass—"

As much as you'd pay to see her cuss out the clerk at the front desk, the two of you couldn't handle all the attention it would bring. When Sadie doesn't get what she asked for, it was never long before hands were thrown.

"No—" you sighed, "we can't afford gettin' kicked out, Sadie. My back cannot take another night on the ground."

"Well, yer right," she drawled, "You ain't gon' make it five feet out them doors before needin' a lie down. Plus, we're both beat."

She took a quick look around the room, then placed her things down on the opposite wall.

"I think we can tough it just one night. Whatchu think?"

Truth be told, you were much too drained to argue or find another reason to protest the situation any longer.

When your figure hit the mattress, feet free of the cowboy boot leather, the comfort of soft sheets was enough to lull you off into a deep sleep.

Though your subconscious dug deep into the layers of your mind, unearthing the most filthy words in Sadie's beckoning voice.

You have no idea how much I want you right now... as her hands pin your wrists to a wall.

God, you look amazing like this, while you're perched kneeling between her thighs.

You're a needy girl, aren't you? Tell me what you want... the minute she gets you undressed.

Her closeness has you sweating and your body is on fire. She reaches for your waist, hands eager and steady; that is, before the vision fades and your eyes jolt open to the low lit room.

Gasping slightly, you're frozen in place upon waking from sleep. Stuck sleeping in a bed with the woman that embodied your dreams just a moment ago.

Quiet breaths filled the room, another reminder you were in such a situation that there was nothing you could do. About these overwhelming sensations, the feelings you bared, an urge to take care of how turned on those dreams had made you.

This situation was beyond impossible to weasel your way out of. Sleeping on the ground was terrible, but at least you could sneak away silently; any slight move or sound could wake her on this mattress.

Though you attempted to drift back off into sleep, your overactive thoughts of Sadie intensified.

How long would it take to kiss every inch of her body?

Which spots would be more sensitive to your touch?

Your eyes shot open again, void of any fatigue you felt a couple hours earlier. Only thing inhabiting you now was the heat radiating from under the covers. Sadie's body heat next to you on the bed contributed to the raised temperature, but you could tell that wasn't the only heat you felt.

Not only were you drenched in sweat, but the overwhelming heat painting your body radiated from between your legs. Aching something awful the second you squeezed your thighs together.

Having to share a bed with her was anxiety inducing enough— add the effect of seeing her laid out for you perfectly behind your eyelids, and you felt helpless to do anything.

Attempting to fall back asleep was out of the question as well, seeing as those thoughts of her positioned so nicely for you lingered distastefully. It just had to be the night you couldn't keep your mind off her that she lay the closest she's ever been to you.

The more you attempted to avoid what was keeping you awake, the more your cunt throbbed and begged to be touched.

At this point you'd become desperate, wanting to be relaxed so bad that the idea was more appealing now than it was five minutes ago.

Anything for you to rest again.

Very delicately, one of your hands moved to slide down the front of your underwear. You were betting on the fact that Sadie was exhausted that night and wouldn't be woken by the slightest movements.

Just as your fingers snuck past the waistband, the woman beside you shuffled slightly. Your movements halted until you were sure she didn't wake easier than you thought. Upon the lack of evidence afterwards, you decided to continue and reach down between your legs.

It was almost surprising how soaked you were upon running your finger over your cunt, holding back a whimper when just the pad ran over your clit. You were clenching around nothing just from it, tempted to go further but knowing someone could hear you.

God— fuck it, right?

Damn Sadie Adler with her hickory colored eyes and sweet southern drawl, with those nimble hands and steady thighs and proportions that could make a grown woman cry—

Pushing two fingers between your folds tests you more than anything in the moment, with filthy sounds threatening to break loose.

Why oh why couldn't you two just have gotten separate rooms like you wanted? What possessed her to make you share a room with her all the time?

A pad of your finger swiped up to your clit, circling ever so slowly and with feather light touches.

What would she think if she caught me? Would she punish me? Or make me worship her to no end?

Either way, you were fucked in the head for thinking any of it.

That cunt of yours throbbed to no end, worsening by the second you begun touching yourself again. Light circles turned to adding more pressure and steadying your breath with each pass of your fingers.

Your body ached for her touch, picturing the image of her above you with those hands of hers outreached for you. It was erotic enough to make you whimper in the silent dark of the hotel room.

"Fuck..." you muttered under your breath.

Wet sounds began to fill the room once your fingers pushed inside your entrance.

Now you were really moving slow, pressing both digits inside just to curl them at the perfect spot that sent your thighs tightening again.

Her sweet saccharine southern drawl was the closest thing to euphoria you'd imagined. Putting the words in your mind to her voice- you were exploding on the inside from imagining it.

To sit at the mountain peak of her thighs and give her everything you had... to have her call out your name out of any others in the world. It was enough to make you—

Oh, Sadie...

Too focused on keeping her image clear in your head, you’d missed the additional shuffling next to you. Eyes squeezed so tight, your blood pumping in your ears was all you could hear.

Any time she filled your mind, the images were always of her splayed out any way your brain could fathom...

One of her completely naked on a couch, another where she's towering over your body, thrusting her hips against yours; one more of her face shoved between your thighs while your fingers ran through her blonde strands, her tongue slowly inching through--

"Havin' trouble over there?"

A raspy voice called out through the dark, belonging to none other than the woman you were fantasizing about to no end.

In a fraction of a second, you were frozen in place... as if you would be any less caught than you were in that moment. Your hand shot out from between your legs faster than light on impulse.

As if doing cartwheels, your stomach dropped over and over again, while you were in the midst of surveying what to do.

Take it on the chin? Face her? Tell her everything you'd been thinking about? Absolutely all of it? None of it?

Before you could even get a chance to realize how fucked you were, she'd switched on her lantern light and sat up on the bed.

"If you needed some stress relief, all you had to do was ask'." Her low drawl rings out in the warm light, blonde hair covering her back as you peek over at her.

Sitting up nervously, you turned to face her, eyes overwhelmed with regret and uncertainty. Guilt had overridden you on another level, not knowing how she'd react to— wait, did she just say...?

"When they told me I could change our room, I decided against it... to see what would happen. To see if my suspicions were right all along."

"You did this...? Why--" you started, meeting her brown eyes for the first time all night.

"Cause I... could tell how you felt. For a while now. Just... didn't know how I felt. Took me some time to. But now I do." she drawled, a look of understanding meeting yours.

"And now?"

Surprisingly, the heat level in your cheeks settled some when she scooched closer to you on the mattress.

"Just... let me try somethin'."

Not only does one of her hands land on top of yours, but cups your cheek with the other and began to lean in to you.

Every atom in your body screamed out for her, similar to the way a firework sparked a bit before its shot into the sky.

Once her lips finally pressed to yours, every moment you shared together flashed through your head. Almost like a vision aligning, where you could see every day she kept you around wasn't just for convenience. Each time she had your back in life, through fights and drunken nights, was because she cared only for you.

Instantly you forgot how to breathe, only wanting to savor the burn of her pillow-esque lips against yours for the rest of eternity.

But when she pulled away, the breath you were holding became overwhelming and caused you to gasp for air.

"Sadie... I-"

"No, I know. I know, honey. But it's the middle of the night, we can't afford to lose any more sleep talkin' about this. We already ain't had enough of that." she chuckled, intertwining her fingers with yours.

"Kiss me again, please..."

Of course she would indulged you over and over, spending minutes frozen in time and trapped in the loving embrace her lips were giving yours. Somehow it was even more perfect than in your dreams.

Wordlessly, she laid you down on the bed, your hair scattering across the pillow while you continued to share the most perfect sounds she'd ever heard. Heartbeat quickening, sighs and small moans of pleasure escaping the both of you until she pulls away for a moment.

"Y'were thinkin' about me, weren't you?" One of her fingers swiped at the excess saliva on her lip from your overeager state.

Reminded of how exactly you'd gotten yourself in this situation, you nodded in confirmation and felt your cheeks pink up.

"You're the only person I would, Sade."

One of the corners of her mouth points upwards, painting a smirk on her face.

"Now what are we gon' do about that, hm?"

"Whatever you want."

Your response tumbles out a split second after her question hits the air, the apples of her cheeks brightening with a bit of a blush.

Instantly, her lips are on yours again as she's pushing you down onto the pillow's soft cover. Sadie's loose strands of hair tickle the sides of your face slightly, but the contact isn't unwelcome.

With her in an image you'd been daydreaming of for god knows how long, you thought this moment might actually be the paradise in her you were searching for.

Another gasp leaves you as her lips separate from yours to leave a trail down your jawline to your neck. Her hands resting on the mattress at your sides were gripping the comforter.

"Can I... touch you here?" Her fingers ghost over your waist, the lightest touches hovering over your skin.

"Yes... god, yes. Please touch me. All over, Sade."

Your voice is barely a whisper, plainly begging for her to run those hands down your body until she was satisfied.

Only after you'd given her the go ahead does she connect her hand to your waist, slipping her fingers under your sleep shirt ever so slightly. That overbearing heat still lingered, only burning hotter with her hands on you.

You can feel her mouth sucking a mark into your collarbone, swallowing your whimpers before she releases with a popping sound.

"Now then, let's make sure you sleep t'night. I ain't doin' this all night with your damn tossin' and turnin'."

You scoffed, because how could you be so careless? Sadie was one to know when gunfire was about to break out-- of course she knew you weren't really sleeping.

Her hands delicately lift your shirt up, fingertips painting goosebumps along your skin. When your chest came into view, you caught her licking her lips before bending down to place a kiss between the valley of your breasts.

"You're prettier than a flower in bloom. Know that?" Her lips ghost up your chest and collarbones with feather light kisses.

"Stop sweet talkin' me..." you replied breathlessly.

Without warning, she takes one of your hardened nipples into her mouth, circling her tongue around it before nipping ever so lightly.

"Shit-- don't tease me... it's been long enough," you whined, pulling a chuckle from her.

"Alright, alright." Her other hand grasped your other breast, playing with your nipple between two of her fingers.

You inhaled sharply when her other hand slipped right past the band of your bottoms and down between your legs, slapping your palm over your mouth in surprise.

"Shh, shh... gotta be quiet for me, m'kay?"

Nodding in reply, she licked her lips and pulled down your bottoms.

"Ah, there she is... my sweet girl." Her drawl had your head spinning, not even realizing her hand was traveling further down your body to push your legs open for her.

"Sadie..." you whispered, perplexed by the entire situation. You pinched your arm to make sure this wasn't a dream while you sensed her palms cupping the soft plush of your thighs.

Sadie's fingers stroke over your heat, unbeknownst to her how badly it burned and pleaded for her touch. As if she could read your mind, two of her fingers opened you up for her, vulnerability washing over you in that moment.

"Y'don't even know how whipped you got me, honey. I'd have walked into hell itself if you were the one askin'..."

God... you were lovesick.

You whimper behind your palm, practically vibrating with how much you were riled up beforehand.

Once her fingers sliver through how soaked you were, the pad of her middle finger traces circles on your most sensitive part. Sadie's eyes catch your flustered state as she continues the slow movements, moving down to your entrance while collecting your slick.

It's cruel how she barely touches your entrance before removing her fingers to taste you for herself. Your hazy eyes catch her licking your arousal off her digits before reaching down to touch you again.

"Sweetest thing I ever did taste, baby."

Please... you whisper, gripping the bed sheets tighter than you can imagine. Sadie only chuckles, before two of her fingers prod at her entrance, pushing in slowly at first. When she realizes you welcome her in with no resistance, she bites her lip and smirks.

Though your overwhelming arousal allowed for her fingers to slip in easily, it felt as if it was your first time. Thin and nimble, they were even more fulfilling than your own. It made a world of a difference not having to pleasure yourself for the first time in ages.

Men tried their best, but you knew Sadie Adler's skills would outperform all of their past attempts.

As if a reflex, your walls clench around her fingers, covering them in your arousal again, and she smiles. Her dirty blonde strands tickle your thighs as she presses a kiss to one of them, feeling you throb while pushing them back inside.

Her unused hand parts your folds for her and her thumb gently rubs your little bundle of nerves, taking pride and joy in being the one to do so.

She adores the way your eyebrows scrunch together while you attempt to remain quiet, the way your breasts sit prettily on your chest and the way your body reacts when she angles her fingers just right.

"Y're so... lucky I'm too tired to scream your name right now..." you pant, taking each tantalizing drag of her fingers with pride. Her fingers curl inside you upon hearing your words, watching you swallow another sound she feels envious to not hear in the moment.

"Sounds like heaven. Maybe when we got a little place of our own someday." Sadie leans down to press a kiss onto your heat, catching more of your slick on her lips and humming with content.

"Shut up... oh-!" You bite your hand to combat the filthy sound you want to emit, just so she can hear how intoxicated by her you've become.

"There ya go, takin' me so well..." the movements of her fingers set a steady pace inside you, observing you breathe heavily above her.

Her tongue against your heat was the closest thing to euphoria you could imagine, saturated in her lust and devotion like a god. In a split second, she hums against you and you can feel the wave of pleasure begin to build like no other type of adrenaline.

"I'm close, Sade... don't stop..." you spoke breathlessly, your entire being feeling connected to hers in that moment. Your toes curled, fingers grasped the cotton sheets until your knuckles turned white.

"Let go for me, sweetheart. Just let it all out, there ya go..." she beckoned, pressing her tongue to your clit as her fingers continued to pump inside you.

The quiet of the room was now filled with your heavy breathing, as though the entire world paused its turning for a moment, high coursing through your body.

Some of the slightest moans you'd been withholding for the sake of people in the hotel slipped past your lips like music to Sadie's ears.

As your high washed over you, she could feel you clenching rhythmically around her fingers and chuckled to herself before pulling away and crawling back up your body.

Her lips trailed kisses up your stomach and neck while your breathing steadied, the contact with your skin warm from your overwhelming orgasm.

"You're so pretty..." she breathed, "when you come for me."

Sadie kissed your cheek and dragged her hands up your body, goosebumps in your afterglow spreading like wildfire. Your hands loosened their grip on the bed sheets and wrapped around Sadie's neck loosely, welcoming each kiss she placed upon your face.

"Feel better now?" she mumbled against your ear, cupping the side of your face with her palm.

"Mhm... thank you, Sade. Feel s'much better now, love you... so much."

The lack of sleep had you delusional, barely registering anything you admitted to her now that you'd finally gotten the one thing you wanted.

"Love you too, honey. More'n you know."

Sadie lay beside you, her arms wrapped around your body to pull you in close while the both of you finally let your mutual tiredness drift you off to sleep.

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